Harry awoke to a high-pitched screeching, a noise that reminded him of merpeople's speech and caused his head to pound. He couldn't face opening his eyes just yet, so he kept them closed, as the screeching gradually formed itself into meaningful words.

"…just what were you thinking? And where have Ron and Hermione got to?" It was Mrs Weasley.

Another voice replied but too low for Harry to make out what it was saying. He opened one eye the slightest amount and saw a stain of red. Opening the other eye, he saw Ginny standing not far away from him, facing her mother, who did not look very pleased at the moment. He was lying on the living room sofa at the Burrow. Ginny must have activated her Portkey.

"I knew I shouldn't have let you go into Diagon Alley today!" Mrs Weasley was shouting again, and Harry winced. Her voice was every bit as loud and shrill as it had been in the Howler Ron had got from her second year. Harry had always been under the impression that her voice in the Howler had been magically amplified. "When I saw the clock point to 'mortal peril' just now…"

Harry glanced over at the Weasleys' clock. He could see Ginny's hand pointing to 'home', as was Mrs Weasley's. Several other hands were pointing to 'work', which accounted for everyone but Ron. His hand simply indicated 'hiding'. It worried Harry that Ron and Hermione hadn't returned yet, but at least they didn't seem to be in immediate danger at the moment. But if they were hiding…

"And just where did you go off to, young lady?" Ginny remained obstinately silent. Harry could see their various bags of purchases on the coffee table, the ones from the Muggle shop all too evident. There would be no hiding the fact that they'd not stayed in Diagon Alley. "Oxford Street," sniffed Mrs Weasley, reading the address on Harry's sack. "And what were you doing in Oxford Street?"

"Shopping," replied Ginny. She was doing a rather good job of staring her mother down, Harry thought.

Mrs Weasley looked at her daughter shrewdly. "You went on the Underground, didn't you? After I expressly forbade it."

Ginny merely stared daggers at her mother. Harry decided it was time to speak up. "It was my idea, Mrs Weasley."

"Harry! You're awake. How are you, dear?" The change in her tone was quite amazing.

"I'll be all right. But don't blame Ginny for this. It was my idea."

"Your idea?" The warmth in her voice was gone as quickly as it had come. "You KNEW I'd told Ginny she couldn't go into London. You were there when I said it!" It was probably fortunate for Harry that he was a guest and not one of her sons at this point, or she might have hexed him. "On top of that, the four of you split up, and YOU promised me you'd all stick together this morning."

Ginny tried to come to his defence, and Harry thought she was quite brave to do so. "Mum, the danger wasn't in London. It was in Diagon Alley. We were fine until we came back to the Leaky Cauldron."

If Mrs Weasley was going to reply to this, she was interrupted by the noise of someone entering the house by way of the kitchen door. "Good heavens, what now?" Her question was answered almost immediately when a breathless Ron and Hermione entered the living room. They were both white-faced and wide-eyed. She rounded on them. "Thank goodness. JUST WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?" Harry's head pounded harder at her shout, and he rubbed his temples. Hermione coloured, and Ron looked down at the floor. "I want to know what you've been up to this afternoon. Ginny said there was some sort of attack today."

"Yeah, Mum," said Ron, " there was. Death Eaters in Diagon Alley!"

"And how is it you four didn't come home together? I told Harry just this morning I wanted you to stick together."

"It's my fault, Mum. I wanted some time alone with Hermione." Ron's ears had gone red at this admission. "And I told Harry we'd catch them up." He hesitated, but the look on his mother's face soon convinced him to continue. "We only went to lunch at the Leaky Cauldron."

"Do you know what Harry and your sister got up to while you were having lunch?"

Ron looked pleadingly at Harry, but there was nothing Harry could convey to him that would help the situation. "Erm, they went for ice cream?"

"No." Mrs Weasley's voice had gone deceptively calm now. "They didn't go for ice cream, they went shopping. In London!" She held up Harry's sack as evidence. "And they came back here with Harry unconscious!"

Hermione looked horrified. "Unconscious?" she repeated.

Ginny broke in. "He wasn't unconscious from anything that happened in the Muggle world, Mum. We were attacked when we back through the Leaky Cauldron."

"I'll deal with that in a minute," replied Mrs Weasley. "I want to hear what Ron has to say for himself first."

Ron swallowed. "Well, we finished lunch, and we went for a stroll. We thought we'd catch Harry and Ginny up, and we'd got as far as Ollivander's when we heard shouting."

"But that's down at the opposite end of Diagon Alley from the Leaky Cauldron," mused Harry. "It must have been some attack."

"Dunno," said Ron. All I knew is I heard shouting, and then the Aurors who were there to guard the street were being attacked. There were all these wizards in black cloaks, and they'd appeared out of nowhere. It was as if they'd Apparated in."

"They couldn't have Apparated in," interrupted Hermione. "There are wards over Diagon Alley now. No one can Apparate in or out any more than they could at Hogwarts."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Where did they come from then? I didn't see, did you?" Hermione had to admit she hadn't. "We wanted to activate our Portkeys and come straight home, but we didn't know where Harry and Ginny were. We hadn't seen them anywhere." Mrs Weasley crossed her arms at this. "And then it looked as if we might be caught in the crossfire."

"You can tell them, Ron," said Hermione. "Someone sent a spell at us. Ron got him though. Full Body Bind. He fell on his face just like Neville back in first year."

"Yeah, and then an Auror took care of him. But more Aurors were dispatched than Death Eaters," said Ron with a shudder. "There were bodies all over the street… Anyway, soon as we could, we ran for cover and Portkeyed back."

"I knew something was going to happen," said Mrs Weasley despairingly. "I JUST KNEW IT! And do any of you act responsibly? NO! Don't you realise we're at war? Does that mean anything to any of you? You have no idea what it's like, none at all…" All four teenagers were looking at the floor now. Their guilt was palpable.

"All right," continued Mrs Weasley, taking a deep breath. "I need to know the rest of the story. Harry, how is it you came back here unconscious?"

"As I said before, we were fine in the Muggle part of London. It wasn't until we came back through the Leaky Cauldron that we knew anything was wrong." Harry paused here. Although he had a good idea what had happened, he wasn't sure how much to tell and not give away Ginny's secret. On the other hand, the longer he hesitated, the more it looked as if he were hiding something. "Everything happened really fast then. I'm not too sure… We came into Diagon Alley and there were Death Eaters there. One of them drew his wand. I tried to disarm him, but he jumped out of the way. Then he sent a spell at me, and I dunno, for some reason it bounced off me." Harry deliberately did not mention the fact that the spell had been an Unforgivable Curse. He saw that Ginny was watching him closely. "And then there was this light. I think Ginny must have activated her Portkey to bring us back here, because I was knocked out and woke up here."

Hermione was looking at Harry speculatively. "What would make the spell bounce off you?"

"I don't know… I…"

Harry was saved further explanation by more noise signalling another arrival in the kitchen. Someone had just arrived by the Floo network. Hermione hadn't lost her thoughtful gaze, however, and Harry could fairly see the wheels turning in her head. They all turned to see Mr Weasley enter the room.

"Arthur!" cried Mrs Weasley, and she ran to him and flung her arms around him. "Thank goodness you're all right!"

"Yes, dear, I'm fine. Nothing has happened at the Ministry itself. I came home to make sure everyone had arrived safely."

"Well, they have, but only by a stroke of luck." And she launched into an account of what had happened. Ron and Hermione both took seats, as did Ginny. They all exchanged guilty looks with Harry, while Mrs Weasley railed against them.

Mr Weasley looked quite grave at the end of the explanation, but he merely said, "All's well that ends well. Everyone seems to be OK, but you were extremely lucky. I imagine you'll be spending the rest of the summer de-gnoming the garden, if I don't miss my guess," he added with a look at his wife.

"Arthur, do you know any more about what happened today?"

"No, we don't know much. It seems there was an attack, as you've seen. Several Aurors killed; a good many others are in St. Mungo's. No one knows how the enemy got in. There's no evidence the wards were tampered with. The Death Eaters seem to have withdrawn for now. I had a talk with Mad-Eye Moody, and he thinks this was only a trial of our strength."

Mrs Weasley put a hand to her heart. "I don't know how I'll make it through the day with you at the Ministry. I'll be sick with worry."

"That can't be helped, Molly. We'll make it through all right, just as we always have."

Ron got up from his seat and tried to sneak out of the room, while his parents were talking, but his mother stopped him in his tracks. "Not so fast there. I'm not through with you yet. Your father wasn't joking about the de-gnoming, and there's plenty of weeding to be taken care of around here. I'll expect you all to get to it bright and early tomorrow."

They all breathed a collective sigh at that pronouncement. Ron headed upstairs with his packages, followed by Hermione. Mrs Weasley offered to make her husband some tea, and they went into the kitchen, where their voices could be heard in serious conversation. Harry tried to sit up but found he felt slightly dizzy. His headache was fading away, at least, now that no one was shouting. Ginny looked at him, concerned.

"Are you sure you're all right?" she asked, making sure to keep her voice low.

"Yeah, I will be in a minute. Just feeling a bit dizzy is all. It'll pass." He managed to sit up this time, and his head was clearer. "You know, Gin, I reckon that necklace of yours really works."

She coloured slightly and nodded. There was no denying that something had saved him from the force of the Cruciatus Curse, even if the power required to turn back an Unforgivable was enough to knock him out, and the most likely explanation was the necklace. Harry realised she'd also been the one to get them both out of a bad spot when she'd activated the Portkey. He stood up, feeling very steady on his feet now, and took her hand. It was very warm in his.

"I guess I owe you a thank-you at the very least."

She bit her lip for a second before replying. "No, Harry, what else would I have done? Left you to face those Death Eaters alone?"

"But the necklace… It really does work. It saved me from the Cruciatus Curse."

"Yes, but… It's nothing, really. I never expected it to work."

"It's not nothing. I know what it feels like. Believe me, it's not nothing."

Something made Harry step closer to her, and he didn't question it. He felt an overwhelming desire to touch her cheek, to see if it was as soft as it looked. He reached out and placed his palm against the curve of her cheekbone, heard a sharp intake of breath as he did so. She looked beautiful with her eyes closed and her lips parted slightly, the colour rising on her face and her breathing becoming shallower. In that moment, he felt an urge to do whatever was necessary to keep that expression on her face. Tentatively, he moved the pad of his thumb along soft skin. A small tremor of reaction seemed to pass through her. Harry stared at her lips, fascinated. He felt a sudden imperative need to know what they would feel like under his, and without giving the matter further thought, leaned forward and kissed her.

Soft. Her lips were soft and supple and warm. This was wonderful. This was better than flying. This was… over much too soon. He opened his eyes and looked deep into her rich brown ones. He was surprised, shocked almost, at their depth. He'd never known, and now he did not want to look away. He thought he could stay like this forever. But she couldn't. Without a word, she broke eye contact and slipped away. There had been a noise in the kitchen, and the moment was gone.

Harry stood there, slightly stunned at what had just happened. He could hear her footsteps fading away on the stairs. What had possessed him to do that? He had no idea. He hadn't thought, he'd simply acted. And what must Ginny have thought of him for her to run off like that? Perhaps he'd done it wrong. He'd need to consult Sirius' birthday present to be sure. His stomach twisted uncomfortably. At the moment he felt as if he'd be lucky indeed to ever have another chance to kiss her.

Now he was aware of the sounds of conversation coming from the kitchen once more, and the gravity of what had happened came back, along with his feelings of guilt. He was a guest in this house, and he'd broken trust with his hosts. His stomach twisted again, but for another reason. He owed Mr and Mrs Weasley an apology at the very least.

He went into the kitchen where Mr and Mrs Weasley were seated at the table, mugs of hot tea in front of them. Harry cleared his throat, and they looked up.

"I think I owe you an apology for, well, putting it in Ginny's head to disobey you," he said without preamble. "I honestly thought I was helping her out a bit with her school work, and I didn't think…"

"No, you didn't," replied Mrs Weasley, her eyes glittering.

"I'm sorry," Harry said lamely. "It won't happen again."

"There's been no harm done, now has there?" put in Mr Weasley reasonably. "The danger wasn't in their going into London. Who knows what would have happened if they'd all stayed together? The attack still would have occurred. I daresay the Death Eaters didn't expect to find Harry in Diagon Alley today, but what if they had? Don't you think they would have all gone after him? It was most likely for the best that things worked out the way they did. It's not Harry's fault that he tends to attract trouble."

Mrs Weasley pursed her lips. "Yes, that's true," she was forced to admit. "And it most certainly won't happen again. You'll all be spending the rest of the holiday in the garden. There will no question of any of you traipsing off on any more escapades."

Harry beat a hasty retreat up the stairs. He was grateful to Mr Weasley for trying to smooth things over, but something he'd said was bothering Harry. It was true that Harry tended to attract trouble, and more often than not, others were put into danger though their simple association with him. If he'd stayed in Diagon Alley with his friends, the outcome could have been much, much worse. A shiver passed through him as he thought of Ron, Hermione or Ginny lying on the ground, hurt or even dead because of him. It wouldn't be the first time an innocent bystander was killed for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The image of Cedric Diggory, cold and staring, rose unbidden in his mind. He couldn't allow that to happen again.

*

Harry removed his dragon hide gloves so that he could wipe the sweat from his face. He'd been patiently pulling weeds in Mrs Weasley's garden for over an hour now, and he felt as if he'd barely made a dent in them. The sorts of weeds found in wizarding gardens seemed to put down stronger roots and have a lot more spines than what he was used to at the Dursleys', and the work was tiresome. He watched as Crookshanks ran past in hot pursuit of a small figure with a potato-like head. He and Ron had de-gnomed the garden the previous day, but it looked as if they'd spend tomorrow doing it all over again.

He sat back on his heels and pushed his glasses back up his nose. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ginny working further down the row. If he were completely honest with himself, she was another reason he hadn't managed to make much progress. He'd spent far too much time casting glances her way. He watched now as she struggled with a particularly tenacious thistle. Her face was red with heat and exertion, and her hair was escaping its ponytail, causing tendrils to straggle across her forehead. She blew upwards at them impatiently, and when that didn't help, she let go of the thistle and swiped a sleeve across her forehead, leaving a streak of dirt in its wake. Then she went back to her work with renewed vigour. The weed finally gave way, causing her to sit down hard with a surprised thump. She caught Harry's eye then, and he looked away quickly, his face going even redder since she'd seen him staring.

It was difficult to concentrate when she was around. He found himself remembering their day in London, how her hand had felt in his, the flash of legs when she caught her dress in the turnstile, her body pressed briefly against his on the Underground. His lips on hers… Neither of them had brought up that incident, but then there had not been much of an opportunity. They had all spent so much time doing chores over the past few days, that meals were silent and bed quite inviting.

The general atmosphere at the Burrow had been subdued since the attack on Diagon Alley, as everyone felt a sort of unspoken dread of something else happening, something that could affect them all personally. They all knew more attacks were inevitable, and with Mr Weasley and Percy at the Ministry every day, often until late at night, it seemed only a matter of time until the Weasley family was touched directly by Voldemort. Harry knew he would feel any harm to a Weasley as a personal loss.

He put his gloves back on and pulled out a few more weeds, but it wasn't long before he was distracted once more. Why did the sun have to glint off her red hair in such a way that he couldn't keep his eyes off it? Why was the streak of dirt on her face so endearing? What had made her so generous a soul so as want to protect a boy who had spent the past few years all but ignoring her? He felt he ought to know her well enough to be able to answer some of these questions, and he knew it was his own fault that he couldn't. He'd been taken in by her family, practically made an honorary member, almost six years ago, and yet he'd never taken the time to find out anything about her at all…

"Lemonade, dear?"

Harry jumped. He'd been staring again and hadn't heard Mrs Weasley approach. She was standing at the edge of the garden with a tray bearing a pitcher of what was undoubtedly fresh-squeezed lemonade and several glasses. The expression on her face was rather knowing, especially when Harry saw her look down at the pitifully small pile of weeds near him. Ginny had managed to do at least twice the work he had in the time they'd been there.

Harry grinned sheepishly. "Yes, please," he said, standing, removing his gloves once more and walking over to the edge of the garden. He was sure Mrs Weasley's eyes glinted at him as she handed him a glass.

Suddenly Ginny was beside him, reaching for a glass as well. Her hand brushed against the side of his arm, and the spot she'd touched tingled strangely. "Thanks, Mum. We ought to be able to finish this afternoon."

Harry saw Mrs Weasley look once more at Harry's pile of weeds, but she made no comment. "That would be nice, dear. The whole garden is going to need de-gnoming again, so it would be wonderful to have the weeds out of the way. Carry on."

Mrs Weasley walked off towards the orchard, where Ron and Hermione were picking early apples, with the lemonade. Harry turned to see Ginny looking at him. "Cheers, Harry," she said and clinked glasses with him. Then she drained her lemonade in one gulp, but her eyes never left his. Eye contact. It was supposed to be a positive sign. He felt the tingle go through him again. But then she returned to work without another word, leaving him thoroughly confused.

*

The evening before term began, Harry and Ron sat playing Exploding Snap after supper. Hermione had tried to badger them into packing, but the boys had foregone that chore in favour of a game of cards.

"Come on, Hermione," Ron had said. "We've got all day tomorrow to do it."

Earlier at supper, Mr Weasley had told them the Hogwarts Express would not be taking them to school this year. "The Board of Governors has decided the Hogwarts Express presents too great a target in light of the recent attacks, and they've decided not to run the train. The Department of Magical Transportation has been working overtime to find a way to get everyone to school this year. The Floo Regulation Panel has developed a new sort of Floo Powder, which will only work on September 1st and will take you as far as Hogsmeade. From there you will take the carriages as usual."

"Won't all the students arriving at the same time clog up the fireplace?" Hermione had asked.

"Yes, but you won't all be arriving at once, and you'll be arriving at different fireplaces. You could come out at Hogsmeade Station, Zonko's, Honeydukes, The Three Broomsticks or Gladrags. They've had to work out an extensive time table to accommodate everybody. They went by alphabetical order, so you'll be some of the last to arrive. Since they're aware you're both staying here, Harry and Hermione, you're being considered Weasleys," he'd added, forestalling Hermione's next question. "Much less complicated for everyone that way. You'll need to be ready to go at 5:03 sharp, and you're set to come out at Zonko's according to the time table."

By the time the deck of cards had exploded, singeing Ron's eyebrows in the process, Ginny had finished repairing her textbooks and disappeared, as well. Harry was mildly disappointed. He'd have asked her how her Muggle Studies essay had turned out as a means of striking up a conversation. He might even have asked her to take a walk with him. He'd gone as far as considering kissing her again if he was feeling really courageous. But now he'd missed his chance, and they wouldn't even have the ride on the train together.

Ron stood up, yawning. "I reckon we should head off to bed. We've got to pack in the morning."

Harry's reply was non-committal. "Yeah, I suppose."

When they'd reached Ron's room at the top of the house, they were surprised to find Hermione stretched out on Ron's bed, reading.

"Hermione, what are you doing up here?" asked Ron. Harry didn't think his outrage sounded very genuine.

"Reading," Hermione replied with a sly grin.

"I can see that. Why are you doing it up here, though?"

Harry couldn't resist breaking in on their exchange. "Shall I leave you two alone?" he asked, suppressing the urge to laugh.

"No, that's quite all right," replied Hermione. "Whose is this, by the way?" She held up the book she'd been reading, and Harry felt his stomach plummet. It was Dr Zog's Practical Spells for Wizards. He felt his face flame, but he was quite sure he didn't want to admit it was his. Ron's mouth was working soundlessly, as if he'd forgotten how to speak.

"Honestly," said Hermione in an exasperated tone. "What's got into the two of you? This looks quite useful, you know," she added, indicating the book. "I wonder why they haven't included it on our school lists?"

Ron broke into a fit of coughing at that. Hermione merely arched an eyebrow at him. "You ought to drink some water, Ron." She got off his bed and handed him the book. "See you in the morning."

As soon as she was gone, Harry grabbed the book from Ron. "Give me that! What's the idea leaving this out where anyone could find it?"

"I didn't leave it out," Ron protested.

"Then how did she find it?"

"No idea. What I don't get is her reaction. Shouldn't she have hit the roof?"

"Yeah, you'd think so… Unless she's been benefiting from the information in this book somehow?"

Ron started coughing again, and Harry rifled idly through the book, wondering what Hermione had thought so useful it should be on Hogwarts' curriculum. What he saw made his face go even redder. He snapped the book shut. Then he opened it again. He was sure he'd never seen that particular page before. He began to turn the pages slowly. There was a whole section here on… Well, anyway, that hadn't been here last time he'd looked, he was certain.

Ron had recovered from his latest coughing fit and was watching him curiously. "What is it?"

"Er, Ron, I think you've read through this more thoroughly than I have. Have you ever seen this part?"

He passed the book over to Ron and saw Ron's eyes fairly bug out of his head. "Wow!" He turned the book sideways. "I didn't know that was… Erm, no, I don't think I have seen this page. Dunno how I missed it…" He went on turning pages, until Harry had to snatch the book back once more.

"So why are we still alive? If Hermione had seen that, you can be sure she'd have killed the both of us."

Ron was considering. "Maybe she didn't see it."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we haven't seen it before, either."

"Erm, no. I think I would have remembered that. It leaves a bit of an impression."

Ron took the book back from Harry and opened it to the beginning. "Ah! Thought so. Look at this." Ron was pointing to a paragraph in the introduction, which explained how the author had developed a special charm, which caused the text to magically adapt itself to whomever was reading it.

"I wonder what she saw then, that she thought was so useful?" asked Harry speculatively.

"Who knows? Maybe advice on how to remove stains from your robes."

"In any case, I'm hiding this. Last thing we need is for your mum to find it. I've been in enough trouble with her to last me."

Harry put the book into the bottom of his trunk under his cauldron. "And there it stays."

"I swear, I didn't leave it lying about." Ron protested.

"Well, Hermione isn't the type to go snooping through my things, is she?"

"No, of course not."

"Let's just keep this book to ourselves, shall we? Can you imagine if Dean and Seamus knew about it? We'd never see it again."

"Yeah, true."

And without further conversation, they changed into their pyjamas and went to bed. Harry was careful to turn his back to Ron so that Ron wouldn't see the necklace. It could become problematic to keep it a secret in the seventh year boys' dormitory, but Harry reckoned he could always close the hangings on his bed while he changed. As long as no one pointed out that he'd become shy over the summer, he'd be fine.

"Night, Ron," he called softly. Ron was already snoring.

One reviewer mentioned the necklace's role in the story trying to compare it with the necklace in Lord of the Rings. The necklace in this story only physically resembles the necklace Arwen gave to Frodo. It won't behave in the same way… (I don't think, unless there was something Professor Tolkien neglected to mention.)