Sincerely, Harry James Potter

Chapter 1

[i]Thwap! [/i]

Harry Potter blinked as a stack of what appeared to be glossy, muggle paper landed suddenly on top of the current Quidditch Monthly he had been reading. This was accompanied by a whiff of air that ruffled Harry’s hair and momentarily exposed the lightning bolt scar on his forehead.

Seated across the kitchen table Ron Weasley, who had been flipping through Which Broomstick, jumped and exclaimed, “Hermione! What did you have to go and do that for? Scared the bloody hell out of me! And when did you get home, anyway? I didn’t hear you come in.�

Hermione, who was standing next to Harry, spared a brief but scathing glare for Ron before turning back to Harry and saying, “Harry, you have got to take a look at this!� She dropped the bag she was carrying on the table and Ron quickly grabbed his butterbeer to keep it from spilling.

“Muggle magazines,� said Harry picking one up and reclaiming Ron’s attention. “Okay.� Harry looked at Hermione questioningly.

“Here,� she said, grabbing it out of his hand. “Let me show you.� Hermione flipped through the magazine, found what she was looking for and set it back down in front of Harry. As he moved in for a closer look Ron leaned across the table trying to see what had Hermione all in a dither.

A moment passed before Harry said, “But, Hermione. This is impossible.� He was staring at a muggle photograph of himself holding Hermione while they both looked up with expressions of fear on their faces. They appeared to be in a forest, most likely, Harry thought, the forbidden forest. “How did a muggle magazine get a photograph of us and just when was this taken? We look like we’re still teenagers here.�

“It’s not us.�

“Sure looks like it to me,� muttered Ron.

“Well, it’s not. Read the caption, Harry.�

There was a pause as Harry read the caption under the photo. “What does it say?� asked Ron.

Harry spared a look at Hermione before reading: “’Daniel Radcliffe and Emma Watson return to the screen as the boy wizard and his friend in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.’�

“What?� Ron was confused.

“A film,� Harry tried to explain.

Ron was thoughtful and then his face brightened. “Oh, yeah!� He said, turning to Hermione, “Like that one we went to about that big boat that sank.� Hermione nodded and Ron continued, “But what has that got to do with Harry?�

“If you’ll be quiet I was getting to that.�

“This is a film?� Asked Harry looking at the picture yet again only now with an expression of disbelief. “This isn’t really us? I mean I know it says it isn’t but they look just like us. Well,� he added, “just like we looked at one time.�

“And look at these,� said Hermione, reaching into her bag. She pulled some muggle paperback books from the bag and put them on the table next to the magazines with a thud. Another whiff fluttered Harry’s hair while Ron grasped his butterbeer more tightly before taking a sip.

As with the magazines Harry picked up the top book. This time he automatically read aloud for Ron’s benefit. “Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.� Handing the book to Ron who looked at it in amazement Harry picked up the next one on the stack. “Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.� And so it went until there were five books scattered across the table and Harry and Ron looked at Hermione for answers. After all, she always had them.

Hermione sighed. “Maybe I’d better start at the beginning.�

“Now there’s a good idea,� put in Ron. The comment earned him another dirty look but he grinned.

“Continuing on,� Hermione turned back to Harry. “A couple of months ago I was going to visit my parents. It was that day, Ron, that you went to the Quidditch game to see Oliver Wood play.�

“Puddlemere against the Chudley Cannons?� Ron asked. There was nothing like a good Quidditch match. Ron had tried to get Harry to go with him that day but, as usual, Harry refused to leave Grimmauld Place, especially to go to such a public arena.

“I have no idea, Ron. Anyway, after I got off the tube I was walking to my parents’ flat when I walked by a cinema. I wasn’t really paying attention as I walked by the posters they have outside promoting the films.� Harry was nodding so she continued on quickly before Ron could add anything.

“Well, about five steps past one of those posters something struck me and I turned back for a closer look. I thought I might have been mistaken but I wasn’t.� Ron rolled his eyes. Hermione was never mistaken about anything. “The poster clearly said, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.�

“But how?� Asked Harry.

“Well, I wondered about that myself so I decided to do some research. I never did make it my parents’ that day.�

“Wait a minute,� Ron cut in. “So that’s why we got that note from them that said, ‘sorry to have missed you.’ And that’s why you haven’t been home these last few weeks except to sleep.�

“Well, yes. Where did you think I was?�

Ron didn’t answer. He turned pink and the suspicious thoughts he’d been having played out his face. Both Hermione and Harry knew what those thoughts must have consisted of and Harry bit back a grin. Ron’s jealousy where Hermione was concerned always got him into trouble. He didn’t need his best friend smirking at him as well.

Hermione looked at Ron in astonishment. “And you never said anything to me?� She asked. Ron just shrugged. He knew if he had said anything it would have just provoked a row. It always did. “Ronald! I am so proud of you!� She reached across the table and took Ron’s hand—the one that didn’t have a death grip on the butterbeer bottle, even though it was almost empty—and squeezed. Ron blushed. Harry thought it was remarkable that even after all this time Hermione and Ron could still make each other blush.

Without letting go of Ron’s hand, Hermione turned back to Harry and continued. “So what I’ve found Harry, is that the muggle world knows all about you. Oh, I admit, when I’ve been visiting there on previous occasions I’d heard your name—even saw one of these books—but I told myself it was a coincidence. It was some other Harry Potter. But I was wrong.� Ron blinked at that. He wished he had some way to mark it down for future reference. “Some woman has written these stories about you and now they’re being made into films.�

Harry was looking at the book in his hand. Instead of looking at the top at the title he looked at the bottom of the cover.

“J.K. Rowling,� he read. “Who is J.K. Rowling and how does she know about me?�

“She’s a muggle, first of all,� Hermione answered. “And she knows about you by magic.� Ron and Harry looked sharply at Hermione. “I don’t know what kind of magic,� she answered their silent questions. “But it’s the only explanation. She was on a train one day and this boy with untidy black hair—“ Harry self-consciously put a hand to his head “—and glasses that was a wizard but didn’t know he was a wizard just popped into her head. So she’s said, anyway.�

They sat at the kitchen table in silence. Ron’s thumb was making little circles on the back of Hermione’s hand as he thought about this odd turn of events and waited to see what Harry had to say about them.

Hermione sat just as quietly as Ron. All the while she kept her gaze on Harry but she was also acutely aware of the motions of Ron’s thumb.

In the silence Harry sat lost in thought. He’d never been truly comfortable growing up famous after finding out he was a wizard and had been even uneasier with his notoriety after events had played themselves out to their final resolution. It was why he’d secluded himself at Grimmauld Place. When Ron and Hermione were looking for a place he’d agreed to let them stay with him. He’d felt he was less likely to feel a need to step out every now and then if he had a little company and Ron and Hermione understood him and all he’d been through. They’d been through most of it with him. And now, it turned out that in addition to being famous—or was it infamous?—in the wizarding world he was also famous among the muggles. He had a very brief thought about how this must be driving the Dursley’s mad. Then he picked up one of the books. “I think,� he said thoughtfully, “I’d like to read this.�

Chapter 2


Hermione apparated into the front hallway of number 12 Grimmauld Place and looked around the brightly painted hallway. She recalled a time when the house had been the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. For the first year the slightest noise would cause a portrait that had been hung on the wall to scream and curse and hurl epithets at people. Even though that had been almost ten years ago, Hermione was still occasionally surprised to enter the hallway and hear silence.

When Harry had inherited the house from his godfather, Sirius Black, the effect of its falling out of the hands of the Black family broke the sticking charm on old Mrs. Black’s portrait. The painting had fallen off the wall the first time Harry had set foot in the house as its owner. While Mrs. Black had still screamed at them all, Harry had ordered the painting removed at the very least and destroyed if possible. He had requested the same for the other portraits in the hallway.

However, before Remus Lupin and Arthur Weasley had carried Mrs. Black’s portrait from the house Harry’d had terse words with its subject and concluded by informing her that her son was dead. For once Mrs. Black had been rendered quite speechless and then she had demanded her painting burnt. “I will not,� she stated, “hang around my home watching it defiled when I don’t even have my son to taunt.�

Looking around Hermione had to admit the house looked quite different from when she and Ron had first moved in. With Harry and Ron’s reluctant assistance she’d continued the cleaning Mrs. Weasley had begun and then took it one step further and painted. The walls in the hallway were now a classic eggshell white where before they had been a faded and dreary grey. Most other rooms in the house had also benefited from Hermione’s presence as she had them repainted, wallpapered, hung new curtains and replaced old furniture. While she’d been able to replace a lot her skills in transfiguration had worked their magic on the ugly, old, and uncomfortable furniture that had been left. With the addition of their own personal items—and many arguments over where to put Hermione’s books—the place seemed less and less like the former headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix and more like home.

Smiling, Hermione left her bag next to the old troll’s leg umbrella stand and headed for the kitchen. It was dinnertime and that meant she could count on finding Ron where the food was.

Instead, the kitchen was empty. On the table was a covered plate that Winky, Harry’s house elf, had left for her.

Winky had been set free, much to her dismay, by her former master and had spent the subsequent four years drinking butterbeer in front of a fireplace in the Hogwarts kitchens. Shortly after Harry had sequestered himself at Grimmauld Place he’d realized he might starve if he had to continue cooking for himself. To that end he’d contacted Dobby, another house elf Harry had freed from his former, and cruel, master and who was now working at Hogwarts. Dobby acted as intermediary for Harry and Winky and had settled the negotiations brilliantly.

Winky could wear her tea cozy instead of clothes and call Harry “master� if she so wished as long as she only cooked Harry’s meals, did some light housekeeping and then disappeared as soon as dinner was cleaned up. She could go to her self-appointed ‘room’ in the attic or anywhere else she chose, which was often the Hogwarts kitchens where she and Dobby and the other Hogwarts house elves praised “the great Harry Potter� until their duties—or hungry students searching for a midnight snack—called them away.

At first Hermione, the head of SPEW, had not been overly pleased though she was grateful Harry wasn’t totally alone in those early days and had admitted that Winky got excellent treatment from Harry as opposed to what many house elves got from their masters. She just wished Winky were willing to be paid for her work.

When Ron and Hermione had moved in Winky had been a great help in overhauling the house and, as Hermione didn’t cook much better than Harry, she was relieved—though she’d never admit it—to have Winky in the kitchen.

Figuring Harry and Ron must be in the drawing room, Hermione grabbed her plate and headed there.

Harry was sitting on a large, overstuffed sofa—formerly an old decrepit settee—with his feet on the low table in front of him. Ron was similarly seated on a matching chair with his feet on an ottoman.

Hermione stopped in the doorway. Even though they’d been similarly engaged for most of the past week she still had trouble not only walking into a room that was still and quiet but seeing Ron and Harry so completely engrossed in a book that they seemed to completely blot out all else.

Setting her plate down on a nearby table, Hermione made her way to Ron and was just sitting down on the arm of his chair when he blurted out, “Oh, what rubbish!� in a very disgusted tone.

Harry calmly looked up from his book, nodded an acknowledgment to Hermione and asked Ron, “what now?� Hermione raised her eyebrows and tilted her head in question. “He’s been doing that all evening,� Harry told her. “And much more so with that book than the previous three.�

Startled at hearing Harry discuss him in the third person, Ron looked around. He gave a slight jump when he saw Hermione was not only there but also sitting so closely to him. “Hermione. Didn’t see you come in. Sorry.� Absentmindedly patting Hermione’s knee, Ron turned to Harry.

“This woman’s mental, Harry. Really. I mean she seems to think you didn’t agree with me here.�

“Ron feels Ms. Rowling got some things wrong. I think she’s been quite accurate,� Harry explained to Hermione. He turned to Ron and asked, “what is it Ron?�

“Here, after the Yule Ball,� Ron pointed at the page as though Harry could read it from across the room. “Remember when Hermione and I were arguing and she stomped off and I told you Hermione had completely missed my point? Well this…this woman writes that you thought, ‘Hermione had got the point much better than Ron had.’ She’s mad!�

Hermione put a hand up to her face to cover her smile while Harry tried to swallow his. He did remember the incident and he also remembered that he had indeed thought it was Ron who’d missed the point of Hermione’s parting shot. Harry was reading a book ahead of Ron and had sniggered when he’d read that. He wasn’t doing much sniggering at the book he was reading now, though.

Ron gaped as Harry struggled to come up with a suitable response. “You didn’t really think that did you, mate?�

“Er, well—“ Harry began.

Turning bright red Ron turned to Hermione. Unable to restrain herself she giggled.

“Oh, that’s it!� Disgusted, Ron stood up and threw the book on the chair. “That’s just it!� he said again as he strode from the room.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other and burst out laughing. It felt good. After a moment Harry asked, “aren’t you going to go after him?�

“In a minute,� replied Hermione. “I’ll let him cool down a bit first.� More sober now she asked, “did you really?�

“Really think what this woman wrote I did?� Hermione nodded and Harry continued quietly. “Yes. It’s weird, Hermione. It’s weird how this woman, this J.K. Rowling, seems to know so much.� There was a pause before he added, “she seems to have gotten into my head.�

Hermione didn’t answer right away. When she did she said, “you know, Harry, I read all this before I showed it to you. All this.� She waved a hand around the room to encompass all the books, magazines and miscellaneous items she’d found that were now strewn about the drawing room left where Harry and Ron had last been looking through them. “I considered not telling you about it at all. After all, how likely were you to find out about it all locked up in here and only willing to speak to Ron, Winky and myself? Finally I just decided that you should know. It’s your life and it’s out there for everyone, and I mean everyone, to see. I thought it was important you know that.�

When Harry didn’t respond Hermione stood up. “I’m going to go find Ron. I think he’s sulked quite enough.� She smiled. Just when she’d gotten to the door Harry spoke.

“Hermione?� She turned and looked at him. “Why?� started Harry, “why do you think people care about this? I mean enough to read these books, make them into films?�

“I’m not sure, Harry. To the muggles the idea of a wizarding world alone must seem fascinating. Then add this fantastic story of good and evil and a boy who lived to become a reluctant hero. You’ve led a remarkable life, Harry.�

Harry thought about this while Hermione waited. Then he said, “I know why you read the books, Hermione. Even if it hadn’t been about me you would have read them just because they’re books.� They smiled at each other. “But why do you think Ron is reading them? I’ve never seen him read a book he wasn’t forced to.�

“Ron’s your friend, Harry. That’s why he started reading the books. He’s continued with them because even though he knows ‘the story’, even though he—both of us—lived much of it with you, he’s now been given the chance to see it all from your perspective.�

“And?�

“And it’s been enlightening. For both of us.�

Harry again thought for a minute and then grinned. “Wait until he reads this one.� He held up the book in his hand. “Now, go cheer Ron up so he can get back to his reading.�

Chapter 3

Harry sat at the large kitchen table with Hermione’s magazines strewn about the surface. Most of them were open to photographs from the recently released film about Harry’s third year at Hogwarts.

Yesterday, after Ron and Hermione had gone to their respective jobs, Harry had apparated to his cousin’s flat. Dudley had also left for the day to his job at a gym where he helped train other bullies to fight.

Among Hermione’s research had been two DVDs. When Harry had looked more closely he realized they were like videos but on a CD-type disc. Harry remembered CDs from his years with the Dursley’s as Dudley had always received the latest in electronic gadgets. Harry knew his cousin would have the machine to play these discs. He also knew he wanted to view these films without Ron and Hermione present. Ron would have a comment about everything and Hermione would be continuously telling Ron to shut up.

Harry found that these films weren’t quite what he’d expected from his reading of the books. He’d felt that the first film was, dare he think it, kind of cute. Of course, it had still been such an innocent time in his life. Even with the dangers he’d faced then, he’d been quite naïve.

The second film, watched while munching on some of Dudley’s microwave popcorn, had been a bit darker and he recalled the events of that year and how frightened they’d all been about who might be attacked next. He also thought about the revelation that Tom Riddle had been Voldemort in his younger years. Briefly Harry wondered what the chamber looked like now and if anyone had been in there since.

After watching the films, Harry had arrived home only shortly before Ron and Hermione. As was the case more often than not they’d all spent a quiet evening in the drawing room before heading for bed. It was on evenings like this one that Harry wondered why Ron and Hermione chose to live with him at Grimmauld Place. It couldn’t be very enjoyable for them.

The next day, again after Ron and Hermione had left for the day, Harry had disapparated from Grimmauld Place to a street in Muggle London. He was, as he’d planned, standing in an alley next to a cinema. Paying with muggle money he kept on hand for some unfathomable reason he had gone to see the most recent film about his life.

There was a difference between this film and the previous two. The mood was closer to what it had actually been like. The actors had seemed to disappear and the people Harry had known were again before him, the subtle differences gone as Harry lost himself in this piece of his past.

This film had also been more difficult for Harry to watch. There were scenes that had brought about fond remembrances—when Harry flew on Buckbeak for the first time, when Hermione had hit Malfoy. But the losses had also hit him anew; losses that he took the blame for—Seamus, Percy, Mrs. Weasley. The film had brought Harry back to a time before he’d known the truth about Sirius and had wanted to kill him. He vividly recalled the revelations in the shrieking shack; the brief elation at the thought of not having to live with the Dursleys anymore. Then, the sorrow at his godfather having to leave and go into hiding just when Harry had found him.

And the actor who’d played him, this Daniel Radcliffe, had truly conveyed all that Harry had felt and more. It was like this kid was getting into his head almost as much as the J.K. Rowling woman had.

Harry had to admit that since Hermione had brought this all home to him, the knowledge that the muggle world knew all about him—albeit as a fictional character—he’d been thinking more about, well everything, and looking at it all in a new way. His life and everything that had happened to him and those around him was not only well known in the wizarding world but muggles were devouring everything they could about him. So far the author of Harry’s story had only written through his fifth year at Hogwarts. Harry wondered what they would think when they learned what had come after. When they learned of the cost it had taken to defeat Voldemort. According to many of the magazine articles his sixth year was currently being written about with muggles worldwide anxiously awaiting it. The same articles also said the “saga� would end with the seventh book as Harry finished at Hogwarts and the final battle took place. Harry thought of all the things after that the muggles would never know. How Harry, unable to bear the outcome of what he’d had to do; how he wished it could have been different had sequestered himself away from both muggle and wizarding worlds and everyone he knew.

For a few years right after the end of the war Harry had even refused to see Ron and Hermione. How could he face Ron when his mother and one of his brothers had been killed? When another brother had been maimed and his only sister had been a resident of St. Mungo’s ever since. Harry knew Ron had to deal with his own guilt regarding actions he’d taken during the war but Harry was sure it would never have happened if not for him. Harry knew, deep down, that Ron didn’t blame him but both of them were accepting responsibility for things they’d had little to no control over. They both tacitly agreed never to mention the war to each other or the final battle. They both simply dealt with their demons in their own way.

Harry had also refused to see Hermione at first. He knew she would try to talk some sense into him and by doing so would remind him of things he’d prefer to forget. When he’d finally succumbed to her pleas to see him—two years after the war—she hadn’t done this. Instead she’d simply told him how much she and Ron missed him. Then she’d asked a favour of him. She and Ron were getting married. They could live at the Burrow in the beginning to save money but there were so many people there. Mr. Weasley, Bill and Fleur—who’d married shortly after the war had ended—their son and another baby on the way and Fred and Angelina as well as their newborn were all living there as it was. They wanted to be someplace a little quieter; where they could spend a bit more time alone together. Was there any possible way they could move in to Grimmauld Place for a while, just so they could get a good start? Hermione had also made some promises. She and Ron wouldn’t disturb Harry if he wanted to be left alone; they wouldn’t talk about the past at all unless Harry wanted to. Finally, Harry had agreed to think about it.

It was Winky who had convinced Harry and all it had taken were a few sentences. At breakfast one morning she had simply said, “Master Harry Potter should let his friends come. Master Harry Potter could use the company. So could Winky. Master Harry Potter’s friends suffered and lost in the dark war as well as Master Harry Potter. He should remember that they did so willingly because they are his friends.� The table cleared and Winky’s lecture complete she’d disappeared with a pop before a stunned Harry could react.

Winky’s last sentence had hit Harry like a punch in the stomach. No matter how many arguments he had with himself about Ron and Hermione coming to live at Grimmauld Place it always came back to that and Harry found he simply couldn’t say no.

But, there were rules and Ron and Hermione followed them implicitly. There was no talking about the outside world, no mentioning of their outside activities, people they knew or even what they’d had for lunch. (A tough one for Ron.) There were also no visitors and they weren’t to pass any invitations along to Harry from anyone.

Harry paused in his reflections and looked around the kitchen He listened to the silence. Winky’s words came back to him and he realized that his friends, yet again and for four long years, had uncomplainingly made more sacrifices for him. All just to keep him company and watch over him. Harry felt ashamed.

I keep making a mess of everything, he thought. Then his eyes fell on one of the magazine photos. He picked it up and wondered aloud, “I wonder how he deals with being the boy-who-lived?� Unbidden another thought formed and while he tried to push it aside he found it simply wouldn’t go away. Maybe it’s time I actually started living again.

Chapter 4

For a week now Harry had been going for walks in muggle London. To his amazement he found he really enjoyed them. He breathed deeply of the urban air, so fresh after so many years in Grimmauld Place. His walks carried him far and wide throughout the city and by the end of the week he’d found himself eagerly anticipating them.

Harry always made sure to be home before Ron and Hermione. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to share this change in his daily life with them it was really that he just wasn’t ready. He knew they’d be excited and happy that he was getting out but, for now, the outings were a simple joy for Harry that would become more complicated when his friends learned of them. He also didn’t want to return to the wizarding world just yet and once they knew he was getting out of the house he feared they would pressure him into doing more than he felt he could handle. Small steps, he kept telling himself, small steps.

The following week he was out for another walk and his feet carried him to an old department store. He stopped in front of it and stared at the window mannequins in their outdated clothes. He was thoughtful for a couple of moments before turning away. The next day he walked a different route but wound up in the same place. It was another week before he could bring himself to enter St. Mungo’s.

Once inside he didn’t bother with the bored reception witch; he knew where he was going. On the fourth floor he hesitated. Was he doing the right thing? He took a few steps and paused outside the closed ward. Peering trough the window he saw Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom. Harry wondered if they even realized their son hadn’t been to see them for six years. He figured that maybe it was better they might not know. On the other hand, though, they would have been proud of Neville.

Harry continued down the hall. She wasn’t in a ward. Harry had felt the least he could do was pay for her to be in a private room. At the end of the hall he stopped and looked through the window in the door. Ginny Weasley had been placed in a chair near the outside window by one of her caretakers. There she sat, staring into space and rocking back and forth silently. Harry briefly wondered what she saw.

He hadn’t witnessed what had happened to Ginny the night of the final battle. No one had even really told Harry about it. He had heard it afterwards while those who had survived unhurt stood in the hospital halls waiting for news. Ron had painfully telling Hermione and family what had happened and Harry had overheard from around the corner.

The final battle had been well under way with Harry and Voldemort facing off for the final, and most crucial, time. The Death Eaters had been under orders to kill everyone associated with Harry and the Order. Harry’s friends had scattered, partly as a tactic to keep the Death Eaters from observing Harry and Voldemort and coming to Voldemort’s aid. Also they had felt that in ones and twos more of them were likely to survive. In the chaos Ron and Hermione had been separated. Ron had managed to unintentionally outwit his Death Eater. He’d been hit by an Impediment Curse but where he’d fallen had been well hidden from the Death Eater who ran off in another direction looking for Ron or anyone else to curse. While the Death Eater had been unable to see Ron, he was positioned in a way that allowed him to see all of what happened to his sister.

Ginny and Neville had taken off together when everyone dispersed. Their affection for each other had deepened greatly earlier in the year and it was only natural that they would fight side by side when the time came. Two Death Eaters, one of whom had removed her hood, her evil eyes awash with the pleasure of the fight, had pursued them.

Bellatrix Lestrange toyed with her opponents while her companion laughed. Ginny and Neville, who had personal reasons for wanting to destroy his opponent, had fought hard and well greatly diminishing Bellatrix’s good humour. When Ginny had scored a direct hit with a stunning spell, Bellatrix had screamed, “kill her!� to the other Death Eater.

Obediently he’d raised his wand and shouted, “AVADA KEDAVRA!�

Before Ginny could react she heard a strangled yell of “NO!� and Neville had jumped in front of her just as the jet of green light was about to hit her.

“Neville!� Ginny screamed. Neville fell to the ground and in the background Bellatrix laughed maniacally. Dropping to her knees Ginny had tried to wake Neville, which made Bellatrix laugh even harder.

“Look at her! Look at her trying to wake him!� In her mirth she grabbed the black robes of her companion, knocking his hood askew.

Ginny looked up. Still cradling Neville’s head in her lap she pointed her wand at Bellatrix. “What?� Bellatrix cried. “Are you going to try and kill me, little girl? It won’t work. You may know the words but you lack the strength to do it. Not even your Harry Potter could kill me, the one time he had the opportunity.� Both Death Eaters laughed, sure in their triumph.

Over the years a lot of people had underestimated Ginny Weasley and with fierce determination she had proven them all wrong. Even Fred and George had come to admit that not only was she a decent Quidditch player, she was almost as clever as they were and that was quite a compliment coming from them. While the Death Eaters gloated, Ginny’s eyes had narrowed. Not only was she filled with hatred and anger but an overpowering desire to kill Bellatrix. A whisper was all Ginny needed. “Avada Kedavra.� There was a flash of green light that hit Bellatrix dead on and, with an expression of surprise on her face that matched that on her cousin’s face when she’d killed him two years ago, she crumpled to the ground.

The other Death Eater stopped laughing. Apparently Bellatrix had underestimated this girl. He knew she would kill him next so before she could utter the words, he removed his hood to reveal bright red hair that matched Ginny’s own.

“Percy.�

“Yes. And I know you won’t do it, Ginny. Not to me, I’m your brother after all. Haven’t I always looked out for you?� There was something cocky in Percy’s tone. “I know you won’t kill me. I know you can’t.�

Ginny hesitated a brief second and that was all it took. Percy pointed his own wand at her and sneered. “You silly girl. None of you were ever smart enough to understand the power. You lot were always so noble it was sickening. Well, little sister, it ends here.�

Percy had just opened his mouth when there was yet another flash of green light and he fell to the ground. Behind him stood Ron holding his wand out in front of him, the Impediment Curse having finally worn off.

Ron had been inconsolable after he’d finished telling Hermione what had happened. Percy had still been his brother and he had killed him. It was the only way he could save Ginny. Another tragedy I’ve brought about, Harry remembered thinking at the time. Unable to stay and listen to Ron’s grief, Harry had walked away.

Now Harry stood outside Ginny’s room, gathering up the courage to go in. Cautiously and wondering for the thousandth time if he was doing the right thing, Harry pushed open the door and stepped into the room. Nothing about Ginny changed. Her eyes remained unfocused and she continued to rock.

“Ginny,� Harry said quietly. “Ginny, it’s Harry. Can you hear me?�

There was no response and Harry had to admit he hadn’t expected one.

Slowly he made his way across the room and sat down in the chair opposite her. Her eyes were vacant and this disturbed Harry a great deal. For six years Ginny had been like this. Wishing there was some way he could help her yet feeling completely powerless, Harry gently took Ginny’s hand in his. Sitting thus, Harry began to talk. At first he spoke in slow disjointed sentences. He didn’t know what to say but he felt a need to fill the silence that pervaded the room.

After awhile Harry decided he should go. He told Ginny he was leaving, kissed her gently on the cheek and left.

Chapter 5

Harry went to see Ginny every weekday. He knew her family visited her on weekends and he was still reluctant to have anyone know he was even leaving the house, let alone where he was going. Unbeknownst to him, several people at St. Mungo’s had recognized him. There’d been some whispers but no one had said anything to him and they had apparently kept Harry’s visits to Ginny quiet as word didn’t seem to have gotten back to any of the Weasleys.

At first he’d talked to her about the books and the movies Hermione had shown him. This had expanded into him telling her how he felt about it all and that it had been the catalyst to getting him out of the house and then to his visits. When he’d exhausted that topic he started telling her about the things he saw on his walks around Muggle London. Every day he sat by her side holding her hand and when he left he kissed her gently on the cheek. At the end of the week he would remind her that her family would be coming to see her over the weekend and he’d see her again in just three days.

Harry had been visiting Ginny for about two months. One Sunday evening he was alone in the house while Ron and Hermione had gone to spend the day at the Burrow and then to see Ginny with the rest of the family. Harry was sitting in his bedroom in a wing back chair with his feet resting on the edge of the bed. He’d made it a habit to not be around when Ron and Hermione returned from their weekend outings, as he hadn’t wanted to hear anything about them. Tonight though, he was curious to see if they said anything about Ginny and had left his bedroom door open a crack. When they walked by, Harry, with his head back against the chair and his eyes on the ceiling, listened.

“You know Ron, I really think I saw improvement in Ginny, today.�

“Do you think so?� Ron’s response was hopeful and yet weary at the same time. “I don’t know, Hermione. We’ve been waiting for her to recover for such a long time.�

“She wasn’t rocking with quite the same intensity as usual. Didn’t you notice?�

“No.�

“I know how hard this has been for you, Ron. But I really think she seemed better. Don’t give up hope.�

Hermione’s and Ron’s voices faded as they passed out of Harry’s earshot. A minute later he heard their bedroom door click shut.

The next day’s visit was the same. Harry didn’t see any change in Ginny and wondered if Hermione had imagined it. At the end of his visit, Harry stood up and kissed Ginny on the cheek. As he did so he felt a slight pressure on his hand.

Harry froze. Pulling back but not letting go of her hand he asked quietly, “Ginny?� There was no response. After a few expectant moments Harry said, “I’ll see you tomorrow,� and left; feeling sure he had imagined it.

The rest of the week was the same as usual with the exception being that as the days passed the pressure Harry had felt from Ginny on Monday increased. He was sure he was getting through to her.

Harry said nothing to anyone. He didn’t want to raise anybody’s hopes only to have them dashed later if Ginny didn’t recover. That weekend was one of the longest he’d experienced in recent years. He couldn’t wait for it to be over so he could go back to St. Mungo’s.

The following week Harry did finally notice a decrease in Ginny’s rocking. She continued to squeeze his hand when he left for the day and Harry developed a spring in his step on his walks to and from St. Mungo’s; something he couldn’t remember when he’d last experienced. He didn’t realize it but Harry was experiencing hope for the first time since the war ended.

At the end of that week, Harry kissed Ginny’s cheek, squeezed her hand as she squeezed his and said with a smile, “I’ll see you next week.� When he went to withdraw his hand from Ginny’s she held on. Harry stood quietly and when she finally let go he started to leave. He had just reached the door when he heard, “Harry.� It was just a whisper but in the quiet of the room it sounded like one of Fred and George’s Catherine wheels flying through Hogwarts.

Whirling around Harry looked at Ginny. She was sitting motionless in the chair, her gaze was focused and she was looking right at him. Harry strode back across the room and sat in the chair he had just vacated. “Ginny?�

At first she just looked at him with watery eyes. Then she cried, “oh, Harry,� her voice scratchy from disuse. She threw her arms around him. Harry held Ginny tightly as she sobbed in his embrace. The pain she’d bottled up for so many years and that had nearly consumed her very soul was finally being released. Harry felt silent tears of his own slide gently down his face into Ginny’s hair and realized that he had also bottled up his feelings. He’d always felt that everyone expected him be strong and he’d tried so hard to fulfill that image. Together, Harry and Ginny gave in to the healing power of their grief.

Epilogue

One Year Later

Dan Radcliffe was just getting his guitar out to practice when he heard the afternoon post slip through the mail slot in the front door. Setting the instrument down he went downstairs and gathered the various envelopes, catalogs, and adverts up off the floor. Flipping through it quickly he threw the items for his parents on the hall table and then sat down on the stairs to take a closer look at his mail. Most of his fan mail was directed to Leavesdon Studios or his publicist so he wasn’t expecting to find any here.

Without looking too closely, Dan opened an envelope that was slightly larger than the rest.

Dear Daniel,

“I wanted to take this opportunity to thank you for your vivid and accurate portrayal of me in the Harry Potter films.�--Dan snorted. This guy actually thought he was Harry Potter. “—It was the discovery that I have been known in the muggle world as a fictional character and the events immediately following that discovery that have led to the most positive change my life could have known. Seeing you acting as me was one of the factors that led to these events. It was like looking at myself ten years in the past. As I am aware that muggles only know of my life up to the end of my fifth year at Hogwarts—I understand the next book about my sixth year will be out shortly—I will not tell you any more than this. I just wanted to thank you for what you have done.

Sincerely,

Harry James Potter

P.S. I thought you might enjoy the enclosed.

Dan snorted a second time as he read the signature. He was grinning widely as he dropped the letter on the step next to him and rummaged in the envelope for whatever the nutter had enclosed. He pulled out a slightly thicker piece of paper and looked at it. The grin on his faced disappeared. Surely it must be some kind of joke. He flipped over the envelope he still had in his other hand to read the postmark. There was no postmark. Not only that, there was no postage. In fact, the envelope didn’t even look like regular paper. It seemed to be, dare he think it, parchment? He looked again at the enclosed item that had wiped the grin off his face.

It was a photograph. On the far left was a young man with round glasses and messy black hair. Dan wasn’t sure the man looked exactly like him but still felt eerily as though he was looking at something from his future. Next to the man was a young woman with brown hair that only seemed a little bushy. She was holding a baby in her arms. On her other side was another young man who had ginger hair. He was looking adoringly at the woman and was holding the baby’s hand with his thumb and forefinger. At the very right stood a woman with the same ginger hair. She was smiling broadly. But what had caught Dan’s attention was the fact that the people in the photo were moving. The couple in the middle alternately looked at each other and the baby and then kissed while the people on the ends of the picture also looked at the baby, then looked up at the couple kissing followed by a glance around them at each other. Then all four of the people looked out of the photo and waved while the baby kicked its feet.

Jumping up from the stairs Dan went to the window next to the door and peered around the curtain. He didn’t see anything unusual. There were no strange people lingering about and nothing was any different than any other day. Except…As Dan was turning away something caught his eye. He looked again and saw, to his amazement, that there was a snowy white owl sitting on the front gate. The owl seemed to be eyeing him. They stared at each other for a moment and then the owl, with a hoot and a nod towards Dan, spread her wings and flew away.