For a second, Harry just stared at his old Head of House, now Headmistress of Hogwarts. He hadn’t imagined he would meet McGonagall again for a long time, if ever, and setting eyes on her now, so soon, only a few weeks after Dumbledore’s death, made all the memories of the funeral and the great white tomb rise up in him afresh. The last time Harry had seen McGonagall, at the funeral, she had been hiding her face in her ugly tartan handkerchief, her shoulders shaking violently as she tried to control her sobs. But now she was as composed and unruffled as ever, though he noticed that her dark hair in its tight bun was now threaded with a few strands of silver, and her already stern face had grown sharper and more severe than ever before.
“Good evening, Mr Potter and Mr Weasley, evening, Miss Granger,” she said, nodding curtly at them all. “How are you, Potter?” she added in a gentler tone, eyeing him over the top of her spectacles.
“Oh--fine thanks, Professor,” he answered automatically, but her mouth thinned sceptically as she scrutinised him. To his relief though, she did not pursue the subject. Harry avoided her gaze as he helped himself to a generous amount of chicken and pumpkin pie. He did not want to talk about Dumbledore.
“Well, I’m sure you three will be glad to hear that Hogwarts is not going to close,” McGonagall said briskly, accepting a goblet of Gillywater from Mrs Weasley. “All the Professors will continue teaching and classes shall resume as normal on September the First. We decided that under the circumstances children would need more magical education than usual, especially, of course, in the area of Defence Against the Dark Arts. We are thinking about doubling the number of Defence lessons and cutting down on less important subject area--Astronomy--Divination--” her mouth curved into a slight smile.
But Harry had no thought of smiling with her. He caught Ron’s eye, trepidation creeping over him, knowing that soon he was going to have to tell Mrs Weasley he was not in fact going back to Hogwarts. Worse, that he was going to lead her youngest son and only daughter right along the road towards darkness and danger, even death. From the corner of his eye he could see Ginny also sharing a worried glance with Hermione.
“Well?” said McGonagall, sharply. “Is it not good news that the school will remain open?” Harry laid his forkful of pie back onto his plate, all hunger forgotten. Beside him, he felt Ron shift nervously in his seat, and glancing over Harry saw Hermione fidgeting with her hair, her cheeks pink. Ginny was now staring determinedly at her hands, which were clasped tightly in her lap.
“Er,” Harry said, and coughed. “Well, you see, Professor, the thing is, I’ve decided--we’ve decided “”
“We’re not going back to Hogwarts next year,” Hermione suddenly blurted out, as though she couldn’t help herself, looking slightly desperately at McGonagall, then lost all self-control and buried her face in her hands.
There was a dead silence. Then”
“Not--not go back to Hogwarts?” Professor McGonagall said faintly, staring at Hermione in disbelief. But she soon regained her composure, pulling herself up straight in her chair and glaring at them all. “Don’t be ridiculous, Miss Granger! You haven’t completed your education. And you, Mr Potter--what has become of your ambition to train as an Auror? You have not, I trust, changed your mind?”
“No,” Harry began, without any clear idea of what he was going to say. “I--er--”
“Because you do realise that to fight He Who Must Not Be Named and his followers you are going to need the very highest Defence training that we can offer?” Harry said nothing, his insides squirming with guilt as he felt Mrs Weasley’s eyes upon him.
McGonagall’s nostrils flared dangerously.
“Potter, I cannot let you leave. Nor you two,” she added, looking at Ron and Hermione. “Do you propose to set off after You-Know-Who with only OWLs? No Defence against the Dark Arts NEWT, and no Auror training? Surely you see how preposterous “” but at that moment, George interrupted.
“I think you should listen to them first, Professor,” His tone was respectful but firm and McGonagall, after giving George a very disapproving look, finally nodded.
“Very well. Explain.”
Harry took a deep breath, throwing George a grateful glance, but avoiding the eyes of McGonagall or any of the other adults around the table.
“Right. Well, the thing is,” he began, trying to order his thoughts and speak rationally. “There’s a lot of--stuff--I haven’t told you about, stuff that Dumbledore only told me--” there was an audible intake of breath around the table, but Harry ignored it, ploughing on, “And he made me swear not to tell anyone but Ron and Hermione.” Professor McGonagall looked slightly offended, and he added hastily, “But, well--basically, the Daily Prophet is right. I have to go after Voldemort. And because of what Dumbledore showed me, I have to go after him as soon as possible. Because it’s not just a matter of finding him and fighting him. That’s all I can say, really,” he finished slightly lamely, looking up.
The stern lines of McGonagall’s face had relaxed into an anxious, even gentle expression. Mr and Mrs Weasley, however, were looking at each other as though their worst fears had been confirmed.
Mrs Weasley spoke, her voice tremulous. “Oh, Harry. We thought--we guessed you would do this…and you too, my Ron… and Hermione.” She swallowed visibly, her eyes shining with tears. “But Ginny--my only daughter--you’re going too, aren’t you?” McGonagall gasped, and opened her mouth to argue, but then shut it again, seemingly speechless with shock. Ginny looked her mother directly in the eye, her jaw set resolutely, looking prepared for whatever argument Mrs Weasley could throw at her.
The next moment, however, her father turned to her and just said, very tiredly, “We won’t try to stop you, Ginny,” Ginny’s eyes widened in amazement and Harry was completely taken aback. He had been prepared for disagreements, shouting, even threats.
“W-What?” he stammered, “You don’t mind? And you knew?”
“No, we didn’t know, Harry,” said Mrs Weasley, controlling her tears. “But we guessed. We thought there was probably something behind all this Chosen One business, and well--I suppose we’ve always thought you were special, that you would be the one to have to face him in the end. And Ginny--she told us in her letters that you had got together, and she seemed so happy “” She broke off, dabbing at her eyes with an embroidered handkerchief.
“And then,” continued Mr Weasley sadly, “She mentioned you had said you couldn’t be with her anymore, and though she wouldn’t say why, we supposed it would have taken something huge to make you two split up. We know our Ginny,” he added with a small laugh. “What she wants, she usually gets.”
The atmosphere around the table lightened up considerably as everyone, even Mrs Weasley, chuckled, and Ginny went scarlet.
“So,” finished Mr Weasley, “when Ginny came downstairs the other day with that look we knew so well, like she’d got what she wanted again…we figured you’d probably given in,” Harry went red, too.
“I--I shouldn’t’ve,” he said guiltily, “But, well--”
“It’s not your fault, Harry,” said Mrs Weasley with a small smile. “And anyway, we’ve had a little talk in case our guesses turned out to be right, and we decided that Ginny knows what’s best for her. She’s nearly an adult, and after all--we think you could be of a lot of use to Harry, Ginny.”
Ginny looked startled, “You do?” she said. They were the first words she had spoken since her father had given his agreement, and Harry could tell she was completely bowled over by her unexpected good fortune.
“Yes,” said Mrs Weasley, placing her goblet on the table and leaning forward. “Ginny, listen to me. We’ve never told you this before because, well, we didn’t want you getting ideas. But now you are old enough to take this sensibly, and I think,” she said, with a glance at Mr Weasley, who gave her a small nod, “You should probably know now. So you can understand why we’re letting you do this.”
Ginny looked confused, then excited. “What?” she said, eagerly. “What do you know about me?”
Mr Weasley cleared his throat. “Well. nothing is definite, you must understand that, Ginny, but it is a suspicion that Molly and I have had since you were born. Ginny, do you know what the most powerful magic number is in the world? Your mother must have taught you when you were younger.”
Ginny threw half a glance at Harry, who almost laughed. Yes, she and Harry, Ron and Hermione knew only too well what the most powerful magic number was.
“Seven,” she said, and her mother nodded.
“Yes, seven. And you see, Ginny, you are our seventh child.”
“Ye-es,” said Ginny slowly. “I know that.”
“And,” added Mr Weasley, “You are also the first girl born to the Weasley family for seven generations.”
“But, so what? Why is that important?” Ginny said, looking from her father to her mother.
“It’s important because it means you were probably born with a very strong magical potency,” said McGonagall tersely, looking as though she felt against her better judgement to tell any child such things about herself, but Ginny just raised an eyebrow.
“So you’re saying that I naturally have strong magical powers because I’m the seventh child and all that?” she said sceptically.
“We weren’t sure,” said Mrs Weasley gazing at her proudly. “But when you were born we all just expected you to be a boy, because well, all the others were. So we were surprised when you came, and we just knew you were special. Your eyes were always so intelligent. You learnt to walk and talk more quickly than any child I’ve ever seen, and you definitely had more magic spilling out of you than your brothers.” Ginny looked as if she didn’t know whether to laugh or blush. Fred, George and Ron all looked offended.
Mr Weasley smiled. “Yes, Molly and I will never forget the broomstick incident. You wouldn’t remember it, Ginny, but when you were only two years old, Ron broke Fred’s toy broomstick.” Fred gave Ron a mock glare, but only half-heartedly; it seemed he was more interested in seeing where this story was leading.
“Yes,” Mrs Weasley said, looking fondly at Ron, “Ron was trying to fly this tiny broom holding his teddy bear--” Ron went red to the roots of his hair, glancing in embarrassment at Professor McGonagall, who was actually smiling.
“Of course, since he wasn’t gripping the broom handle, he crashed into the wall, right next to you, Ginny. You were terrified. And the next thing we knew, Ron was screaming and this huge black spider was wriggling in his arms.”
Ron shivered in remembrance, and Hermione giggled. Mr Weasley carried on the story. “Well, Ron thought it had been Fred who did it, since Fred was pretty angry that his broom had snapped, but I’d seen Ginny at the moment the broom hit the wall, and after the first shock, your eyes narrowed, and you were staring right at that bear when it changed.” Ginny’s eyes were wide, amazed.
“I did that?” she said, her voice incredulous. “I did that when I was two?”
“You did,” said her father, smiling.
“So it’s your fault I don’t--much like spiders, Ginny!” Ron burst out. “I always blamed Fred!” Fred pretended to look mortally offended.
“My fault, little bro? I wish.”
“So, anyway,” Mr Weasley said hastily, “We knew from then that you had pretty strong powers. Most witches and wizards can’t control their magic without a wand until, oh, years later. Most never achieve that, even. Only the very accomplished can perform controlled wandless magic. Dumbledore, or course, and You-Know-Who. Snape can, I think, and Remus. But there aren’t many, not many at all.” She swelled with pride as she gazed upon her daughter.
But Ginny was looking doubtful. “But, Mum, I haven’t--I can’t--I don’t ever remember doing wandless magic! Why did I stop? Can I still do it?”
“Oh, I’m sure you can do it now, dear, if you try,” said Mrs Weasley. “You used to all the time. I don’t know why you stopped though,” she added, looking slightly doubtful.
Mr Weasley cleared his throat, his ears going red just like Ron’s did when he was embarrassed. “Ah, well dear, I think I might know why. I never told you because I thought you would probably, um, get a bit cross with Ginny…”
Mrs Weasley’s eyes narrowed. “What happened, Arthur?” she said sternly, and Ginny looked at him curiously.
“Yes, what happened, Dad?”
Mr Weasley coughed. “Ahem, well… The last time I ever saw you do controlled magic without a wand was when you were about six, I think. You had made this old branch fly, and were clinging on to it, rocketing all round the garden, but then you slipped and fell off into the pond. I only looked out of the bedroom window just in time to see the fall, and that old branch shoot away without you. You nearly drowned.” He shuddered slightly before continuing. “By the time I’d Apparated over you’d managed to do some more magic, probably uncontrolled, and were out of the water, but you were sobbing and choking and, well, terrified out of your wits. I think that stopped you wanting to do it any more, and well--maybe you just grew up after that forgetting that you ever could.”
Mrs Weasley had gone very pale, “Oh, Ginny…you could have died!” She reached across to hug her daughter, who pulled away, with an embarrassed glance at McGonagall, who had been sitting listening without saying a word.
“Mum,” she muttered, “I’m fine. That was years and years ago. Actually, I remember it now, I think. Well, partly--I remember being in the pond.” Ginny shivered. “But not how I got there. I’d forgotten it till you said that, Dad.”
“Would you try some now?” said Hermione, who had been gazing at Ginny almost in awe. “Try some wandless magic?” Ginny drew a breath shuddery with excitement.
“Oh, yes…what should I try?” she said, her eyes gleaming, but was at that moment interrupted by Professor McGonagall.
“Miss Weasley, you are still underage,” she said severely, her black brows contracting. “You are not permitted to use magic outside school.” Ginny’s face fell, and Harry spoke up.
“But she’s leaving school now--so it surely doesn’t matter? And don’t we need to know if she can do it? And anyway, Dumbledore told me the Ministry can only detect magic in general, not if it’s underage stuff, so if we’re with her…” But his teacher gave him a very stern look and Harry trailed off.
“Mr Potter! It is not a question of whether or not you are found out--” McGonagall began, but Ginny cut in, smirking.
“But what are you going to do, Professor? Expel me?” Professor McGonagall looked taken aback, seeming unable to think of a good enough answer, and while she hesitated, Mrs Weasley spoke.
“Ginny, I don’t want to hear that tone of voice from you again. But Minerva, I think Harry’s right. We do need to see if Ginny can do this wandless magic. If she can--if she is powerful enough--oh, I don’t want to let her go, but if she can help Harry--well, I think it is all of our duties to do what is best for him.” McGonagall seemed to struggle with herself inwardly, evidently reluctant to break the rules, but finally gave in, nodding tersely. Ginny rose and hugged her mother.
“Thanks, Mum,” she said quietly.
“Now, what shall I do?” she asked again, all seriousness forgotten. Her eyes were sparkling with anticipation.
“Just try a simple charm,” said McGonagall quickly. “Nothing too dramatic. If you must do this, we don’t want any accidents--try levitating something small. If you concentrate, you shouldn’t need the words,” she added, as Ginny opened her mouth to say the incantation.
“Oh--all right,” said Ginny, and she looked around the room for a suitable object. Finally she took another deep breath and her whole body tensed in effort.
“AAAAGGHHHH!” Harry almost jumped out of his skin as a terrified yell sounded right in his ear. He leapt up from his chair, whipping his wand from his jeans pocket as he turned and found himself staring in amazement at Ron, who had risen violently from his chair, and was now gripping desperately to the back of it to keep himself from flying up to the ceiling. He, Fred, George, and Hermione all burst out laughing.
“Miss Weasley!” shouted McGonagall, furiously, and Mrs Weasley let out an incoherent shriek.
“Oi! Lemme down!” Ron yelled at his sister, his legs thrashing wildly in the air, unseeingly kicking the chandelier, which smashed.
Ginny started to giggle helplessly, losing her concentration as shards of crystal rained down on the kitchen table, and Ron came down with a huge crash on the tiles.
“Oops--s-sorry!” Ginny panted, still shaking with laughter, and Harry pulled Ron to his feet. Ron collapsed into his chair, a bemused, dazed expression on his face.
“GINNY!” Mrs Weasley bellowed, finding her voice again, and using it to full effect. “THAT WAS COMPLETELY UNNECESSARY!”
“Not to mention, I specifically told you to keep the magical activity to a minimum!” added McGonagall angrily.
“I just wanted to see if I could,” Ginny replied, unfazed. “And I can!” she added, a wicked grin flashing across her face. “Oh, I wish I’d known this sooner.”
Mrs Weasley’s eyes blazed. “This is exactly why we didn’t tell you sooner! I thought you’d be mature enough now not to let it go to your head!”
“Oh, it hasn’t gone to my head,” said Ginny quickly, flushing. “But it is the first time I’ve tried it since I was six. I wanted to do something fun. I won’t do anything like that again,” she added.
“You’d better not,” muttered Ron grumpily, rubbing his arm gingerly. “I landed right on my elbow.”
“Oh,” said Ginny, looking at him slightly repentantly. “Sorry, Ron, I didn’t mean to drop you like that. Here, let me try this--” she added, taking Ron’s arm in her hand. She concentrated for a second, and the large, rising purple bruise faded. Ron raised his eyebrows at his sister, who smiled triumphantly, and Harry heard McGonagall exhale loudly through her nose in astonishment.
“Well,” said Ron, stunned. “If you can do stuff like that, I’m going to drag you with us.”
Mrs Weasley sniffed tearfully, her anger forgotten. “Oh, Ginny! We knew if it came to this, we’d have to let you go… but please, my darling, don’t do anything reckless. If anything happened to you--” she broke off, seemingly unable to speak, and just embraced her daughter again. This time, Ginny didn’t pull away, and Mr Weasley came over and joined the embrace.
Ron looked slightly hurt. He fiddled with his fork in an indifferent manner, but at that moment, his mother let go of Ginny and turned to him, almost knocking him over with the fierceness of her hug. Harry laughed as Ron’s ears turned scarlet, his eyes seeking McGonagall, who was pretending to study her fork intently, though smiling slightly. Ron looked as though he had changed his mind about wanting attention.
Mrs Weasley hugged Hermione too, then turned to Harry, her eyes wet with tears again. She held him for a long time, pressing him to her heart, and as he breathed in her warm, motherly smell and felt the softness of her robes against his face his chest ached with the weight of the things he wanted to say to her. How she’d always been a mother to him--how much he had to thank her for. His heart was heavy with sorrow and the longing to live a normal life, in a family, without the darkness of a prophecy hanging over him and the terrible knowledge that he was a marked man.
When she finally let go, Harry found to his horror that his eyes were wet, and he surreptitiously wiped them on his sleeve as he sank back into his seat. For a while nobody spoke, each one of them lost in their own thoughts.
The creaking of the front door, however, roused the company from the sad, pensive mood that had sunk over them, and a heart-shaped, almost elfin face popped round the door, it’s long, curly mass of bright pink hair swinging before it. Tonks grinned cheerfully at them all.
“Hey, everybody!” she said brightly. “Wotcher, Harry,” she added, beaming at him.
“You seem happy,” said Mr Weasley, smiling at her as he pulled out a chair. “Have you seen Remus lately?”
“You read my mind,” Tonks laughed. “Yes, I saw him last night.” A mischievous grin flickered briefly over her features.
“How is he?” asked McGonagall sharply.
“Oh, fine,” Tonks said happily, accepting a goblet of pumpkin juice from Mrs Weasley. “Yes, he’s very well. He only Apparated over quickly to see me, he stayed for a while,” that wicked grin popped back for a second, and Harry wondered if she were hiding something, before she continued, “He had to go back quite soon though, so he wouldn’t be missed. But it seems he’s convinced Greyback and the others that he was fighting on their side.”
Harry felt as though a weight of anxiety in his chest had just been Vanished away. If Lupin had really managed to persuade the werewolves, perhaps there was hope. Perhaps he wouldn’t be found out and torn to pieces after all. He breathed a sigh of relief that made Ginny’s hair next to him flutter, and heard several similar sighs ripple round the table.
“And,” began Tonks, her cheeks turning the same colour of pink as her hair and her eyes sparkling as she drew a deep breath, evidently unable to keep her secret any longer, “Last night, Remus proposed to me.”
Hermione, Ginny, and Mrs Weasley all squealed. Harry gaped, not believing his ears. But a huge, joyful bubble seemed to rise in his chest at the news, and he beamed at Tonks, who winked back. Fred and George jumped up to wring Tonks’ hand in congratulations.
“Oh, Tonks!” said Professor McGonagall, looking quite overcome. “He really did?”
“Yep,” she replied, her blue eyes dancing with light. “About time, too,” she added with a heartfelt laugh.
“Well, I’m sure we all offer you our warmest wishes for the future,” said Mr Weasley, sincerely, smiling, and Tonks looked over at him, more serious now.
“Yes, I hope everything will turn out all right,” she said, almost sombrely. “We are both doing dangerous work--Remus more than any of us. The Ministry are still after all the werewolves, too.” And behind the light of happiness in her eyes, Harry saw lurking a shadow of fear.
“Yes, Tonks,” said McGonagall, reaching over to pat her on the shoulder. “But you must remember that Remus is a skilled wizard, you yourself are hardly a target of the Death Eaters and after all, all we can do is hope.”
Tonks nodded, though suddenly, illuminated by the light cast by the torches on the walls, she looked very young. “Thanks, Minerva,” she said quietly. “You’re right. We wouldn’t be anywhere without hope.” And she lifted her goblet of pumpkin juice. “To Remus!” she said, smiling again, and everybody followed suit.
“To Remus, and to you, and to all your future years together,” corrected Mr Weasley, raising his Butterbeer to his lips.
“And to hope,” added Hermione quietly.
“To hope,” the company repeated, draining their goblets as one.