Harry gaped at Ginny, who stood before him, her features contorted in fury, her hands on her hips.
They were still under the Cloak. Harry glanced at Luci, who looked at him anxiously and bit her bottom lip.
“I know you’re both under that sodding Cloak!” seethed Ginny. “I heard you Apparate!”
Harry, remembering to take his arm from around Luci, pulled the Invisibility Cloak from their heads.
Luci’s face was as red as Ginny’s. “I’ll leave you two alone,” she muttered, and she left the entry, nearly knocking into a portrait in her haste.
“Well?” Ginny demanded.
“It’s nothing!” said Harry. And even though it was nothing, Harry felt entirely culpable.
“If it’s nothing, then you can tell me where you took her, can’t you?”
“Ginny, will you calm down?” pleaded Harry.
“Give me a reason to calm down!”
“I needed to get this letter from my Aunt and Uncle’s house,” explained Harry, retrieving the envelopes from his pocket as proof. “Luci came with me to distract Dudley so that I could look for it.”
“Why couldn’t you take Ron or Hermione to distract him?” asked Ginny, still irate.
It was a very good question, one that Harry did not want to answer.
He hesitated, which seemed to infuriate Ginny even more, so he spewed, “Dudley has a crush on her.”
She narrowed her eyes. “And what about you?”
Harry simply was not going to answer that one, so he just gawked at her.
“There’s nothing special about her, you know,” fumed Ginny.
“Why are you so jealous all the sudden? You don’t see me yelling at you for hanging all over Neville!”
Ginny gasped. “Neville has been there for me when there’s been no sign of you! There’s nothing going on between us, but he’s been a good friend to me. That’s more than I can say about you.”
Harry was enraged now too. “Neville wants to be more than friends with you, in case you’re too thick to see it, so don’t pretend to have some innocent friendship with him!”
“At least we’re not sneaking around together!” countered Ginny.
“Hey, what’s going on out here?”
It was Mr. Weasley. He had poked his head out from the basement kitchen.
“What are you two doing in the entryway, yelling like an old married couple?” he asked.
Ginny huffed angrily. Then, without another word, she traipsed past her father and out of sight.
“Harry?” asked Mr. Weasley. “Having a row with my daughter?”
“No,” Harry replied, shaking his head. “Everything’s fine.”
Mr. Weasley raised his eyebrows. “Too many secrets around here,” he said. “You’re lucky I don’t tell Molly you were slinking out again.”
Harry just stared at him.
“Harry, you’re an adult now, and I trust you to make good decisions,” Mr. Weasley continued in a fatherly tone. “Just don’t go proving me wrong now, all right?”
“All right,” said Harry.
He stood in the entry alone for a long time, trying to calm down. Ginny had not been herself, and this worried Harry. The last thing that he wanted to do was hurt her. Whether they ended up back together or not, he wanted her in his life. She was his best friend’s sister, after all.
The only thing to do was apologize, so he started towards her room. But when he’d reached the first landing, he heard someone shouting directly above him. He stood outside Ginny’s door and listened as hard as he could.
“Tell the truth!” came Malfoy’s voice.
“That is the truth!” replied Luci.
“You’re lying! I heard Weasley’s sister say you’d gone somewhere with Potter!”
Luci was either silent, or she said something so quietly that Harry couldn’t hear it.
“Explain yourself!” seethed Malfoy.
“I don’t have to explain myself to you, Draco! I’ll go where I please!”
“But POTTER?” Malfoy snarled. “I deserve to know why you’re consorting with the enemy!”
Harry had known that Malfoy would be possessive of Luci, but he hadn’t expected such an uproar. His first thought was to barge in and defend her, but he had to make it up with Ginny.
He knocked on the door that stood before him. Hermione answered.
“She’s upset, Harry,” she whispered.
“I know. I came to apologize.”
Hermione smiled approvingly. “So who’s yelling upstairs?”
“Malfoy,” said Harry.
“He’s wound tight. Did you get the letter?”
Harry nodded.
“And did you visit your parents’ graves?”
His mouth fell open. “I forgot!”
Hermione tilted her head exasperatedly and opened the door to allow him in. Then, she gave him a significant look before she exited the room, leaving Harry and Ginny alone together.
Ginny’s back was turned to him, and she sat on her bed, facing the window. Harry thought that he heard her sniffle quietly. His stomach was in knots, but he didn’t know why. It was the same odd feeling that he’d had at the Wizengamot, when he was awaiting his trial.
“I’m really sorry, Ginny,” he began.
She didn’t say anything, but she turned her face towards him. She’d been crying, but Harry thought to himself that she was still very beautiful.
“I didn’t mean that stuff about Neville.”
She nodded. “And you and Luci?”
Harry hesitated. He didn’t know how he felt about Luci. He just knew that he felt something. But he replied, once again, “It's nothing.”
Ginny smiled. “I’m sorry too, for screaming at you.”
“I really had only gone to get the letter,” said Harry. “I just needed some help, that’s all.”
“But why her?”
“What’s wrong with her?” frowned Harry.
“She’s… strange… and she hangs out with Malfoy. They’re yelling up there like a couple of gits.”
“You’re right about that,” Harry agreed, grinning, “but Dudley is fond of her, and she diverted him long enough for me to search the house.”
“What’s in the letter?” asked Ginny, nodding towards his pocket.
“It’s from Dumbledore. Just the stuff about my parents being killed. Nothing new.”
“Then why did you need it?”
Harry shrugged. “I thought it might be important, but I was wrong.”
Ginny nodded, and then she just looked at him for a few moments.
“What?” he asked.
“Are we going to get back together?”
Surprised by her frankness, Harry said, “Uh…”
“Because, if we’re not, I’d rather you tell me now.”
“I don’t know if I’m even going to be alive at the end of all this,” Harry stammered.
“Don’t say that!” scolded Ginny.
He sighed. “I don’t know if we have a future. I wish I did, but I don’t.”
“Do you want us to?” she asked, and her eyes were diffident, as though she feared his answer.
“What kind of question is that?” He had a sudden impulse to run for his life.
Ginny shrugged, her fiery hair falling over her shoulders and into her face.
Harry shook his head, muttering, “Look, I can’t do this right now.”
“OK.”
“OK,” he said, and he left the room without another word.
Days upon days turned into weeks upon weeks. Mrs. Weasley was keeping close watch on everyone, making sure that people weren’t leaving Grimmauld Place, “for their own safety,” she said. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were still dueling together, as well as trying to figure out where the remaining Horcruxes might be. Ginny spent a lot of time with them, but she was often very quiet. It reminded Harry of the years when she had had a crush on him and had been afraid to speak to him. She hadn’t mentioned their conversation again, but Harry had a feeling that he wasn’t off the hook. Ultimately, he would have to face her, one way or the other.
The third letter from the Dursleys’ safe had also been from Dumbledore, informing Aunt Petunia of Harry’s birth and warning her that Voldemort was out for the Potters, and that she and her family should be on their guard, just in case. Ron and Hermione, having read all of the correspondence, agreed that there was nothing important to be found. Both of them seemed to think that the twenty-four hour gap in time was of no significance whatsoever, but Harry continued to feel that it was very crucial, indeed. He just didn’t know how or why.
Harry hadn’t talked to Luci since their visit to Privet Drive. It seemed to him that she was leaving fairly often again, as she would show up late for meals. She had also taken to preening herself most of the time now, which Harry knew, from experience, meant that she was trying to impress someone. Despite the desire, he hadn’t attempted to meet her in the drawing room. He didn’t want to give Ginny any more reason to yell at him.
It was now mid-November, and Harry’s whole body had begun to tense up at the sheer boredom and discomfort of the place. He couldn’t imagine living here permanently, though he feared that he might eventually. Everyone seemed to be feeling claustrophobic, gloomy, burdened. Harry thought that they could all do with some fresh air, but Mrs. Weasley forbid it. Her overprotective tendencies were getting on Harry’s nerves, but he knew that she did it all out of love.
One afternoon, as Harry and Ron sat playing a tedious game of chess, Hermione strolled into their bedroom, wearing a wide smile.
“I have a surprise for the two of you,” she announced.
Ginny appeared at Hermione’s side, looking equally self-satisfied.
“What is it?” asked Ron.
“Well, I was going to wait until Christmas, but considering how terribly dull it is around here, I thought you might like your gift now.”
“Please tell me it’s duplicate versions of all of us, so that we can leave this place and Mum’ll never know,” begged Ron.
Hermione smiled. “How would the two of you like to play Quidditch?”
Harry and Ron were both instantly on their feet.
“How?” asked Harry.
“Follow us,” Ginny answered.
Hermione and Ginny led Harry and Ron to the third landing of Grimmauld Place and through a door that Harry couldn’t remember having been there before.
As they entered the room, Ron gasped.
Harry looked above him. The ceiling was gone, replaced by a clear, blue sky, though Harry knew that this was only a trick of magic. There were goals on both sides of the arena, a few benches at the base, and in the middle of the field, a trunk that Harry imagined contained the playing balls.
“Hermione…” he began. “How did you do this?”
“Ginny and I have been working on it for a few weeks now. Do you like it?”
“You’re our saviors!” exclaimed Ron, throwing his arms around his sister and his girlfriend, simultaneously. Then he jumped upon a broomstick and sailed into the air, laughing heartily and making loops around the room.
“This is amazing,” Harry said to the girls, who smiled satisfactorily.
“Give it a try,” suggested Ginny.
Harry also took up a broom and soared around the room. It genuinely felt like he was outdoors! The wind was in his hair and somehow, he could smell fresh grass. He’d have to try this on his Firebolt.
Ginny flew up beside him.
“Can I play Seeker?” she asked.
Harry grinned. “And what am I supposed to do?”
“Well, you’ll have to be a Chaser, won’t you? It’s just the three of us.”
Hermione had opened the trunk below and the spheres were rising into the air.
“Better get after that Snitch,” Harry said to Ginny with a smile, and then he flew off towards the Quaffle.
The three of them enjoyed a magnificent game, while Hermione watched smugly from below. Harry felt so alive and at home on this provisional Quidditch pitch that he forgot every single one of his problems, if only for the time being.
Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny could be found on the third landing of Grimmauld Place every day, and the weather was always warm and mild. Mrs. Weasley had not supported the idea, claiming that Harry and Ron had both sustained numerous injuries from the sport, but she didn’t prevent them from playing. In fact, she would smile cheerily at them as they came down for meals, and she seemed pleased that they had found something enjoyable to do.
This early-December afternoon was no different than all of the afternoons had been, ever since Hermione had built the pitch. Harry had just scored a goal against Ron, who complained, unconvincingly, that he’d been blinded by the glint off of the Snitch. Ginny said that this was impossible, because the Snitch had been on the other side of the field.
Then, Harry heard Ron call, “Hey, do you wanna play?”
Harry, Ginny, and Hermione all turned to see Luci standing in the doorway.
“Out of the question!” she called back. “I’m atrocious, believe me. I was just watching.”
“Come on!” encouraged Harry. “I’m sure you’re not that bad.”
“Absolutely not!” she protested.
Harry lowered himself down to the ground, stopping just in front of her.
“Why not?” he asked.
“Because I have no desire to make a fool of myself.”
“We’re just playing around,” he said.
“Actually,” she began slowly, “I wanted to see if Draco could play.”
Harry took a step back. “No way.”
“Please, Harry. He’s bored and miserable, just like the rest of us. And he loves it. He’ll play fair; I’ve already talked to him about it.”
Harry gaped at her.
“Hurry up, Harry!” Ginny called from above him.
“Play a round with us and I’ll think about it,” Harry said to Luci.
She inhaled deeply before replying, “Fine, but you have to promise not to laugh.”
“I promise,” said Harry. He couldn’t imagine she could be that terrible, and he knew that she had a tendency to paint herself in the worst light, no matter what the truth might be.
So Luci took up a broom, mounted it, and they sailed back into the air together.
“Do you know the rules?” Ron asked, flying over to them.
“Sort of,” responded Luci. “Don’t you just get a ball through that hole over there?”
Ron chuckled. “Harry, you’ll have to let her be the Chaser, I think.”
Luci looked terrified. “What does the Chaser do again?”
“Just get the ball through the hole, like you said,” explained Ron.
She nodded.
“And I’m going to try to stop you,” Harry warned her.
She nodded again, biting her lip nervously.
“And I,” yelled Ginny, “will ignore you all!”
“Me too!” Hermione called up.
“OK, are you ready?” Harry asked Luci.
“Which ball am I supposed to be throwing?”
“That one.” Harry pointed to the Quaffle.
Then, he said, “Hey, Hermione, pass me that bat!”
Hermione, not taking her eyes from the book that she was reading, casually levitated a bat to him. Then she apathetically blew the whistle.
Luci was a decent flyer, but that was all that she could even remotely do well. Harry had to put very little effort into his Beater duties. The few times that she managed to get possession of the Quaffle, she couldn’t grip it without almost falling off of her broomstick, and every time that she threw it, it veered decidedly to the left. In fact, Ron was picking at something on his shirt, as he obviously felt there was no need to defend the goal.
Ginny would pass by now and then and give Harry a strange sort of smile, as if she were amused at Luci’s utter lack of talent for the game.
After attempting to catch the Quaffle in her right hand and accidentally hitting herself in the face, Luci finally groaned, “Screw this! I give up!”
Harry flew over to her, and she had tears in her eyes.
“It’s OK,” he assured her, trying desperately to refrain from laughing, because he’d promised not to. “You can’t be great at everything!”
“Yeah, but I’m great at nothing,” she whined.
“Oh, shut up,” smiled Harry.
Then the Bludger came hurtling towards them, striking Luci in the side and knocking her powerfully from her broomstick. She fell fast, hitting the floor with a loud thud.
Hermione was immediately by her side, and Harry sped towards the ground.
“Are you all right?” he asked, offering her a hand, but she was already getting to her feet.
Shoving Harry in the chest, angrily though not forcefully, Luci spat through her tears, “Dammit, Harry, I told you, I hate this game!”
“You and me both,” Hermione muttered.
Ron landed beside them. “That was quite a fall. You all right?” he asked.
Luci nodded.
“Sorry,” Harry said to her. “I didn’t know anyone could be that bad at Quidditch.”
“Yeah, well,” she mumbled. Then she looked up with a vicious glower. Harry turned his head to see that she was staring daggers at Ginny, who was smirking. Had Ginny launched the Bludger at Luci? No, that was impossible. Ginny would never do that. Then again, lately, she hadn’t been the Ginny he knew.
“So can Draco play or not?” asked Luci, interrupting his thoughts. “Don’t tell me I did that crap for nothing.”
“If you’ll be here to keep him in line,” nodded Harry, who knew that Luci’s presence would be necessary, but he also just wanted to see more of her.
“Deal,” she said. Then she left the room, limping slightly, and Harry saw that her right elbow was bleeding.
“Did Ginny do that?” Harry asked, turning to Ron, whose mouth fell open.
“Ginny wouldn’t send a Bludger at someone!” he replied.
“Never,” Hermione concurred, reseating herself on the bench and going back to her book.
“No, I know,” said Harry, with a sigh. “I guess Luci just jumped to the wrong conclusion.”
“She’s crazy!” agreed Ron. “Did you see how she sprang right back up, as if nothing happened? After a crash like that? She must have been really mad! Worst Quidditch player I ever saw!”
Then, chortling to himself, Ron flew back up to his goal, Harry followed, and they continued their game.