Harry Potter made his way down from the Headmaster’s office slowly, with every step taking in the sights and sounds of the aftermath of the previous night’s battle.

It was confusing, overwhelming; Harry heard shouts of joy and laughter echoing throughout the corridors, interspersed with crying, sobbing, wailing, and the scratching of stone against stone as hands dug through rubble for survivors, or bodies.

At every turn, he saw the damage that had been done to the castle – to his home – shattered windows, great gaping holes in the walls; but also the signs of victory. Looking outside, Harry watched fireworks exploding in the morning sky, saw men and women and children hugging each other, dancing on the grounds. He saw, even, signs of repair; he was transfixed for a moment by the sight of a dozen animated suits of armor in the second floor corridor.

One was trying, accompanied by a hideous scraping sound, to jam a torn-out arm back into place; a second was sitting over a third, hammering at it - beating dents out of its chest, Harry realized. And the rest were at work – they were picking up debris, doing their part to fix the damage throughout the castle. Harry wondered idly if they were acting under the control of Professor McGonagall or on their own initiative.

Harry shook his head and started off again, leaving the suits of armor to their work. As he went, his thoughts were as jumbled as the sights he witnessed; jubilant one moment, sorrowful the next. Voldemort was defeated; but Fred Weasley was dead, killed right in front of him. The terror of the Death Eaters had ended; but poor Teddy Lupin, not even a month old, was an orphan. His friends were safe; but thousands of people would live with the scars of Voldemort’s war forever. He imagined that it must have been like this sixteen years ago. How must Remus Lupin have felt that night, when he’d learned that Voldemort had been stopped, but that three of his best friends were dead, betrayed by the fourth? Probably just like I do, Harry guessed, except worse. His friends were all dead, he didn’t have anyone like Ron and Hermione…or Ginny.

He was heading for the Great Hall; Harry had intended to go straight to Gryffindor Tower and a soft, comfortable four-poster bed that he could crawl into, and sleep for the next few hours, or maybe days. He’d told himself that was where he was going, but something deep inside him had other ideas. Without any conscious choice, his legs were steering him downwards, to all those people, to one person in particular.

Ginny was always there. Even when he was on the run and she was nothing more than a dot on the Marauder’s Map, she was a part of him. And right now she was in the Great Hall. Not an hour ago, he’d seen her there, thought that there would be days and weeks and years to talk to her, to be with her, and he’d gone to the Headmaster’s office with Ron and Hermione, leaving Ginny with her family.

But he was part of her family, too. And he had made her wait for too long, made himself wait for too long.

There she is. Harry entered the Great Hall, but he didn’t hear the shouted congratulations and cheers, he didn’t see the victory salutes and raised fists. All that was visible to him was her hair, catching the morning sunlight; her amber eyes, moist with tears; her torn and tattered robes; and, as she saw him, her smile, a smile that was the only thing in the world he ever cared to see.

She ran to him, and he to her; she threw her arms around him, he held her tightly to him, and Harry couldn’t say whether he kissed her or she kissed him; all he knew was that they kissed for a very long time.

As they broke apart, Harry thought about the memory of Ginny that had come to him in the forest, just before…just before I thought I was going to die, he thought with a small shudder. There was so much he’d hidden from Ginny, so much he hadn’t told her – for her own safety, or on Dumbledore’s orders, or for so many other reasons that no longer made sense and maybe never had.

“Ginny, I’m…I’m sorry,� he said, weakly. He had raged against Dumbledore, against Ron and Hermione, against everyone who had kept secrets from him for his own good, and he’d done the same to the girl he loved.

There: it was and always had been true, he had known it for so long, but never before had he said the words, not even in the privacy of his own thoughts. I love Ginny. And I have to tell her…show her…give her something that proves it. So she knows it was always true. There was one thing – the only thing, he realized - that he could give her.

“You…you s-saved the world, and you’re apologizing?� Ginny was saying, in a voice that was somehow amused and annoyed and saddened and fiercely protective of him all at once.

“I-I’d like to show you something,� Harry replied, his own voice shaking, “There’s so much I want to tell you, but I want to show you first. Up in Dumble – the Headmaster’s office? Please?�

Ginny stared at him, that hard, blazing look on her face that he could never forget, and he didn’t need Legilimency to know what she was thinking; she was trying - and failing - to figure out what he was talking about. Finally, she disentangled herself from his embrace, took his hand in hers, and said simply, “Lead the way.�

---

“I still don’t know the password,� Harry said to the gargoyle guarding the Headmaster’s office, and for the second time that morning, it let him pass. He and Ginny rose up on the moving stairs into the office. Harry was surprised to see that it was occupied; Professor McGonagall rose from the desk to greet them.

“Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley, what are you doing in my – in here?�

Harry hadn’t thought about it, but it was obvious – who else would take over as Headmaster, or, he corrected himself, Headmistress?

“There’s…uh…I need to show Ginny something,� he answered, nodding at the Pensieve, still sitting on the desk where he’d left it last night.

“Oh…oh!� McGonagall said, suddenly understanding. “I see. And you’ll be wanting privacy, I suppose?�

The new Headmistress didn’t wait for an answer; she gathered herself up and headed for the stairs. “Students these days! Oh, the cheek, it’s simply incredible,� she said as she descended; but Harry knew from the lightness of her tone that there was a grin – well, the hint of a grin, it was Professor McGonagall, after all – on her face as she went.

“All the rest of you, please?� Harry said to the portraits covering the walls, and with only a grunt or two (Harry was certain that one of them came from Phineas Nigellus), the former Headmasters and Headmistresses left; all except one.

Ginny looked at Harry questioningly; he said, very quietly, “You’ll see…I promise,� and then, in a normal voice, he addressed the portrait of Albus Dumbledore: “Professor, I know I didn’t ask permission last night, but it was…well…�

“I quite understand, Harry,� Dumbledore replied. “You were in a bit of a stressful situation, and any lapse in courtesy is quite understandable, and easily forgiven.�

“Thank you,� Harry said, and then sighed. “So can I…may I…use it again?�

“Harry, of course you may use my Pensieve,� the portrait said, and Ginny’s eyes went wide. She walked over to the desk, touched the stone basin gently, reverently.

“That’s a Pensieve? I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never seen one before,� she breathed.

“It is indeed, Miss Weasley. Harry is, of course, well acquainted with it by now. I presume, even though, as you say, you’ve never seen one, that you know what it does?�

“Yes,� she whispered, the realization of what Harry meant to show her suddenly dawning.

“There’s just one thing, Professor,� Harry said, “I was hoping you could tell me, how…�

Dumbledore smiled and shook his head. “How to extract your own thoughts and memories? I believe that you’ll find that you already know. You’ve seen it done many times. I would only advise you to be sure you concentrate on the memories you wish to let Miss Weasley see most carefully.�

Harry turned to Ginny, saw the surprise and the wonder in her eyes, and answered her rather than Dumbledore. “There’s nothing that Ginny can’t see, if she wants to.� She hugged him to her, hugged him so closely that he could barely breathe, but he found that he didn’t mind at all.

“You really mean that,� Ginny said, finally. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,� Harry answered, never more sure of anything in his life. “You can see everything. But there’s something I need you to see, right now. Something that’s…I don’t know how to put it into words. Just, please, let me show you?�

Ginny nodded and stepped back from Harry. He turned away from her, lost in concentration, focusing, clearing his mind of everything except one memory.

He pulled out his wand, and slowly, deliberately raised it to his temple, gently touched it to his head, and then, as he pulled it away, a misty silver thread came with it, floating on the tip. Harry carefully deposited the mist into the Pensieve, watching as it swirled in the stone basin.

Dumbledore smiled. “Now I will leave you two to yourselves,� and he was gone from the portrait.

“Ginny,� Harry whispered, “are you ready?�

In answer, she took his hand, squeezed it, and let him lead her to the Pensieve. Together, they leaned into the basin, and…

---

It was one of the oddest sensations Ginny had ever felt. As a witch, she was used to all manner of strange feelings, things that took some (or a lot of) getting used to: Portkeys, travelling by the Floo Network, Apparation just off the top of her head. But none of them were like this, this spinning and falling upward and yet downward at the same time, this feeling of traveling and yet not moving an inch.

And then it was passed and she was on her hands and knees on the cool grass, and a hand was reaching out to her, helping her up, Harry’s hand, and she recognized her surroundings. They were outside the castle, and it was…there was…

There I am!

She and Harry stood, apparently unnoticed by anyone, in the midst of the chaos of a few hours before.

“This was just before dawn. Voldemort had called off the Death Eaters, and he said…he said…�

Ginny finished the sentence for Harry. “He would spare us if we gave you to him. I remember,� she said softly. “I didn’t…none of us knew where you were. I was…�

Ginny watched herself, trying to console a girl, a second-year from Ravenclaw, Maura something-or-other. She had got left behind when the underage students had been evacuated, and Ginny had been doing what she could to calm the girl.

“I felt something, I remember,� she said. “It was you. You were there. You walked right by me,� Ginny said, anger creeping into her voice.

“Yes,� Harry nodded. “I’m under the Invisibility Cloak…that’s why everything looks a little hazy, I guess.�

Ginny looked from the memory of herself back to Harry. He didn’t say goodbye. He’d just left her. “Why didn’t you say anything?�

“You know why, Ginny. Look at yourself over there. Can’t you tell? You’re the only one in focus. You were the only one I saw. All I could think of was you, and…�

Harry was right. Ginny could see it clearly, now that he had said it. The memory of her was sharper and brighter than anything else. “What were you thinking, Harry?�

Harry didn’t answer. He looked all around, anywhere but at Ginny. She realized that even in the middle of his memories, even now that it was all finished, he still couldn’t talk to her. “What were you thinking?�

“You know,� Harry repeated, finally.

Ginny was focusing entirely on Harry now, paying no attention to the memory all around her. What possible explanation could he have for ignoring her, walking past her, not saying…goodbye?

There it was. That was the answer. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to say goodbye. She understood it all now. He was afraid that if he talked to her, he wouldn’t have been able to go at all. He knew he was walking off to give himself up, to die. And he didn’t want me to talk him out of it, she thought. Oh, Harry!

Ginny knew it was true, knew it absolutely, but that wasn’t enough. “I know, but I want to hear you say it. I need to. And I think you need to hear yourself say it too.�

Now he looked at her, and she saw the tear in the corner of his eye, and wondered how he had managed to hold the tears back as long as he had. “I-I couldn’t say goodbye. If I stopped, if I stayed with you, I couldn’t have gone on. And…�

“And the battle would have continued, and more people would have died. And You-Kn – oh, blast! He’s dead now, I can bloody well say it! Voldemort! Voldemort would still be out there. And you think…� No, he knows. He knows I would have stopped him, I would have fought him, hexed him if it came to that.

“You would have stopped me. Wouldn’t you?�

If Harry could bare his soul, then, Ginny decided, she could do no less. “Yes.�

“I would have stopped you, if our places were switched,� Harry said. “If it was a choice between saving you and saving the whole world? That’s the easiest choice I can think of.�

Ginny was speechless. She stared into Harry’s teary eyes and felt the tears in her own. He pulled her to him, and for a moment, or an hour, they stood in each other’s arms.

“There’s more,� Harry said softly after a while, taking her hand and leading her across the grounds and into the forest. “I want you to see.�

They caught up to the memory of Harry just as he was holding a Golden Snitch up to his lips, whispering to it. Ginny could just, barely, hear him. “I am about to die,� he said, and she watched through her tears, through the sudden sharp pain all through her body; and something deep inside her, heart or soul or both, she didn’t know and didn’t care, started to crack.

Ginny thought she had got used to that kind of pain. A year ago, on Harry’s birthday, the hurt and the anger she’d felt when Ron and Hermione had burst into her room - the way they’d ruined everything – had burned like nothing she’d ever felt before. She had thought she couldn’t possibly feel a worse pain. But of course she had, the very next day. After the chaos of Bill’s wedding, when it hit home that Harry, and Ron and Hermione were gone, probably never to return. She had cried for hours. The boy – no, the man – she loved, and the girl who was like a sister, and the brother who – infuriating as he often was – she would do anything for: all of them had gone and left her behind. She couldn’t imagine there was anything worse.

She thought that right up until last night, when she learned there were whole new realms of pain to experience, looking at the body of her brother. Fred, so full of life, always ready with a joke, forever pulling pranks. What could hurt even more than that?

Seeing Harry’s body, hearing Voldemort’s words of triumph.

But this, watching Harry walking alone to his death, knowing it was his death, knowing there was no choice and no chance, it was impossible that there could ever be anything more painful.

She watched as the Snitch opened up, and a small black stone fell out, into the waiting hand of the memory-Harry. She watched as he looked at the stone, turned it over in his hand, and then…

“Mum!� the real Harry gasped, as though seeing it for the first time, as though he hadn’t been in the forest and living this memory just hours ago. “Dad!�

There were so many questions Ginny wanted to ask, but none of them mattered at this moment. She knew the most important answer already. There was no need for words now. He really believed he was going to die. And they were coming to take him with them. To bring him home.

The memory-Harry and the real one both looked at his mother, taking every inch of her in, as though she were the most beautiful, most perfect woman in the world. Which, in Harry’s eyes, Ginny knew, she was.

Ginny tried not to listen; even though Harry had brought her here, given this gift to her, she felt that it was something for him and him alone. She walked alongside the real Harry silently, only squeezing his hand as he followed himself to the end.

It came quickly; Death Eaters appeared, and the memory-Harry followed, and arrived in a clearing, and the black stone fell out of his hand, and his parents vanished. She watched as he threw off the Invisibility Cloak and stared at Voldemort, the Dark Lord’s red eyes staring back, watched as Hagrid, bound to a tree, shouted out, looked on as the Death Eaters all around glared malevolently at Harry.

And then she finally saw what he must have meant her to see; when Voldemort aimed his wand at Harry and spoke almost in a whisper, “Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived,� someone else appeared in the clearing, a girl with red hair and blazing eyes, and she was kissing the memory-Harry, just for a moment, but for that moment she was more real than Voldemort or all the Death Eaters in the clearing or the war or anything else, more real than Harry himself, even though it was his own memory. And then, at last, a jet of green light…

---

Without warning, Harry and Ginny were back in the Headmistress’s office, Harry again helping Ginny up.

Ginny had tears in her eyes; Harry remembered thinking, a year ago, that one of the things he liked best about Ginny was that she was rarely weepy, but here and now, it was impossible not to weep.

It took Ginny a few moments to find her voice. “Wh-why did you show me that?�

“Because…� The words were there, but it was so hard to get them out. “I wanted you to have something that…that…�

Somehow, despite his inability to say it, Ginny must have understood exactly what he meant. “Something that you could share with me. With…only me?�

It was another trait he liked about her; she knew what he was thinking without him having – or being able to – speak the words. “Something for us to share. And something that’s mine to give, that nobody else can ever have but you. That’s what you wanted to give me last year, for my birthday, isn’t it? You deserve the same.�

Ginny blushed at that, her face nearly as red as her hair. Despite the tears, despite everything that had happened, Harry smiled at the sight of it; if she could blush, and he could smile, there was hope for both of them yet.

But as quickly as that moment came, it was gone, and Ginny looked at Harry searchingly, her eyes finally resting on his scar. “I still don’t understand. You thought you were going to die, but why did you go in the first place? Just because Voldemort demanded it? Just because he threatened all of us?�

A little cough from Dumbledore’s portrait stopped Ginny in her tracks. “I believe you should have shown Miss Weasley the memory Professor Snape gave you, Harry. I think that would answer her question.�

Ginny looked from the portrait to Harry in shock; he knew all the questions that were bursting out of her. But for this at least, he had an answer. “I told it backwards. I wasn’t really thinking logically, I guess. Maybe it would have made sense to show her that. But I’m not going to.�

Dumbledore and Ginny both stared at him questioningly. Harry continued, “I know I said you could see anything, Ginny. You can see anything that’s mine. But he’s talking about something else,� Harry waved towards the portrait, still holding Ginny’s gaze. “I can’t show Professor Snape’s memories to you because they’re not mine to share. Or,� and now he addressed Dumbledore, “anyone else’s. I don’t have the right, and he didn’t want anyone to see them, and I’m going to respect that.�

Dumbledore looked shocked; Harry couldn’t recall ever seeing that particular expression in all his years at Hogwarts. “You amaze me again, Harry. I would not have expected you to feel that way. Not after all the years of animosity.�

“I hated him, Professor. And even with what I saw, I don’t know if I can forgive him. But he gave…he did…he’s got the right to his privacy. I’d feel the same way,� Harry replied, and then turned back to Ginny. “I’ll tell you about it. Everything I learned from Snape. But the actual memories aren’t mine to give you. I hope you understand,� he finished.

Ginny pulled him to her, kissed him, and Harry could only assume that meant she did.

---

Later, after all the explanations were done, and after lots of crying, and just as much kissing and hugging, Harry and Ginny were ready to leave the Headmistress’s office.

“I’ve just got one more question, Professor,� Harry addressed Dumbledore’s portrait. “And I need the whole truth.�

“I promise you will get it,� Dumbledore replied, with a hint of a smile.

“I think I’ve worked it all out. You knew I would live…but only if I walked up to Voldemort and I really and truly believed I would die.� Dumbledore nodded, and Harry went on. “For my Mum’s protection to keep working, I had to be totally convinced that I was going to die. You had to lie to me, and to Professor Snape. Am I right?�

At that, Dumbledore himself was nearly reduced to tears. Just a single one escaped from the corner of his eye. “You’re almost right, Harry. I didn’t know for certain, but I believed it wholeheartedly. I was convinced it was the only chance to end this war, to finish Tom Riddle off and leave you alive. But I did not know.�

Dumbledore shook his head. “I am not proud of putting you and your friends and loved ones,� and here he glanced, just for a moment, at Ginny, “through the torment that I did. But I believed it was the only way. It was the only hope I saw for you.�

“Thank you,� Harry said softly.

“As you know,� Dumbledore said, “I have never had children, but what I felt when I lied to you is, I imagine, akin to what a parent must feel when he tells his child that the medicine will not taste bad. I imagine you’ll find out for yourselves when you have children someday.�

Harry and Ginny looked at each other, speaking at the same time, with precisely the same expression on their faces, “Have children? We’re not…�

And then, in the next moment, they had the same realization, that a piece of their future had just been foretold, and, more, that they had already known it before the words were ever said.

Harry knew then that he’d been right earlier; there would be hours and days and years for him and Ginny, a whole life with her. Together, hand in hand, they took their leave of Dumbledore and went to find the rest of her family – no, Harry corrected himself. Our family.

After Harry had shown Ginny his memories, they headed straight to Gryffindor Tower. They had to detour around several damaged staircases and blocked corridors. As they tried to find a route up to the Tower, they stopped, fascinated by a bizarre sight: large blocks of stone floating slowly down the halls under their own power.

“I guess the castle is repairing itself,� Harry said with a smile, lifting Ginny up, placing her on one of the stones and clambering after her.

“It’s lucky they’re going our way,� Ginny laughed, and they enjoyed the ride through the castle, until they passed an unblocked staircase that led to the Tower and hopped off.

The Fat Lady, having clearly been celebrating, waved an empty wineglass at them and swung open to reveal an empty Common Room. Harry stood there, just looking around without speaking, for a long time. He has always said that Hogwarts is his real home, Ginny thought.

Then, without a word, Harry started up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory. Harry held his hand out for Ginny to follow him, and she didn’t hesitate for a moment.

They were both surprised to find Harry’s bed made, and everything around it spotless. There wasn’t a single speck of dust. “I guess this is how Kreacher’s been keeping busy,� Harry said, surveying the area.

Ginny had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but she didn’t ask; she merely filed it away as one more thing he’d need to explain later.

She didn’t know how long it had been since Harry had slept; she guessed that it could be measured in days. That’s why he isn’t the least bit self-conscious now, she told herself. The last time we were alone like this, he was so nervous!

Harry sat down on his bed and yawned, and Ginny knew she was right. He must have been keeping himself going on the strength of all the emotions running through him, but now, with a moment of calm, exhaustion had caught up with him. He was spent. She sat down next to him, ran a hand through his unkempt hair. He obviously liked that; he made a sound that reminded her of a cat purring. Well, he is a Lion of Gryffindor, and lions are just big old cats, Ginny thought, giggling.

Harry barely summoned up the energy to kick off his shoes; still in his robes, he lay on the bed and, with what Ginny took to be his last burst of strength, pulled her next to him. She’d been waiting a year for this, too.

“Will you stay with me?� Harry asked. “I don’t want you to go.�

Ginny stretched out, her body pressed against his.

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be,� she answered, pulling the covers over them both and putting her arms around his neck. All the times she’d thought about this, she hadn’t imagined the overwhelming sense of safety she felt lying next to him under the warm blankets.

When she was little and she’d hurt herself, or something one of her brothers had said or done had upset her, she would run to her father. He would scoop her up and rock her gently in his arms, and whatever had been wrong would be forgotten. In her father’s embrace, she had been safe; nothing could harm her or touch her. This was the same feeling; lying next to Harry, nothing could be wrong; she was perfectly safe.

“Safe…� Harry muttered. “I feel safe.� And so softly that she could barely hear the words, he whispered, “I love you, Ginny.� Then he was out.

Ginny examined his face. She wanted to memorize every detail, freeze this moment forever. I make him feel safe? she wondered. She could hardly believe that he would think that, and to hear him say it aloud seemed impossible. Harry Potter, who never wanted to admit weakness or fear or need, saying that? But he had, and he’d meant it. It was perfect….

And she must have fallen asleep herself, because she was woken up by the sound of footsteps, and then giggling, and then a truly awful sound: a sort of wet, hungry, slurping.

She knew who it must be, and what they were about, and she had absolutely no desire to see it, yet she couldn’t help herself. She slowly turned her head, trying not to disturb Harry’s sleep.

She turned away immediately; it was every bit as horrible as she had thought it would be: her brother and Hermione Granger.

The Universe has a nasty sense of humour, Ginny decided. All the things that she had envisioned once the war was over and she and Harry were reunited, and what was she actually doing?

Lying awake listening to her brother and Hermione Granger snogging just a few feet away. Oh, yes, very romantic. Just like in the storybooks, she thought.

She was trapped. She didn’t want to disturb Harry, or worse, slip out him so that when he did finally wake he’d find her gone. She certainly couldn’t sleep with them doing…what they were doing; as it was, she was sure those evil noises and the brief glimpse she’d had would haunt her for the rest of her life. Her only hope was that they would notice her and have the good grace to find somewhere else to…ugh, I won’t think it, I won’t, I won’t!

For ten minutes – it seemed like ten years – she was forced to listen to them. Finally they came up for air, and she heard Hermione gasp.

“What?� Ron said, causing Harry to stir. Then Hermione must have put her hand over Ron’s mouth, because when he said it again, his voice was lower, and muffled.

“It’s Harry!� Hermione whispered. Nice of you to notice, now get the hell out of here and find another room to go and snog in already!

But they didn’t; Ron must have looked over. “He’s with…she…that’s…he’s…what the hell…how…he’s…no…it’s…that bastard…my sister…why…Ginny!� Eloquent as always, Ronniekins!

“Ron, quietly!� Not bloody likely!

“No! She’s my little sister! I won’t have her be some kind of…of…� What, Won-Won? What won’t you have me be?

“Scarlet woman?� Hah! She’s never going to let him forget that, is she?

“Well, yeah!� And what does that make you, Ron? All we’re doing is sleeping, you know!

“Ronald Weasley, how can you say that? They love each other, you know! And they haven’t seen each other for a whole year! And H-Harry…he saved the whole world, so give it a rest!� She’s already using his whole name to yell at him…he’s in trouble, Ginny thought, and suddenly felt an involuntary twinge of sympathy for her brother. When a Weasley heard their full name, it was a prelude to a day of de-gnoming or some other equally unpleasant task. Having experienced it far too many times herself, Ginny instinctively gave Ron the benefit of the doubt.

He is my brother, after all, Ginny decided. And if she was being fair, she had to admit that there wasn’t anything wrong with him snogging Hermione. Just so long as she didn’t have to be in the same room while they were at it.

“Oi!� Ginny whispered, instantly ending Ron and Hermione’s row. “He’s asleep, and you two of all people should know he needs the rest!�

Hermione looked appropriately chastened; it took Ron’s glower a few seconds to fade into what Ginny considered a properly guilty expression. “We didn’t think you could hear us,� he grumbled.

“Obviously,� Ginny replied.

“We should go,� Hermione said, pulling Ron up with her. It took all of Ginny’s self-control to keep from laughing, watching Hermione try and drag Ron out of the room. When she finally got him to the door, she turned back to Ginny and mouthed “Talk later?� and Ginny nodded back.

And then they were gone. Hopefully nobody else would disturb her or Harry’s sleep.

What am I thinking? I’m an idiot! Ginny berated herself; there was no need to “hope� that they wouldn’t be disturbed. She carefully pulled one hand away from Harry and searched in her robes for her wand. “Colloportus!� she whispered, pointing it at the door. There, much better!

Now protected from unwanted intrusion, Ginny relaxed. She felt the sense of safety flowing back into her. She kissed Harry, very gently, on his forehead – on the lightning bolt that, she hoped, would never pain him again – and laid her head next to his. She was asleep within moments.

***

He had never been to a train station before; how on Earth was he supposed to find his way around? His aunt and uncle had unceremoniously dumped him off, leaving him with a heavy trunk, a snowy white owl hooting excitedly in her cage and no idea where “Platform Nine and Three-Quarters� could possibly be. They didn’t number things like that anyway, did they?

Sure enough, there was a platform nine and a platform ten, and nothing in between. Just a brick wall; no door or window or anything else. There was nobody who seemed likely to have an answer. The platforms were full of men in suits and women in dresses waiting impatiently – late for work or important meetings or somesuch – no one who looked as though they’d be happy to help a lost teenager in baggy old clothes and mangy trainers carting around an owl.

But he had to find that platform! The letter was very clear: the train departed at eleven o’clock precisely. No delays, no exceptions.

What would happen to him? He’d be stuck here, he supposed. His aunt and uncle didn’t want him back and he didn’t especially want to return anyway. He had no money, no family, certainly no friends. Nobody to help him, no way to go on alone. He’d have to become a…what? A vagrant, as his aunt called them? Living in the station and hiding from police and eating out of rubbish bins?

The minutes ticked away on the station clock, and he dodged commuters rushing to and fro. Everyone he saw had someplace to go, something to do, somewhere they were wanted or needed or expected, but not he.

It was five minutes until eleven when he saw her: the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, despite her strange black robes with an odd coat of arms on them. She had long straight red hair – so unlike his unruly black mop that his aunt so despised – and perfect amber eyes, wide open and bright, obviously delighting in everything they saw. She had the most infectious, brilliant smile. And she was walking past him, straight towards the wall dividing platform nine from platform ten as though she intended to walk right into it.

“Hey!� he shouted, and she turned to him, dazzling him with that smile, gazing into his eyes.

“Your eyes are exactly the same colour as a fresh pickled toad. Did you know that?� she said by way of response. He hadn’t. It seemed an odd thing to say, but he didn’t care as long as she kept smiling at him and he could continue to look into those amber eyes. “You don’t know how to get onto the platform, do you?� she asked him, extending a hand. He took it without hesitation. He would follow her anywhere. Nothing bad could possibly happen if he went with her. “It’s easy, you know. Just walk right up to the wall and go on through. Come with me, if you want to.�

For some reason, he couldn’t find his voice, but he let her lead him towards the wall, following her as she stepped into and through it. He closed his eyes, dreading a moment of impact that never came; like magic, she’d taken him through the barrier and onto…

“Platform Nine and Three-Quarters!�

“Where did you think you were going?� the most beautiful girl in the world asked him.

“I-I didn’t believe it, I guess. The letter said…but it didn’t make any sense…� Although it hadn’t, anything was better than the life he had been living. And now that he was here on the platform, everything seemed somehow familiar. He hadn’t ever been anywhere like this, and yet it all spoke to him.

All around, boys and girls and men and women wore robes just like the girl’s. The boys and girls mostly had trunks, and some had owls like his, while others had cats or toads or other animals he’d never seen before. They were all chattering and laughing, and some were boarding a train: a scarlet steam engine, puffing smoke into the bright blue sky.

This was his train, and it was taking him home, and all these people on the platform were his friends, even though he had no idea where the train was going and he hadn’t met a single one of them.

He could not begin to imagine what his life would be like when he got off the train, but that didn’t matter at all, because the smiling red-haired girl would be with him there, and he could spend the whole train ride talking to her and getting to know her and sitting next to her, his arm around her and her head on his shoulder, and there wasn’t anything in the world better than that…

***

It seemed to Ginny that they had walked every inch of the grounds. From the Quidditch pitch to the Lake to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, she and Harry had wandered without any particular destination in mind. They’d slipped out of Gryffindor Tower and then outside under the Invisibility Cloak just after sunrise and set off.

The sun was just beginning to disappear behind the mountains off in the distance. Ginny was amazed that they’d spent the entire day; it seemed to her that they’d only been walking and talking for a few minutes. It had been wonderful, with nobody else to worry about or answer to, just she and Harry together.

Bill used to take me for walks like this, Ginny remembered, when he was home from Hogwarts for the summer before his seventh year. She had been six years old, and she’d been thrilled that her oldest brother actually wanted to spend time with her instead of all the other, much more exciting things that she imagined he could be doing. They would walk through fields and across streams – Ginny riding on his shoulders when they were too deep – and he would talk to her. She didn’t understand half of what he said, but that didn’t matter. It was enough that he thought her worth talking to, and that, when she did understand something and had an opinion about it, he took her seriously.

He made me feel like… “…the most important person in the world,� Ginny heard herself say.

Harry turned to her. “What?�

“Oh, I was just thinking about Bill,� Ginny said. “When I was little, we used to walk like this, and it always felt as if there wasn’t anybody else around for miles and miles. He would tell me all about Hogwarts, and his friends, and what he wanted to do when he finished school.�

“He was your favourite,� Harry said.

“I love all my brothers,� she answered, and then, after a pause, added, “even Percy. But, yeah, Bill…he made me feel…�

Harry finished for her. “Like there was nobody he’d rather talk to than you. Like what you said really mattered to him.�

Ginny nodded, blushing. “That’s how I feel right now, with you.� As she spoke, an image came into her mind: Harry, wearing ratty clothes that didn’t fit, with a sad and lonely and lost look on his face, standing by the barrier at King’s Cross, without a single idea how to get through, waiting helplessly, until a girl – a beautiful, perfect girl with red hair and amber eyes – came to him and helped him through.

“Ginny?� Harry’s voice broke into her thoughts.

“I’m sorry,� she shook her head. “I was just thinking…� He was dreaming about me! I’m the girl! He thinks…

The words tumbled out before Ginny could catch them: “Do you really think I’m the most beautiful girl in the whole world?�

“Well, yeah,� he said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, and then, suddenly, she felt him withdrawing. He’s remembering the dream. “You are, Ginny,� he said, coming back to her. He took her hands, squeezed. “But that was in my dream. How did you know?�

Ginny shrugged. She had no more idea than he did. The image had just come to her without warning. Just like… “Harry, do you remember the last thing you said to me before you fell asleep last night?�

“I said…I-I love you.� He pulled her closer. “I do.�

“And I love you, Harry Potter,� she answered, forcing herself not to kiss him. It took all her self-control. “But...do you remember what you said right before that?�

Harry thought about it; Ginny could see the effort he put into remembering. “You told me that I made you feel safe, just like your Dad did when you were a little girl, and I said that you made me feel safe, too.�

“I thought that, but I never said it.� The feeling was so strong, and he could tell! He knew what I was thinking! “Harry, how are we doing this?�

Harry mulled it over. “Maybe it’s Legilimency? We’re doing it without meaning to. Maybe any time a witch and a wizard are in love, they can do it?�

Ginny considered that. It did make some sense. I wonder if Mum and Dad…on second thought, I’m not sure I want to know about them! “I don’t know, Harry. I’ve never heard of anything like it. But I guess it could be one of those things nobody tells you about, and you have to find out for yourself. We’ll figure it out. We have plenty of time,� she said, and now she did kiss him.

Much later, he answered her. “I think we’ve got all the time in the world.�

The month of June passed in a blur. After the perfect day he’d spent with Ginny, Harry had barely a moment to himself.

He, along with Ron and Hermione, spent what seemed like a solid week telling the tale of their year on the run to Hogwarts teachers, friends and family.

There was most of a day with Professor McGonagall, who treated Harry like an equal for the first and – he imagined – last time. The next day it was Neville, who was shocked by the true contents of the prophecy, and gratified that he’d killed not just a snake but part of Voldemort’s soul. After that was Hagrid, whose howls – alternately in sympathy and in rage – shook the walls of his cabin and caused Fang to flee in terror. Finally, there was the remainder of the Weasley family. Harry had dreaded speaking to them most of all; he didn’t have any desire for Mrs. Weasley to hear all the awful details – she had more than enough to cope with as it was. But they deserved to know, and Ron deserved to see the pride in his parents’ eyes.

That was far from the end of it; there was an abridged version of the tale for the rest of the Hogwarts faculty, as well as all the Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs – and the handful of Slytherins who’d fought on the right side in the Battle of Hogwarts. Harry, Ron and Hermione collectively decided that the less people knew about Horcruxes, the better, and Professor McGonagall agreed. It was a horrifying prospect that someone, having heard the story somewhere, might think that Voldemort’s plan of gaining immortality via Horcruxes was worth a try.

By that point, Harry had talked about Voldemort’s end so often that he was thoroughly sick of hearing his own voice and desperate for a free hour to spend with Ginny, but it was not to be.

He accepted Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s invitation to stay at the Burrow, hoping for some peace and quiet, but what he got instead was two weeks of seemingly endless debriefings with Ministry of Magic officials, interspersed with interminable interviews with the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly and several other publications he hadn’t previously heard of.

And as if that weren’t enough, there were requests to speak at memorial services and offers to appear at the re-openings of shops in Diagon Alley and other invitations of a hundred different sorts.

Harry felt obliged to go to the memorials; the people who’d lost their lives in the war deserved that. He had no interest in the rest ; there was one re-opening that he would attend, though, when (he hoped “when� and not “if� was the correct word) it happened.

The days blended one into another; he would wake up, dress, try to steal a few moments with Ginny out of view of any other Weasleys, bolt down a plateful of Mrs. Weasley’s excellent food, and then go off to the Ministry with Mr. Weasley and Percy. There, in Kingsley Shacklebolt’s office, or the Auror Headquarters, or, occasionally, the Department of Mysteries, he’d spend several hours answering what seemed like the same questions over and over. If he was lucky, there would be a break for a snack or some fresh air; on some days he’d be accompanied by Ron or Hermione. The sky would be dark by the time he returned with Percy and Mr. Weasley to the Burrow. There would be dinner, and maybe a few more stolen moments with Ginny before he climbed up to bed so he could start the whole thing over the next day.

***

The routine finally broke after a particularly long day in Kingsley Shacklebolt’s office. The new Minister and several Aurors had Harry going over in agonizing detail his visit to Malfoy Manor. The Aurors finally left, but before Harry could follow them, Kingsley asked him to stay for a moment more.

“I have a message for Miss Granger,� Kingsley told Harry. “I would deliver it myself, but I suspect that Molly doesn’t really need the Minister of Magic dropping in for a visit.�

Privately, Harry agreed, but he didn’t want to say so. He wondered what the message might be, however. As Kingsley handed Harry a sealed envelope, he smiled. “It’s good news, Harry. The Ministry has tracked down her parents. They’re being brought back to London, to St. Mungo’s – “

Harry had a start. “St. Mungo’s? What’s…� But Kingsley laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“There’s nothing wrong with them. We – well, I – decided that it would be best to have a Healer reverse Miss Granger’s memory modifications in a secure environment. That’s all. I don’t doubt that Miss Granger could do it herself, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.�

Harry sighed. Hermione will be so relieved! “When will they arrive?�

Kingsley laughed. “It’s all in the letter, Harry. They should get to St. Mungo’s on Friday afternoon.�

Harry shook Kingsley’s hand. “Thank you. I’m glad you managed to find them so quickly.�

Kingsley accepted his thanks, and as Harry turned to leave, called after him, “You haven’t asked, Harry, but your aunt and uncle have returned home as well.�

“I reckon I ought to go and visit them,� Harry said automatically. It was nearly impossible to argue with that deep, calming voice. It would be polite to make the effort to see them one more time, he supposed. And Dudley had been decent – almost human, really – when he’d left them a year ago; it would be interesting to see if he’d continued to evolve. “I’ll make the time for a visit,� he repeated, finally taking his leave of the Minister of Magic.

***

The good news caused a celebration at the Burrow. Hermione and Ron were waiting in the kitchen for Harry, and he handed her the letter without a word. After Hermione had read it aloud, and then read it twice more to be sure she didn’t miss a word, she hugged Harry so tightly that he thought he might break a rib.

“Oi, Potter! Hands off my girl!� Ron exclaimed, causing Hermione to abandon Harry and embrace him just as tightly. “Can’t…can’t breathe!�

“Oh, stop it, Ron,� she said, pushing him away. “This is the most wonderful news! I knew the Minister was working on it, but I never thought they’d be home so soon!� Hermione gushed. “I m-missed them! I m-m-missed them so much! I-I was so worried!� she went on, the tears suddenly flowing.

Faces peeked into the kitchen: Ginny and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. “Oh, Hermione, dear, what’s wrong?� Mrs. Weasley asked.

“M-my parents! They’re coming home,� she sobbed, and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny enfolded her in a hug. Harry thought he saw the hint of a tear from Mr. Weasley, and then a gleam in his eye.

“We’ll have a party for them!� Mr. Weasley said. “A homecoming. Wouldn’t they enjoy that, Hermione?�

“I-I think so, Mr. Weasley,� Hermione choked out. “That’s so…so generous of you!�

“Nonsense,� Mrs. Weasley scoffed. “Arthur has an ulterior motive. He wants them here where they can’t get away so he can ask them all about Muggle life. Still,� she considered, “I think a party for them would be a wonderful idea, as long as Arthur promises to behave himself.�

Mr. Weasley gave his wife a wounded look. “That is not true, Molly. I think we ought to celebrate their return. If they happen to want to talk about eckeltricity or fellytones, I don’t think there’s any harm in a little conversation.�

“I think,� Ginny said firmly, “they’ll want to talk about how brave and heroic their daughter was. And they might want to meet –� she grinned evilly “– her boyfriend.�

Everyone in the room knew about Ron and Hermione, of course, but the word “boyfriend� hung in the air nonetheless, shocking them all into silence for a moment. All eyes were on Ron.

Mr. Weasley was the first to recover. “Well, it’s about time you saw what was right in front of you all the while. How you could be so blind for so long, I’ll never know.�

Before anyone could answer him, everyone was distracted by the loud pop of someone Apparating into the kitchen. “Give him a little credit, Dad,� George Weasley said, causing every head in the room to turn, “he didn’t take as long as you did to notice Mum,� he said.

There was another stunned silence; looking at Mrs. Weasley, Harry wasn’t sure whether she wanted to hug her son or hex him. Both, probably, he decided. But I wouldn’t want to guess in what order.

It was then that Harry saw the quick, sudden swish-and-flick of a wand – he couldn’t tell whose – and a gooseberry pie that had been sitting on the stove went flying straight into George’s face…

***

“Do you know, I think that’s the first time George has laughed since…well, since…� Ginny said, as she and Harry sat on her bed.

“You’re right,� Harry agreed.

“Not that we’ve seen any of him, but I doubt he’s been doing much laughing sitting in that dingy flat in Diagon Alley.�

“How do you know it’s dingy?� Harry asked.

Ginny laughed. “You’ve stayed in their room before, now imagine it without Mum to do the laundry and the cleaning.�

Harry grimaced at the thought. “I see your point. So why d’you think he came over tonight?�

Ginny shrugged. “Mum’s been owling him every day, begging. I have, too. And Dad’s been going by the shop. George is there every day, doing Merlin only knows what.� She sighed. Harry put an arm around her, and she went on. “Dad says the windows are all boarded up, but you can hear him banging around in there. He won’t answer the door, though, so nobody knows anything.�

“I sent him a couple of owls too,� Harry said, squeezing Ginny closer to him. “Didn’t hear a thing back.�

Mmmm, that’s nice. What was he saying? Oh, owls. Right. He owled too? Of course he did, I guess I’d have been more surprised if he hadn’t. Ginny traced a finger down Harry’s cheek, to his neck, to his chest, tapping it right over his heart. “You think of them as brothers, don’t you?� Harry’s smile was all the answer she needed. “I just hope you don’t think of me as a sister,� Ginny said with a mischievous grin. “Otherwise…�

Again Harry didn’t answer with words; he kissed her, and she felt herself shudder. Everything disappeared except for him: the touch of his lips, the feel of his hand on her back and in her hair. It seemed to go on forever.

“If I thought of you as a sister, I don’t think we’d be doing that,� Harry said when they finally broke apart. “But, yeah, I do think of Ron and Fr…George and Bill and Charlie as brothers.�

“What about Percy?� Ginny asked mock-seriously.

“Even Percy,� Harry replied. “With you Weasleys, you can’t just take one, it’s all of you or nothing.�

That would make a nice motto for a family crest. If we had a family crest. “You should tell Mum and Dad that. They’d like to hear it.�

“Don’t you think they already know?� Harry asked.

“Yes, they do. But knowing something, and hearing it from someone you care about, are two very different things. And you should know that better than anyone else, Harry Potter.�

Harry was too busy staring into Ginny’s eyes to notice that she was reaching for her wand, and then swishing-and-flicking it behind her back. Ginny found the thump and his “Umph!� as a pillow hit him in the head to be very satisfying…

***

The pillow fight had gone on for the better part of an hour, until Mrs. Weasley’s calls of “Bed time!� rang through the house and Harry went upstairs to Ron’s room. He had been sleeping in George’s, but as George – after being hit with half a dozen more pies – had been convinced to spend the night at the Burrow and had reclaimed his old room, Harry had been relocated.

Ron was lingering downstairs. Harry heard him protesting, “I’m an adult now, you can’t tell me when it’s bed time!� and Mrs. Weasley shouting back, “Ron Weasley, as long as you’re living under this roof, you will OBEY THE RULES!�

Harry kicked off his shoes and lay on the camp bed Mrs. Weasley had set up for him, counting to himself, “One, two, three…� He got up to ten before Ron’s footsteps could be heard tromping up the stairs.

“We saved the bloody world; you’d think she could lighten up a bit,� Ron said without preamble as he stormed into the room, slamming the door behind him. “And bloody George is bloody here; she could take just one bloody minute to bloody be happy before she goes yelling at us like that!�

Harry suppressed a laugh; it took nearly all his self-control. “She’s just being a mum. I don’t think they know how to stop,� he said in as even a tone as he could manage.

“Well, when I have kids, it’s going to be different. None of this shouting and ‘Do this!’ and ‘Go to bed!’ and all that rot!� Ron stomped around, calling to Harry’s mind the image of an enraged Hippogriff. It was taking a superhuman effort to hold back the laughter.

As Ron continued to rant, flailing his arms and banging around, Harry couldn’t help himself. “And what d’you think Hermione’ll say about that?� he said, with very nearly a straight face.

Ron froze in his tracks and then turned to face Harry. For a moment, Harry thought he’d gone too far; his best friend looked like he was half a second from reaching for his wand. But Ron abruptly relaxed, then burst out laughing.

“She’ll be worse than Mum, don’t you reckon? Buying them homework planners before they learn to walk, owling their teachers every day to see if they’re getting their essays in on time. It’ll be a nightmare!�

Harry couldn’t really disagree. “For them or for you?� he asked, now laughing himself.

Ron snorted. “D’you remember back in our second year, when we came to get you in the car?�

Harry nodded. Being rescued from house imprisonment in the middle of the night via an enchanted Ford Anglia was not something one could forget. “You remember Dad?� Ron did a creditable imitation of Mr. Weasley: “‘Did you really? How did it fly?’� Ron shook his head. “He was like a little kid. And then Mum clears her throat and it’s all ‘That was very wrong, boys, very wrong.’ My whole life’s already set. She’s going to drive me mental, just like Mum does Dad.�

“You could do a lot worse than turning out like your Dad, Ron. I reckon I’ll be doing pretty good if I end up being half the father he is,� Harry blurted out. The sentiment hadn’t occurred to him until the words were spoken, but he knew that it was true.

Ron had started to say something, but he choked up as Harry’s words – and the truth of them – sunk in. He didn’t say anything for a long time. I wish he could have seen his Dad the day we snuck into the Ministry of Magic when he stood up to me as a disguised Death Eater. Anybody would have been proud of Mr. Weasley.

“What?� Harry’s thoughts were interrupted.

“You reckon Hermione and Ginny are down there in their room talking about us?� That seemed likely to Harry. He nodded his agreement, and Ron continued, “Well, that just proves it. You won’t see us here gabbing away about them at all hours.�

Like we’re doing right now? Harry resisted saying. “You’re right, mate,� he said instead, and quickly changed the subject. “I’m not looking forward to tomorrow. Kingsley told me that the Dursleys are back home. I said I’d visit them, and I might as well get it over with right away.�

“Why bother? It’s not as though they miss you!�

Still, it was the right thing to do, Harry told himself. If he said those words to himself often enough, he hoped, he might start to believe it. “I know. But I told Kingsley I would, and I don’t want to lie to the Minister of Magic first thing, y’know?�

“Yeah,� Ron shrugged. “But better you than me.�

“Compassionate as always,� Harry said with a laugh, lying down to sleep. “‘Night, Ron�

“’Night, Harry.�

***

It was a bright, sunny morning. Ginny stood outside, breathing in the fresh air, listening to the wind blowing through the trees and to the calls of the birds, and drinking in the beautiful green of the grass and the bright colours of the flowers. Everything was perfect.

And here comes the most perfect thing of all. Harry emerged from the house, and his green eyes lit up when he saw Ginny. He pulled her close and kissed her.

“Good morning to you, too,� Ginny smiled. “You can do that every morning, you know. I won’t mind.�

“That’s the plan,� Harry answered, looking her up and down. He hadn’t asked her to come with him to visit his family; she’d volunteered. He certainly didn’t protest, though, Ginny recalled.

“What do you think?� she asked, twirling around for him.

“Well, you do look just like a Muggle,� he said. She was wearing jeans and a plain t-shirt; she hadn’t wanted to give Harry’s Aunt and Uncle any reason to dislike her off the bat.

“I did my best,� Ginny said. “Hermione talked me out of wearing my Weird Sisters shirt. She thought it might upset your family.�

“I expect just seeing me will upset them. Even if you really were a Muggle, they’d still hate you, just because you’re my girl—�

Ginny stared at him, waiting for him to finish the word.

“—friend.� That sounds nice. It feels right.

“Well, I’m not going to let anyone treat my boyfriend wrong, so they’d better watch out,� Ginny said. That feels right, too.

“Those Dursleys won’t know what hit them,� Harry replied. Maybe he’s wrong about them. A year with witches and wizards might have changed them.

Harry shook his head. “No chance, Ginny.�

“You have to stop doing that!� If you’re in my head right now, Harry Potter, get OUT!

“I didn’t do anything!� Harry protested. “I was thinking the same thing you were, it was pretty obvious! Besides, I could tell by the way your face scrunched up: you always do that when you’re really working something over in your head.�

I do, do I? I guess I wouldn’t notice it if I did, it’s not as though I make a point of looking in a mirror when I’m deep in thought. Oh, blast, I bet I’m doing it right now…“You stop laughing this minute or it’s the Bat-Bogey Hex for you!�

Harry put up his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry! You started it again as soon as I said it. But I probably have all kinds of things I do that I don’t know I’m doing, too.�

Ginny laughed. “You’ve got that right. But it would take all day to make a list, and we have to go and visit your family.�

“I guess,� Harry sighed. “You ready?� He put a hand on her arm; it would be another month until she turned seventeen and she could take her Apparition test, so Harry would have to take her by Side-Along-Apparation. Not that I don’t know how to do it myself, she thought. It wasn’t even the silly Ministry rules that kept her from Apparating on her own, but the prospect of a disappointed lecture from her father was too much to bear. And, really, having Harry take me isn’t such a bad thing anyway!

He pulled her next to him, closed his hand around her arm, and they turned and disappeared. An uncomfortable, disorienting moment later, they found themselves in a small stand of trees.

“Good, I don’t think anyone can see us,� Harry said, looking all around.

Ginny agreed; the spot they’d appeared in was hidden from view; it would be difficult for anyone walking along the street or in the nearby houses to spot them. I don’t think they see too many people popping out of thin air around here. It was smart to Apparate where we did.

“Which house is it?� They all looked much the same to Ginny; it must be, she decided, terribly boring to live in a place where every house was a copy of the next one, where there was no personality or individuality to the neighbourhood.

“Over there,� Harry pointed, taking her hand and leading her out onto Privet Drive. “That’s Number Four.�

“You must have got lost a lot when you were a kid,� Ginny said, sadly. What a miserable place to grow up. No wonder he hates it so much.

“What?� Harry said, looking confused.

“All these houses are exactly the same. You could never mistake the Burrow for anyplace else, or the Lovegood house, or any other houses back home. But all these might as well be identical. If I was a little kid, and I was out walking, I wouldn’t have known which house to go back to,� Ginny explained.

“There’s your problem,� Harry said with a bitter smile. “When I was little, I wasn’t allowed to go out walking. So it never came up.�

These Muggles have a lot to answer for. “I’m sorry, Harry.� Ginny squeezed his hand as he led her across the street and to the driveway of Number Four. Merlin’s beard, even the grass and the flowers are identical. Every yard, every lawn are just like the ones next to it. No colour, no originality, it’s so…sterile. It’s horrid. How can anyone live like this?

“It’s now or never, I guess,� Harry said, looking over to Ginny. She frowned, but nodded. They had come this far, and there was no point in backing out now. Harry pushed a tiny button set into the wall next to the doorknob, and chimes sounded out. Ginny grinned in spite of herself. Dad would love that! I’ve got to remember to tell him.

They waited. Ginny strained to listen inside the house; she wished she had thought to bring an Extendable Ear. She could hear nothing.

It took five whole minutes before there was any activity on the other side of the door: footsteps, faint at first and then growing louder. It was another five minutes before the door opened, and a tall, skinny, horse-faced woman appeared, wearing the most sour expression Ginny had ever seen. She spoke with a voice that could have cut glass: “Well, get inside. I’ll not have the entire neighbourhood watching while you loiter on our doorstep?!�

Ginny had heard Harry talk about the Dursleys, and she’d listened to her brothers and her father describe their encounters with Harry’s aunt and uncle, but she hadn’t really appreciated the horror of them until now. She followed Harry into the house. It was just as lifeless and depressing as the exterior; completely bloodless.

Standing in the living room, she was greeted by what she took for a moment to be a walrus that had been taught to stand upright and wear a suit; Harry’s uncle. The horse-faced woman – his aunt – went to the walrus’s side; she was looking up the stairs fearfully. Poking his head down from the landing was a boy who could have been Goyle’s brother; that had to be Harry’s cousin, Dudley.

“So, boy,� Uncle Walrus said, “are you back with more trouble? As if you haven’t caused enough! You cost us a year of our lives, you ungrateful little…� he stopped in mid-rant, his eyes shifting from Harry to Ginny. “You’ve got some nerve, bringing one of your little freak friends, red hair…�

Ginny was too fascinated by the man to be upset at his words; the veins on his head were throbbing. She was amazed none of them had burst yet. He was clearly trying to remember something, and having a difficult time of it. He sputtered for a few moments before coming up with it. “She’s…you’ve brought another one of those horrible Weasel people into my house? How dare you!�

Those horrible Weasel people? Oh, that’s just too good! Harry wasn’t exaggerating at all about the Dursleys, was he?

“This is Ginny Weasley. She’s my girlfriend,� Harry was saying, putting an arm around her waist. “I thought…I wanted to come and make sure you were alright,� he went on, speaking more slowly and calmly than Ginny could ever remember him doing. He’s really keeping a lid on his temper. She could see the effort it cost him; beads of sweat were forming on his brow even though the room was freezing. Dad told us about that once – what did he call it, air conditionating?

“We’re fine,� came Dudley’s voice from the stairs, causing everyone to turn to him. He made his way down, and Ginny noticed that Harry couldn’t help but stare at him.

“You – you look…good,� Harry said, sounding completely shocked. “You’ve been exercising?� If that’s good, I hate to think what he looked like before, Ginny thought with a shudder.

“There wasn’t much else to do when we were hiding,� Dudley said. “Your friends got me weights and a stationary bicycle. And books, too.�

“Oh, yes! Stolen from the bookseller, no doubt,� the walrus complained. “Stupid, pointless books, too. Nothing useful. A year wasted, all because of you, boy!�

“I’m sorry you had to hide, and I’m sorry that you were the only relatives I had and you got stuck taking me in,� Harry said. Ginny was glad to see that Harry held his ground. He continued, addressing his aunt, “I’m sorry that you didn’t get to go to Hogwarts.�

That was news to Ginny, and, she saw, to his aunt as well; her horse-face went completely white. Something else he’ll have to explain later, I guess.

“I know you wanted to go. I know you wrote a letter to Dumbledore begging to be allowed, and I wish you had been. You’d have seen how much everybody loved Mum and wouldn’t ever have called her a freak or a weirdo, and you’d have raised him,� he gestured to Dudley, “differently, so it wouldn’t have taken seventeen years and a Dementor attack before we could get along!�

Ginny was as stunned as everyone else in the room. She knew Harry hadn’t planned to say anything like that, and his aunt and uncle were too shocked to respond. It was Dudley who first found his voice.

“T-they said, D-Deadalus and Hestia, they said you’re a hero, you fought a d-dark…�

“A dark wizard,� Ginny finished for him. “The worst one ever.�

“T-they said you finished him right off.� Ginny watched Harry’s reaction; he was softening despite himself. He obviously hadn’t expected to hear anything like this from his cousin. Looks like he isn’t quite as much like his parents as Harry thought.

“He did,� Ginny said, before Harry could play down his triumph. “I was there, I saw him. He was magnificent,� she beamed, feeling Harry pull her closer as she spoke. “You ought to be proud of him.�

The aunt and uncle still couldn’t speak; Ginny guessed that their small brains were simply overwhelmed. Dudley, however, was not. “I am,� he said quietly. Harry went to his cousin and hugged him.

“Thanks, Big D. That means a lot, coming from you.�

The walrus finally finished processing the conversation. Ha! He thinks he’s got everything figured out now. “Well, if you’re expecting some kind of reward, you can just forget it, boy. And if you think we’ll put you up in this house, you’ve got another thing coming!�

“No, Uncle Vernon,� Harry answered. “I don’t expect anything. I told you what I wanted: to make sure you’re okay. And you are. You’re back in your house, your life is back to normal, and you’ll never have to see me again after today.�

“Best news I’ve heard in years! You’ve said your piece, you can go!�

“Goodbye, Uncle Vernon, goodbye, Aunt Petunia,� Harry said.

“Harry, wait!� Dudley shouted. “I want to see you again.�

Looks like we were both wrong. People can change, after all. “Well, Harry’s staying at our house,� Ginny said on an impulse. “You could visit, if you wanted.�

“He certainly will not –� Vernon started, but Dudley cut him off.

“I-I’d like that. He’s my cousin; I can visit him if I want to!� Ginny watched as Harry looked from Dudley over to her; she could tell that he didn’t know which of them he was more surprised with.

Harry gave his cousin another hug, and then shook his hand. “I guess we’ll see you soon,� he said.

Ginny gave Dudley her brightest smile. He’s not like Goyle, really. Just as big, maybe, but less flabby. And there’s a good person in there: I can see it in his eyes. He just needs a little encouragement. To everyone’s shock, she kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll just check with Mum and Dad, and then we’ll be in touch, Dudley.�

“Not with one of –� the Uncle began.

“No, not with a ‘ruddy old owl,’ Uncle Vernon,� Harry interrupted. “We’ll use the regular post.� We’ll see about that, Ginny thought. I think that Uncle Walrus here is going to have to get used to some changes.

“Harry?� Dudley piped up, as they headed for the door. “Y-your girlfriend is very pretty,� he said in a small voice.

“She’s the most beautiful girl in the world,� Harry answered, and Ginny could hear the pride and the happiness in his voice.

“I’ll never get tired of hearing that,� Ginny whispered to Harry. Then, turning to his cousin, she said, “That’s very sweet of you, Dudley,� giving him another kiss on the cheek. As she did, he whispered something into her ear, and her eyes went wide. After a moment she shook her head. “I’m sorry, Dudley. I wish I did.�

“It’s okay,� he answered. “I’ll see you soon.� He clapped both Harry and Ginny on the back. With that, she and Harry took their leave of the Dursleys and headed back for the hidden spot they’d arrived in, hand in hand.

“What did he ask you?� Harry inquired. Ginny laughed; she would never have imagined anything like it.

They were out of sight, and Harry was checking to make sure nobody was lurking around. “He asked me if I had any sisters,� she said, enjoying Harry’s shocked expression as they vanished from Privet Drive.

Chapter Four – “Fatherly Advice�

He was stirring, trying to wake up, but he couldn’t. He had been asleep for so long. It felt as thought he hadn’t been awake for years.

No, that wasn’t right. He had never been awake. He had never felt even these weak stirrings of consciousness before. He had been sleeping forever. This feeling of wakefulness was something new.

If only he could move. He struggled to sit up, to stand, but his body would not respond. It would not move; it held him prisoner within himself.

He would have screamed, but he had no throat to make a sound. He would have cried, but he had no eyes for tears to fall from.

He slept, again. As he always had and forever would.

***

Growing up with the Dursleys, Harry was no stranger to household chores. He was amazed, however, at the difference it made to be asked to do them politely by a smiling Mrs. Weasley.

Cooking breakfast for a family who cared about him and would be grateful for his effort was, to him, no chore at all. It also doesn’t hurt, Harry noted, that it’s a thousand times easier when you can use magic!

“Mmm…these are very good, Harry!� Mrs Weasley exclaimed upon tasting the scrambled eggs. “I don’t think any of my children cook as well as you.�

“Well, I had a lot of practice growing up,� Harry answered. Mrs. Weasley looked uncomfortable; she knew all about the Dursleys, but Harry had never mentioned cooking breakfast for them every morning. He could see in her expression that she had just guessed it.

“That’s terrible –� she began, but then stopped herself. Harry saw a sudden gleam in her eye. “On the other hand, it probably wouldn’t have killed any of them to go hungry for a night if it got them to pay attention to their chores.� She sighed. “Oh, it’s too late now. They’re all grown, and not one can make a decent meal for themselves.�

“I’m sure that’s not true, Mrs. Weasley,� Harry said automatically, but then he wondered. The fact was, it might be true. He knew from experience that Ron couldn’t cook, and although he had no basis for it, he assumed that the twins – George, he caught himself – ate out for every meal. He wondered about Ginny; he had no idea about her domestic skills. It doesn’t matter, he decided. I won’t mind cooking every day when we’re…When they were what?

“Harry!�

Harry waved his wand and got hold of the whisk, which had wandered off from the eggs and was attacking Mrs. Weasley’s hair. “I’m sorry. I got distracted for a minute.�

“Oh, no harm done,� she said, giving him a knowing smile. I know what she’s thinking: ‘Oh, Harry’s such a good boy; he’ll cook for my Ginny, he’ll take such good care of her.’ He hoped that was what she was thinking, at any rate; he dreaded how things would be if Mrs. Weasley disapproved of him and Ginny together.

Ginny chose that moment to come walking into the kitchen, yawning as she did. “I had the strangest dream last night,� she said by way of greeting.

I did too, come to think of it, Harry realized, just now remembering his own odd dream. “What was it?�

“It’s hard to describe. Nothing happened, exactly,� Ginny began, but stopped when she saw her mother’s expression. Mrs. Weasley was looking at her warily; it was a look that Harry had never seen Mrs. Weasley direct towards any of her children.

“Was it…did you feel like you were trying to wake up, but you couldn’t move? Or feel your body at all?� Mrs. Weasley spoke slowly, measuring every word.

That was it. That was my dream. “Did you feel like maybe you didn’t even have a body? And then you wanted to scramble or fight or do anything, but you couldn’t and you were trapped forever?�

Ginny’s face drained of colour. “Harry? Mum? What’s going on?�

“Did you guys all have that dream too?� George asked, poking his head in and joining the conversation.

“I think everyone in the house did,� Mrs. Weasley said nervously.

Harry had never heard of such a thing. He had shared dreams with Voldemort, true, but that was thanks to their unique connection. And he and Ginny had a connection of their own, but it was a very personal one; not like this strange dream that… “It didn’t feel like any dream I’ve ever had before. It was like…it didn’t have anything to do with me, except that I was the one having it, if that makes sense.�

Ginny nodded. “It does. That’s exactly what it was like. As if someone was sending it out…sending that dream to all of us.�

Harry would have wagered every galleon in his vault at Gringotts that, when Ginny had said “someone,� everyone in the room had precisely the same thought. Except me. I know what Voldemort’s dreams were like, and the dream last night wasn’t anything like that.

He said as much to the Weasleys, and when that wasn’t reassurance enough, Ginny pointed out that she, too, had once had Voldemort in her head, and this dream felt nothing like it. In the end, Harry suspected that Mrs. Weasley dropped the subject more because she didn’t want to talk about those awful events in the Chamber of Secrets than because she was actually reassured, but whatever her reason she was willing to chalk it up to a one-time occurrence, and let the conversation turn to a more pleasant subject.

---

Ginny could not recall ever seeing Hermione Granger happier than an hour ago, when she walked into the Burrow with her parents in tow. She was absolutely beaming. And why shouldn’t she be? She’s got her Mum and Dad back, she’s a hero of the wizarding world, and after taking only seven years to do it, my brother finally managed to stop tripping over himself and realize that he belongs with her.

She did admit to a bit of surprise that Hermione’s parents were as…well, normal…as they appeared to be. Ginny had never met anyone who’d been put under such a powerful Memory Charm and then lived with it for as long as they had. She’d expected them to betray some signs of what had been done to them. She’d seen firsthand the effect of the limited and relatively weak Memory Charms that her father and his colleagues at the Ministry sometimes had to perform; the subjects would be disoriented, would skip over their words, or have odd and unnerving pauses in their conversations.

But the Grangers did not show any side effects that Ginny could see. The only curious thing was the owl Hermione had sent from St. Mungo’s:

Ginny,

Mum and Dad are fine. The Healers took care of everything. We are staying here a little while longer to let Mum and Dad rest before we come to the Burrow.

They are perfectly normal, but please tell everyone NOT to ask them anything about the past year, and if they should bring up the topic, please go along with whatever they say. Do NOT let on that you or anyone know about the Memory Charms.

I’ll explain everything later.

Love from,

Hermione

Ginny had dutifully passed the word along, not that she thought anyone in the house needed to be told. The only concern she actually had was the same one her mother repeatedly voiced: that Dad would spend the whole time interrogating the Grangers about the details of Muggle life.

Her father behaved himself, though. It was actually her mother who ended up questioning them in detail. Everyone sat down to eat in the freshly de-gnomed garden (Ginny had bite marks on both hands thanks to an afternoon spent at the task), and somehow the topic of conversation turned to the Grangers’ profession. Mrs. Granger mentioned drilling, and her mother was unable to keep her curiosity in check.

“What do you mean when you say drilling? Arthur says a drill is a big metal tool that you use to make holes in the ground, or in walls.�

“Well, that’s one kind of drill, yes,� Mrs. Granger replied. “But we use smaller ones in our work.�

“I see. Arthur also says that drills run on eckeltricity, and they spin extremely fast.�

Ginny could see that it took some effort for Mrs. Granger to resist the temptation to correct her mother on “eckeltricity,� but somehow she did. “Yes, that’s exactly right.�

“So what you do is, you take eckeltrictic tools that spin extremely fast, and you use them to make holes in people’s teeth.� (Mrs. Granger nodded in agreement.) “And then what?�

“Well, we fill in the hole. Back when I was in school, they still used lead, but now we use an artificial filling. It’s sort of like plastic.�

“And people come to you voluntarily for this? It’s not some sort of punishment for criminals? That’s…amazing.� Ginny had to agree with her mother; it sounded more like a torture method that an especially creative Death Eater might come up with than a legitimate medical procedure. But then again, a lot of Muggle medicine sounds horrible. Like when Dad was attacked by that snake, and they tried to sew up his skin with a needle and thread. As though he was a set of robes that needed mending, and not a human being!

Her Dad had eased the tension. “Molly, I’m sure that the things our Healers do sound just as strange to them as their techniques do to us. But they work. Hugh and Jean here are experts. They have people lining up to come to them, isn’t that right?�

Hugo – Ginny was finding it difficult to think of him as “Hugo� and not “Mr. Granger� despite his and his wife’s protestations all night long on the subject – blushed a bit. “Well, I wouldn’t say…we do have something of a decent reputation, I suppose.�

“Dad!� Hermione burst out. “You were first in your class, and Mum was second! You were both written up in the Sunday Times, ‘London’s top dentists.’ I had it framed for you, it’s probably still hanging up in the living room!�

“Now there’s a surprise,� Harry said, a little more loudly than he intended. Not that every one of us wasn’t thinking exactly the same thing! Heads turned to him, and he smiled sheepishly. “What? Hermione had to get it from somewhere, didn’t she?�

Now it was Hermione’s turn to blush. “It’s just too bad she missed her chance to finish her last year. I’m sure she would have been Head Girl,� Jean said, causing Hermione to turn even redder.

“Uh…about that,� Hermione said in a very small voice. “I…well, last week, I owled uh…Professor McGonagall.�

“You didn’t,� Ron said. Oh, I’m sure she did, Ginny thought, I should have known she would.

“I got her reply while we were at St. Mungo’s.�

“When?� Ron protested. “We were together the whole time!�

“Not the whole time,� Hermione answered, now a shade of red that Ginny had never before seen on a human being. “I did have to go to the bathroom.�

“The owl found you in the bathroom? You have got to be joking.�

Hermione was not joking. She had asked for permission to go to Hogwarts for her seventh year so that she could graduate properly, and, as she revealed to no one’s surprise, Professor McGonagall had agreed. “She also said,� Hermione continued, addressing Ron, “you and Harry could come back as well. If you wanted to.�

---

Harry had been having a conversation with himself all day; he couldn’t shake the question that had come to him while he was alone with Mrs. Weasley.

What do Ginny and I do now? You get married, and you have a whole load of children, and you live happily ever after.

Well, that sounds easy! It is. What’s the problem?

Let’s see. I’m not even 18 yet, and she’s not of age. You’re 18 in a month, and she’s an adult two weeks after that.

I don’t have a job, or any plans for the future. Kingsley Shacklebolt – he’s the Minister of Magic, remember? – has done everything but give you an engraved invitation to join the Aurors. And even if he hadn’t, you are the one who killed Voldemort. No one’s going to say “no� to you.

I suppose that’s true. It’s not as though you need a job to support yourself anyway. Do you even know how much gold you’ve got in your vault?

A lot, I guess. But I still don’t know…Muggles don’t usually get married this young. And when they do, it always goes wrong. Look at the stories my aunt and uncle used to watch on the telly. You’re going to believe stories on the telly over what you know in your heart? You’re an idiot.

I never said I wasn’t! Well, there’s something we can agree on! What are you really afraid of?

That was the question. Harry couldn’t say exactly what he feared. He loved Ginny; he had no doubts on that score. He knew she loved him; that wasn’t up for debate. Her family liked him. Everyone (well, everyone except Ron) thought they belonged together. So what was the problem?

I wish I had someone to talk to who’s been through all this already. I wish I could ask my Dad. Or Sirius. Or Remus. Or…someone. If the girl in question hadn’t been Ginny, he would gladly have asked Mr. Weasley. Harry was sure he’d have good advice, but considering the circumstances, he wasn’t an option. Neither, for the same reason, were Bill or Charlie or any of the other Weasleys.

Harry was so deep in these thoughts that he didn’t realize he had walked back in the house, and he didn’t see Mr. Granger there. He walked right into Hermione’s father, knocking the man to the floor.

“I’m sorry,� Harry said, extending a hand to help him up. “I got distracted for a minute.�

“It’s no problem, Harry,� Mr. Granger said. “No harm done.�

It occurred to Harry that Mr. Granger was someone who was experienced. He was married, and he had a child. He had made all the decisions that Harry was having such trouble with. Best of all, he wasn’t related by blood to the girl that Harry had to decide about.

“Can I talk to you for a minute, Mr. Granger? I mean, in private?�

“On one condition,� Mr. Granger said. “You have to stop calling me ‘Mr. Granger’ and start calling me ‘Hugo.’ I’m going to insist on that.�

Harry laughed. “I’ll try,� he said, pulling up a chair.

Hugo did likewise. “What’s on your mind, Harry?�

A lot! “I…well, I just need some advice. I mean, I hope this isn’t too personal, I know I really don’t know you very well, but you’re...�

Hugo smiled, clapped Harry on the back. “I think I know where this is going. Hermione’s told us all about you and Ginny.� All about? What does that mean? “Oh, don’t take it the wrong way, Harry. She didn’t tell us anything that anyone with a pair of eyes couldn’t figure out from watching you and Ginny together.�

“Uh…that’s…good?� Harry stammered.

“Well, are you happy when you’re with her?�

“Happy� isn’t the word. You have to go pretty far past “happy� to describe how I feel when I’m with her. “Definitely.�

“Then it’s good,� Hugo said. “So what’s got you so worked up?�

If I knew that, I wouldn’t have to ask! “I’m not sure,� Harry answered, fidgeting in his chair. “I just feel like…I don’t know, as though I’m too young to be making these decisions.�

“What decisions?� Hugo was serenely calm. Harry wondered if he’d be quite this calm if Hermione was the girl in question. I bet she is, too, Harry realized. I bet Ron’s having these same questions and doubts.

“If I should marry her or not!� Harry spit out.

“You cut right to the heart of things, Harry, I’ll give you that,� Hugo replied with a thoughtful expression. “Do you love her?�

“Yes.�

“Does she love you?�

“Yes.�

“You answered that pretty definitively. It must be nice to know that,� Hugo said. “I wasn’t nearly that sure about Jean’s feelings when I proposed to her.� He stared into the ceiling.

“Wait…you proposed and you didn’t know if she loved you or not?�

Hugo’s eyes remained fixed on the ceiling. “I thought she did. I hoped she would say yes, and I assumed she would,� he said. His eyes drifting downward, finally meeting Harry’s. “But if you had asked me then if she loved me, I couldn’t have answered as surely as you did.�

Harry could not imagine how much courage it must have taken for Hugo to propose like that. It was difficult enough thinking about building his future with Ginny when he knew for certain how she felt. “So why did you propose to her?�

“Well, I was sure that I loved her. And…oh, you won’t like this, but it’s the truth. I just knew it was the right time, and she was the right woman. There wasn’t any logic or calculation to it. I felt it in my gut. And if you don’t mind my saying so,� Hugo said, with a severe look in his eyes, “I’ll wager you can feel it in yours, and all these questions are your brain trying to interfere with something your heart already knows.�

Is it really that simple? “But…�

Hugo shook his head. “I know. You’re still so young. I’ll tell you something else; we’ve seen it with Hermione. She’s a lot more mature than any girl her age I’ve ever seen, and I think a lot of it has to do with being magical. I think that being a wizard forces you to mature faster. You’ve got these powers that you have to control, you have to master yourself a lot earlier and a lot more thoroughly than kids who aren’t magical.�

Harry had never considered that, but it sounded reasonable. “So you’re saying…�

“I’m saying you’re old enough to make a good decision. And that you already know what the right choice is, if you’ll just get out of your own way long enough to see it.�

When he says it that way, it sounds so easy! Maybe it really IS that easy… “Thanks, Mr. Gr – Hugo. You’ve been a big help.�

“Oh, it’s nothing,� Hugo said, standing. “If you do manage to figure it all out, Jean and I wouldn’t say no to a wedding invitation.�

And with that, Hugo stood up and headed back to the party.

Harry was up until well past midnight, talking things over with Ron. Hermione’s revelation had come as a shock to them both.

“It shouldn’t have been a surprise at all,� Ron said. “Of course she’d want to go back to finish school. We should have realized it weeks ago.�

“We did have quite a bit on our minds,� Harry replied, reasonably. “But you’re right. It was pretty obvious.�

Their course of action was obvious as well. Neither Harry nor Ron wanted to spend a year away from their girlfriends. That by itself would have been enough, but there were additional incentives to return to Hogwarts. Kingsley Shacklebolt had given Harry a detailed list of the prerequisites needed to be accepted as an Auror; every spell and potion and technique that a potential new Auror needed to know before setting foot in headquarters for training.

The list was daunting. There were potions that neither Ron nor Harry had ever heard of, with ingredients that neither of them had known existed. The spells included such things as Self-Transfiguration, which was something that they had absolutely no experience with. Even Hermione, as far as they were aware, knew neither theory nor practice for it. The list only got worse after that.

“This is all seventh year stuff,� Ron had said with a defeated expression. “And you need all of that before they’ll even start to train you?�

Harry nodded. “I think they’d accept us, considering…well, you know. But we’d probably be in remedial training for a year anyway, with everything we don’t know.�

“Great. A year of remedial training, living at home with Mum and Dad, not seeing Hermione except at Christmas.� Ron grimaced. “Hogwarts is sounding better and better.�

Harry agreed wholeheartedly. He didn’t feel like telling Ron the final reason that he wanted to go back to Hogwarts: he wanted – needed – the structure and the security that school would provide. He’d been thinking over his talk with Hermione’s father, and it had hit him: this was the first time in his life that his choices were completely open. Everything had always been decided for him; he had been walking a path charted for him since before his birth. Now, there was no more destiny, no older and wiser adults to steer him. Be careful what you wish for, isn’t that what they say? I wanted a life where I could make my own choices, but I forgot to ask for the rulebook on how you’re supposed to make them! “I’ll send an owl tomorrow morning.�

***

Hermione and Ginny were having a similar conversation. Until Hermione’s news, Ginny had been unable to come up with a reason to return to Hogwarts that outweighed being apart from Harry for a year. For another year, she reminded herself.

But if he was going to be there, well, that made the choice simple. Even better, she’d be in the same classes as he.

“I wouldn’t be so happy about that,� Hermione said, mock-seriously. “He’ll only try to copy your homework.�

“Or maybe I’ll be trying to copy yours,� Ginny laughed.

They debated that point for a while. Despite having been at the top of her class her entire life, Hermione was worried, she confessed to Ginny. There was so much she had forgotten. She was out of practice in essay-writing. She hadn’t even thought about Arithmancy in a year. The list of concerns went on and on.

Ginny countered by pointing out that, in fact, she and her classmates had learned very little last year. “Well, some of them got quite good at the Cruciatus Curse, but I don’t think that’s going to be part of the syllabus anymore,� she noted. There was also the little matter that she, along with a lot of other students, had hid out the last few months of the term without attending classes at all.

“Besides, you’re probably going to buy all your books first thing tomorrow morning and spend the rest of the summer studying,� Ginny remarked. If she hasn’t ordered them already, that is.

She had. Hermione admitted that, while she’d been in the bathroom, after she’d gotten Professor McGonagall’s letter, she’d written two hasty letters of her own. One was a reply to McGonagall, gratefully accepting her place at Hogwarts. The other was to the Owl Order Desk at Flourish & Blotts, with a list of all the books she knew or believed would be part of the seventh year curriculum.

“While you were in the bathroom?�

Hermione nodded.

“Seriously?�

She nodded again.

“Even for you, that’s crazy,� Ginny declared. From the embarrassed half-smile that Hermione gave her, she could tell that her friend didn’t really disagree.

***

It had been only a few weeks since Harry had last set foot in Diagon Alley, but it felt to him that the visit to Gringott’s had happened a lifetime ago. It had been colourless and haunted that day; today it was, if not completely restored to its former vitality, at least a far more welcoming and lively place.

There were hastily and inexpertly made signs and posters adorning many of the businesses; the majority of the shop owners had, Harry guessed, opted to advertise their return to normal business as quickly (and brightly) as possible, rather than wait until truly professional displays could be produced. Harry agreed with the sentiment completely. He also noted, to his great satisfaction, that there didn’t appear to be any posters advertising him as “Undesirable Number One.�

Ginny had noticed their absence as well. “It’s a shame all those posters of you are gone. I could have taken one and had it framed for your wall,� she said with a smirk. “It would’ve saved me buying you a birthday present.�

Harry was distracted from responding by a commotion just a few shops down the street – in front of Gringotts. He saw a trio of blond people in black robes emerge from the bank, too far away to hear what they were saying, but close enough to recognize them. From this distance the pointed chin and haughty glare of Draco Malfoy and his father were unmistakable. It was their voices that Harry heard. Narcissa Malfoy rounded out the trio; she watched mutely as her husband and son argued, a pained expression on her face.

Instinct compelled Harry to try and creep closer to the Malfoys, to hear what they were saying without drawing their notice. Ginny followed along; Harry knew she had good reason of her own to want to know what the Malfoys – especially Lucius – were up to.

Harry knew that the Ministry had made no decision about the Malfoys yet. They had been the topic of more than one of his days in Kingsley Shacklebolt’s office, but the new Minister was taking things very slowly. He had made it clear that there would be no repeats of the rapid and sometimes unjust trials that had marked the end of the first war. There was the practical difficulty as well: there would be no more Dementors guarding Azkaban, which Harry heartily approved of, but there was also, as yet, no adequate long-term replacement for them. “It’s difficult, not to mention dangerous and draining, to try and imprison a wizard for any length of time,� Kingsley had said. “Why else do you think the Dementors were put there in the first place?�

Harry and Ginny were not quite close enough to hear anything clearly, when further distraction presented itself: a tall, straight-backed, red-haired distraction. “It’s the middle of a workday! What’s Percy doing out of the Ministry?� she whispered.

“No idea,� Harry answered. He agreed it was curious, more so seeing Percy’s purposeful strides – he seemed to be a man on a mission.

“I’m going after him,� Ginny said. “You see what Malfoy’s up to.� And she was off.

In the moment that Percy had passed by, the argument between Draco and Lucius looked to have ended. Draco was stalking off, while his parents stared after him. Lucius appeared to be in shock, while Narcissa was on the verge of tears. Harry hung back, watching to see where Draco went.

He didn’t have to wait long; Draco walked past a few shops and ducked into a very old building, one that Harry had never paid any notice to before. He held back a little while, seeing his chance as a gaggle of passers-by made their way up the street. He sidled into the little group, avoiding the eyes of Draco’s parents.

A moment later, he was standing in front of the building Draco had gone into. It was not just old, but ancient; the stonework was chipped and discoloured in places. The words carved into the façade were faded and difficult to read. Harry could just make them out:

HALE, HOLT & HARDWICKE
SOLICITORS at LAW

Below that, in a slightly less faded script (probably carved only a couple of hundred years ago, Harry thought), had been added:

SERVING THE NEEDS OF THE MAGICAL COMMUNITY SINCE 1622

Harry could think of any number of reasons that Draco Malfoy would want legal assistance; he was very curious which was the correct one.

***

Ginny followed a few paces behind her brother. He was walking straight ahead, paying no heed to anything around him; it was not difficult to remain unnoticed. It quickly became obvious where he was heading – a boarded-up shop that she knew very well.

She backed off, watching from across the street as Percy knocked, knocked again and then began to hammer at the door. The window rattled, and passers-by stared, but no answer was forthcoming.

“Oh, very well,� Ginny heard Percy sigh, “Alohomora!�

To her surprise – and Percy’s, judging by the way his eyes went wide – the door swung open. I know the protections they put on the shop, Ginny thought, then corrected herself, some of them, anyway. Alohomora should never work!

Percy went in, and Ginny heard a shout of “Get out!� before the door slammed shut. She could hear nothing more for a few moments, then there was a series of bangs and thuds. She was momentarily at a loss; on the one hand this was clearly something that was just between the two of them and sticking her nose in was unlikely to help matters. On the other hand one or the both of them could be injured, and she was not about to stand quietly outside while George or Percy lay inside bleeding…or worse.

The Ministry doesn’t have to know, she reassured herself, turning on the spot and vanishing from the street…

…and reappearing in the storeroom of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. It was a complete disaster: tables were overturned, shelves smashed, merchandise of every kind strewn on the floor. In one corner, a dummy with one arm ripped off faded in and out of view, the Vanishing Hat it wore slowly failing. Ginny saw the missing arm sticking through a wall across the room, just above several empty bottles of Firewhiskey.

She wanted to believe that it had been vandals who’d done this, or Death Eaters, but she couldn’t deceive herself. Now we know what all that banging around that Dad heard was all about. She tip-toed to the door that led out into the shop, careful to avoid any items that were still magically active.

Ginny pushed the door open; thankfully, George and Percy were too focused on each other to notice. Both were breathing heavily, but – thank Merlin! – neither appeared to be hurt. Yet. “Didn’t anybody ever tell you that if you’re going to point your wand at someone, you’d better be prepared to use it?� George said, glaring at his brother.

“I am prepared, if it’s the only way to make you see reason.�

There was silence for a moment. Ginny saw that the shop was every bit as much of a mess as the storeroom. George had been…what? Smashing anything that has any connection to Fred. Which was everything in the shop. He might as well have burned the place to the ground and gotten the job done in one go. Except…the answer came to her suddenly, hit her like a punch to the stomach… It wouldn’t hurt as much that way. He’s destroying everything one piece at a time so he can keep feeling the pain over and over.

George was holding his own wand at his side. “I don’t want to hurt you, Percy,� he said, but from his tone, Ginny thought he wouldn’t have any problem whatsoever doing just that.

“You do, George. Because I’m here and Fred is gone, and you wish it was the other way round.�

Percy was wrong, Ginny thought. We all were. She had thought, along with the rest of her family, that George coming home two nights ago was the start of him getting back to…what? Normal? No. Maybe getting back to a new normal. But it hadn’t been.

Ginny could see that the muscles in George’s right arm were twitching, he was gripping his wand so tightly. “You’re wrong. I came back home, and the first thing I did, I cracked a joke, and someone threw a pie at me, and everyone was laughing. I was laughing.� Ginny had never seen so much intensity in her brother’s eyes as she did now. “I wasn’t thinking about him. It was the first time since…�

There was a blast from under a pile of debris in the corner, with a yellow flash and the sudden sound of chirping; it had to be a box of Canary Creams setting themselves off.

Percy wasn’t backing off. “Since what, George?� Usually, Ginny had very little patience for dancing around the hard truth, but there were occasions when it was for the best. I think this is one of those times.

“Damn you!� It wasn’t just anger in George’s voice; Ginny heard real hatred there. “You made me forget him! All of you!� Now he was pointing his wand at Percy. “I won’t let you do it again. Get out! Now! And don’t come back!�

Percy made no move; it was clear that he wasn’t going to go without a fight. And just as clearly, George was out of control. He really could kill Percy! She could think of only one thing to do. Before George could act, she pulled her own wand and cried out: “Stupefy!�

***

An hour later, George was still unconscious. Ginny had gone to the Apothecary and bought some Sleeping Draught, and Harry caught up with her just as she got to Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes. She told him everything that had happened. It had come as a shock; he’d thought, just as Ginny had, that George’s return to the Burrow was a good sign.

Between the three of them, they hadn’t come up with any idea what to do about George. The Sleeping Draught would keep him out for several more hours, but none of them were very confident that a good answer to their dilemma would present itself even if they had several days to think about it.

“There are only two choices, aren’t there?� Harry said. “We take him home to the Burrow…�

“Where we’ll have to keep him prisoner or sedated so he doesn’t try to fight his way out of the house,� Ginny replied. She’s right. That’s exactly what he’ll do.

“Right,� Harry went on. “Or we leave him alone.�

“So he can get on with killing himself,� Percy added. Harry and Ginny gaped at him. “You don’t think so? What did you expect he was going to do once he ran out of stuff,� Percy gestured to the mess all around them, “to smash up?� Looking at what had become of the shop, Harry couldn’t disagree. Percy kicked a box of Ton-Tongue Toffees away from him and went on. “Or he’ll start attacking other people’s stuff. Or other people. And then the Magical Law Enforcement Squad will come after him, and he’ll fight them, and…we know how that will end up. Or he’ll just skip straight on to hurting himself physically, and we know how that will end up as well.�

Harry desperately wanted to tell himself that Percy was wrong, that George wouldn’t really do those things, but he knew better. “Well, what do you suggest we do, then?�

“We take him to St. Mungo’s. They have Healers who work with illnesses of the mind. At the least they can keep him from hurting himself or anyone else.�

“He lost his twin, Percy! Even you aren’t cold enough that you can’t understand what he’s going through. Grief is not a mental illness, you know,� Ginny said angrily.

Harry put an arm around her. He could feel her anger subside – just a bit, but enough to be palpable – at his touch. It rose again, though, a moment later with Percy’s next words.

“No, and I am grieving for Fred too. We all are. But none of us are destroying every item in our home with our bare hands, and none of us are threatening to curse the rest of us.�

“You just did, before I Stunned him!�

“That was different, Ginny.�

“He’s right,� Harry said, very reluctantly. “You told me yourself.� Ginny glared at him, fire in her eyes, but he went on. “You said you thought he might kill Percy. He’s wrecked the shop. I don’t think any of us can get through to him right now.�

“So, what? We stick him away in St. Mungo’s forever so we don’t have to deal with him? Maybe get him a room down the hall from Neville Longbottom’s parents and visit him twice a year and pat ourselves on the back for ‘solving the problem?’ He’s our brother!�

By the time she finished, she was in tears. “That’s not what this is about,� Percy said, his voice starting to crack. “But I would rather have him hate us for putting him in St. Mungo’s, temporarily,� he continued, “than mourn him because we left him alone and he killed himself!�

There was a very long silence. Harry, Ginny and Percy stood there in the wreckage and stared down at George, all of them wishing that some miracle would allow them to avoid doing what they knew had to be done.

“Percy, why don’t you go back to the Ministry and bring Dad here?� Ginny said at last.

“We’ll stay here and watch him,� Harry added.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,� Percy answered. His eyes darted around the room; after a moment they settled on a pile of violently pink robes. Percy ruffled through the pile, pulling out one that was more or less intact. He carefully folded it, and then went over to George, gently lifted his head and placed the robe under it as a makeshift pillow. “He’ll be more comfortable this way.�

Harry was touched by Percy’s gesture. “It’s a good thing you came here today,� he said. “George is lucky he’s got you for a brother.�

Ginny nodded her head in agreement. “You know what the trouble with you is, Percy?� she asked.

Percy didn’t.

“Not a thing,� she said, giving him a barely perceptible wink. “Hurry back, please?�

Percy walked over to Ginny and Harry, leaned down and kissed her forehead, then shook Harry’s hand. And then without a further word, he was off.

As the month of July came to a close, the mood at the Burrow remained subdued. The knowledge that George was in St. Mungo’s, under guard to prevent him from hurting himself, cast a pall over everyone in the house.

While Mrs. Weasley visited George every day, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny busied themselves cleaning up Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. “When he’s ready to come home, he’ll appreciate having the shop prepared for business,� Ginny had said, in a tone that brooked no disagreement.

The job was much more difficult than it had seemed at first glance. Ron had thought it would be the work of an afternoon to have the place sorted out. “A few cleaning spells, and we’ll be done by dinnertime,� he’d said. Harry – and, judging by their doubtful expressions, Ginny and Hermione – were not so sure.

They were proved right when Ron’s “Scourgify!� aimed at a puddle of melted Fever Fudges rebounded back at him and caused large boils to develop on his face – and elsewhere, as a stream of anguished cursing made clear.

While Hermione pulled Ron into the storeroom to attend to his boils, Harry and Ginny began cleaning by hand. “There’s too much magic in here; it’s everywhere,� Harry said, shaking his head. “All these spells were never meant to interact.�

---

A week later, Harry felt much the same as he had during that first summer at Grimmauld Place; they were waging war against the shop. It had drawn blood – all four of them had got quite good with basic medical spells, out of sheer necessity. But progress had been made. All of the most dangerous items had - they believed and hoped - been removed, and the shop proper was something close to presentable.

Another couple of days, in Harry’s opinion, and the storeroom would be beaten into submission as well. Once all the magical debris was removed, the holes in the walls and the damage to the floors could be repaired, and at that point magic could be used to speed the job along.

“Well, he’ll have a very clean shop,� Hermione said, surveying the work. “Nice and orderly.�

“That isn’t right,� Ron protested. “A joke shop isn’t supposed to be nice and orderly. It ought to be crazy and dangerous.�

“Ha!� Hermione scoffed. “If that’s true, we should have left it as it was!�

Harry laughed. “He said ‘dangerous,’ not ‘lethal.’� Hermione’s got a point, though. George’ll be able to make a clean start when he comes back. There was silence for a moment; he assumed they were all thinking the same thing – would George want to keep running the shop when he came back? For his part, Harry had no idea. Everyone reacted differently to grief. And it was worse for George than for the rest of the Weasleys – he had lost not just someone he loved, but a part of himself.

He remembered once seeing a programme on the telly about identical twins. Even in the Muggle world, they seemed to have eerily close relationships. One set of twins on the programme had been separated at birth, raised hundreds of miles from each other, and yet their lives had been unbelievably similar. Despite not knowing each other until they’d been thirty years old, they dressed the same, they had bought the same model – and even colour! – of car, married women with the same hair colour, eye colour and first name. At the time, long before he had known of his own magical nature, Harry had thought that there was something supernatural about it all. So if the twins are magical to begin with, it must be even more true, Harry decided.

A hand waved in his face, breaking his train of thought. “You in there, Harry?�

“I was just thinking about –�

“Something about Muggles and twins,� Ginny said. “I know. I need to ask you something; come back to the storeroom?� She took his hand and pulled him with her, leaving Ron and Hermione to stare at their backs.

“I’m still not sure if I like that we can do this,� Harry said as the door closed behind them. “It might be nice to have some secrets, even from you.�

Ginny smiled, and in spite of himself, Harry followed suit. There could be nothing wrong in the world when she looked at him like that. “We can talk about that later,� she said, and then the smile was gone. The room was suddenly much darker. “I don’t think I like what I was feeling from you.�

Harry was at a loss. “I don’t know -�

“I don’t like it because I think you’re probably right, and I wish you weren’t,� she said, her hand shaking a bit. Harry squeezed it, trying to steady her. “If Fred was so close that he was literally a part of George, maybe he won’t be able to recover. Imagine having your…I don’t know, having your personality cut in half.�

It was a harrowing thought. How could you go on after something like that?

“I was thinking,� Ginny continued, “I don’t know what you would say, but maybe if we told George about…well, what you saw in the forest?�

Harry had not intended to share that with anyone else; it was for Ginny alone. But if it could help George… “Yes. I-if you think it’ll really help, if he’d want to know it. But I wouldn’t want him to think -�

“That Fred’s waiting for him, and he gets the idea to join him right away instead of living his life and meeting him fifty years from now?�

Harry sighed. “That’s exactly it. Maybe we should sleep on it, see what we think?�

Ginny nodded. “Thank you.�

“For what?�

She pulled herself close. “For being willing to share.�

“Hey, he’s family. I’d do anything for him,� Harry replied, putting his arms around her.

“I know,� Ginny breathed, and then she kissed him.

---

When they returned to the Burrow that evening, there was a letter waiting for Harry. It was addressed in Hagrid’s messy script, but the splotchy reddish stain on the envelope gave away the identity of the writer just as surely.

It was a mark of how twisted Hagrid’s views were on the subject of what sort of creatures made acceptable pets or objects of study that Harry actually hoped the stain was Hagrid’s blood. It was the least awful thing it could be; if it wasn’t, Harry didn’t want to guess what animal it came from – or, worse, what it was if it wasn’t blood.

Dear Harry,

I just heard the good news from Professor McGongo – McGanag – Prof M. It was great of her to invite you back to finish school (and Ron and our Hermione as well).

The repairs are going faster than we thought. Hogwarts will be ready on Sept. 1. You’re invited for tea when you get here. You can meet Happy, he just arrived last week. He’s a Giant African Fanged Razorbeast. He’s beautiful. And so friendly! Amazing creature, you’ve never seen anything like him before, I’ll bet!

I’m sorry I can’t come to your birthday party. There’s too much to do here. It’s been a difficult time settling down the unicorns. I’ve never seen them so riled up before. But Prof M. may be there. She says she has something to discuss with you before school starts. She won’t say what it is, but I have my guesses, and if I’m right you’ll be very surprised.

Good luck, and happy birthday!

Your friend,

Hagrid

Harry gave the letter to Ron once he’d finished it, shaking his head. He watched as his friend read it, laughing as Ron’s eyes bugged out. He knew what Ron was thinking, as he had precisely the same reaction.

“A Giant African Fanged Razorbeast. Giant. Fanged. Razorbeast. We always knew he was barking, but this…it’s beyond mad. I don’t know if there even is a word for how mad this is.�

If I had to think of Hagrid’s description of an ideal pet, Harry thought, I don’t think I could do better than Giant Fanged Razorbeast. That puts Blast-Ended Skrewts to shame!

“Let me see that,� Hermione said, taking the letter out of Ron’s hands. She read quickly, and then reread it; Harry thought she couldn’t believe it said what it did and needed a second read to convince herself. “You weren’t joking,� she went on, her face pale. “I suppose that explains the blood on the envelope?�

“It must,� Harry said, looking distastefully at the red stain. “‘Happy’ must have bit him, or slashed him, or…Merlin only knows what. But he’s thrilled as can be.�

Ron was shaking his head slowly back and forth, repeating the words “Giant Fanged Razorbeast� and “He named it ‘Happy’� to himself over and over. He only stopped when Hermione took him by the arm and led him off, leaving Harry and Ginny alone in the kitchen.

Harry helped himself to a piece of pie while Ginny read the letter herself. “What about the unicorns?� she asked thoughtfully. “Do you think it’s just Hagrid’s new pet that’s got them upset?�

Seven years ago, the unicorns of the Forbidden Forest had been prey for Voldemort; Harry wondered if something evil could be lurking there now, hunting them again. “I hope that’s all it is,� he said, not really believing his own words.

“I hope so, too,� Ginny repeated back to him, her tone as unconvincing as his. “And what was that about McGonagall coming here with a surprise for you?�

Harry gave Ginny a blank look in reply. He had no idea what Hagrid meant; he strained to think of anything that might make sense of it, but nothing came to mind. “I haven’t the faintest idea.�

“Maybe she’s coming to tell you that you get an automatic pass on all your NEWTs as a reward for saving the world,� Ginny snickered.

I don’t think so! But it would be nice… “Hey!� Harry’s thoughts were distracted by Ginny grabbing a fork and starting to eat the pie right off his plate. “Get your own!�

“But it’s so much better sharing with you,� Ginny answered, in a syrupy voice. “Don’t you want to share with me?� she added teasingly. “You tell me you love me, but you won’t even give me a bite of pie. Some hero you are!�

They both dissolved into giggles, and thoughts of Razorbeasts and unicorns and visits from Headmistresses were forgotten.

---

The thirty first of July dawned with a bright, cloudless sky. It was a perfect morning, warm but not hot, just right in Ginny’s opinion. The mood inside the Weasley home was brighter as well; her mother – and, by extension, everyone else in the house – had seized on Harry’s birthday as a distraction from George’s troubles.

All the Weasleys, except for George (and Charlie, who had already been back in Romania for two weeks), as well as Hermione, were waiting in the kitchen. When a head covered with unruly black hair poked itself through the door, they all burst into an off-key rendition of “Happy Birthday.�

Mrs. Weasley was the first to reach Harry, wrapping him in a suffocating hug. “Eighteen years old! I wish James and Lily could see you. They would be so proud.�

They can, Mum. They’re watching him right now, Ginny thought. But I doubt they could be any prouder of him than we are! She waited until her Mum stepped back, and allowed Harry a moment to catch his breath, before kissing him herself. “Harry birthday, Harry,� she whispered in his ear.

“It is already,� he replied just as quietly. Then, louder, he said, “This is brilliant. I can’t believe all of you got up so early just for me!�

Everyone assured Harry that he deserved it, although in Ginny’s opinion Ron seemed a bit less enthusiastic about the early hour than the rest of the family. That didn’t stop him, however, from standing up and presenting Harry with a gift. “This is from all of us,� he said, adding, “but it was my idea.�

He handed over a long, thin, inexpertly wrapped package. Ginny wondered what model Ron had gotten; he had said he would “take care of everything� a week ago, but there hadn’t been a word about it since then.

Harry tore into the wrapping, to reveal a Nimbus 2002. “T-this is…amazing. How…it’s…wow,� Harry sputtered. We all chipped in, but we didn’t give him nearly enough money for that!

“I know it’s not a Firebolt,� Ron said hesitatingly. “But it’s pretty good. When I went into Quality Quidditch Supplies and mentioned that I was looking for a broom for Harry Potter, they couldn’t move fast enough. The owner, Mr. Swiftsure, just about gave it to me for free.�

Harry gave Ron a bone-crushing hug. “You’re the best mate anybody could ask for, you know that?�

“You just remember that come next March,� Ron answered. “And you have to let me have a go on it whenever I ask.�

“No worries,� Harry agreed. “I-I don’t know…this is so great, you’ve been so good to me,� Harry said, addressing all the Weasleys.

“Nonsense, Harry,� Mr. Weasley said firmly. “You’re family. This is how families act towards each other…well, how they ought to, at any rate. It’s time you got used to it.�

Everyone agreed, and Harry’s protestations that he didn’t deserve such extravagant gifts finally ceased. As they all sat down to breakfast, Ginny whispered to Harry, “After we eat, I’ve got another gift for you, upstairs.�

---

It struck him as a very strange thing to think, but Harry hoped that Ginny’s gift was something she’d bought, and not the gift she had intended to give him last year. She was waiting for him upstairs right now, and he had already spent close to an hour talking himself into just going up there and finding out.

It wasn’t the right time. Last year, when it seemed likely that they might never see each other again, he had been ready to accept her gift of herself. And over that year – especially in the past few weeks – he had been thinking about how significant a gift it was. She was offering him all of herself, giving him the most intimate and private thing anyone had to give.

There would be a moment when it was right, but it wasn’t today, with her whole family one floor below.

There was something else. He was, he admitted to himself, nervous. He knew how it all worked – well, the theory, at any rate. He’d known since he was ten years old.

Dudley had been invited to a sleepover party at the home of one of his horrible classmates, and the boy’s parents had – over the lad’s objections, no doubt – invited Harry as well. Seeing no way to prevent Harry from going without raising awkward questions, Vernon and Petunia had allowed him to attend as well. One of the other boys at the party had snuck in a book he’d found at the library: a book all about sex. The boys had been alternately fascinated and disgusted by it, and the next day – for the first and only time that Harry could remember – Dudley had gone voluntarily to the library, to see what else he could find out about this strange new topic.

What worried Harry now – although he had no real basis for it – was this: he suspected that there might be more to the whole thing with witches and wizards than there was for Muggles. He thought that magic must factor into it somehow. He imagined that wizard fathers took their wizard sons aside when they were old enough and explained the magical birds and bees to them. Without a father, or an older brother, or any other adult to have that talk with him, Harry thought it likely that he was missing knowledge he would need when the right moment presented itself.

Maybe there’s a book, he thought, and then an image came to him, and he hated himself for it even as he burst out laughing:

Hermione and Ron alone, on their wedding night, a textbook on the nightstand, and Hermione lecturing her new husband: “You’re doing it all wrong! The diagram on page 593 is very clear, Ronald!�

Harry didn’t think there was a strong enough Memory Charm in the world to erase that vision from his mind.

---

Ginny heard footsteps approaching her bedroom door; Harry was on his way up. She had a good idea what he had been thinking about for the past hour. I hope I’m right, anyway. I don’t want him to be disappointed.

She thought and hoped that he was as nervous as she was, as unready to finish what had been interrupted on his last birthday. Now that - again, hopefully – their time together could be measured in years instead of days, there was no urgency, no need to rush things.

And then there had been the conversation with her mother a week ago:

“Ginny, I’d like to talk to you,� her mother said as they stood together cleaning up after dinner.

“We’re talking right now, Mum,� Ginny answered as she stacked dishes in the sink.

“I’m serious, Ginny. There’s something you need to know. You’ll be seventeen in less than a month, and, well, a young lady needs to be prepared. You’ll be wanting to get married someday, and you need to know about your wedding night,� her mother said, blushing furiously.

“I know all about that, Mum!� Ginny was generally one to tackle any subject head-on, but this was a conversation she wanted no part of.

Her mother gave her a weak smile. “I knew all about it, too, Ginerva Weasley, and do you know what happened to me?�

Ginny bit her lip; she wanted to say “Six brothers and me is what happened, I think.� But she, somehow, managed to hold her tongue and merely waited for her mother to go on.

“I…I shouldn’t be telling you this, but someone ought to, and there isn’t anyone else. What happened is this: I received the first and only detention I got in seven years at Hogwarts, and I was very lucky not to be expelled.�

Again, Ginny resisted the urge to comment; it was not lost on her that there was a discrepancy between “wedding day� and “Hogwarts,� but she just listened.

“You’re not making this easy, you know,� her mother frowned. “I suppose I wouldn’t have at your age, either. The thing is…you know that sometimes, when you’re very emotional or excited, you lose control of your magic. It happens to everyone. Well, there are times…moments…when you might lose control in a pretty spectacular way. And your magic might go off all around you.�

Ginny was curious now in spite of herself; she had never heard of it. She knew about accidental magic, of course, but not like this. “Mum? What did you do?�

“Ginny, you are never to repeat this to anyone. Not Harry, not any of your brothers, not anybody. If you speak a word of it, I will disown you.�

“Mum!�

“I’m serious, Ginny.�

“Okay,� Ginny sighed. “I promise. So what did you do?�

“Your father and I were in the Prefect’s bathroom, and it was the spring of my last year, and he was so handsome…so dashing, and…well, one thing led to another. We both lost control, and our magic went off. It got out. It…uh…wrecked Professor McGonagall’s classroom.�

Ginny consulted her mental map of Hogwarts. “That’s three levels up from the bathroom!�

“Yes. And she was in it at the time. Teaching a class. Three students got concussions, and her glasses were broken. I have never seen her as angry as she was when she found us.� Her mother shuddered involuntarily at the memory.

“She found you?�

“We had no idea it had happened. We were…�

“Occupied. I get it.�

“Yes,� her mother sighed. “The point of all that is that there’s a spell you need to know. When you…on your wedding night,� she said, “if you cast it, it’ll keep your magic from getting out like that.�

Her mother had told her how to perform the spell, but she wasn’t going to be needing it today. There was a knock at the door. “Come in, Harry,� she said. “I was just thinking about you.�

She watched his eyes sweep around her bedroom as he entered, saw the relief in them as he saw the small, neatly wrapped package resting next to her on the bed. She could feel it emanating from him; she had been exactly right.

Ginny patted the bed, beckoning Harry to sit next to her. “This is for you. It’s…I hope you like it.�

He carefully examined the parcel, turning it over in his hands. Slowly, he unwrapped it. Not at all like my brothers – they all have to tear presents open like animals. He pulled out a small, framed photograph: three men, one exactly like Harry, except for the colour of his eyes, the second tall and handsome with a look of mischief on his face, and the third looking tired and a little bit scruffy, but smiling proudly just the same. All three wore school robes; in the background was the Black Lake, a tentacle waving in and out of the picture.

“W-where did you find it?� Harry breathed.

“Do you like it?�

His kiss was all the answer she needed.

Much later, he asked, “Was Worm – did you cut anybody out ?�

Ginny shook her head. “It’s all in one piece. I think Wormtail must have been the one who took it. My Dad brought home a box, I guess it was in the basement of Grimmauld Place, and I went through it and found this. I thought you’d want it. Happy birthday, Harry Potter.�

---

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Ron and Ginny took turns on Harry’s new broom for most of the afternoon, leaving Harry to watch from the ground while Hermione sat nearby reading for the upcoming school year.

Hermione could not be convinced to join in a game of two-a-side Quidditch; she was “so far behind� on her reading, she claimed, that it was giving her nightmares. Harry just shook his head at that. Some things never change, I guess.

Dinner that evening was a quiet affair, until it was interrupted by a knock at the door. A tall witch with an aristocratic bearing stood in the doorway, holding a small, squirming bundle in a red blanket.

“Andromeda!� Mrs. Weasley called out. “Come in!�

She entered, and Harry stared at her, marvelling as he had done a year ago at the resemblance to her late and unlamented sister. “I thought it would be a good time for Teddy to meet his godfather properly,� she said, as Harry stood up from the dinner table and peered down at his godson, feeling a new and unfamiliar thrill as the baby peered back up at him.

As Harry watched, Teddy’s hair was changing; it had been bright red, the same colour as his blanket, but now it was turning black and growing unkempt. His eyes, too, were morphing; they had been a deep blue but were now emerald green.

“He likes you,� Andromeda said. “I think he wants you to hold him.�

Harry didn’t say anything; he just let her hand Teddy into his arms. “Hello, Teddy,� he said softly. “It’s nice to meet you.�

Teddy gurgled, his pudgy little arms waving. “He really likes you. Don’t you, Teddy?�

The Weasleys crowded around Harry and Teddy; Harry felt Ginny’s arm around him. Someday, it’ll be our baby I’m holding, he thought, picking up the same thought from her. But in a sense, Teddy was his, too. Andromeda might raise him, but Harry knew it was his responsibility to be a father to Teddy – to be the father James Potter hadn’t had the chance to be to him.

“You will, Harry,� Ginny whispered to him. “And I’ll be right there with you.�

---

There was much fussing over Teddy, interrupted only by the arrival of Professor McGonagall.

“Happy birthday, Mr. Potter,� she’d said once she’d settled in and been nearly force-fed a piece of birthday cake by Mrs. Weasley. “I’ve got something to discuss with you. In private, if you please.�

So Harry had gone outside with her, leaving behind quizzical expressions of the Weasleys. “Professor, is something wrong?� he said, once they had wandered out into the yard.

“Why ever would you think that?�

“Well, I just -�

McGonagall scoffed. “You are going to have to learn to stop jumping to conclusions, Mr. Potter. I’ll not have anyone teaching for me who can’t think things through properly.�

Teach…? Teaching for…? What does she mean? Who’ll be teaching…? She doesn’t mean…?

“On the other hand, I do not want teachers who will stand there, mouths open and eyes unfocused, when they are spoken to,� McGonagall went on.

“How…I haven’t even graduated! You want me to t-teach? I don’t understand.� Hagrid had been right; this was a complete surprise.

“I have given the matter a great deal of thought, Mr. Potter. I daresay you are aware that your informal defence classes two years ago were received well. I have spoken at length to your fellow students, and it is clear that they found you to be a very skilled teacher.�

That was true; Harry had taken tremendous pride in the way the DA responded to his instruction. I was really good. “But…I’m…I can’t be a Professor.�

“No,� McGonagall shook her head. “Not at present, no. But you can be a student teacher, and you can teach – with supervision – the incoming first years in Defence Against the Dark Arts.�

That’s the subject I’d want to teach. She’s got that right. “So you have a new Defense teacher?�

“Yes. But he is temporary. He’s agreed to teach for one year, and possibly a second, but absolutely not more than that. I would like to train you up to take over after that. You will have to graduate and pass your NEWTs, of course. I will not have an unqualified teacher on my staff. At that point, Mr. Potter, you will be able to call yourself Professor.�

It was enticing, if also terrifying. But if he agreed to this, what would happen to his goal of becoming an Auror? Surely he couldn’t do both? “I already…you remember, I want to be an Auror.�

“Yes, I do remember, Mr. Potter. I have discussed this with the Minister. We both feel that you would make an excellent Auror. But,� she said, pausing for a deep breath, “we both also feel that you would make a much larger contribution to the Wizarding world by educating Hogwarts students. You have experience, not merely in fighting Dark wizards, but in facing the choices that can lead a wizard to become Dark. That is a perspective that my students would benefit from.�

It made sense. And, as he considered it, while the thought of catching Dark wizards and stopping them from causing harm was appealing, the idea of stopping them from turning Dark in the first place appealed as well. Not to mention, there’d be much less chance of ending up with chunks taken out of me like…well, like Mad-Eye.

“You’ll want to think about it, Mr. Potter. I’ll expect an answer in, let’s say, one week? Will that be enough time?�

Harry nodded. It was, indeed, a lot to think about.

“What did Dad say?�

Harry was sitting on Ginny’s bed, having just come upstairs after a long conversation with her father. He had asked the opinion of everyone in the house, but it was Mr. Weasley’s that he had wanted the most. Having worked his entire adult life in the Ministry, Harry had hoped Mr. Weasley would have a useful perspective on the choice he was faced with.

“He wasn’t helpful at all,� Harry shook his head. He had been surprised at how unwilling Mr. Weasley was to give any sort of advice. I guess I understand, Harry thought, he doesn’t want to push me one way or the other, he was just trying to let me make my own decision. But that’s the whole problem! I don’t know what the right decision is!

“That’s strange,� Ginny said, rubbing Harry’s shoulders, drifting off into her own thoughts. He could tell what was going through her mind: her father was never shy about giving advice, especially when directly asked for it.

“I know,� said Harry. “That’s why I thought he would be helpful. No luck, though. And there was something else. I don’t know what it was, but there’s definitely something he wanted to keep a lid on.�

Ginny sat up straight. “No, that can’t be right. What would he have to hide from us?�

“I don’t know, Ginny. Maybe you can get it out of him? I bet he can’t say no to you.� He’s not the only one, either!

“I hope you’re right,� she replied.

***

A week later, neither Harry nor Ginny had discovered Mr. Weasley’s secret. That in itself was frustrating, but what made it far worse was that Hermione, of all people, apparently knew it, and she was infuriatingly tight-lipped about it.

Even Ron had proved unable to worm the information out of her; it had led to several rows, including a particularly memorable one at the dinner table that had ended with mashed potatoes all over the walls, the floor, and Ron’s head.

On a cloudy Saturday morning, a distraction arrived in the form of a peck of owls, carrying letters for Ron, Ginny, Hermione, and Harry.

Each of them received an identical Hogwarts letter, detailing the book and supply lists for the upcoming year. Ron, Ginny and Hermione each had a second letter from the school as well; all three letters were much heavier than usual, and the reason was revealed as they were opened and a badge fell out of each one.

“They must be joking!� Ron exclaimed as he inspected the shiny new Head Boy badge in his hands. It’s his vision in the Mirror of Erised coming true, Harry realized as he watched his friend marveling over this new and unexpected honour. Hero, check. Outshining all his brothers, helping save the world ought to count for that, check. Head Boy, check. The only thing he’s missing is…

“Quidditch captain?� Ginny breathed, running to Harry and throwing her arms round him. “Me, Quidditch captain? That’s so…but it should be you, Harry.� He hugged her back and gave her a quick kiss before replying.

“I’m sure McGonagall thinks I’ll have too much going on, if I agree to help teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. No time for Quidditch, I reckon,� he said, quickly adding, “But you’re the better choice anyway!�

“Nice save,� Ron muttered under his breath with a laugh. “So what’ve you got there, as if we need to ask,� he said, turning to Hermione. To no one’s surprise, she held the badge for Head Girl in her hands.

Harry, too, had a second letter, but his was not from Hogwarts. “That’s my father’s writing,� Hermione said, taking the letter from him. “What’s he doing writing to you?�

“I wrote to him and asked for advice. I asked him how he decided to become a dentist. I thought it would be good to get a different perspective.� He took the letter back from Hermione and tore it open.

Dear Harry,

I completely understand your dilemma. I was faced with a similar one when I was only a few years older than you. I hope you will find my experience useful as you make your choices.

I began my University education with the intention of becoming a physician. I performed tolerably well; I was not at the top of my class, nor did I embarrass myself.

In my second year, I enrolled in a two week seminar on Oral Surgery. In part I wanted to expand my knowledge in an area that I knew very little about, and also in part, I wanted to sit next to a lovely woman named Jean whose attention I had been trying to attract, unsuccessfully, for many months.

To my surprise, I took to the subject, and not merely because of the person I was sitting next to. I looked forward to each day’s lecture in a way that I had not looked forward to any other courses. I felt that I had an intuitive skill that I had not previously discovered. It was very exciting.

I signed up the next term for an elective course, and my feelings were confirmed. I had a real talent. I could excel in dentistry.

That raised a difficulty. It was not practical to study both medicine and dentistry. Becoming a physician had been my goal for years, but this new field I was learning about appealed to me far more.

I could be a mediocre physician, or an excellent dentist. That’s how my father put it to me when I asked his advice. I had feared that he would be angry or disappointed, but he was not. He told me something that I have never forgotten. “Hugo, there are far too many average people in the world, and far too few outstanding ones. If you have the chance to be outstanding, don’t waste it by being average. The world won’t thank you, and more importantly you won’t thank yourself.�

He was right. So I will pass his advice on to you. If you think that you truly excel at teaching, don’t deny yourself – or your future students. You will be happier, and you will be doing a greater service to the world.

I hope you’ve found this helpful. Please write me back and let me know what you decide to do.

Sincerely,
Hugo Granger

PS Please give my love to Hermione

As the letter was passed around, everyone – except Harry – failed to notice that there was another letter addressed to him. He picked it up and opened it…

***

“So your Dad only went to dentist school because he fancied your Mom? That’s brilliant!�

Ron was, in Ginny’s opinion, enjoying the revelations of Hermione’s father far too much. She’s one more joke away from cursing him into next week, she decided. “Let it go, Ron. Before Hermione sends those birds after you again.�

“Thank you, Ginny. I’d forgotten all about that,� Hermione replied, brandishing her wand threateningly. She sat next to Ginny on Harry’s bed; Ron sat across from them on his own; he shrank back a bit at Hermione’s words.

“What was Harry doing writing to your Dad anyway?� he said, trying his best to change the subject.

“He wanted the opinion of an adult who doesn’t already work for the Ministry of Magic,� Ginny said. “I can see why. Our Dad isn’t going to tell him not to go work for the Ministry, is he? Especially now the war’s over and we’ve got a real Minister for a change. He just wanted some advice from someone who’s…�

“Objective?� Hermione finished for her. “That’s what he told me. He actually asked me if it was alright to write to my father.�

That’s Harry. Polite to a fault. Usually, anyway. “Did Harry tell either of you where he was going today?� He had headed off first thing in the morning, leaving with Mr. Weasley and Percy. Ginny was mystified; he hadn’t even waited to say “goodbye� to her.

As if by magic, as though her thoughts had summoned him, the door opened and Harry appeared in the doorway. He held several letters in his hand.

“I’m sorry I ran out this morning. I had something to take care of at the Ministry. And…uh…at…well, you’ll see.� He handed a letter to Ron, and one to Hermione, and watched, smiling, as they opened them with puzzled expressions.

They had nearly identical reactions. Both Ron and Hermione read, and re-read their letters with disbelief etched on their faces. After several minutes, Ginny had had enough, and tore the letter from her brother’s hand.

Reward? Bounty? Five thousand Galleons? What in Merlin’s name?

“Harry,� Hermione said, in a voice barely louder than a whisper, “What did you do?�

“I did what was fair,� he answered. “Did you know that there was a twenty five thousand Galleon bounty on Voldemort’s head before Scrimgoeur was killed?�

There were blank stares all around. “I didn’t know either. But there was. And I guess even after the Death Eaters took over, nobody bothered to rescind it. It was there all along. That was the other owl I got yesterday. It was from the Ministry, saying I was entitled to the reward for killing Voldemort.�

“So…not that I’m complaining, mind, what the ruddy hell is going on with this?� Ron said, gesturing to his letter.

“Isn’t it obvious, Ronald?� Hermione said, going over to Harry and hugging him.

“I didn’t do it alone, did I? There were seven Horcruxes, weren’t there?�

“We each destroyed one…and one of those letters is for Neville, isn’t it?� Hermione asked.

“Right. And the other is for Aberforce. Dumbledore destroyed one, too, so I reckoned his brother ought to get his share. One share for me…�

“None for Crabbe, I hope,� Ginny said with a grin.

“No,� Harry said with a shake of his head. “Split five ways, five thousand Galleons each, seems fair to me.�

Ginny agreed. She knew some of Harry’s share would be spent on her; he wouldn’t be able to resist buying something extravagant. Not that I don’t want him to, but he should treat himself. It’s his reward, he certainly earned it!

“It’s my money, Ginny, if I want to spend some of it on you, I can,� he answered her thought, receiving a pillow over the head from her in response.

“Noble as ever. That’s my Harry,� she said, putting an arm around him. “I suppose my birthday is coming up in a few days, isn’t it?�

That got her a kiss from Harry, and then, a moment later when her guard was down, a pillow in the face right back.

***

The next few weeks seemed to Harry to fly by. He had indeed spent some of the reward money on Ginny; she now had a brand new Nimbus 2002 to match his own.

Her whole birthday was Quidditch-themed; in addition to the broom, Harry bought tickets to a Holyhead Harpies match. Afterwards, Ginny declared it the best present she had ever received.

Harry spent the majority of his time mulling over his choices; he had finally come to the conclusion that he didn’t actually need to make a final decision now. He could teach the first years this year as Professor McGonagall asked and see how it went, and with that experience he would – hopefully – have a better idea whether he wanted to be a professor or an Auror.

Besides that, Harry busied himself with buying his supplies, playing Quidditch with Ron and Ginny out in the backyard, and trying to guess who the regular Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher would be. Between the three of them and Hermione, they could not agree on who it might be.

***

The day before he was to leave for Hogwarts, Harry, along with Hermione and the entire Weasley family, visited George at St. Mungo’s. They were only allowed to see him one person at a time; the Healers were concerned about overwhelming him.

It seemed to Harry that his spirits were slightly improved, and the desire to hurt himself appeared to be, mostly, passed. He knew that Mrs. Weasley would continue to visit every day, and that Mr. Weasley was reading Muggle books on dealing with grief and depression as fast as Hermione could provide them to him.

“He is going to be alright,� Harry told Ginny in what he hoped was a reassuring voice. “He’ll be back home before you know it,� he continued, praying silently that his words were true.

As they stood in the sterile white hallway outside George’s room, Ginny squeezed his hand. “I know you’re not as confident as you sound. But thank you,� she said in reply.

After everyone had spent time with George, they all returned to The Burrow, to pack and prepare for the morrow’s journey.

Mrs. Weasley came close to tears during dinner with the realization that her home would very soon be empty again; Mr. Weasley was evasive and scattered, and, in the middle of the meal, departed without explanation via the Floo after receiving an owl, the contents of which he shared with no one. He returned an hour later, carrying a large, wrapped box, about which he would say nothing.

He continued to say nothing for the remainder of the evening and the following morning, except to wish his children, as well as Harry and Hermione, good luck. He then left Mrs. Weasley to shepherd them to King’s Cross and the Hogwarts Express.

It was, Harry thought, a very odd way to begin his final year of school.

Harry Potter and the Castle of Dreams

Chapter Eight – “Professor Weasley and Professor Weasley�

Every time he’d taken the Hogwarts Express in the past, Harry had settled into a compartment with his friends and spent the whole ride in their company.

As the train chugged towards Hogsmeade and his final year of school, however, he was too curious about who else was returning to stay in one place. He wandered up and down the cars, leaving Ginny and Luna Lovegood to sit with Neville Longbottom.

Luna, like Ginny, was a “proper� seventh year; Neville had been specially invited back just as Harry himself had. He suspected that everyone in his year – everyone who’s still alive, he thought bitterly – had received the same invitation.

He was proven right almost immediately, as he encountered Ernie MacMillian and Padma Patil one car down. By the time he made his way to the Prefects’ car, he had seen nearly half of his classmates. He stopped here and there to chat. He learned that while Padma was returning, her twin sister was not; she was planning on opening a beauty shop in partnership with Lavender Brown.

There were other absences; both Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan had opted not to return. He was unsurprised that he encountered no Slytherins from his year, although he thought he’d seen, just for a moment, a glimpse of a sharp, angular face and whitish-blond hair as a compartment door was slammed shut just ahead of him while he walked back to Ginny.

But it couldn’t be, he reasoned. Surely Malfoy wouldn’t have been invited back, and even if he had, Harry could not imagine him wanting to return to Hogwarts. For his part, Harry wasn’t sure how he would react if (or when) he encountered Malfoy next. Seven years of taunts and hatred and derision could not just be forgotten, but that was balanced by the fear that Harry knew not only Draco but his whole family had been living under.

Besides, people weren’t always what they seemed. There could be nobility and bravery behind the most terrible façade; the phial full of memories he’d placed in his vault at Gringotts attested to that.

That thought was driven from his mind by a deafening scream of rage that filled his entire body. It went straight through him; he didn’t hear it so much as feel it in every bone and every inch of flesh.

He fell to the floor, hands held to his head in an effort to steady himself against the noise. It echoed through him for a moment or two, and as it faded, he could hear other sounds: the cries of students up and down the train.

Everyone must have heard it; it was impossible that they didn’t. Harry knew that it had not come from anywhere on the train; that scream was not something that could have been produced by a human.

It might have been a dragon, he considered. A mother dragon, waking up and seeing her eggs smashed, he thought. But it had been louder even than that; he could not think of any living creature big enough to make such a sound as he had heard.

He got unsteadily to his feet as compartments opened up and students staggered out just behind him. He registered the door to the next car opening and Ron coming through, pointing out the window as he did.

Harry saw immediately what Ron was gesturing at. A thestral – several thestrals – two or three dozen of them. They were panicked; even from hundreds of feet away it was clear they were afraid. Their fear was unmistakable from the erratic patterns they flew in.

Behind the thestrals, coming from the direction of Hogwarts, was a giant cloud, shifting color as it approached. Harry was confused for a moment - clouds didn’t move like that – until he understood. It wasn’t a cloud, it was owls. What looked like every owl from both Hogwarts and the Hogsmeade post office were flying as fast as their wings could carry them in the wake of the thestrals.

Ron stood next to Harry and they stared at the birds and the thestrals wheeling through the sky in chaotic arcs, as several younger students came up and joined them. It would have been a beautiful sight, Harry decided, if only it wasn’t so completely terrifying. They stared for what seemed like a long time, until Ron’s voice broke the spell:

“Harry, what the hell just happened?�

***

A few minutes later, Hermione joined Harry and Ron, with Ginny, Neville and Luna following behind.

“Maybe it was You-know – Voldemort’s spirit? Maybe he’s not really dead?� Ron was saying.

“It wasn’t Voldemort,� Harry answered impatiently. When will people accept that he’s dead and gone for good this time?

“How can you be sure?�

“If it was Voldemort,� Harry replied, taking a breath to calm himself, “I’d know. It didn’t feel like him,� he finished. Never, that’s when. I guess I can’t blame them. They all wanted to believe he was gone the last time, and nobody wanted to listen when I said he was back. Now it’s just the opposite.

“No,� Ginny agreed, to Harry’s great relief. “And I’d know as well, Ron.� Ron looked back and forth between his sister and Harry and shook his head.

“Well, if you’re so sure, you tell me what it was!�

It was Hermione who answered. “Magic leaves traces behind. There was a lot of dark magic used in the battle. In all the histories, there’s no record of a magical battle that big anywhere,� she said, all eyes now on her. “Maybe that’s what we felt.�

Neville shook his head. “I don’t think that’s it. It was a person.�

“Or a creature,� Luna added.

Harry agreed. “It wasn’t just leftover magic. Someone…something…was shouting out and we all heard it. You all felt it, you know what I’m talking about.�

There was agreement, followed by blank stares and silence. It was broken by Ginny, who gave a shudder as an idea came to her – and to Harry at the same time.

“No, don’t say it, Ginny,� Harry said quickly

“Because you think I’m wrong?� she scoffed.

“Because I think you’re right, and I wish you weren’t,� he said, taking her hand, squeezing it.

Ron smacked a hand to his forehead and groaned. “Would you mind telling the rest of us what you’re talking about?� Hermione put an arm around him, pulled herself close to him. Harry noted the fear that had come suddenly into her eyes.

“Someone - something - doesn’t want us coming back to Hogwarts,� she said. “Whoever they are, they’ve very powerful, to send out that kind of a message.� She stepped away from Ron, blinked twice, and now Harry saw that her fear was gone, replaced by determination. “Well, we have to do something. Ron, can you get Pigwidgeon, and send a note to Professor McGonagall. I’ll go and start sorting out the younger students, the rest of you can help. Calm them down, let them know we’re taking matters in hand.�

Harry wasn’t at all convinced that matters were in hand, but there was no refusing Hermione when she was in full businesslike mode.

***

The remainder of the journey was without incident. Ginny was surprised to find that Hermione had been correct: she and Harry, along with Neville and Luna, had been able to reassure their fellow students. There was much talk along the lines of “If there’s trouble, Harry Potter can sort it out, just like he did You-Know-Who.�

Harry was not particularly comfortable with that, but he handled it with a reasonable amount of grace. Neville, she noticed, got similar treatment; his defiance of Voldemort had not been forgotten. They’re going to tell stories about us forever, she thought. I was there and I barely recognize the things everyone is talking about!

She had no particular wish to be considered a hero, but if it meant that the first and second years would listen to her and do as she asked right now, she could bear it.

By the time the train began to slow as it pulled into Hogsmeade station, the first years were chattering about what Hogwarts was really like and which Houses they’d be sorted into, and the events of the journey had been forgotten. The older students were, mostly, curious to see what Hogwarts looked like three months after the battle. Ginny wondered herself: how much had been repaired, how much was still damaged, and what would never be whole again?

You could ask the same about the people, Ginny thought, I wonder which category George will fall into?

The whistle of the train as it finally came to a stop interrupted that line of thought. Ginny let Harry help with her trunk, and together they emerged from the train to see about half as many carriages as usual waiting for them.

“You’ll have to double up!� Hermione was shouting out. Ginny could just see, far off in the distance, several thestrals still in the sky.

“I guess Hagrid couldn’t herd them all back here in time,� she said.

“I’m amazed he got any of them,� Harry answered, lifting Ginny up into the nearest carriage. He hopped up after her, followed by Neville and Luna. Ernie MacMillian and Hannah Abbott came along a moment later.

“Would you mind if we joined you?� Ernie asked. “It appears we shall have to ride in closer quarters than usual.�

“Not at all,� Harry said, squeezing closer to Ginny. She was squashed in now, caught between Harry and Neville. I wonder if Harry remembers, Neville was my first date ever?

“I do remember,� Harry said, drawing a blank stare from everyone else in the carriage. “And if Neville weren’t such a gentleman, I’d be jealous.�

“We were talking just a minute ago,� Ginny said quickly, “I asked Harry if he remembered that you took me to the Yule Ball, Neville.�

“It appears that Ginny is spoken for now,� Ernie pronounced, “But I daresay that any other witch would consider herself lucky if you chose her.� That earned him an annoyed glare from Hannah and a somewhat confused look from Luna, but Ginny had to agree with him.

Ernie apparently decided then that silence was the better part of valor as the thestral pulling them galloped towards the castle; he didn’t speak until they were almost to the gates.

“Merlin’s beard!� he exclaimed, and, again, Ginny agreed with him. It was unbelievable. As the gates swung open to admit their carriage, Ginny could see no sign of damage; no indication at all that a terrible battle had taken place here so recently.

“You’d never know anything happened!� Hannah breathed, speaking for everyone in the carriage. Looking up at the looming castle, Ginny saw that she was wrong. There was at least one visible wound; the north face of the Astronomy Tower hadn’t been repaired. There was a gaping hole ten feet across, and several broken windows as well.

“See up there?� she pointed out. “Everything else looks good as new, I wonder why the tower hasn’t been?� It was strange; there had been damage far worse elsewhere in the castle, and also damage much less severe, all seemingly repaired.

“Hogwarts is full of mystery, I guess this is just one more,� Harry answered. It was a very unsatisfying response, but, Ginny thought, that just made it more likely to be true.

***

The Great Hall was filling up rapidly; everyone taking their places at their respective House tables. Harry was trying to put the train journey behind him and enjoy the upcoming feast. He hadn’t attended one since his fifth year, and, thanks to Dolores Umbridge, it had been less than satisfying.

This time, he hoped, it would be better.

“Ron,� he heard Ginny say, “What’s Dad doing here?� Harry followed her gaze to the far end of the Gryffindor table, where Mr. Weasley was indeed there, taking animatedly with Hermione. A moment later, there was a yelp from Ron; Ginny had apparently kicked him under the table when he failed to respond.

“What did y’do that for? I’m trying to figure out why Bill is here, and how can I think with you kicking me?�

He hadn’t even heard his sister’s question, lost in thought as he was. “What?� Harry and Ginny said at the same time.

“Look over there!�

Ron was pointing up to the staff table, where Bill Weasley was just now taking a seat. Professor McGonagall was glaring at him, pointing at his ear and scowling. As they watched, Mr. Weasley ran up beside Bill and sat in the empty seat next to him. McGonagall gave a dramatic sigh, and the Great Hall went silent.

“I believe we’re ready for the sorting. Filius, please bring them in,� she called out, and the huge doors opened. Professor Flitwick led in a line of nervous first years, most of them shaking, a few sopping wet thanks to a misadventure crossing the lake. Flitwick scurried up to the staff table and placed the Sorting Hat on a stool just in front. As soon as he took his seat, it began to sing.

It was a very different song than in past years; full of hope and calling for remembrance of the heroes of the war. When it finished, and the ovation from the students died down, Flitwick called out the first name to be sorted:

“Archer, Angela!�

A tiny black-haired girl trotted up to the front of the Hall and, looking like she would rather be anyplace else in the world, put the Sorting Hat on her head. After just a second or two, it cried out “Ravenclaw!� and that table erupted with cheers.

Thirty nine new students later, the Sorting was complete, and Professor McGonagall stood.

“Welcome to another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I have had the honor of being appointed Headmistress, and I hope that together with our teachers, both old and new, and with all of out, we can once again make this the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world.�

There were cheers, but McGonagall waved them down. “If you please. My first duty is to introduce our new faculty. Professor Flitwick has graciously consented to serve as Deputy Headmaster in addition to his duties teaching Charms. I will continue to teach Transfiguration, for the present, but I hope to find a new teacher, so I can devote all my time to my duties as Headmistress. I would like to welcome two new teachers as well. Considering the, ahem, difficulties of the recent past, the Ministry of Magic has decided, and I agree completely, that Muggle Studies is a vital subject, and so it is now mandatory for all students up to the fifth year. The Ministry has also allowed one of its employees to take a leave from his duties, in order to serve as a full time teacher this year. May I introduce your new Muggle Studies teacher, Mr. Arthur Weasley.�

Mr. Weasley stood, to deafening cheers from the Gryffindor table, and applause ranging from polite to enthusiastic from the other three Houses. Well, Harry thought, that explains a lot! No wonder he didn’t want to give me advice about my career!

“In addition to teaching, Professor Weasley has done us another service. He has provided our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher as well. May I introduce Mr. William Weasley.�

Bill stood, to more cheers. Harry noticed for the first time that Fleur had entered the Hall, standing at the very back, blowing a kiss to her husband.

“May I?� Bill was saying, trying to make himself heard over the students. “I won’t be teaching alone,� he said as the cheers died down. “I’ll have an assistant, who’ll be working with the first years, and hopefully studying to take over the whole job in the future. Harry, get up here!�

Every eye in the Hall turned on Harry. He had not expected to be announced like this, in full view of the whole school.

“Get up there,� Ginny whispered to him. “You faced Voldemort, you can do this!�

There was no arguing with that; he stood and walked up to the staff table, as the students rose and applauded him.

“Thanks,� he said when he got there. “I’ll do my best,� he added, looking out at several hundred people all cheering. For him. I will never, not in a hundred years, get used to this!

He acknowledged the cheers for a moment more before heading back to his seat, wishing all the while that he had his Invisibility Cloak with him. As he went, he cast his gaze to the Slytherin table. There in the back, almost completely hidden by his cloak, was the person he never thought he’d see at Hogwarts again. Malfoy had returned after all.

Despite the rumblings in his stomach, Harry wished for nothing more at this moment than to be able to leave the Great Hall, and to drag Ginny and Ron and Hermione with him. They had a lot to talk about tonight.