The old bedroom at Number 4, Privet Drive, looked exactly as it had been left under a week ago. The bedclothes were still tangled at the foot of the bed, and the empty desk stood where it always had, bereft of the parchment it held for only a short time every year.
“Your “ what?”
“My bedroom,” said Harry.
“What just happened?” asked Ron, but it wasn’t Harry who answered.
“We Apparated, didn’t we?” said Hermione quietly.
Harry nodded.
“But… how?” asked Ginny, looking thoroughly bemused.
“We were all joining hands, weren’t we?” replied Harry. “I thought it might work, and it did!”
“Side-Along Apparition,” whispered Hermione. “It takes a lot of strength, and you’ve never even Apparated before! You must have really wanted to get away from there…”
Ginny was inspecting the bed.
“Are we in Privet Drive?”
“Yup,” said Harry, “welcome to Surrey.”
“Why did you bring us here?” asked Ron, who was opening and closing the cat-flap in the door with great interest.
“Well you can’t Apparate into Grimmauld Place, and this was the next place I thought of,” said Harry. “Come on “ let’s find a fireplace and get out of here.”
He opened the door and the others followed him out onto the landing. A wide bottom was just backing out of the next room, but its owner did not notice them the newly arrived visitors.
“Hi, Dud!” said Harry loudly.
Dudley jumped dramatically and looked down at Harry, then at Ron, Hermione and Ginny.
“Don’t mind us!” said Ginny brightly, skipping forwards to join Harry.
Dudley cowered against the wall and watched them pass with wary eyes. They reached the bottom of the stairs, where Harry could hear his aunt and uncle’s voices coming from the sitting room. He was just about to open the font door, when the voices stopped, and instead there was the sound of heavy footsteps.
“Brace yourselves,” murmured Harry.
The door opened. There was a long, tense pause as Uncle Vernon stood, aghast, gaping at each witch or wizard in turn, and gradually turning a darker and darker shade of puce.
“What the devil are you doing?” he spluttered, his moustache bristling threateningly. “Where did you come from?”
“Just passing through,” said Harry casually.
Ginny snorted with laughter, quickly disguising it as a chesty cough.
“Passing through?” snarled Uncle Vernon, ignoring her.
“Yes,” replied Harry, “we were just leaving, actually.”
“Listen here, boy,” muttered Uncle Vernon, advancing on Harry. “You might think that you can use this house as some kid of a “ a stop off point in one of your little adventures, but I will not “ tolerate “ it! Now get out of my house!”
“Vernon, what’s going on?”
Aunt Petunia had appeared in the doorway behind her husband, and she noticed Harry with a wince of deepest disgust.
“He just decided to turn up!” spat Uncle Vernon. “And with all of his little friends, by the looks of things!”
This seemed to be the point where Aunt Petunia noticed Ron, Hermione and Ginny for the first time. Her eyes landed on Ginny, and her tight blonde curls seemed to wilt slightly. Her gaze dropped down to Harry and Ginny’s interlocked fingers, and her jaw clenched, her lips pursed.
“And who are you?” she asked Ginny rigidly.
“I,” said Ginny, with an uncanny likeness of Aunt Petunia, “am Ginny Weasley.”
Aunt Petunia’s nostrils flared reproachfully, and for a moment, Harry thought she looked slightly disconcerted, but she pulled herself together, drawing herself up to her full height.
“Get out,” she hissed waspishly.
“Sorry?” asked Ginny coolly.
“Get “ out “ of “ my “ house,” said Aunt Petunia, bending closer to Ginny’s face.
Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at his aunt’s chest.
“Don’t speak to her like that,” he told her warningly, then he pulled open the front door with a sharp yank, and they left, leaving Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon frozen to the spot behind them.
They all promptly burst out laughing as soon as the door was shut.
“Nice one, Harry,” said Ron, between sniggers.
“What was her problem?” asked Ginny incredulously.
“Lily,” Hermione murmured to herself.
“What?” asked Harry.
Hermione started and looked up, as if she hadn’t meant anyone else to hear her.
“Lily and James,” she told them simply.
“What about Lily and James?” asked Ginny, staring at Hermione as if every thought she’d ever had that she was mad had now been confirmed.
“Have you never realised?” said Hermione, her eyes wide. “It’s so obvious!”
“What’s obvious?” asked Ron.
“These two!” said Hermione, gesturing to Harry and Ginny. “James and Lily? Your aunt was reminded of them, and it completely threw her. Didn’t you see the way she looked at you?”
Harry couldn’t believe that he had never really thought about it like that before; he sometimes forgot that Aunt Petunia was his mother’s sister.
“I guess Potters like redheads,” said Harry, ruffling Ginny’s hair.
“You only want me for my hair!” she cried.
“Yeah, didn’t you know that?” teased Harry, putting an arm around her shoulder and pulling her towards him to smell her hair.
Ron and Hermione laughed at them, and for a minute or two it felt as if nothing was different, but then Harry remembered why they were where they were. He led them to Mrs Figg’s house, where they hoped they could make use of the fireplace.
“Hello, dears,” said Mrs Figg kindly when she opened the door. “What can I do for you?”
“Er, we were wondering if we could use your fireplace,” said Harry, very aware of how stupid it sounded.
“Of course you can!” she said happily. “Come in, come in. What brings you to Little Whinging?”
“Oh, just visiting my aunt and uncle,” said Harry vaguely.
They each stepped into the fireplace in turn and flooed back to Grimmauld Place. Mrs Weasley bustled into the kitchen just as Harry landed in the grate to join the others.
“Back so soon?” she asked. She looked down at their empty hands. “Where’s the stuff?” Harry knew that she would be able to read their downcast faces. “Ron? Ginny?”
“It’s ruined, Mum,” said Ginny.
“What’s ruined?” demanded Mrs Weasley. “What’s going on?”
“They’ve destroyed our house,” said Ron, not looking his mother in the eye.
Mrs Weasley wobbled, looking from Ron, to Ginny, and back again.
“They’ve… what?”
“Two Death Eaters were there when we got there,” said Ginny quietly.
“Oh… oh…” cried Mrs Weasley, whose eyes were filling with tears, “I should never have let you go there. Oh Ron, Ginny…”
She reached out for them and they steered her into the nearest chair. Harry nudged Hermione and they left the kitchen, heading up to their bedroom instead. They were both very quiet.
“They’ll probably be able to fix it back into a reasonable state with a bit of work,” said Hermione, after a long pause of them both sitting on her bed not saying anything. “But you know… some things just can’t be fixed…”
Harry knew what she meant: it was never going to feel the same at the once homely Burrow again, now that Death Eaters had intruded and rummaged through everything.
“And the Weasleys of all people,” said Harry. “I can’t think of anyone less deserving.”
There was a long silence again, until “
“Harry?”
“Yes?”
Hermione looked down at her knees.
“What do you think… will happen to my parents?”
“Well if they’re anything like you, they’ll be fine,” replied Harry encouragingly.
“Thanks,” said Hermione, smiling reluctantly, “but they’re not like me in the fact that I can do magic and they can’t.”
Harry glanced at her and noticed tears starting to form under her eyelids. Half of him felt like saying that she should just be thankful she had parents, but the other half told him how unfair it would be, and, in the end, he was glad that this half prevailed.
“Hermione, we may be able to use magic, but we’re also in the thick of it all,” he told her. “Voldemort would much sooner do away with the wizarding world than harm those who can do nothing against him.”
Hermione nodded slowly.
“But what if “ what it something happens to me and.. and I’m here…” she said shakily.
“Nothing’s going to happen to you,” said Harry firmly, putting his arm around her. “We’ll all be here at the end, you’ll see.”
Deep down, a jabbing feeling told him that there was a high possibility that he was wrong, but he wasn’t about to give in to it. There had to be hope.
Ron came in and slumped down onto his bed.
“Dad’s come back from his shift to talk with Mum,” he said gloomily.
“Where’s Ginny?” asked Harry.
“Dunno,” mumbled Ron, “probably sulking somewhere.”
“It’s going to be all right, Ron,” Hermione told him kindly.
Ron grunted.
Now that they were alone together, Harry felt he could voice what had been on his mind for a while.
“I sort of… wish we were back at school,” he said slowly.
Hermione raised her eyebrows at him.
“Me too,” muttered Ron.
Hermione laughed.
“You do?” she asked disbelievingly.
“Felt a lot safer there than I do here,” said Harry.
“Yeah,” agreed Ron, “it was somehow nice not knowing what was going on in the outside world.”
“Well, there you go,” said Hermione. “You never know what people are going to come out with…”
The room fell silent, and Harry suddenly felt a huge tide of sadness crash down on him, almost bringing him to tears; apparently Ginny was taking it hard.
“Someone should go and find Ginny,” said Hermione, as if she had read his mind.
“I’ll go,” mumbled Harry. “You all right, Ron?”
Ron grunted again. Harry caught Hermione’s eye and she gestured with her head for him to go; it was a toss up which Weasley would be easier to comfort, but, then again, he couldn’t exactly kiss this one if words didn’t quite cut it.
Feeling miserable, and at the same time trying to work out what he could say to Ginny to make her feel at all better, he left the room. After looking in the drawing-room, two bedrooms, and a room smelling of curry that he had never been in before, he finally found her in the library, a tall, circular room, where she was sitting on the wooden floor at the foot of the crowded shelves.
“There you are.” She looked up, saw him, then looked down again. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” she mumbled.
“No you’re not,” said Harry.
Ginny shrugged. “I need to go back,” said her voice.
“What?” said Harry, wondering whether it had been his imagination. She couldn’t seriously be considering going back there so soon after such a near miss? “You… you want to go back?”
“I have to,” she said quietly, standing up.
“No! Ginny, you can’t “ “
“Yes, I can,” she said forcefully. “If it was your house, you would too,” and she pushed past him and strode out onto the landing.
“Ginny! Wait!” he called after her, but she was already half way down the stairs. Harry ran out of the library and followed her “ damn she was fast “ all the way down to the kitchen.
“Stop!” he yelled at her, not looking where he was going and charging straight into the table. “Ginny! Just calm down and think about this for a moment!”
She faltered slightly, cast him what he took as an apologetic look, then threw some Floo Powder into the grate. Harry swore as she stepped into the green flames, lunging forwards to try and grab her before she disappeared, but the fire exploded around his outstretched arm, and she was gone.
Harry cried out in frustration, snatching a handful of the green glitter and thrusting it into the dying flames. “The Burrow!” he shouted, and he was immediately swept off his feet. Forgetting to close his eyes and mouth, and still breathing heavily from the chase, he choked on the ashes as they whirled around him until the wrecked Burrow’s kitchen came before his eyes. Ginny was already running up the stairs, her footsteps banging on every step “ careless…
Harry got to her room seconds after her, doing everything he could to keep his cool, but failing miserably.
“FOR GOD’S SAKE!” he yelled. “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING? BARGING IN HERE WHEN WE’VE ONLY JUST GOT AWAY! THEY COULD STILL BE HERE, YOU KNOW? YOU’RE NOT THINKING! DO YOU NOT REALISE HOW STUPID YOU’RE BEING?
Ginny’s eyes were blazing dangerously, flashing orange and gold in the afternoon sun which was streaming through the window. She stayed silent, however, and although this should have been a good thing (she could shout pretty loud) it was making Harry feel uneasy.
“Look,” said Harry, closing his eyes for a moment to avoid hers, “will you come back, please? It’s not safe here.”
Ginny’s eyes did not soften, but the anger towards Harry seemed to evolve into a different kind of anger. She looked at her possessions on the floor, her photographs lying behind cracked glass, her bed covers thrown unceremoniously into a heap beside the bed, and shook. Even her eyelashes seemed to be shaking as she glared at what the intruders had left behind them, and gradually “ although maybe Harry was imagining it “ everything in the room began to shake with her. The sheets twitched, the drawers shuddered and “ and this was definitely real “ they started to slide back into their desk.
As Harry watched, dumbstruck, the room and all its contents returned to how they should have been. When everything was still once more, including Ginny, who was breathing heavily but no longer shaking, Harry didn’t know whether to laugh or not. It was hard to say whether it was really very funny, or not funny in the slightest.
“Ginny “ how “ ?” he murmured.
She shrugged, as though coming out of a trance. “It’s happened before “ when I was really angry at Ron one time “ but… ah well! It’s better, isn’t it?” she finished happily, and she sat on the end of her bed and lay back.
Harry, who was now beginning to wonder just how much magic Ginny kept locked away like that, lay on his front beside her.
“You’re… “ he started. She raised her eyebrows. “You’re amazing, did you know that?” He leaned over her so that they were face to face. “I mean… really amazing.”
She gazed at him. “You’re pretty amazing, too,” she whispered, tracing a finger over the lightning scar on his forehead.
Harry winced as a sharp pain pinched the skin that she touched, and she gasped as she felt it too.
“Sorry,” she muttered, but Harry wasn’t sorry.
“It only hurts because it’s hurting Voldemort,” he said, “so it’s definitely worth the pain.”
He swept a strand of red hair out of her eyes with a gentle finger, and sighed.
“If only it hurt him all the time I loved you,” murmured Ginny.
“Perhaps it does,” said Harry, “my scar hurts all the time now, anyway.”
“No wonder I’m always getting headaches,” smirked Ginny, smiling.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” said Harry, also smiling. “But, as I said, it’s worth it…” and he leant in to kiss her. Their lips almost touched, but a cry from outside made them freeze, millimetres from one another.
“WHERE IS HE?” screamed a woman’s voice. A pause, in which there must have been a response. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T KNOW? IS THERE NOTHING HERE TO GIVE US A CLUE?”
Harry sat up, freeing Ginny, who did the same.
“YOU’RE USELESS!” shrieked the woman. “THEY COULD STILL BE HERE “ HIDING! I’M GOING TO LOOK FOR MYSELF!”
Harry jumped, yanking Ginny’s arm with him, and sped to the window.
“Are you trying to pull my arm off?” hissed Ginny, taking out her wand and peering out of the window, just in time to see the dark head of Bellatrix Lestrange disappear through the kitchen door directly below them.
“Come on,” muttered Harry, and he grabbed her hand again.
“Don’t happen to have your Cloak, do you?” she whispered, as they darted out onto the unforgivingly creaky floorboards of the landing and started up the similarly noisy stairs.
“Shut up!” Harry whispered back.
They kept climbing until they reached Ron’s bedroom door; Harry shoved it open and they ran inside.
“Excellent plan, Potter,” said Ginny sarcastically. “Now what do we do?”
“Oh don’t give me that,” Harry snapped. “If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t be back here in the first place.”
He could hear Bellatrix rampaging around below them “ was it the floor below? “ and started to worry; it was a dead end “ they were trapped at the very top of the house. Desperate and helpless, Harry dashed into a small space behind the wardrobe, and Ginny squashed in with him. Trying to keep his mind on the rather pressing matter of the Death Eater wanting to kill them, but finding it difficult due to the fact that Ginny was pushed up against him so tightly, Harry held his wand firmly by the handle, and waited. It felt so stupid to be hiding behind a wardrobe, just waiting to be found, but there was no way of getting out, so this was their only hope.
“Can't we Apparate like before?” said Ginny’s voice.
“No - Remus told me they'd put an Anti-Apparition spell on the house so no one could get in. We were beyond it before,” thought Harry, and he felt her body tense slightly.
What felt like a lifetime passed before they heard those frantic footsteps and the slow, agonising creak, as the door of Ron’s room swung open.
“I know you’re in here somewhere,” said the sing-song voice of Bellatrix Lestrange.
A terrifying silence, in which Harry saw her long, black cloak flicker into view, then disappear again, as if she might leave.
“Expelliarmus!” she shrieked, jumping out from in front of the wardrobe and causing Harry and Ginny’s wands to fly out of their hands, shoving them even harder against the wardrobe.
There was a loud thud, and Harry turned to see Ginny’s head rebound from the wall, crimson blood seeping through her vibrant hair where her head had cracked open. Harry caught her as she slumped forwards, unconscious.
“Oh dear,” said Bellatrix, in an unconvincingly sympathetic voice, “looks like it’s just you and I now, Potter.”