“They’ll be here in a minute, Ron.” Mrs. Weasley got up off the hearth, stopping to wipe the black soot and the ashen residue of the floo powder, off her hands. “Just a minute.”
Ginny whipped around to the clock where Fred and George’s hands frantically spun from work to travel. “Look, they’re on their way.”
Ron glanced at Harry, he wore such an expression that it said it all. His eyes begging for any information he could get, his brow frustrated and determined to find any way to help her, and his heart breaking at the thought of losing her- not having the power to stop it. Harry just stood there, he too was thinking the same thing.
“Mum!” Ginny yelled, still staring at the clock, “George!”
No sooner had they looked up when the door flew open and George came surging in, still dress in his work robes of midnight blue and silver.
Crossing the room, he gripped his mother’s shoulders when he reached her, slightly out of breath, “What’s happened? Fred just said to come home.”
“It’s Hermione.” Ginny answered, joining Ron’s side, who had begun to ball his hands into fists.
“Hermione?” Fred asked Ron, “What?”
“They found her.” Ron cracked, his voice filling with anger. “They found her!”
The door flew open again and Mr. Weasley, followed by George, joined the charged atmosphere of the parlor.
“Dad, they’ve got Hermione.” Ron pleaded, stepping towards his father, “We need to go now!”
“How do you know?” Arthur asked quickly. “Are you sure, son?”
Mrs. Weasley handed her husband the parchment that started it all. Harry watched as Mr. Weasley, like his wife before him, took in the full meaning of Hermione’s brief but telling letter.
“Who?” He asked, handing the letter back to his wife.
“Malfoy.” Mr. Weasley’s eyes narrowed on his son as he spoke, studying his countenance. “Look, it doesn’t matter now, she matters, her family matters.”
“How do you know this isn’t a prank? A trap?” Mr. Weasley asked in all seriousness.
“I know.” Harry interrupted, all eyes rounding on him, looking further for an explanation. “We don’t have time to discuss it.” Harry was firm, “All the pieces fit, it’s true.”
“Voldemort?” George asked before the others could.
Harry slightly nodded his head in the affirmative.
“Dad, please, let’s just go.” Ron walked towards the door, “We’ve got to go.”
“You’re staying here.” Mrs. Weasley was short and pointed, enough so that Harry, Ginny, and for the moment Ron too, kept their places. “You three are staying here.”
“We’ll send word as soon as we hear anything.” Mr. Weasley, taking one last look between the three teenagers, silently telling them that he believed what was happening, he then briefly kissed his wife and hurried out the door with Fred and George.
“Be careful.” Mrs. Weasley whispered to herself as they watched them disapperate through the open door, leaving them behind. Harry felt as if he were merely a bystander, simply watching the gut-wrenching event unfold and the reality of it not sinking in.
“I can’t just stand here!” Ron yelled, the lack of not doing anything was cresting over. “I can’t, I won’t!”
“Ron, we can’t.” Ginny tried to calm him down and took hold of his arm while his face flushed from ghostly pale to heated red. “You know that.”
Completely flabbergasted by her comment, Ron burst out, “The bloody hell I can’t!” and pulled his arm out of Ginny’s grip and started for the door.
“Ron?” Harry snapped out of it and stepped in front of his best mate, blocking the way. “Ron!”
“Out of the way, Harry, or so help me...” He tried to push past him, his wand pulled out.
“Ronald!” Mrs. Weasley yelled, hoping to bring him back to his senses.
“Or you’ll what?” Harry pulled his wand as well, daring him to take it further, hoping that he would back down instead. If he wanted to, Ron could have pushed him out of the way with his size, but since he had taken measures further than just a shoving match, Harry had to be prepared to fight back and stand his ground.
“I need to go!” Ron snarled, his voice unlike anything Harry had ever heard before, progressing on Harry and the door.
“You need to stay here!” Harry raised his wand higher, matching it with Ron’s and meeting him eye to eye. “Help Hermione and stay here!”
“Don’t make me!” Ron edged even closer to Harry- to completely losing it, “Don’t make me do it!”
Harry wedged himself in the doorjamb, bracing for whatever Ron was going to do to him, preparing to throw up a shield charm and a stunning spell if he had to. He had never seen Ron like this, and never wished to see it again. Their eyes lock together, both equally determined to not let the other have his way.
“How can you just leave her?” Ron spat, the pain in his voice apparent through his anger, “You left for Sirius! You left to follow me! You left for Ginny!”
“You know exactly why we can’t.” Harry tried to sound as cool as possible. “They’ll get her, she’ll be back. They’ll be okay.”
Still standing next to the fireplace, watching the volley between what she considered her two sons, Mrs. Weasley said, “Ron, listen to Harry.”
Hoping that he had talked some sense into him, their eye contact broke. Ron lowered his wand and turned his back towards him to step away, retreating further into the parlor. But just as Harry lowered his own wand, he saw a flash of red, a flash of blue, and the next thing Harry was aware of, Ron was on the floor and Ginny was slowly advancing on her own brother.
“Ginevra!” Mrs. Weasley screamed, the entire scene happened within heartbeat. “What did you do to him?”
“I stunned him.” Ginny pocketed her wand and crouched down next to Ron, “It was for his own good, he tried to do the same to Harry,” She nudged her head towards the door where a small pock mark was smoldering on the wall a few inches off where Harry had been. “The only reason he missed was because I hit him.”
Harry, following Ginny’s example, put his wand down and knelt next to Ron’s stunned body that was now lying awkwardly on the floor. One of his legs was protruding out at an odd angle and his left arm had been pinned underneath his back. Harry picked the wand up out of Ron’s limp hand and handed it across to Ginny.
“You shouldn’t have.” Mrs. Weasley stood above her.
“What would you have had us do?” Ginny asked rhetorically, passing on Ron’s wand, “Let him go?”
“Of course not.” Mrs. Weasley sighed, “But-“
“He was going to curse, Harry, Mum!” Ginny glanced up at her mother, “He wanted Harry to think that he wasn’t going to do it.”
“But he’s your brother.” Mrs. Weasley was beside herself, “Your brother!”
“He’s wasn’t my brother.” Ginny contradicted her.
“Mrs. Weasley,” Harry broke in, trying to defuse an argument. “He wasn’t being himself. I can’t say that I wouldn’t have done the same thing, in fact I know... I’ve almost done it. He’s scared, we’re all scared, we don’t want to lose Hermione.”
“No, we don’t want to lose anyone.” Mrs. Weasley let out a deep sigh, gazing down again at Ron, “I suppose we should get him up on the couch.”
With that, Mrs. Weasley levitated Ron and directed him to the couch, then retreated to the kitchen to fetch what Harry could only guess to be a medi-potion. Ginny sat on the floor, leaning back against the couch, her arms propped up by her knees as her head hung low.
“I didn’t want to do that.” She said, still facing the floor.
“I didn’t want to either.” Harry admitted and slid across the floor to join her. “I want to go just as much as he does.” He turned to face Ginny and said very seriously, “If it was you...”
Ginny didn’t say anything, but finally turned her attention to Harry. Even without using their bond, he knew what she was feeling.
“Is he awake yet?” Mrs. Weasley rejoined them, carrying a small vial of opaque greenish-blue liquid.
“No.” Harry replied, turning around to check if Ron had moved in some small way, showing any sign of coming around.
“What did you hit him with?” Her mother asked.
“Stupify.” Ginny shrugged, “I guess I put a little too much into it.”
“Well, I suppose he’ll have a bit of a headache when he wakes up.” She leaned over the couch and lovingly brushed back the hair off of Ron’s forehead. “When he does, give him this. It’ll help keep him calm.”
“Where are you going?” Ginny shifted on the floor to question her mother.
“To see how things are.” Mrs. Weasley answered, still gazing at Ron. “I’ll be just a few minutes.”
“Thanks.” Harry muttered, watching her pull on her cloak and step over the threshold.
“Just keep an eye on him.” She smiled weakly back and closed the door behind her.
It was a few minutes before he or Ginny had said anything. Both thinking, both speculating of the news Mrs. Weasley would bring. Ron had started to stir, mumbling a few incoherent words and tossing his head.
“Stupify?” Harry asked Ginny.
“Yep, just that.” Ginny shrugged, picking at the small hole in her jeans above her knee.
“I need to put that on the list of things to watch out for, right under your infamous Bat-Bogey Hex.”
“I didn’t mean to flatten him with it.” She found the slightest bit of humor in the situation, “I just wanted to stun him for a minute, just enough to knock him back to reality.”
“Well, maybe it’s better this way. Give him more time to calm down.” Harry checked on Ron again, who had gone quiet.
“You haven’t felt anything, have you?” Hoping against her better judgement that maybe she missed something.
“No, afraid not.” Harry shook his head, “Maybe that’s a good thing.”
“I suppose.” She sighed and pushed herself up off the floor. “I’m getting a drink, want one?”
“Yeah.” Harry watched her into the kitchen before turning his attention to Ron who had started to moan again.
“You’d think he’d never been cursed before.” Ginny had returned with two steaming mugs moments later.
“I wish that were true.” Harry took the mug she offered him and smiled. “Hot chocolate.”
“Do you want something else?” Ginny reached out to take it back, but was refused by Harry who was taking a sip.
“No, it’s just that Lupin always says that chocolate makes you feel better.” He shrugged and sipped again while Ginny rejoined him on the floor. “But then you knew that, didn’t you.”
“Uh!” Both turned to see Ron lift his head and shoulders off the couch. “What did you do to me.”
“I did it,” Ginny piped up, taking full responsibility for the throbbing in Ron’s head. “and be glad I did.”
“How are you feeling?” Harry asked, watching Ron for any signs of becoming a flight risk. “How’s your head?”
“Swell.” Ron rubbed the back of it now that he was fully upright. “How long has it been? Where’s mum?”
“Ten minutes, maybe.” Harry said, still watching him closely.
“Mum went to see what’s going on, she’ll be back in a tick.” Ginny said, grabbing the vial their mother had left on the end table. “She said to drink this, it’ll help you head.”
Ron uncorked the vial and drank it in one quick swallow. “Nasty stuff.”
“Do you want some hot chocolate?” Ginny asked, “I might help too.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Harry had the feeling the Ron was merely playing along. Ron watched Ginny return to the kitchen and Harry watched Ron.
“What’s really going on?” Ron said with an edge. “Do you know?”
“No, I don’t.” Harry looked him straight in the eye, he thought that it would be better if he were asking the questions this time, “What’s the deal with Malfoy?”
“What did he do this time?” Ginny handed Ron his own mug from over the back of the couch.
Ron swirled the mug in his hands, took a deep breath and began with hesitation. “Hermione said that she had been receiving anonymous letters. Well, notes more like it. Cryptic, somewhat threatening notes.”
“What did they say?” Harry asked, trying not to jump into the accusatory position of ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
“Oh, just stupid stuff.” Ron rubbed his forehead with his free hand. “One said ‘they’re watching’ others said ‘hide’ or ‘leave’.”
“So what did you tell her to do?” Ginny asked, she remained standing behind her brother. Harry could see that she kept one hand on her hip, conveniently close to her pocket and her wand.
“I told her it was probably a joke, a sick joke. I reminded her of the wards Dumbledore had put up.” Ron’s face stiffened as he put his mug on the end table. “I told her that she would be safe.”
Harry and Ginny watched helplessly; Ron had come undone. He leaned forward onto his knees and cradled his head in his hands, pressing his palms tightly over his eyes as his whole body shuttered. Believing, knowing that he was no longer a threat, Ginny sat next to him, wrapping her arm around him, leaning her head on his shoulder.
Taking a few moments to pull himself back together, Ron continued, “We didn’t know it was him until the last few notes. The writer used a name that only Malfoy has ever called her.”
“Mudblood.” Harry whispered, “Was he threatening her?”
“We thought so at first,” Ron said to the floor, “but Hermione seemed to think that it was his way of warning us, so that we’d know it was him.”
“Did he ever say when or where?” Harry was trying to put together all the clues that led up to this.
“No, like I said, they were short and cryptic.” Ron said.
“So how did Malfoy know?” Ginny asked, Harry knew that she too was filling in the blanks.
“His Dad.” Ron got back a hint of anger. “His Dad probably told him, he probably even asked him.”
“Then why would he warn Hermione?” Ginny was asking all the right questions. “Why tell her what’s coming if unless-“
“Unless he wanted us to know.” Harry slowly closed his eyes, imagining the scene between Voldemort and Lucius, the later using his son as a pawn to further his master’s plan of ridding himself of Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived. “It’s Sirius all over again. He wants to get to me and Draco told him how.”
“She thought of that too, you know.” Ron inhaled, steadying himself again for what he was about to say. “She trusts Dumbledore, she wanted to trust him... I told her no and I’d give anything to be wrong.”
Finding the right moment, Harry asked the one question he had been carrying, “So why didn’t you tell us, or at least someone that could help... Dumbledore, your Dad?”
“I did,” Ron finally looked up at him, “I told Dumbledore.”
Harry glanced at Ginny, surprised by his latest revelation.
“Then it’s okay,” Ginny said hopefully. “Dumbledore knows, he’s probably there right now.”
All three were quiet as her statement seeped in, ‘if Dumbledore knows, everything’s going to be okay.’
Ginny, breaking from her brother’s side, checked the family clock, her hope came crashing down at the sight of it. Hearing her barely audible gasp, both Harry and Ron turned to stare at the clock face. Fred, George, Bill, and Arthur’s hands were directly below ‘mortal danger’, which was to be expected, but what was even more unsettling, was that Molly’s hand had joined the fray.
“What is she doing there?” Ginny asked, they all continued to stare at the clock, waiting for it to move to ‘travel’.
“Harry?” A voice sounded from the doorway.
He whipped around to see a tall, slender man silhouetted inside the frame. “Professor?”
“Harry, we need to get you and Mister and Miss Weasley to safety.” Dumbledore motioned them to him.
“What’s going on?” Ron was the first speak, “Hermione, my family?”
“All in due time, however, right now I need your full and utmost attention, as time is in sort supply.” Dumbledore remained calm, but let the urgency of the situation be reflected in his voice. “Harry, with your permission of course, I would like to take the three of you to your... home.” He added with a wink.
“Yes, of course.” Harry immediately replied, Ron and Ginny were both lost as to where Harry’s home was, and that he indeed had a place he considered home besides the Burrow or Hogwarts.
“There’s no time to grab your things, just your wands.” The Headmaster said quietly, “Harry, you’ll need the key.”
‘The key?’ Harry thought for a split second before darting upstairs. When he reached the room he had been sharing with Ron, Harry went straight for his trunk and threw open the lid, he knew exactly where it was and pocketed it before he had even turned around to head back down to the parlor.
“Grimmauld?” Ginny whispered more to herself than anyone else, surveying the parlor where they had spent most of their time this summer.
Ron, not really impressed with the thought of where he was, immediately started to question Dumbledore who seemed to be expecting nothing less. “Is she safe?”
“At the moment, no.” Dumbledore looked over his spectacles, heading off Ron’s rebuttal, before he gravely continued. “However much danger Miss Granger is in at this moment, would have been nothing to what the three of you could have been.”
“Bait.” Harry said, the last few moments of the morning’s events falling into place as he paced back and forth in the parlor, like a caged lion, just behind Ginny and Ron.
“Precisely.” Dumbledore nodded curtly.
Without stopping, the rhythm of his steps helping his thoughts along, Harry began to share what was running through his mind. “He wanted the Order. Mrs. Figg... to get attention- distraction, to keep them busy. He knew I would be at the Burrow... If I had come for Hermione or stayed at the Burrow... He knows about the Weasley’s... the Order, that I would be left relatively alone... either way, he could have me.”
“Mum?” Ginny spun around and back to Dumbledore.
“She’s with Arthur. She’s knows, I told her what I have suspected and she will not be returning to the Burrow, at least not right away.” Dumbledore checked his pocket watch, of which only he could read.
“The wards?” Harry looked up, one of the many pieces of the puzzle he had not figure out yet. “Wouldn’t the wards have protected us?”
“To a point, but even the most complicated wards would not stop Tom from what he really wants. And to have you relatively alone, the odds were in his favor.”
“But-“ He was about to ask why this hadn’t happened before now, but thought the details were less important than the fact that Hermione, a good number of the Weasley’s and Order members, his friends, were in harms way.
“Stay here, don’t leave. The whereabouts of Grimmauld Place is still safe.” Dumbledore looked especially to Ron, who was still very distraught, “I’ll send word.”
Before heading out the door once again, Dumbledore briefly turned and caught Harry’s eye, following his gaze to his front jeans pocket and back. Harry nodded in confirmation and Dumbledore shut the door behind him.
Ron turned on the spot and unceremoniously plopped down on the sofa, looking slightly green. Ginny continued to stand in the middle of the room, her arms folded tightly across her chest, taking it all in now that there was a moment to do so.
Hoping that she was standing there like that because of the cold, Harry, not knowing what else to do, walked back over to the fireplace and began to rummage around the ashes for bits of unspent wood. He could feel Ginny watching him as he knelt down on the hearth, performing an exercise that he too, knew was futile, but it was something.
“Where do we get more wood?” Ginny knelt down beside him and poked a large blackened piece of firewood back towards the grate and the small pile Harry had managed to put together.
“I don’t know.” Harry muttered, searching the very back wall.
“The house-elves take care of the fires at Hogwarts.” Ginny shrugged and pulled herself out of the fireplace, sitting on her legs that were tucked below her.
“House-elves.” He whispered to himself as he rejoined Ginny, “House-elves.”
Whether it was against his better judgement or not, Harry called for the one house-elf he never wanted to see again. “Kreacher?”
Ginny looked at him and then back out into the parlor, expecting something to happen.
“Kreacher.”
There was a pop on the other side of him where the disgruntled house-elf, the Black family house-elf, stood looking sour faced and mutinous, the stench of his rags replacing the smell of burnt wood.
Not sure how to proceed, his dealings with other house-elves, namely Dobby, had been relatively easy, besides the effort needed to restrain him from self-inflicted abuse. Kreacher, however, was a completely different matter.
“We would like a fire.” Harry asked as politely as possible, he thought of what Hermione would think, the knot in his stomach that had temporarily eased, began to tighten again. “We would like a fire, Kreacher, please.”
The foul, crusty elf hesitated before snapping his fingers, all the while shooting daggers at his new owner.
Harry twisted around and saw that there was a small fire that looked to be on it’s way out, perched upon the grate, it’s small spiral of smoke wafting back into their faces and out into the room. Ginny looked to him, not knowing what to expect next, having no clue as to how he should proceed.
“Kreacher,” Harry used every ounce of patience he had, remembering that Dumbledore’s words of kindness, to treat him with kindness. “Kreacher, we would like a nice, warm fire.”
Again, the traitorous, seedy elf, having to obey the laws of his kind, snapped his fingers and bowed mockingly to Harry. “It is done, Master.” Snarling on the last word with great contempt.
“Thank you.” Harry said tartly, watching the elf’s steely, hate-filled eyes. Harry thought that he might as well ask for whatever else he needed and avoid anymore unpleasant dealings with the elf. “Please light the fires in the kitchen and the first few bedrooms.”
“Yes, Master.” The elf barely nodded his head before he disappeared with a ‘pop’.
Harry pushed himself up off the floor and reached down to help Ginny up. Pulling her to her feet, he directed her to the sofa beside Ron, who had remained a silent witness through the entire ordeal. All three sat there, motionless and quiet as the time slowly passed by, the filtered light through the windows began to darken as the sun arced further into the west.
Ron, he had noticed, kept staring at the large, heavily carved mantle clock, which had no longer been working, it’s black, sleek hands suspended above it’s golden face at eleven fifty-seven. Harry had thought that he was hoping time would speed up, that the hands would move, even by the slightest fractions, anything to mark the passing, just like the many occasions he himself had wished the same thing. Ginny, leaning against on her brother’s arm, would cast him a glance every now and then.
Suddenly there was a sharp swishing noise, a puff of golden smoke, and a piece of parchment fluttered to the ground. Harry instinctively snatched it up out of the air and read to himself, wise to the fact that it might not be a good idea to read it aloud.
Still waiting, a solution is being made. No harm done.
Ron had stood up and was standing over Harry, “A solution? No harm done?”
“She’s okay, Ron.” Ginny translated for him. “Nothings happened yet.”
“Dumbledore will figure it out.” Harry reassured them and himself, “He’ll figure it out.”
Ron returned to the sofa and returned to staring at the defunct clock, completely lost to anything else but his thoughts. Ginny again took up her spot of the sofa, Harry pulled up the wing-backed chair and watched them both intently. It wasn’t long before Ron’s head slid off his hand and down his collapsing arm, finally resting on the curved arm of the sofa, in restless sleep.
Making sure that he was truly asleep, Ginny carefully lifted herself up and nudged her head toward the kitchen. “He’ll be hungry when he wakes up.”
Agreeing more to the fact that it was something to do, he followed her out and down to the kitchen, careful to be as quiet as possible as not to disturb Ron.
“I think Mum put something else in that potion.” Ginny said as she rooted around the cupboards for food.
“Really?”
“Really.” Ginny replied, “She is a Weasley, a Prewett, but a Weasley. Who do you think Fred and George got it from?”
Harry smiled faintly and joined in her search.
“So, do you mind that I’m rummaging through your cupboard?” said Ginny, pushing past a large box of cracked barley.
“It’s Sirius’ cupboard, and no, I don’t mind.” Harry said, bending below the counter to peek at what was underneath it.
Getting right to the point, Ginny continued, “Dumbledore said ‘your house’, and Kreacher has to obey you, though it was obvious that he would rather not.”
“Sirius left it to me, but I only took it because if I didn’t, the Malfoy’s would have gotten it.” Harry stood back upright, holding a large pot and setting it on the counter. “Lupin said that he wanted to help me, but I don’t see what this... this place is good for.”
“Well, the Order still meets here, doesn’t it? And we are hiding here.” Ginny was being honest. “It might not have the best past- this house, the people who lived in it, but Sirius lived here too, and you loved him.”
“But he hated it here, you know that.” Harry said, skirting around the table to the dry cupboard, hoping that there were left over potatoes, squash, or something else they could prepare. He saw Ginny’s shadow lean against the doorframe.
“We lived here this summer.” She said quietly, “My Mum, Dad, Ron, Hermione... You and me.”
Struck by her insight, Harry stopped and stared at the edge of the shelf he was searching.
“I know there’s a fairly good chunk of me on the third floor,” She looked at her left forefinger and rubbed the top of it with her thumb, “where I caught my knuckle on a raised nail while scrubbing the floor.” Ginny ended with a small, fading laugh.
Harry smiled faintly, remembering all the hours Mrs. Weasley had kept them scrubbing, spraying, and sweeping the house from top to bottom.
“That’s got to count for something.” Ginny said quietly, almost pleading.
“It does.” He said and leaned over to kiss her gently.
“So did you find anything?” Ginny asked.
“There’s rice, a few potatoes...” Harry turned back into the dry cupboard.
“Here’s some, carrots?” Ginny held up a couple of long dirty orange spears, the tips were shriveled slightly and they leaned a bit to the side.
“Yeah, let’s call them carrots.” Harry raised his eyebrows at them.
“There’s some canned tomatoes, green beans, and corn in the cupboard.” Ginny added.
“Sounds like stew to me.” Harry grabbed a few potatoes, slipping past Ginny and the carrots, heading for the door and the kitchen sink where he began to wash and peel them.
“When did you find out?” Ginny asked, topping off the head and the withered ends of the carrots into the rubbish bin.
“Lupin told me on Christmas, this is where we went.” Harry said, as he rinsed off the potato he had finished peeling.
“I bet that was a surprise.” Ginny said, she pulled out a small butcher’s block and began to slice the carrots into bite size chunks.
“I think Lupin was more surprised at how the whole thing went.” Harry set two freshly peeled potatoes on the block and returned to the sink. “He wasn’t expecting me to yell at him.”
“What?” She let the handful of carrots drop into the large pot. “Why were you yelling at him?”
“You.” Harry sighed, “I thought he was going to get after me again for what we did to Hermione and Ron and I really wasn’t in the mood for it.”
Ginny kept quiet and let him continue.
“You two have a lot in common, you know.” He said with a slight chuckle, scooping up the peelings from the sink and depositing them in the bin. “Both of you always seem to know more than you should. Anyway, he explained why he had given us our punishment, the whole ‘no talking’ thing- you were right, he wanted us to use our bond. Anyway, we had a bit of a discussion about you, me, and what the consequences of the choices I had made were. ”
“How did it all turn out?” Ginny asked, even though she already knew the answer.
“I got myself a girlfriend.” He reached out in front of Ginny and took the towel off her shoulder to dry his hands. “Why don’t you go and check on Ron, I’ll finished the potatoes.”
“Yeah, sure.” Ginny smiled understandingly and left him at the counter.
The large lid to the stew pot trembled slightly as small bursts of steam escaped from underneath it. Ron had woken up a few hours later and despite Harry and Ginny’s attempts to distract him, he continued to stare blankly towards the fireplace and the frozen mantle clock.
Harry and Ginny pasted the time by readying Grimmauld Place for possible visitors. They pulled the dust cloths off of the furniture in the bedrooms where Kreacher had lit their fires, swept the floors and took out some of their frustrations on a few bed pillows that had gone flat since this summer.
“How much longer?” Ginny finally asked.
“It looks good to me.” Harry said, repositioning a rug he had moved out of the way for Ginny. Deciding that the rug was were it should be, he stood up and saw Ginny leaning on the broom handle and looking down at the darkened street below. “I’m sure that if something had gone wrong, we would have heard about it sooner.”
“I know, this waiting is just so... hard.” Ginny had turned back around to face him, clearly the stress was wearing on her as well.
In all, they had prepared five rooms by the time eleven o’clock had rolled around. Over the next half-hour, they had exhausted their efforts to get Ron to eat anything. He outright refused to eat or drink, which for Ron, it said that something was seriously wrong. Ginny had even pulled the ‘do it for Hermione’ card to no avail. Ron, just like the clock he had stared at so intently, had died. Momentarily giving up the fight, Harry and Ginny retreated to the small table and chairs in the entryway. Ginny had pulled back the velvet drape from the long, slender window just to the side of the front and both her, and Harry, positioned themselves so that it was easily in view at all times, waiting for any sign of those who were in harms way to return.
Harry had taken hold of Ginny’s hand and watched as his finger traced across the back of it, stopping at a crescent moon shaped scar just below her forefinger knuckle. “This is it, isn’t it?”
“Mmm.” Ginny breathed, watching Harry softly trace over it before continuing with his pattern.
“I hope this is the last scar you get.”
Ginny squeezed his hand that was holding hers, that was followed by a shallow gasp. Immediately, Harry rose to his feet and found himself peering through the window. There was one knock, followed by another.
“Are you going to get that?” Ginny too was on her feet, the color completely drained from her face.
Harry took a firm grip on the doorknob and opened the door to the unknown with a swift pull, the edge of it slamming up against the side of his foot, keeping it from fully opening.
There on the doorstep stood Dumbledore, looking tired but satisfied, to his right was Professor McGonagall whose demeanor was sullen, to his left was Moody, still prescribing to his own mantra of ‘constant vigilance’.
“May we come in, Harry?” Dumbledore asked, nodding his head slightly.
Harry stepped to the side and fully opened the door to allow them entrance. He backed away, rejoining Ginny, giving them ample room. With the light spilling from the open door, he noticed a few redheads bobbing into view as they climbed the front steps.
“Ron.” Harry said, noticing that he was still fixed on the sofa. “Ron.”
“Good evening, Harry, Miss Weasley.” Dumbledore said, briefly shaking his hand before slipping past and down the hall to the kitchen.
Moody and McGonagall continued as sentinels, both flanking either side of the door. Next in line was Mr. and Mrs. Weasley who appeared equally tired. They approached Harry and Ginny, giving them each a hug. Mr. Weasley seemed to have understood what Harry had wordlessly asked, giving him a nod before he too stepped aside to reveal the next entrants.
There in the doorway stood Mr. and Mrs. Granger whose faces of shock and disbelief bore a testament to Harry at just how odd, just how horrible the entire day had been for them. Not having ever been in their company for more than just a few minutes, which happened to be at Kings Cross at the end of term with the exception of the time they had been in Diagon Alley before the start of second year, Harry felt compelled to shake their hands. Ginny, being the exceptionally kind person she was, took no qualms about giving them both a robust Weasley hug. Harry again turned to look to Ron, who, even with the appearance of Mr. and Mrs. Granger, still did not move nor show any sign that he was aware of what was happening around him.
Finally, behind her parents, Hermione threw her arms around Harry’s neck and hugged him fiercely. She then turned to Ginny and they too exchanged a relieving hug. Harry looked her over while the two girls embraced. Hermione seemed to be without a scratch, if the only thing out of place was the fact that her hair seemed to be bushier and her face a little paler. When Hermione had turned her attention back to Harry, he nudged his head into the parlor.
“He hasn’t moved.” Harry had hoped that Hermione would be able to do what him and his sister could not.
Ginny took his hand and together they followed Hermione into the parlor. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and the Grangers had fell instep behind them. McGonagall stood in the hallway, Moody limping by, passing her on his way to the kitchen. Hermione stopped halfway there, in the middle of the room, gazing at Ron and then at what had his undivided attention. Its hands, Harry noticed, were still pointing at eleven fifty-seven.
“Ron?” Her voice shook, there was no hint of an answer.
“Ron?” Hermione’s voiced cracked under the strain, “Ron, it’s okay.”
As if being startled from a deep sleep, Ron jumped up off the sofa and closed the distance between he and Hermione. They just stared at each other, neither one of them saying anything, doing anything. Harry wondered if they were even breathing. Slowly, tentatively, as if he were about to touch something that wasn’t really there, Ron raised his hand and rested it on the side of her face. His eyes connecting with hers, taking a moment to accept that it was real, Ron threw his arms around her as she collapsed into him, both letting small sobs of relief escaping them as they sank to the floor. Ginny tightened her grip. It was a moment where no one dared to move or make a sound that might bring to an end to the reunion. Everyone was frozen except for the two people quietly sobbing in front of them.
’Harry’ Ginny had taken a chance and had made her way into his thoughts. ’Look.’
His eyes searched upward from his two best friends and stopped upon the face of the mantle clock, it was mere seconds away from midnight. The first strike sounded as Harry bewilderedly cast his gaze to Ginny, an odd mixture of astonishment, happiness, and hope flashed upon her as the third, fourth, and fifth strokes chimed.
Before the final stroke of midnight, Ginny had quietly pulled Harry out of the room and motioned everyone else to follow them into the kitchen, leaving Ron and Hermione time to collect themselves without the eyes of their parents upon them.
They entered to find Dumbledore in a hushed discussion at the table with Mad-Eye.
“We’ve made some stew.” Ginny said as she and Harry crossed the kitchen, “it’s not much, but we did what we could.”
Harry took hold of the pot and lifted it off the stove while Ginny placed a heavy iron trivet on the center of the table for him to set it on.
“Well, it smells lovely.” Mrs. Weasley broke the awkward silence, bringing back some normalcy and began to fish out a ladle and bowls from the cupboard.
“Please, have a seat, Mr. and Mrs. Granger.” Harry pulled out two chairs.
Seemingly glad for the offer, Hermione’s parents sat down at the table while Mrs. Weasley set a bowl and bread plate in front of them.
“Mum.” Ginny whispered, “We couldn’t find any bread.”
“No problem.” She smiled softly and magiked two round loaves of bread onto the countertop. “How about some tea?”
“Forgot.” Ginny sighed.
“Understandable.” Mrs. Weasley fetched the kettle from the same cupboard Harry retrieved the pot.
“Um, Professor?” Harry asked Dumbledore when it was obvious that he and Moody had finished their discussion, “Can I have a word, if you don’t mind.”
“Absolutely.” Dumbledore rose from his chair and followed Harry back out into the hall, around the banister, and up the staircase to the first bedroom of the second floor. It’s fire still crackling merrily, warming the room. Harry was able to steal a glance and Ron and Hermione, who were still on the floor in front of the fire, deeply involved in conversation.
“I uh...” He wasn’t sure how he should proceed and felt a little awkward that it was even up to him in the first place. “Ginny and I got a few of the rooms ready. We figured that, if everything came out alright, that the Grangers would need a place to stay.”
Dumbledore merely blinked in agreement, glancing down at Harry over his half-moon spectacles.
“Anyway, the Weasley’s... well, if its true that Voldemort was planning on attacking the Burrow, they’ll need a place to stay too.” Again, the Headmaster slowly closed his eyes.
“They can stay here, at Grimmauld, as long as they like.” Harry finished up.
“That is most kind and generous, Harry.” Dumbledore finally said, “I’m sure that the Grangers and the Weasley’s will be accepting your offer. However, it is you that needs to invite them to stay, I can only lead them to the door.”
“Alright.” Harry understood, he would have to do this himself. “Professor?”
“Yes, Harry.”
“What exactly happened?”
“It was as you suspected. Tom chose to attack the Grangers on the presumption that you would either leave to help defend her or that the Order would have left you alone, now that our number have sadly, been spread thin.”
“How did you get the Grangers and Hermione out?”
“It was mostly Miss Grangers doing.” Dumbledore dismissed the credit Harry had already given him. “She had performed a series of counter spells, reinforcing the wards I had already place, and by using a brilliant disillusioning charm on herself and her parents, we were able to work together to create a labyrinth of sorts to get them out undetected. Right out from under Tom’s nose if I may be so blunt.”
“He didn’t know you were there?”
“Oh, he knew.” Dumbledore continued, “That’s what took so long.”
“What about the Burrow?”
“I’ve just sent Moody to meet up with Misters Bill, Fred, and George Weasley to ascertain the safety of their home. Mister Bill Weasley, as you know, is quite an accomplished curse breaker and I have complete confidence in his abilities to discover anything that Tom or his Death Eaters have left behind.”
“Sir, what about Malfoy?” Harry changed his question when he saw Dumbledore’s brow furrow, “Draco Malfoy to be exact.”
“It is not up to me to tell you how to feel about Mr. Draco Malfoy, but I will tell you that it was at great personal risk that he informed Miss Granger, and thereby Mr. Ron Weasley, you and myself, that such a plan was in motion.” Dumbledore steadied his expression, “Draco is not his father’s son, he is his mothers.”
Believing that Dumbledore took too much stock by Draco’s actions, Harry dismissed the notion that Malfoy could be and proved today, to be an ally.
“Where is he now?” Harry asked a little sharply.
“Unfortunately, I do not know.” Dumbledore reflected. “Professor Snape has not reported in as of yet.”
“I have a lot of questions- we have a lot of questions, Ginny and I.”
“I expect that you would. Arthur tells me that you and his daughter have... made a connection.”
Blushing heavily he answered, “Yeah, we can use the Legillimency bond without any problems, eye contact or not. We’ve only stopped because Voldemort keeps... spiking me, if that makes sense.”
“Perfectly, and I must say that it is a wise decision to guard against him.” Dumbledore admired how much maturity his pupil had gained. “Am I to be assuming that the both of you will be meeting with me when you return to Hogwarts?”
Harry shook his head yes, he felt that whatever time they had alone was dwindling. “Can I ask one more question?”
“Anything you’d like.” Dumbledore replied.
“What does the key do? What does it open?” Harry pulled it from his pocket and showed it to him. “Why is it important?”
“Ah, I’m afraid that it would take longer to explain that what we currently have time for. But I can tell you this, Harry, if you will excuse the pun, it’s the key to your past, to your future,” Dumbledore lowered his voice and reached across to Harry’s shoulders, “and to Voldemorts undoing.”
The greatest wizard in the world stood fully upright, releasing Harry from his grip and tugged slightly on his long silver beard. “You and Ginny made the stew?”
With a half laugh, pocketing the key, Harry answered, “Yeah.”
“Good, I’ve heard about your talents in the kitchen and am looking forward to finally experiencing it.” Dumbledore opened the door and let Harry pass through.
On the way back down to the kitchen, Ron and Hermione stopped Harry, calling over for him to join them.
“Just a minute.” Harry waved them off, glad to see that they were both ready to talk. “I have to do something first.” He said before disappearing back into the kitchen.
Mrs. Weasley was busy ushering Dumbledore to his seat and serving him a bowl of stew. Mr. Granger was speaking with Mr. Weasley, buttering a slice of bread, while Mrs. Granger, pursed a steaming spoonful of stew. Ginny had pulled a chair next to her out from the table.
“Um.” Harry barely said at the head of the table, half-heartedly trying to get their attention. “Uh, Mr. and Mrs. Granger?”
The adults in the room, except for Dumbledore, looked expectantly at him, further making his raw nerves twitch. To think that with all that had happened today, yesterday officially, that he was nervous at what he was about to ask.
“Mr. and Mrs. Granger, I’m so sorry that you and your daughter have been put in danger.” He took a big breath and plowed on, all the while trying to do Sirius justice. “You cannot go home for the time being, for that again, I’m sorry.”
Mrs. Granger set her spoon back in the bowl, not eating what she had carefully cooled, and looked to Harry with a tired, sadden expression. Mr. Granger, however, received an encouraging nod from Mr. Weasley.
“I just want you to know that you’re welcome to stay here at Grimmauld Place as long as you like, as long as it takes to make sure that you will be safe.” Not sure that he had been heard properly, he continued. “Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, the offer stands with you as well.”
“Harry-” Mrs. Weasley dabbed at her eyes with the cuff of her sweater.
“We would love to.” Mr. Weasley finished for his wife. “Just until the Burrow is safe again, and then we will not intrude on you anymore.”
“Intrude?” Harry felt a bit embarrassed, he had intruded upon the Weasley’s for so many summers, so many holidays now that he felt that to stay in a house that was ill gotten through the death of his Godfather was anything but an intrusion. “Trust me, it’s the very least I could do.”
Ginny smiled up at him.
“Mr. and Mrs. Granger, I know that this is all very confusing, it’s even harder to explain, but I know Hermione would feel better, I would feel better... we all would feel better if we knew you were safe.”
The room was quiet except for the occasional sniff from Mrs. Weasley, while he waited for their answer. Harry, unsure of their response, looked to Ginny for approval and comfort.
“Okay.” Mr. Granger spoke very softly, “Okay.”
Harry acknowledged his answer and breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, would you mind helping them out.”
“Of course not.” Mr. Weasley smiled at Harry before addressing Mr. Granger, “It’ll be a good chance to get to know you and your wife better. Sad though that it takes something life threatening....”
Harry let out another sigh of relief and took a slice of bread off his plate that Ginny had already buttered for him. “Come on, Ron and Hermione want to talk.” He whispered to her, trying to slip out unnoticed now that the Weasley’s, the Granger’s, and Dumbledore were making plans for their temporary stay.
“Harry.” Hermione smiled, “Ginny.”
Harry sat on the hearthrug and pulled Ginny down to sit just to the side of his legs so that she could lean against his propped knee.
“Some day.” Harry said lightly, having enough of seriousness. “Dumbledore told me that you did some very impressive spellwork this afternoon.”
“No, not really.” Hermione, whose eyes still fresh from tears, leaned into Ron’s shoulder.
“If Dumbledore was impressed, than it must have been amazing.” Ron said into her hair.
“I’m sorry, Harry... Ginny.”
“For what?” Harry shrugged.
Ron merely looked to Ginny and Harry, they all knew that it was enough.
“Oh, our parents are staying here.” Ginny added, breaking the momentary silence. “That should be interesting.”
“What?” Hermione asked, completely unaware of what had happened in the kitchen.
“Harry’s invited them to stay as long as it’s necessary, until the danger’s pasted.” Ginny smiled proudly.
“Harry?” Hermione questioned him, sitting up from Ron’s shoulder.
“Well, they can’t go back now, can they?” Harry absently grabbed Ginny’s hand again, “So they can stay here. Sirius would have done it anyway.”
“Thank you, Harry.” Hermione’s sincerity was palatable, they let it linger through the single reverberating strike.
“When did that start working?” Ron asked, glancing at the clock whose hands now read one o’clock. “I thought it was dead.”
A/N: I am so very, very sorry that I’ve left this story hanging for the last month. I’ve had an unexpected ‘vacation’, which for the money, it should have been someplace warm... with a beach... and those really expensive white fluffy robes and matching slippers. (I suppose I got the robe, if you discount the fact that my backside, in all its glory, was left to the breeze.) Anyway, life’s on track, priorities are being rearranged and set, and I’m back... for better or worse. (I do have to keep my hobbies, you know!)
Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays ~Patrony :)