Summary: Harry has defeated Voldemort but is going back to his life going to be easy? What will he go back to, the life he once had is meaningless now. It's time to build a new one and to create a new post-Voldemort world. Ginny is there waiting for him, what do they need to do to rebuild their lives?
Rating: R
Categories: Post-DH/AB
Characters: None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Published: 2007.07.30
Updated: 2009.09.20
Index
Chapter 1: Mourning Fred
Chapter 2: Mourning Remus
Chapter 3: Mourning Childhood
Chapter 4: Mrs Weasley's Grief
Chapter 5: Rebuilding Hogwarts
Chapter 6: George's Grief
Chapter 7: Harry's Despair
Chapter 8: Finding Family
Chapter 9: Remembering Fred
Chapter 10: Memorial
Chapter 11: Funeral
Chapter 12: Ceremony
Chapter 13: Christening
Chapter 14: Birthday
Chapter 15: Dad
Chapter 16: Somewhere Over the Rainbow
Chapter 17: There's a Land that I Heard Of
Chapter 18: Skies Are Blue
Chapter 19: Where Clouds Are Far Behind Me
Chapter 20: Some Day I'll Wish Upon a Star
Chapter 21: There's No Place Like Home
Chapter 22: Return to Old Blighty
Chapter 23: Revenge
Chapter 24: Fame
Chapter 25: Approval
Chapter 26: Return
Chapter 27: Fear
Chapter 28: Fight
Chapter 29: Flight
Chapter 30: Safety
Chapter 31: Past Pain
Chapter 32: Future Fortune
Chapter 33: Frustration
Chapter 34: Monster
Chapter 35: Mystery
Chapter 36: Under the Surface
Chapter 37: Misunderstanding
Chapter 38: Making Up
Chapter 39: Surprises
Chapter 40: Revelations
Chapter 41: Yuletide
Chapter 42: All I Want For Christmas Is You
Chapter 43: Missing
Chapter 44: Afraid
Chapter 45: Courage
Chapter 46: Facing Reality
Chapter 47: Rumour
Chapter 48: Innuendo
Chapter 49: Fact
Chapter 50: Anniversary
Chapter 51: Remembrance
Chapter 1: Mourning Fred
Author's Notes: I think the writing bug bit me after I read Deathly Hallows. I certainly never felt the urge to write anything before! If I have felt the urge to write it, I figure it should be read...by somebody, somewhere! Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work.
1. Mourning Fred
As Harry cracked his eyes open he noticed that the sun was creating the same reddish glow he’d seen before he’d gone to sleep. Through the blur he couldn’t be sure whether this was because the sun was setting or he just hadn’t been asleep for very long and it was still daybreak. As he stirred himself to reach for his glasses a rustle broke the silence and he heard Ron speak.
“About time mate! I thought you were going to sleep all of today as well!”
“Shush Ron! It’s barely dawn!”
Harry sat up, startled. He seemed to be in his dormitory judging by the blurry red hangings on the four poster he was in. By the colour of the light, he judged it was dawn. Hermione most definitely should not be in his dormitory at dawn.
“Oh I am so glad you’re awake, Harry!” said Hermione. Her beaming face came into view as Harry located his glasses and hastily shoved them onto his face. She was definitely in his dormitory at dawn. “Mrs Weasley’s going to barge in here and wake you herself if you didn’t wake up soon. I think she wants to feed you.”
“How long have I been out?” Harry asked.
“Just a day; it’s morning again, but you’d better hurry up. I don’t know how much longer Kreacher will be able to hold mum off.”
“Kreacher?” he asked, wondering why the house elf would want to hold off anyone from feeding him. His stomach grumbled rather loudly, as if in answer to his question.
“Yeah, he’s determined to ensure that no one disturbs ‘Master Harry’,” explained Ron. “He’s like a little sentinel at the bottom of the boys’ staircase. Dad had to conjure sleeping bags for all the boys to use in the Common Room. He only let us up here after half an hour of Hermione persuading him. Ginny was not impressed.”
As Ron explained all this Hermione tactfully retreated behind a rather large tome allowing Harry to emerge from his bed and rummage about for his robes.
“Is anyone else up yet?” he asked. He was hungry and not particularly interested in talking with anyone before breakfast.
“Apart from Mum, nope,” said Ron. “We could go now and avoid everyone else. Breakfast should be on in the Great Hall any minute now. Reckon Mum’s right. You look a bit peaky, could do with some fattening up.” Ron eyed Harry critically and out of the corner of his eye Harry saw Hermione raise her eyebrows as she gazed at him as well. He sensed their next question and stiffened before Hermione spoke.
“Exactly how did you convince Voldemort you were dead Harry? I mean you look bad, but not that bad,” she asked. Harry could almost see the cogs turning in her head. Her eyebrows were drawn together the way they did when she was working on a particularly tricky Arithmancy problem and she’d narrowed her eyes now as if inspecting him under some sort of microscope.
“Gee, thanks Hermione.” Harry didn’t want to discuss it right then, especially not with Hermione in the analytical mood she was probably in given the way she was tapping her finger on her leg. She did that when she was trying to solve a problem lately. Harry didn’t know whether to be grateful it gave him a clue or annoyed because it was a truly annoying habit. He didn’t think he could take analysis on an empty stomach. Ron seemed either to sense this or was equally unwilling to discuss anything on an empty stomach and Harry did not miss the look he and Hermione exchanged as Harry hesitated.
“I’m don’t want to talk about it,” he mumbled and lapsed into a broody silence. When Ron’s stomach rumbled in unison with his own, Harry sighed and headed for the door.
“We’d best rescue your mum from Kreacher then … or will we be rescuing Kreacher from her?”
But Mrs Weasley was not in sight as they exited the boys’ staircase into a Common Room strewn with sleeping bodies. Harry saw Mr Weasley surrounded by Bill, Fleur, Percy, and Charlie. He gathered that Mrs Weasley and Ginny were in the girls’ dorms and wondered briefly where Fred and George were before he remembered that Fred was gone and couldn’t be there. Not even the sight of Neville, Seamus and Dean curled up together under one of the study tables next to the window could shift the melancholy feeling that settled in his stomach. Dennis Creevey was huddled in the fetal position near the dormitory stairs. As he stood there, gazing at Dennis’s tear streaked face, Kreacher bounded into sight.
“Master Harry! Master Harry! You’ve been asleep for so long, you need to eat! If you don’t eat you’ll fade away into nothing!” Kreacher launched into a seemingly endless rant and began pushing and pulling Harry towards the portrait hole.
“Dunno why we were worried about mum trying to feed you up. He’s got her beat!”
As they got to the portrait hole Harry noticed the occupants of the room begin to stir.
“Stop, stop Kreacher! I’ll go and have breakfast gladly, I’m hungrier than a hippogriff but let’s go to the kitchens, alright?” Harry didn’t want company and he knew the occupants of Gryffindor tower were probably only some of the castle’s occupants who would seek him out if he went to the Great Hall for breakfast. Kreacher acquiesced and promised to go on ahead and arrange for food while Harry, Ron and Hermione made their way more sedately down to the painting and tickled the pear to gain access to the kitchens.
The kitchens seemed busy and quiet all at the same time. It was as if the house elves who busied themselves preparing mountains of food were far off in the distance. The area by the fireplace was an oasis of calm in comparison. Just before he sank into a plush armchair in front of the fire Harry noticed they weren’t alone. Sitting in a chair just to the left of the glowing embers and cradling a steaming mug was George. Harry froze in his tracks. An icy fist clenched his heart and the dull feeling from the Common Room moved up from his stomach and settled around his heart making his chest ache.
“What’s up mate?” Ron’s voice shattered the stillness and George looked up. Harry could see the tear tracks that streaked through the dirt and dust still on his face and as he gazed at them his eyes filled and tears began dripping down his cheeks once more. Hermione pushed past Ron and Harry and approached George, kneeling in front of him.
“George,” she said softly, “would you like us to go?” George shook his head carefully but did not speak as his face began to crumple and his hands began to shake. Hermione carefully extricated the mug from his hands and set it on the hearth before folding George into a hug as he began to weep loudly on her shoulder. Ron strode quickly over to them, crouching and pulling them both into a hug, his tall frame overwhelming both the other two, shorter figures. Harry wasn’t sure what he should do but before he could decide anything he heard footsteps behind him. Turning, he saw Bill and Charlie walking backwards watching Percy try to extricate himself from the portrait frame through which they had come. He was having little success and appeared to be stuck.
“I really don’t know how you two knew how to sneak into the kitchens,” he was muttering. “Really I would have expected better; prefects, both of you.”
“Don’t look at me, Percy. I was a model student,” insisted Bill. “I had no more idea than you! Ask Charlie how he knows!” Charlie raised his hands in mock surrender.
“Seriously Perce,’ said Charlie, “I was at Hogwarts with the twins for two years, they might not have confided in you but how long do you think it took them to find the kitchens?”
“Fred found the door handle first term,” said George hollowly. Bill and Charlie started and spun around while George’s voice appeared to jolt Percy free from the portrait frame. The effect was he same as if he’d been standing behind Percy and pushed him through and Percy fell onto the stone floor with a thud.
“George, Mum’s been looking for you,” said Bill softly, joining Ron, George and Hermione in front of the fireplace. He nodded at Harry and Ron. “I think she’ll be relieved we found you lot as well. Hermione, can you go and tell her we found you all so she can stop worrying?” Hermione nodded, carefully extracting herself from Ron and George. Harry moved to follow her when Charlie shot out an arm, detaining him. Harry raised his eyebrows at him but Charlie only shook his head imperceptibly and then jerked his head in Bill’s direction. Harry followed Charlie and Percy to the fireplace where Bill conjured another two chairs and produced a bottle of Firewhiskey from a pocket in his robes. Percy’s protest died on his lips as George turned a tear streaked face towards them and asked plaintively
“What am I going to do Bill?”
“We toast. A drink to our brother and give him the best send off he could have. And then we rebuild and we go on. We go on living for him. We make this world something worth dying for, and we never forget him. Ever. That’s what you’re going to do,” said Bill.
As he spoke, Bill conjured six glasses, handed them around and began pouring Firewhiskey into each one. Ron held out an arm to George, hauling him to his feet. George composed himself a fraction and raised his glass.
“To rebuilding, to living, to brotherhood, to Fred.”
Harry’s throat burned and his eyes stung but he wasn’t sure if it was from the Firewhiskey or because of what he heard Bill say to him.
“That’s it little brother, get that down,” said the older man as he pulled Harry down into a seat. Harry felt a warm glow as he looked around at his companions and he knew that it had very little to do with the Firewhiskey. The six of them passed the morning in front of the fireplace in the kitchen, being fed copiously by solicitous house- elves, polishing off the bottle of Firewhiskey and sharing outrageous stories about Fred.
“Remember when he was trying to start the car, Ron?” said George. “He was half asleep and kept refusing to start it because he thought it would be too noisy!”
“That was the whole point,” chortled Ron. “We had to start the car to make it fly and go and get Harry.” Ron was a little inebriated and nearly fell off his chair as he tried to throw an arm around Harry’s shoulder.
“He was a good driver though,” sobbed George. “He made it all the way to Surrey and back.” Ron nodded carefully.
“Remember that time he made my Head Boy badge say ‘Big Head Boy’,” said Percy and it sounded for a moment as if he considered that to be a fond memory. “He was so smart.” As Percy dissolved into Firewhiskey induced tears George sat up straight.
“Hey! That was my idea!”
Bill told a story that none of the others could remember involving baby Fred, six spoons and a bucket of dirt and Ron recounted all the times Fred had turned him blue, pink or into a toad. At one point Harry wondered dimly why Mrs Weasley hadn’t come to fetch them, Hermione seemed to be taking an awfully long time but he was distracted in his musings by Charlie who had broken a lull in the conversation.
“What about the time Fred stuck me to the ceiling,” he said taking a swig from his glass. “Damn good spell that and he taught it to Ginny. That might come in very handy for our little sister. It’s a good place to stick the boys that are bothering her.”
“Fred told me the other day he had a great idea about what to do next time Ginny admits to having a boyfriend,” confided George. “She‘s been avoiding that question all year. Fred was really close to getting it out of her too. I could feel it! No idea how long it’ll take us now, we’ll have to start from scratch.” Harry froze and Ron burst out laughing. Charlie looked thoughtful.
“What do you think he was going to do to the bloke, George?”
“No idea, I think it involved fireworks and enclosed spaces though,” replied George. “Always had a fondness for fireworks did our Fred.”
Bill and Charlie nodded as if this were a perfectly acceptable solution to a small insect infestation while Ron caught the look on Harry’s face and simply laughed harder. For his part, Harry began to sink as far into the plush chair as he could manage, trying to remain completely inconspicuous and wondering how he was going to escape.
“I really don’t think Ginevra is going to go for this idea fellows,” said Percy slowly, enunciating every word carefully. Harry thought Percy might possibly be more drunk than the rest of them put together. “If she finds out you are plotting anything she’ll Bat Bogey you in a heartbeat.”
George conceded that this may very well be a valid point and the Weasley brothers sank into a contemplative state with Ron punctuating the silence with muffled laughter that none of them in their drunken stupor thought to question. Suddenly Charlie broke the silence.
“Do you think she’s got a bloke right now though? I mean it’s been a bit of a rough year, lots going on. Maybe we’ve got time to prepare? Our plans could be executed swiftly if we have a little time to prepare.”
Harry sprayed a mouthful of Firewhiskey over the unsuspecting George and some stray droplets caused the fire to flare up. Suddenly he was a sober as a judge and looked rather fearfully at the five fully grown wizards he was sitting with. Make that four. Ron hardly looked fearsome as he renewed his vigorous laughter as he rolled on the hearthrug.
“You all right there Harry?” asked Bill solicitously. “Mum’ll probably kill us if we get you two really pickled. Come to that Fleur might have a bit to say to me about getting too pickled.”
Amidst gentle ribbing about his married status Bill motioned his brothers to their feet, vanished the glasses and the extra chairs and slung an arm around George. As he led George back to the door of the kitchen Harry swore he heard Bill say that they would finish Fred’s last work and find the slimeball going out with Ginny and deal with him good and proper. Ron’s laughter echoed throughout the kitchen and as the portrait swung shut Harry heard Percy ask Ron if he hadn’t flipped his lid completely and what on earth was so funny.
There was no way Harry was going anywhere near those boys.
***
He wasn’t sure exactly how long it was until he heard the painting swing open and Mr Weasley entered, his eyes searching the room.
“Ah there you are Harry. Seems Ron was right, you’ve not gone far after all. Got the womenfolk in a knot upstairs there.”
“I’m sorry Mr Weasley,” Harry apologised, “I didn’t mean for anyone to worry.”
“The boys thought you were with them. But seeing as they appear to be a wee bit tipsy I’m not surprised they didn’t realise you weren’t there. They’re carrying on something shocking about ferreting out ‘the slimeball’ and defending Ginny’s honour. Really not sure I want to know about that,” said Mr Weasley conversationally as if his sons getting drunk and seeking revenge on slimeballs who sought to dishonour their sister was an everyday occurrence.
“They want to finish the project Fred was working on before he died and identify Ginny’s latest boyfriend and finish him off,” explained Harry. “I really couldn’t be a part of that.”
“Oh I’m sure they’d welcome your help there Harry. They see you as their brother, you know,” said Mr Weasley and Harry thought he heard a hint of humour in the other man’s voice but when he looked Mr Weasley seemed old and weary, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes etched deep on his pale face. There was very little humour in his face and he looked like a man who had the weight of the world on his shoulders.
“I’d not be so sure about that if they knew,” muttered Harry. He paused and watched as Mr Weasley stood there looking into the fireplace. “I’m sorry Mr Weasley, about Fred. I — I …” He trailed off, unsure what he was trying to say, unsure what he wanted to say.
“I know, son,” said Mr Weasley gently, the grief on his face becoming more prominent. “I know. Now I came down here to let you know you’ve got a visitor. Best come up and see.” Harry was not at all keen on entertaining visitors and wondered briefly if he could avoid it but the look on Mr Weasley’s face stopped him. It was clear that he should go and see this visitor and so he wearily rose from his chair and moved towards the portrait frame that marked the doorway leading from the kitchen back to the halls of Hogwarts.
“Harry?” He turned back at the sound of Mr Weasley’s voice. “Thank you, son, thank you.” Harry just looked sadly at him and nodded before climbing through the kitchen entrance to go and greet his mystery visitor.
Chapter 2: Mourning Remus
“They won’t really hurt you, you know,” Mr Weasley smiled, as they walked companionably towards the Entrance Hall. “Besides, if they try it Molly will have their heads. They’ll figure that out as soon as they realise.” Harry startled, stopped and stared at Mr Weasley who gave a wry chuckle.“Our daughter may not tell her brothers everything, but she usually tells her mother,” he said. “Molly, of course, tells me everything.” He smiled and motioned Harry to continue walking.
“Ron was filthy at me,” said Harry, “oh not for going out with her, he was okay with that part. Mind you, Hermione and I had to duck a few heated conversations between him and Ginny about displays of affection. You heard about Lavender I suspect?” Mr Weasley nodded a smile still on his face and motioned for Harry to continue.
“Ron was filthy at me when I, er … when I, well …”
“When you ditched her?” said Mr Weasley bluntly. Harry cringed. Mr Weasley reached over and patted him on the shoulder. “No one could fault you there, Harry. Not even Ginny if she’s honest with herself.”
They continued the rest of the way in silence. Harry started to enter the Great Hall. Ron and his brothers were sitting with Hermione at the end of the Gryffindor table listening to Neville intently. Some of the teachers sat at the head table and groups of students were scattered randomly about the house tables chatting and eating what appeared to be lunch. He couldn’t see Mrs Weasley or Ginny but before he could wonder where they were Mr Weasley tapped him on the shoulder and motioned him to a small room a short distance away. As they got closer Harry could hear muffled sobs coming from the room. He sighed, just his luck that his visitor appeared to be a crying female.
“Mr Weasley, I’m not at all good with crying women!” he protested. “I don’t know what to do with them at all. That’s why Ginny — well, er, who is it and why does she want to see me?”
“Oh no, Harry, that’s not your visitor,” exclaimed Mr Weasley. “I am sure she’ll want to see you when she composes herself though. I’ll just nip in and get your visitor shall I?” Harry could only nod as he stood nervously in the Entrance Hall.
It wasn’t long before Mr Weasley emerged from the room, this time carrying a bundle in his arms. It wriggled and Harry briefly saw a tuft of turquoise hair. Harry took a few steps back and Mr Weasley laughed softly at the look of terror on his face.
“It’s okay Harry, he’s not crying.” Harry heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Neville exit the Great Hall just as Mr Weasley reached him and motioned for him to take the bundle. He stopped only long enough to make sure Harry wasn’t going to drop the wriggling infant he handed him before whispering that Molly needed him to help her with their other guest. And Harry was left standing in the Entrance Hall with a baby and he had no idea what to do with him. He was too scared to look at him and instead chose to stare fixedly at the crooked hat on a portrait of a witch who had clearly been drinking with Violet and The Fat Lady.
“Crikey Harry! I didn’t think that was the reason Ginny didn’t come back to school! Her brothers are going to kill you,” Neville’s voice seemed abnormally loud as it broke the stillness. Harry started and swung around to face Neville.
“What?” he croaked, “This isn’t my baby, or Ginny’s baby or — What on earth makes you think that?”
“Well Mr Weasley came and handed you that baby,” Neville shrugged. “Ginny never came back to school after Easter, so…”
“Well he’s not ours!” said Harry exasperatedly. “He doesn’t look like us! We haven’t, we didn’t!” He spluttered to a stop, staring at Neville in horror.
“You think I’d take advantage of her like that?”
“No Harry I don’t think that but er, well maybe you can teach him to stop changing colours like that?” Harry looked down at Teddy for the first time and saw a pair of bright green eyes that mirrored his own looking back at him curiously. The baby’s hair had turned a lovely shade of Weasley red. Little Teddy Lupin currently looked exactly like a cross between him and Ginny to the casual observer. But Harry was not a casual observer and as he looked at Teddy he saw Tonks gazing out at him from Remus’s face, little fat fists waving about as he stared fascinated at Harry’s glasses. Harry looked up at Neville and swallowed heavily, blinking back the tears he could feel were coming.
“I’m his godfather,” he whispered. “This is Professor Lupin’s son. Voldemort … Death Eaters have taken his parents. All he’s got is his godfather, me and — and his grandmother.” He didn’t think he could hold back the tears much longer as the enormity of it all hit him with force and he turned away from Neville and looked back down at Teddy who was still gazing at him serenely.
“He’s got me too,” whispered Neville, “he’s got me too.” Neville sounded on the brink of tears himself and Harry chanced a look at him.
“He’ll need us, Harry.” Harry nodded. He knew that was true and he knew that Teddy wasn’t going to suffer the same way that he and Neville had. He knew that as the last of his father’s friends and his godfather Harry could give to Teddy the things he never had. He knew that Neville would understand and Harry smiled tearfully at Neville.
“Yeah, he’s got us, hasn’t he?” Together the three of them slowly walked towards the Entrance Doors, pushed them open and stood in the sunlight, watching the first Voldemort free day. Teddy’s little fist finally made contact with its goal and he knocked Harry’s glasses askew, grinning up at Harry with a toothless gummy smile and Harry felt his resolve crumble. This smiley little infant had no idea what he’d lost, no idea what sacrifice had been made for him, no idea the enormity of what had just happened and no idea that Harry had lost the last link to his parents. But at that moment the enormity of it hit Harry hard and he sank to the stone steps and tears began to drip down his cheeks as he began to shake with huge wracking sobs. He clutched tighter to Teddy and sobbed into his blankets as the infant began to bat his fists jerkily around Harry’s head, tangling fat fingers in his hair.
Harry didn’t notice Neville dash back into the Great Hall or hear the stampede of people rushing out again. It was only when he heard a slight commotion and felt a soft hand touch his shoulder that he raised his head to see Mrs Weasley looking tearfully at him, the door to the Entrance Hall behind her blocked by five imposing red heads and Neville while the inhabitants of Hogwarts argued with Bill Weasley who was insisting that no one was going near Harry except his family and he’d had enough for now, it had, after all, been a long week.
“Harry,” Mrs Weasley was saying softly, “let me take Teddy. Andromeda will look after him. We can have a talk.” Harry stared at her unseeing. He did not relinquish his grip on Teddy and tears continued to drip down his face. Teddy began to squirm and whimper softly as Mr Weasley and Mrs Tonks made their way past Charlie. Harry turned to look out across the grounds as tears continued to fall silently onto Teddy’s blankets.
“Harry, come on, let’s get you inside.”
“Harry,” and a hand touched his hair, smoothing it from his face. “Come on Harry. Let’s have something to eat.” He did not answer them and he did not let Teddy go. He ignored the frantic whispering behind him and looked down at the baby in his arms who stopped wriggling and gazed at him solemnly. The enormity of what had happened and what was still to be done weighed heavily on his mind. He stared as Teddy’s hair changed to black and his eyes went brown but he didn’t really see. What was he going to do now?
“Harry,” said Mr Weasley softly, “come inside.” Harry continued to look at Teddy as he blew bubbles with his mouth, his tiny hands reaching again for Harry’s glasses and the frantic whispering behind him grew louder and a commotion began to erupt
“Let me take him, Harry.” a soft warm voice whispered and he felt a small, warm hand cover his own. Without really thinking about it he let the small hands take the baby and then he let them encircle him in a hug as the owner of those small warm hands stroked his hair and her voice whispered words of comfort in his ear while he cried on her shoulder, enveloped in her flowery scent.
Chapter 3: Mourning Childhood
Author's Notes: Revised Edition 16 November 2007
Harry had no idea how long he stayed there on the steps of Hogwarts in Ginny’s arms. He stayed long after his tears had all dried up and he felt like a wrung out wet rag, listless and unable to move. The whole time Ginny held him, soothing and comforting. After a long time, it could have been hours, he had no idea, he’d lost track of the time and he slowly sat up. Taking his glasses from his face he examined the salty tear spots that streaked the lenses and slowly cleaned them on the hem of his shirt. When he put them back on his eyes found Ginny’s. She was looking at him with a small smile on her lips.
“Hi,” she whispered.
“Hi,” Harry whispered back. “I was going to come looking for you. I got a bit waylaid by your brothers and then your dad-” Harry broke off and turned to stare out over the grounds, looking at the pockets of devastation that still marked the battle that had been fought. He felt Ginny entwine her small fingers with his larger ones and softly caress his hand and he looked down at his hand and hers, joined together.
“I don’t have anything to do alone anymore,” he said. “No one’s trying to get to me. We can be together, if you want to be.” Harry looked up at her face and Ginny smiled softly.
“I’d like that Harry,” she whispered, and without thinking about it Harry leaned over and captured her lips in a kiss. He felt her hands slide up his arms and sneak into his hair and as he deepened the kiss he slid his own hands down her sides and his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him, sliding one hand up into her hair and caressing her neck. The sensation of being in her arms and kissing her again made him feel just a little bit giddy but he didn’t want to stop. He wanted it to go on forever. Some of the pain and despair seemed to melt away as he lost himself in her embrace and the good memories and the happy feelings overshadowed the despair he had been feeling earlier.
“Oi!” Harry dragged his lips away from Ginny and gave her a little crooked grin. Then he turned to look at Ron who had just stepped out of the now closed doors and was glaring daggers at him. Harry just smiled benignly at him before standing up and looking down at Ginny.
“Want to go for a walk?” he asked. Ginny nodded and turned to Ron and gave him a little wave as she rose to her feet. Clasping her hand Harry tugged her down the steps and they headed off into the sunshine.
“Don’t think I’m not going to tell George!” Ron muttered as they left. Harry just laughed, it felt good to laugh but suddenly all wrong and he stopped abruptly.
“What does that mean?” Ginny was saying. “Who cares what he tells George? It’s not like what I do is any of his business.” She stopped as Harry pulled her closer to his side.
“What am I going to do now, Ginny? There’s so much left to do. There’s so many lives that have been ruined. So many people have died,” Harry’s voice cracked on the last word and he stumbled over his next thought. “How do we start to rebuild from here? What do I need to do now?”
“Harry, listen to me,” Ginny said as she stopped and turned him to face her. “We don’t have to know all the answers now. We don’t have to make all our plans now. You don’t have to be the grown up now. Let the Ministry figure out how to rebuild, let the adults do it. They’ve done it before, you can help them. They don’t need to help you anymore. You said you don’t have anything to do alone now. Let someone else do it.” She suddenly looked very small and it seemed as though a veil of sadness had suddenly been drawn over her face.
“If anyone’s got a right to mourn Harry, it’s you. I don’t think you’ve ever really done that, not properly,” tears began to cascade down Ginny’s cheeks. “It’s not fair that you haven’t had a chance to do that before. Because it hurts so badly and you just need so much to — to say, say goodbye.” And then Harry was gathering her to him and stroking her hair and whispering words of comfort into her ear as she cried into his shirt. Before long the tears were falling from his own eyes again and the two of them stood together and cried.
***************
Harry and Ginny sat, tangled together under a beech tree by the side of the lake. Harry had told her, haltingly, when she insisted, about Fred’s death and held her as she cried, his own grief dripping tears that mingled with her own.
“Do you think it’s wrong,” whispered Ginny, “that when I saw Fred I felt … sad, unbelievable sadness and grief but that when I saw Hagrid with — with you it was like someone had completely ripped out my heart?” Harry swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat.
“I don’t know, Ginny. I don’t think there is a right way to express grief,” Harry said caressing her face and wiping away the tears.
“It was terrifying,” she whispered. “And it hurt so much.” Harry watched her struggle not to cry and pulled her to him. She buried her face in his chest and clung to him and not for the first time that afternoon Harry bent his head to kiss her. Ginny’s fingers dug into his shoulders and a sob escaped her throat as he tilted her face up and covered her lips with his own. She responded to his kiss frantically, desperately. He pulled away breathlessly, watching her take the same gasping breaths he was as she tried to control her grief. Her eyes were closed and there were tear drops clinging to her eyelashes.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” whispered Harry in between the kisses he trailed down her neck. His worst fear had been not having Ginny to come back to. If he had even thought that had come true it would have destroyed him. He could only imagine the torture Ginny must have felt as she saw him, apparently dead, in Hagrid’s arms.
“I’m so glad you’re not dead,” she sobbed, losing control of her emotions. “I feel like I shouldn’t be glad because so many people are dead and I’m just glad it’s them and not you.” They held each other close under the beech tree as the sun moved lower in the sky.
“Teddy needs me you know,” Harry said much later as he stared out across the lake. “I can’t afford to fall apart like I did today. He needs me so much.”
“It’s okay that you cried, Harry,” Ginny replied. “You can’t ignore how you feel.”
“But I can’t let him down,” whispered Harry desperately. “Who will tell him that they love him and about his parents and be there for him?”
“We all will, Harry,” reassured Ginny. “And he’s got his grandmother. He won’t be alone.” Harry shook his head.
“I know all that’s important, but he needs me,” he fiercely. “No one else knows what it is like … except maybe Neville.” Harry closed his eyes as tears he didn’t think he had left threatened to fall again.
“But that doesn’t mean you can’t cry Harry,” Ginny said softly as she stroked his arm. “Being there for him doesn’t mean you have to be … stoic. It just means you have to be there.” They sat in silence for a few moments.
“I’m going to buy him his first broomstick,” said Harry eventually. “Sirius bought me my first broomstick, did you know that?” He searched the pouch around his neck and pulled out the torn photograph of himself as a baby.
“Oh you were so cute,” exclaimed Ginny. Harry shook his head in mild amusement.
“He taught me to ride it too,” he said, “before he wasn’t there anymore; before he couldn’t buy me any more broomsticks. I have to be there for Teddy.” His voice broke; thinking about the Firebolt Sirius had bought him when he was thirteen, the one that made up for twelve years of Christmas and birthday presents. Ginny looked up from the photograph, understanding dawning in her eyes. She reached out a hand to stroke his cheek.
“You are nothing like Sirius, Harry.”
“I am, I’m impulsive and reckless and I do things without thinking-”
“You are going to be there for Teddy,” she interrupted firmly. “We all will. He’ll have so much love he won’t know what to do with it.” There were tears threatening to cascade down her cheeks and Harry wiped them away with trembling fingers.
“I want him to know how much they loved him,” he whispered. “That they died to protect him; all that stuff I never knew when I was little. I want him to have a happy childhood.” It struck him anew that not only had he been denied his magical heritage and treated rather poorly, to put it mildly, for ten years but that any remaining vestiges of his childhood had fled by the end of his first year at Hogwarts. If he tried he could catch flashes of it here and there but they were transparent, ethereal and too hard to grasp.
As the sun began to set Harry was exhausted and spent of his energy, too tired to move from under the beech tree. Too tired to wonder if Ron had told George anything; too tired to go back inside to eat. Yet he felt strangely lighter than he had been that morning.
“Thank you,” he whispered because talking seemed too loud in such a peaceful climate. “Thank you for listening, for being here. I couldn’t do this without you, Ginny. I don’t want to do this without you. It’s been agony to be away from you, not knowing how you are, hearing only snippets of what’s happening to you. I don’t want to be away from you again. I couldn’t bear it.” Ginny nodded and reached a hand up to cup his face.
“I know,” she said. “It’s been awful.” She leaned in to kiss him soundly and not for the first time since they’d taken a seat under that tree did they lose themselves in a searing kiss filled with promises and passion and yearning. And that’s why Harry didn’t see Charlie approaching or hear Ron grumbling about being late to the evening meal because parents wanted them to locate errant siblings. That’s why Ginny didn’t realise Bill and Percy were calling her name and why they sprang apart suddenly when George, apparently from quite nearby, groaned.
“Oh no! This cannot be happening,” he cried. “I cannot be seeing what I think I am seeing, no wonder she never told us anything! Such rich opportunities for taking the mickey; completely wasted!” Ginny glared up at him.
“What on earth is that supposed to mean?” she demanded. Harry decided to keep very still and very quiet.
“Well, we — I,” George faltered. “I - I can’t give you a serve now. Before he saved the world, yeah we could have completely taken the mickey out of you, trussed him up and put him in enclosed spaces. But not now! Now, now I have to all but ignore the fact that ickle Ginny’s got a bloke dangling from her little finger and wrapped around it! How do I possibly mock and intimidate him now?”
“Yeah, because mum would have made that possible before,” said Ron. “At least you lot haven’t had to put up with it, and the mooning and the sighing. He has been mooning and sighing for a YEAR.”
“She’s been moping,” retorted Charlie. “Moping and slouching from one room to the next.” Harry was alternating between sinking through the earth in embarrassment and wonderment that his punishment at the hands for Ginny’s brothers, protectors of her virtue, had not been more severe.
“You wouldn’t do anything to Harry!” scoffed Ginny. “I think sometimes you lot think more of him than you do of me!” Bill looked stunned.
“Oh Ginny, that is not true!” Ginny stuck out her bottom lip. It quivered.
“Ginevra, really I think that is taking things rather far. I should say that it’s not a competition as to who should receive affection, after all as a parent can love more than one child equally, so too can sibling love be equally as distributed.” Ginny turned on Percy with big soulful eyes.
“Oh don’t give him that look, Ginny! Of course we don’t love him more than you. You’re, you’re our favourite sister! Who’s going to go higher than that in our affections? Oh no, don’t you turn those big puppy dog eyes on me!” Ginny stared balefully at George as he squirmed. Harry thought that if this went on much longer he’d see big fat crocodile tears come leaking out of those big brown eyes. To keep more still and more quiet he would have to stop breathing.
“George, I think we have to face it, our plans may just have to be scrapped,” said Charlie.
“Plans? What plans? Do you know about these plans?” Ginny turned on Ron, fixing him with a beady stare reminiscent of Mrs Weasley.
“I don’t have any plans,” Ron shrugged. “They might have plans. Not me, I have no plans, no plans at all.” Harry snorted, immediately regretting it as all eyes then turned to him. He figured he may as well go for broke, having called attention to himself.
“Oh, you have plans alright. I just think they are different plans to the string-Ginny’s-boyfriend-up-by-the-ears plans! Oh yeah, you’ve got plans!” chortled Harry. “But I bet none of your plans involve discussing house elf rights!” The tips of Ron’s ears began to turn red and he growled at Harry.
“Nice try with the distraction there Harry,” said Bill, “but getting back to the issue at hand —“
“Issue at hand?” said Ginny. “What issue can you possibly have?”
“Absolutely none Gin. And where’s the fun in that?” questioned George. “What brother in their right mind is going to try and scare off, tease or otherwise torment your boyfriend when he is actually The Chosen Saviour of all Wizardkind Who Lived?” Harry rolled his eyes at his new nickname.
“You could take the mickey out of Ron. He kissed Hermione!” he blurted and then seeing Ron’s face as he did so, he got up and ran, Ron chasing after him, bellowing.
The others were laughing as the two of them raced towards the castle doors; Harry easily ducking Ron’s swinging arms. As the two of them reached the steps Hermione stepped out of the front doors and Harry darted behind her.
“That’s sneaky, Potter,” said Ron, breathing heavily as he rested his hands on his knees. Harry just grinned at him from behind Hermione while she huffed at the two of them. The three of them stood there on the steps for a few minutes as Ron caught his breath before turning to watch Ginny and her brothers as they ambled up from the lake shore. As his siblings grew closer Ron reached an arm around Hermione and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, looking defiantly back at them. Harry made a face and gagging sounds and was rewarded with a shove for his efforts.
Ginny darted forward and ran squealing to Hermione, and they began whispering and giggling, apparently completing some sort of female ritual that he was sure he’d never understand. He paid no attention to Ginny’s brothers as they reached the steps, boldly sliding his hands around Ginny’s waist from behind and resting his chin on her shoulder. As he did so he caught the tail end of the conversation Bill, George, Charlie and Percy were having.
“Really, well mum wouldn’t have let us get away with much anyway.”
“Yeah, probably planning the wedding within a week I reckon.”
“There’s potential for ribbing with young Ron though. He can’t do a Bat Bogey hex.”
“Really if we were to choose someone for Ginevra ourselves, we couldn’t do much better after all.”
Harry smiled as Ron tugged Hermione’s hand and whined that it was time to eat, pulling her in the direction of the Great Hall. Bill caught up to Harry, squeezed his shoulder and nodded.
“Let’s go eat, hey?” He slung an arm around George and led the others inside. Harry, not quite willing to relinquish his hold on Ginny just yet stepped awkwardly inside behind her, his arms still around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder and breathing in the scent of her sweet smelling hair.
Chapter 4: Mrs Weasley's Grief
“Where. Have. You. BEEN?” Mrs Weasley’s shrill voice rang through the Entrance Hall. “I sent you to find your sister and bring her straight in to dinner, not take a leisurely walk in the grounds! You’ve been gone for ages! How was I supposed to know where you were? What if something had happened to you? Do you KNOW how long you’ve been GONE?”“Now Molly, they are adults and quite capable of looking after themselves,” said Mr Weasley soothingly, coming up behind her as her children cowered in front of her, Harry doing a particularly good job of hiding behind Ginny.
“Are they, Arthur? Are they? You don’t know that! You don’t know what’s out there, lurking in the dark! And last time — last time I let them out of my sight — last time …”Mrs Weasley trailed off and began to cry.
“Last time Fred didn’t come back,” she whispered. George let out a quiet whimper and turned away and Harry saw Bill’s arm tighten around him. Mrs Weasley was crying in earnest now and wringing her hands. Mr Weasley caught up to his wife swiftly, trying to calm her.
“We’re sorry mum,” said Charlie softly. “We didn’t mean to make you worry.”
“You could say we got a little side tracked though,” muttered Ron and Hermione elbowed him in the ribs.
“Mother, our humble apologies for making you worry. I am afraid we did not realise the length of time we had taken while locating Ginevra,” Percy added.
“Not that Ginny was ever lost,” Ron snorted. “Not like she was in any danger, except of making me vomit.” Hermione turned on him and glared.
“Ronald Weasley, you have no tact whatsoever!” she hissed at him.
“Mum,” said Bill gently. “I’m sorry you were worried. We really will be more careful in the future.” Mrs Weasley turned to look at Bill, noticing George for the first time, who was still trapped by Bill’s strong arm tears streaming down his face, looking as if he might flee as soon as Bill released his grip.
“Oh Georgie,” she whispered, reaching over and gathering him into her arms instead. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” She stood there, rocking her son while he cried in her arms and one by one her other children joined her, the Weasley family drawing strength from each other and supporting each other. Harry turned to Hermione who looked at him sadly.
“I wish my parents were here,” she whispered, looking mournful. Harry pulled her into a hug, reflecting that perhaps he was getting rather more used to crying females but wishing at the same time he’d gotten the experience another way. He whispered softly to her so as not to disturb the grieving family.
“We’ll go and bring them home soon Hermione, as soon as we possibly can,” he said. Hermione whispered her thanks into her shirt as she succumbed to tears and Harry stood with her in his arms, rubbing her back softly. He was startled when he heard Ron call out to him.
“Oi, Potter! Get your hands off my girl!” Hermione turned to glare at Ron but she must have seen Ron’s smile because she didn’t say anything. Harry thought he saw the ghost of a smile on her face and he playfully squeezed her tighter. The Weasleys all turned around at this exchange, George wiping his eyes and taking a quick look at his mother.
“Ho, ho ickle Ronniekins,” George began, “you’ve spilled it in front of mum now!” Mrs Weasley was looking from Ron to Hermione, who had pulled free of Harry’s grasp.
“When did this happen?” she asked with a rather watery smile.
“Right after Ron opened the Chamber of Secrets and right before we ran into Crabbe who tried to burn us alive,” said Harry rather matter of factly. Charlie looked Harry in amazement.
“You are hiding quite a bit there, Potter, aren’t you?” he said. “Full of secrets aren’t we?”
“Oh,” said Harry, “you have no idea, Charlie!”
“You’re right Harry,” broke in George. “It is going to be fun taking the mickey out of Ron; something to look forward to.” Hermione smiled at George as he suddenly burst into watery laughter at the disgruntled look on Ron’s face.
“Why can’t you pick on Harry?” he complained. “I don’t know why you can’t concentrate on embarrassing him for all eternity!” The Weasleys still stood with their arms draped around each other or linked together as Ron and George entered a good natured debate about the merits of mocking Ron about his new relationship and Harry marveled at their ability to carry each other from bad moments to good and be there when the next bad moment came. As his eyes roamed over the ones he knew as family they came to rest on Ginny who was looking decidedly pale and staring at Ron fixedly before her eyes briefly flickered to Harry’s and it was then he saw the deep pain reflected in them and the confusion.
“Ron, how did you open the Chamber?” she asked so softly Harry could barely hear her. Everybody froze. Harry held his breath, she looked so pained as though every bad memory she ever had was being dredged up. Ron sucked in his breath and glanced at Harry.
“He’s heard me speak Parseltongue loads of times, Ginny,” Harry volunteered, hoping this would be enough for now, hoping he wouldn’t have to explain further. Ginny turned her gaze on him but it was rapidly becoming one of frustration bordering on fury and Harry took a step back.
“Oh yes, you go around telling things to open in Parseltongue all the time!” she exclaimed. “You hate talking in Parseltongue. You never do it unless you have to. You avoid snakes, Harry! So yeah, sure Ron remembers ‘open’ from five years ago! How does he know? What happened to him?” Ron looked in horror at Ginny and then to Harry and Hermione. No one else seemed able to move and Harry took a deep breath.
“He really did learn it from hearing me do it, but no, not from five years ago. I had to open something with Parseltongue recently. Ron was there. Nothing’s happened to him Ginny. He’s safe. We’re all safe now,” he took a tentative step towards her. “He’s gone, he can’t hurt anyone else. No one is going to open the Chamber again.” Harry held his breath. Ginny seemed on the verge of hysteria now. Before anyone could react she suddenly took off out of the Entrance Hall and in the direction of the second floor, Harry tore after her and he could hear the Weasleys thundering after them.
Moments later Harry burst, gasping, into Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. Ginny stood in front of the open entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, shaking. Harry pulled her into an embrace, stroking her hair and whispering that it was going to be alright. The rest of the Weasleys and Hermione arrived, puffing, at the door to the bathroom.
“Close it, Harry,” Ginny begged, her voice shrill and hysterical. Harry told the entrance to close, but nothing happened.
“Er, mate,” said Ron, “that was English.” Harry tried again. Nothing happened.
“I can’t speak Parseltongue anymore,” he whispered. Harry was stunned, events began turning over in his brain and he saw Hermione looking at him. She was thinking.
“It was part of Voldemort,” she began, “he left, well, it, in you the first time he tried to kill you and the second time he used the Killing Curse on you he ripped it out again and it took the Parseltongue with it. The Parseltongue was part of it.” Mrs Weasley shrieked.
“Harry James Potter! What do you mean he used the Killing Curse on you?” Mrs Weasley looked livid with rage.
“Killing Curse?” whispered Ginny. He hadn’t mentioned that earlier, they had avoided talk of exactly how he died, trying to cope with their feelings about it. Harry held onto her as she began shaking, stroking her back.
“I’m okay, I promise,” he whispered in her ear.
“Has anyone checked you over? Have you been to see Poppy? Are you alright?” demanded Mrs Weasley as she darted over and began checking him over herself. Harry began to protest and George shook his head sadly.
“See, no possible way of mocking Harry. You don’t mock someone who’s survived the Killing Curse twice. You just can’t do that,” he said. “But we can, and we should, celebrate that. With fireworks!”
“Can we do that after dinner?” asked Ron. “Let’s go eat. McGonagall can come here later and seal that up some other way Ginny.” Ginny nodded, she was still pale and hadn’t completely stopped shaking so Harry kept his arm around her as they traipsed out into the hallway and towards the Great Hall, Mrs Weasley continuing to fuss over Harry.
“I’m fine, Mrs Weasley,” he protested in vain as she continued to poke and prod at him and ask him if this was tender or that was sore. “Really I’m just fine. I don’t need to go to the hospital wing. Mrs Weasley, really, Mrs Weasley — MUM! Stop!”She turned to stare at him.
“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to shout.” Mrs Weasley looked tearfully up at him before gathering him in a bone crushing hug stopping the mini procession. He heard Ginny giggle as he struggled to breathe and was relieved that she was starting to feel better.
“Mum! Come on, let the man go, let’s eat!” called Ron. “Harry, do you think you can bond with her after dinner?” Mrs Weasley released her grip and patted Harry softly on the cheek.
“Come on, let’s go feed you up,” she said. “Have you been eating properly? You are looking awfully thin.”
Chapter 5: Rebuilding Hogwarts
Author's Notes: Thankyou to all those who have reviewed or otherwise ackowledged this story with messages, Trinket Nominations (goodness!) or by listing it as a favourite. I am glad you are enjoying the little ride I am taking the characters on.
Harry and his family and friends belong to JKR, the things I make them do are my own idea...except for I might have lifted a little idea from the Order of The Phoenix Video Game...
As Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys made their way into the Great Hall Harry noticed that repair work had already commenced on some areas of the castle. Some of the burnt tapestries had been removed or repaired and the hallways appeared to have been swept in some parts and rubble pushed to the side. Charlie must have noticed his keen gaze.
“We’ve been cleaning up a bit today,” he explained. “Even Filch picked up a mop earlier with something resembling enthusiasm.”
“Yeah some of us were drafted,” added Ron. “Unlike some I could mention who were off who knows where, doing who knows what all day, the lazy sods.” Hermione elbowed him sharply in the side and Harry stifled a laugh.
“Yes well, be that as it may,” said Mrs Weasley giving Ginny a questioning look, “Kingsley sent word that he intends to have Hogwarts open again in September and if we want that we need to get a move on. No one was able to get into some parts of the castle above the Third Floor to see how much damage is up there and the Grand Staircase is a mess.”
“Trelawney’s crystal balls didn’t do it any favours,” chimed Geroge. “Bloody good shot she is though. Best use I ever saw for the wretched things.” Harry silently agreed with that assessment.
“Neville spent all day in the greenhouses,” added Hermione. “Professor Sprout’s been busy in the Hufflepuff Common Room so he volunteered to check on the plants. I can’t wait until we can get through to the Library. Oh I hope it didn’t get too much damage.” They were approaching the Great Hall now and Harry saw that it was almost completely dark outside now the first stars beginning to twinkle low on the horizon. The quiet hum emanating from the Great Hall made him slow his feet. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to see all those people. He didn’t know if he had the strength to face them. The Weasleys and Hermione all went ahead of him, Ron pushing the doors open muttering something about unnatural starvation but Harry found himself rooted to the spot, just outside the Great Hall. Only Ginny noticed he had stopped. During the conversation about repairing the castle she had been walking with her father and she ducked out from under his arm to approach Harry. Mr Weasley stayed where she had left him by the doors to the Great Hall.
“Are you alright, Harry?” Ginny asked. Harry shrugged as he looked down at her.
“I don’t think I can go in there,” he stated quietly. “All the people… I don’t like being stared at and, well I… feel a bit silly really. I don’t even really know why I can’t go in there.” He looked at her hopelessly. Was his Gryffindor bravery failing him after everything he’d been through, so much so that he couldn’t face a few people eating dinner? Ginny reached out and took his hand in hers.
“It’ll be okay, I’ll come in with you,” she smiled. “Besides, Bill scared them all off earlier and I think Neville was minutes away from getting the sword out again and threatening to lop off people’s heads if they didn’t give you space.”
“Ready Harry?” asked Mr Weasley. “If we don’t get you in there soon Molly will have our heads. You know how she gets when you look a bit peaky.” Harry took a deep breath, squeezed Ginny’s hand and stepped forward. The doors creaked open and the three of them slipped through, Mr Weasley heading for the knot of readheads currently seating themselves at the Gryffindor table where Fleur and Mrs Tonks were already eating, Teddy in a pram nearby. A few people looked up at Harry and waved and Luna turned her head the Lion hat on her head roaring a greeting. Harry briefly wondered where on earth it had come from and why she was wearing it but mentally shrugged and figured he’d probably never know the answer, or understand it if she told him. Harry and Ginny made their way to their family and Harry pulled out a chair for Ginny next to Ron.
“Stop being all noble and chivalrous and making the rest of us look bad,” groused Ron and Harry and Hermione simultaneously slapped him on the back of the head.
“Shut up Ron,” said Ginny. “Besides, I thought you all agreed not to pick on Harry?”
“Wasn’t me who agreed to that,” grumbled Ron. “It only starts with pulling chairs out and opening doors. Soon I’ll have to watch all the lovey dovey rubbish and the snogging. If George wants to defer to Harry’s paltry escaping death feats he’s welcome to, me, I’m not putting up with that sort of behaviour. Blokes get all soppy when they fall for girls. It’s unnatural.” He pulled a face.
“You can’t talk Mr Snogged In Every Corner Of The Common Room!” retorted Ginny. Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry behind their heads.
“That was different!” Ron protested. “That was — that was … your fault!”
“Oh don’t start that with me,” Ginny hissed. “I didn’t make you do it!”
“I suppose you are going to tell me snogging Dean in the middle of a public thoroughfare isn’t inappropriate public displays of affection?” Ron retorted. Dean, hearing his name, looked up. As the look on Ron’s face most closely resembled apoplectic Dean stayed silent, wisely choosing not to get involved.
“Inappropriate! You want inappropriate public displays of affection?” snorted Harry. He affected a soppy tone, “Oh Hermione, let’s not worry about poor Harry and his little saving the world quest, let’s have a big snog in the middle of a battle … I had to watch that you know!”
“Quidditch Cup, Common Room!” Ron said without missing a beat. “Even!” Harry considered that for a moment.
“Okay, consider the subject closed.” Harry pulled out his own chair and sat down, heaping some chicken on his plate. Mrs Weasley studied the four of them for a moment and shook her head resignedly before turning back to her plate. Harry began to eat with relish listening with half an ear to the conversations around him.
“- Flitwick levitating a block of stone bigger than he was, thought he was gunna drop it on his own head!”
“I shall seek an application to the Ministry as soon as possible Father, I did after all enjoy my work there. I’m not sure my resignation will be valid anyway mind you, after all-”
“Do you reckon they’ll cancel NEWTS? How anyone could sit exams after-”
“No! I swear last night I heard a rumbling sound and flashing lights coming from the Forest. Downright creepy — “
“-goblins are missing a dragon-“
“-waiting for Kingsley to ask me to help capture it.”
“Hey Lee! Did you ever go back and get those fireworks we hid in the boathouse from Filch and Umbridge? You reckon they’re still there?”
“Your attention please!” Professor McGonagall’s magically amplified voice rang out through the Great Hall. “Now that we are all here there are a few notices which I wish to make you aware of before we tuck into pudding. The Minister for Magic has sent word that Hogwarts is to reopen on September first. In the interim I have been appointed to oversee the rebuilding and administration of the new school year as Headmistress. There will be special considerations surrounding NEWTS and opportunities offered for the completion of studies for those students who were unable to attend this past year.” Here she paused and her gaze rested on Harry, Ron and Hermione.
“There’s a lot to rebuild but if you wish to volunteer to help here at Hogwarts, please see me,” the Professor continued. “You are all welcome to stay here over the next few days as we prepare for the memorial service to be held in three days time. The following day, school will be officially dismissed for the year. I would like to remind the remaining students that the Forbidden Forest remains forbidden and don’t let me catch you with anything from the list of banned items that can be found hanging outside Mr Filch’s office.” She turned her steely gaze on George.
“The House Cup needs awarding and as such I have a few last minute points to award. Mr Longbottom, I suspect that you and Misters Weasley and Potter and Ms Granger have no doubt, once again, earned enough points between you to award the Cup to Gryffindor. I don’t think we need to go into specifics.” The Great Hall erupted into cheers as the four Gryffindors looked sheepishly at each other, reminded of their first year.
“Cheer up Neville!” shouted Ron. “At least Hermione didn’t have to knock you out this time!”
“No,” said Neville wryly, “being attacked by a flaming hat and nearly knocked out with a massive sword is so much better than that!” Harry looked at Neville thoughtfully.
“I reckon that’s not necessarily what earned you points mate. First year it was for standing up to your friends. I reckon this year it was definitely for standing up for your friends. Thanks Neville,” he said. Neville inclined his head in a gesture that Harry took to mean ‘no problem’ and the two of them reached for treacle tart and dug in.
Harry ignored the whisperings of the five Weasley brothers as he absently listened to Hermione talk excitedly with Neville about being able to finish her magical education.
“I don’t know how I’ll go with a year off and everything,” said Hermione. “All the things you learned last year I’ll be behind and have to catch up. It is such a disadvantage.”
“Don’t worry,” Neville reassured her. “You couldn’t possibly have missed out on anything this year as I haven’t learned much more than how to duck Unforgivables.” Harry and Hermione winced but Neville unconcernedly continued eating his treacle tart. Harry pushed his away. He was only dimly aware of Professor McGonagall stepping down from the head table and heading his way and of Fleur holding little Teddy and gushing over his chubby cheeks. He was, however, fully aware of Ginny’s thigh pressed against his, her foot hooked around his ankle and her shoulder and upper arm brushing against his as she ate. She was listening to her mother make plans for returning to Auntie Muriel’s to pick up their things before heading to the Burrow and settling back in. Just as Professor McGonagall reached their location Bill, Charlie, Ron and George stood up.
“Come on,” George was saying. “We don’t even have to leave the castle, there’s a secret passage.” Mrs Weasley looked up sharply and Professor McGonagall fixed him with a stare.
“I do hope, Mr Weasley, that you are not planning anything nefarious,” she said drily. George fixed his face into a picture of innocence and merely shrugged as if to say he was incapable of nefarious deeds or indeed anything less than the most studious and strict intentions. Professor McGonagall’s face softened as she looked at her former student. “Just don’t damage anything, Mr Weasley. We have quite enough to be fixing as it is.”
With a mock salute George turned and headed out of the Great Hall, Bill, Charlie and Ron following him. Percy waited for only a moment before turning to Harry.
“You coming?”
“Actually Mr Weasley, I need to speak to Mr Potter,” Professor McGonagall said, “if you can spare me a moment Harry?”
“Er, sure, Professor,” Harry replied. Ginny jumped to her feet calling to her brothers to wait for her.
“I’ll be back,” she grinned wickedly. “But I must know what they are up to!” She hurried off, Mrs Weasley watching her retreating offspring worriedly. Mr Weasley patted her arm comfortingly.
“Now, Mr Potter, Ms Granger,” began Professor McGonagall, “there are a few matters to which we must attend. First of all, as you heard me announce there will be a memorial service here at Hogwarts in three days, at which time we will be carving the names of those who gave their lives onto a monument that Hagrid is currently fashioning. Loved ones of those who gave their lives have been invited to carve the names of their dear ones into the monument during the service. We need someone, Mr Potter, to do Remus Lupin this service.”
Professor McGonagall paused and looked at Harry sorrowfully. Harry tried to swallow but there was a lump in his throat and he wished suddenly that Ginny had not left. Hermione reached over and took his hand and he grabbed onto her as if he were drowning. Taking a deep breath and blinking back the tears that suddenly sprang to his eyes he nodded before looking down at the table.
“Thankyou, Harry,” said Professor McGonagall, squeezing his shoulder. “I could not think of anyone better to do this for him. Secondly, Kingsley Shacklebolt has asked me if I could possibly find out if you know anything about Gringotts’ missing dragon.” She pursed her lips and Harry could not tell if she were suppressing a laugh or was showing extreme displeasure.
“Well,” said Harry, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, “I reckon he could try looking north. Er, Hagrid once told me that dragons like to head north.” He looked at Hermione who was as busy avoiding McGonagall’s gaze as he was.
“I shall tell him that, thank you. Now one final thing for now, I presume you also heard that Hogwarts will be reopening and those who missed attending this year would have that opportunity this September first,” Professor McGonagall paused and turned to look at Dean Thomas pointedly. “I should like to make good my promise to see you become an Auror, Mr Potter. For this you will need NEWTS and though you are a truly wonderful a young man, I should think you might need to study for those. As magnificent as your defensive spells are I think your charm work could do with a little sprucing up.” Professor McGonagall looked pointedly at his rumpled and rather stained robes which had not seen a particularly good laundering charm that morning.
“I would like to entreat you to return for the next academic year, Mr Potter,” she continued. “Not the least of which reasons is a desire to see the Quidditch Cup in Gryffindor one more time under your Captaincy.” She pulled a shiny badge from an inside pocket in her robes.
“Can I tempt you Mr Potter?”
Harry stared at the badge and what it represented, at what he was being offered. Ginny’s words echoed in his head. Let the adults make the decisions, he might have turned seventeen and be legally an adult but this was probably his last chance to reclaim a portion of his lost childhood. It would be his last chance to roam Hogwarts as his home; spending evenings in Gryffindor tower and having afternoon tea with Hagrid. His last chance to explore hidden passageways, captain the Quidditch team and eat until he was bursting at the Halloween feast. If he didn’t go back to Hogwarts what would he do? Could he waltz into an Auror position without sitting his NEWTS? Did he want to even if he could?
Harry looked up at Hermione who was watching him, her eyes shining. She looked excited and he knew what she was going to do. Hermione would be here with him, perhaps they could convince Ron and this, this is where Ginny would be. He looked at the shiny Gryffindor Captain badge and reached out a finger to touch it reverently.
“I haven’t got a broom,” he said and then felt rather absurd for saying it.
“Oh for heaven’s sake Harry!” burst out Hermione, clearly unable to hold it in any longer. “We can get you another broom!” Harry, jolted out of his contemplation, turned to Hermione, smiled and said,
“Yes, I’ll get a broom. I’ll be here Professor. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Hermione squealed and threw her arms around his neck babbling something about how great it would be and that they had to go to Diagon Alley and get their books and they should go together and it would be just like old times, only safe.
“I’ll send your letter on to the Burrow then,” Professor McGonagall said and handed him the badge. “And make sure you get yourself a new uniform, Potter.” With that she swept away, possibly to persuade more students to return, or perhaps tell Kingsley where he might begin looking for his missing dragon.
Chapter 6: George's Grief
Author's Notes: Disclaimer:
Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work.
As he waited for Ginny to return with her brothers Harry found his eyes constantly wandering to Teddy. Fleur was making faces at the baby who was staring at her solemnly. He watched as Neville moved over to sit next to Fleur and talk to the infant. Little Teddy began shifting his gaze between the two of them.
“Why don’t you go over and be with Teddy?” asked Hermione softly. Harry shook his head.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?” Hermione asked. “Just go and be with him, he needs you.”
“I know he needs me,” Harry looked at her sadly. “I don’t know if I can do it, Hermione. I don’t know if I can be strong for him. If I go over there, what if I break down again? What if every time he sees me I’m a blubbering mess? It hurts, Hermione. I don’t know if I can keep doing I … oh I’m so weak, why can’t I just go over there? I’m stuck here. I can’t make myself go over there. What’s wrong with me?” Harry began to pull away from her, wrapping his arms around himself and looking at Teddy who was still watching Neville intently.
“Come on, I’ll come with you, “Hermione offered, extending her hand. Harry shrank away from her. He was saved from further efforts to get him to move closer to Teddy by the re-entrance of the Weasley children, each carrying a rather large, orange box with WWW written across the sides in large print. Hermione was immediately distracted.
“What have you got there?” she demanded, rather suspiciously in Harry’s opinion. “What are you about to do?”
“Calm down, Hermione,” protested Ron. “McGonagall just said don’t damage anything and this is not going to damage anything. Rather perk everyone up I’d say, wouldn’t you George?”
“Right you are little brother!” replied George. “Beneficial is what I would call the contents of these boxes.” Harry looked away, back to Teddy who Fleur was passing to Neville. The other boy was holding the baby rather uncomfortably but he smiled as he looked down at the infant and said something to Fleur that made her laugh and coo at the baby.
“Neville’s got himself a girl magnet there,” said Charlie slyly.
“There’s definitely something attractive about a baby,” replied Bill, whose eyes were fixed on Fleur. His thoughts were clearly not fixed on the baby if the look in his eyes was anything to go by.
“Excuse me, but do you think I could put this box down now?” demanded Ginny. “If you great lumps can get out of the way, I can put it on the table.” Murmuring apologies, her brothers made way for her to put the box she was carrying on the table. As she relinquished her load she spotted Harry, arms still wrapped around himself, staring at little Teddy Lupin, tears threatening to break from his eyes and spill down his cheeks. She sat down next to him and placed her hand on his arm.
“Harry, are you alright?” Harry didn’t look at her, he watched Neville tickle the baby’s tummy. Teddy didn’t respond. He didn’t laugh, simply stared up at Neville with his big eyes and reached his tiny fingers out to bat Neville on the nose.
“He’s sad,” Harry whispered softly. “He knows his mum and dad are gone and he can’t work out where they went and why they haven’t come back. He misses her. He’s going to miss her for the rest of his life.”
“At least he won’t remember her,” said George, putting his box down next to Ginny’s. “No idea what he’s missing really.” Harry turned to George.
“Oh yes, he’ll know what he’s missing, every day. When all the other kids have mums and dads to pick them up from school, he’ll know what he’s missing. Every mother’s day, every father’s day,” Harry’s voice was getting louder, “he’ll know what he’s missing. And it’ll hurt, all the time. And some days it won’t matter that he knows they did it for him, so that he would be safe, because some days all you want is for them to be here with you because you miss them.” He stopped, breathing hard.
“Well at least he’s got no memories to torment him, every time he turns a corner, expecting them to turn up,” George retorted. “Can’t really miss it if you never had it; can’t miss hearing their voice, seeing them laugh. Can’t miss him giving you a hug if you never remembered when he was here!” The entire occupants of the Great Hall were looking at them now. Harry stood up, furious, tipping his chair over.
“Of course you can miss something you never had! When everyone around you has got it and you know you had it once,” yelled Harry, clenching his fists. He wasn’t talking about Teddy anymore, this was all about Harry and the pain he was feeling and unable to hold in anymore. Mr Weasley stood up and put out a restraining hand, his remaining sons appeared frozen, holding the big boxes, their heads whipping from George to Harry like they were watching a Muggle tennis match. Ginny and Mrs Weasley were staring at them in horror and Hermione, tears glistening in her eyes stood shocked, her hand over her mouth.
“You’re not haunted by memories, hearing things that remind you of him, not if you never had him in the first place,” George argued. “You’re not paralysed with fear in the middle of the night because you don’t know how to go on without them. Not if you never had them there, by your side for all your life. Yeah at least he won’t know what he’s missing out on.”
“Well you just try it, George!” Harry hissed. “You just try it! Take the one person who knows you better than anyone else, who’s been there all your life! The one person who’s been with you since before you were BORN! Take them away and then try and tell me I don’t know what I’m missing!” There was a collective gasp. Harry knew a split second too late what he’d said. He knew what he’d said only after the cruel words had fled his mouth in pain and in anger and grief. He would have done anything to take them back, to make them unsaid. He saw the pain etched on George’s features and wished with all his heart he could take it back. Distantly he heard Teddy begin to cry. Fleur’s voice was the only one that broke the silence, shushing the baby and trying to comfort him.
“You did take him away,” whispered George. His voice rose as he continued, “He’s gone now and he’s never coming back. I know exactly how it feels to miss someone so badly to know you’re never going to see them ever again, talk to them, feel their touch. I know what it feels like and I would rather never have known what it was like because this hurts too much!”
“You don’t know that,” Harry said softly, with steel in his voice. “You don’t mean that. It hurts just as bad when you never knew what it was like for them to hold you when you cried.” His face was flushed and angry, the two of them stood there staring each other in the face, holding their anger and grief over each other’s head like a bargaining tool.
“Oh I do mean that,” said George menacingly. “You have no idea. No idea how I feel!”
“Maybe not exactly,” spat Harry, “but don’t you dare tell me I don’t know how it feels to lose someone, that I don’t know what I am missing just because I never knew them. They’re all gone! All of them! There is no one left, no one to tell me about them, share stories with me and fill in the gaps. No one left who knew them, no one left who can share them with me because there’s no one left who shared those experiences with them. No one left who was there was I was born, who was there on my first birthday. It’s missing, it’s all missing and who’s going to fill it in now?” his anger was deflating. He slumped and looked down at the ground. He missed the look on George’s face; he missed the fact that George had drawn his wand; he missed the curse that flew his way. He heard only George hissing before the room spun as he fell to the floor.
“You think you can fill his place? You shouldn’t even have survived! Why couldn’t I still have Fred instead of you!” Harry’s vision blurred and his pulse beat faster. He heard screams and swearing and then sobbing as he lay there trying to clear his head. Hermione’s head swam into view, her mouth moving but he could not work out what she was saying and then Mr Weasley was there a concerned look on his face, but Harry couldn’t look at him. He’d hurt George, how could he look any of the Weasleys in the eye? Harry turned his head, closing his eyes and trying to move his body to curl into a ball.
He felt someone touch his shoulder and he shrank away from them. How could anyone bear to touch him after what he’d just said? Why was anyone with him anyway, they should just leave him alone and help George, poor George who had lost so much so recently. Let’s face it, he, Harry, should be dead and nobody else should have died. Voldemort was only after him. He’d lived with his losses for years surely he could deal with it by now, keep it in check and not turn on George for whom the wound was still so raw, so fresh? The world was still spinning and blackness began to cloud the edges of his vision as he finally managed to curl up on his side and he didn’t fight the blackness as it overtook him. He sank gratefully into the oblivion it provided.
**********
“How could you do that to him?” the voice shrieked. “He’s your friend! How could you, after everything he’s been through! There was no need to do that. No need.” The voice trailed off sobbing and Harry was glad it had because his head was pounding as though a freight train had run through his head instead of the level crossing at Little Whinging. Harry searched his brain for an explanation of why he was lying on a cold floor with a woman’s shrill voice screaming through his head and why he felt the need to agree with the voice. The voice was right, he didn’t need to do that he’d been completely wrong. He wasn’t sure what about exactly but he knew instinctively he’d said something wrong.
Thinking hurt and he groaned, trying to move his head and failing miserably. He brought his hands up to cradle his head but his hands were caught by someone else’s.
“Shhhh, Harry, lay still. Madam Pomfrey’s coming with something for your head,” said a soft voice from above him. “No, don’t try to talk, it’s okay.”
Hermione, thought Harry, that’s Hermione. He groaned again and cracked his eyes open to see Hermione bending over him and Ron hovering over her shoulder looking at him with concern.
“You alright mate? Anything hurt apart from your head? Took a nasty fall after you hit the table with your head,” Ron said. “Bleeding’s stopped, but I’ll not be surprised if you have a whopper of a headache right now.” Harry blinked at him.
“What — what happened?” he asked. Ron shifted uncomfortably and in the silence Harry could hear the low rumble of voices, at least one baby crying and two people sobbing loudly from somewhere nearby while several people were making various shushing sounds.
“You got knocked out when you got hit by a spell and whacked your head on the table when you fell,” said Hermione briskly. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been hit by a Bludger,” said Harry wincing at the sound of his own voice. “Who on earth wants to throw spells at me now?”
“Oh look, here’s Madam Pomfrey,” said Ron, moving aside to allow the matron through. Harry got the distinct impression that he was avoiding the question.
“Mr Potter, I was under the impression that you did not need to visit my Hospital Wing,” she started briskly, “but here we are, let me look at you.”
“I am still under the impression that I do not need to visit your Hospital Wing,” grumbled Harry. He did allow her to check his head thoroughly and mend the wound there. After making him drink a foul tasting pain potion she proclaimed that he would be best off spending the night in the Hospital Wing.
“But-”
“Don’t worry Mr Potter,” Madam Pomfrey interrupted, and forestalling his protest. “You don’t have to go there given that it is too full in any case. I will leave you in the capable hands of Mr Weasley and Ms Granger.” The hospital matron bustled away. As the pain potion began to take effect the fog in his head cleared and Harry remembered exactly what had happened. He closed his eyes and shrank away from Hermione’s concerned embrace.
“I can’t believe I said that to George,” he whispered to no one in particular, drawing his knees up to his chest. He shrugged off the hand somebody laid on his shoulder and put his head down and began to weep softly, mortified and horrified at his own actions. No wonder he agreed with the shrieking voice, how could he do that to George?
“No-ooo,” he moaned as someone firmly gripped his shoulders and pulled him into a hug. He struggled briefly but the other person was too strong for him and as he broke down he dimly realised that he was gripped in one of Mrs Weasley’s bone crushing hugs. As she rocked him and stroked his hair, whispering soft words into his ear Harry cried tears he did not know he had left and let a mother’s love truly envelope him for the first time in living memory.
Chapter 7: Harry's Despair
Author's Notes: Thanks for hanging in there. I know some people are/were a bit perturbed by the last chapter I hope over the next two chapters, this one and Chapter 8, you understand why I took Harry on this journey. It's a way for him to discover and accept something really important. I was going to leave this one a while but thought it's probably better sooner! Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work.
The following day Harry wished he had spent the night in the Hospital Wing. He knew how to get past Madam Pomfrey after a night in her clutches. Not so Molly Weasley’s. Harry wasn’t sure exactly how he got to his bed the night before. He suspected he’d fallen asleep while he was crying (again!) in her arms and presumed someone either carried or levitated him up to his four poster in Gryffindor Tower. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, if he didn’t speak of it perhaps the embarrassment would go away. When Harry had made to get out of bed in the morning he had been briskly bustled back to it by Mrs Weasley. Declaring him completely overwrought, she insisted he spend the next day in bed. Ron, breakfast and a chess board had appeared only moments later.
It had taken Ron a considerable amount of time and persuasion to get Harry to respond to him. Ron seemed to be expecting Harry to avoid conversation so had carried on one by himself, dishing out the breakfast and shoving one plate under Harry’s nose until he took it before tucking into his own bacon.
“George and Ginny have to stay in bed too,” said Ron cheerfully as he set up the chess board. “Mum made Charlie stay with George and Hermione stay with Ginny. So they don’t escape I reckon. Neither of them are sick although it was a pretty nasty Bat Bogey Ginny sent George’s way, let me tell you.
“She went mental when George hit you with that blasting hex. I don’t think it was a standard blasting hex either. Wouldn’t it be funny if George learned that form you in the first place, you know, in the D.A? That all seems so long ago now doesn’t it?” Ron stared out of the window idly as Harry pushed his plate away, having finished only half of the food on it. He turned away from Ron and pulled the bedcovers up over his shoulders. Ron seemed to rouse himself at the noise this made.
“Ginny was completely hysterical, mate,” Ron said quietly. “It took the combined efforts of Bill and Charlie to keep her away from you and George so that Madam Pomfrey could look you over. They had to give her a calming draught.” Harry gave Ron no response but Ron kept talking until noon.
After exhausting the topic of the previous nights events Ron turned to a running commentary of the memorial preparations he saw from the window, a rundown of the sports pages from the Daily Prophet and a recount of the berating he’d received from Moaning Myrtle for leaving a great gaping hole in her bathroom. Harry pretended to ignore Ron, curled up in the bed; head turned away from his best mate while Ron swung on the chair, charmed his bed hangings to shout ‘Slytherins live in the dark’ and tried to play himself at chess. It was only then that Ron’s patience showed any sign of wearing thin.
“You know, it’s a shame Mum confined Ginny to bed,” said Ron, “because she’s good at getting you talking when you are sulking. You keep this up much longer and I’ll die of boredom after surviving the bloody war!”
“Not so sure even she’d want to talk to me after what I said to George last night,” Harry said in a low voice, staring unseeingly out of the window he could just see from his bed. “You don’t have to stay here Ron, I won’t get out of bed, you can go and do whatever it is you’d rather be doing than hanging out with me.”
“Are you completely mental?” exclaimed Ron. “Why do you think she hexed George? Besides I think you and George are about even with what you both said to each other. He’s the one in the doghouse though because he’s the one who raised his wand. Mum and Dad are furious.” Harry curled further around himself and merely shook his head. There was no way any of what he had said to George was in any way excusable.
“Mate, there’s no way George really meant it,” Ron said to the back of Harry’s head. “‘Sides, George is completely torn up about last night. Was trying to get out of bed and come see you and that’s when mum lost it at him. She caught George three times before breakfast. Said you were too fragile to let George loose on you again and that George was obviously in need of a Good Lie Down. That’s when she and Dad went in and had a little chat with him about hexing the innocent and unarmed, then they sent Charlie in.
“Hermione was telling me about this Muggle book she read after Si- well after fifth year. She reckons you and George were just dishing out a healthy dose of anger and bargaining. I forget what she said you’d probably do next. She’s got a bloody list! Part of grief she reckons. See Hermione says the books say you are perfectly normal!”
Harry didn’t respond. He didn’t want to remember Sirius, he didn’t want to remember what he’d said to George. He’d been right, why should Harry survive when others didn’t live? If Harry had given himself up sooner maybe none of them would have died. If he’d found the Horcruxes sooner, if he’d not spent so long wondering about the Hallows. He hadn’t been quick enough and now families were going to pay with the lives of their loved ones. They’d been fighting for their freedom, so their children could grow up in a better world and he could have ended it sooner, so no one else had to die. He’d been ready to die, he’d been willing to die he should have died instead of Fred. Fred wasn’t ready to die, he wasn’t willing to die. Burying his face in the pillow Harry let the tears fall again.
***************
The low rumble of voices filled the room but Harry was unable to discern any individual voices at first. He must have cried himself to sleep (again!) and now some git was thoughtlessly invading his dorm room and disturbing him. As the fog of sleep lifted he was able to distinguish the conversation.
“-convinced Mum and Dad to take guest rooms and Dad took Mum to have a lie down before dinner. So they are out of the way.”
“Is Mum satisfied that we can take care of those three, she isn’t going to check up on us is she?”
“It was touch and go for a while, I think she believed Ron when he said Harry wasn’t about to leave his bed.”
“I think we all believe that one!”
“Shhhhh, you’ll wake him up!”
“I don’t think she trusts Ginny to stay in bed at all. She has absolute faith in Hermione though. I think she’s counting on George to be in too much fear to cause any more trouble.”
“We’ll be able to convince them to come down though won’t we?”
“Ginny, absolutely, the other two might prove a bit stubborn.”
“Well, let’s leave this one to Ron, we’ll work on George.”
Bill and Charlie, thought Harry dully. Ron must have gotten bored enough to finally leave. He shifted restlessly and heard the other two go completely silent. Only minutes passed before Ron returned. Harry heard Bill and Charlie leave the room and Ron sit heavily in a chair next to his bed.
“We’re having a little meeting shortly,” he began without preamble. “It’d be good if you could join us. It’s hard to have a family meeting without all the family there. We’ll be downstairs in the Common Room. It’s no good pretending you’re asleep. I know when you’re sleeping and I know when you’re awake. Don’t take too long, I don’t know how long I can keep Ginny from storming up here and yelling.”
Who does he think he is, thought Harry irritably as Ron left, Santa Claus? Harry rolled over and stretched, thinking over what Ron had said. They were having a family meeting, obviously without their parents, so that made it a sibling meeting really and his presence was expected. It made his heart feel light to feel that acceptance but he was unaccountably wary and felt what could only be described as a mixture of fear and apprehension.
Could he go out there and simply join in, with everything that had gone on last night? Just because Mr and Mrs Weasley were apparently of the opinion that George had been terribly in the wrong was this meeting just a chance for the others to set Harry straight on his unacceptable treatment of George?
Well he had to go to the loo anyway so he’d do that first and then see how he felt about venturing further afield. When he returned Harry noticed a plate of sandwiches and a goblet of pumpkin juice that had been left beside his bed and checking his watch noticed that it was mid afternoon and he had missed lunch. Suddenly he was hungry and wolfed down the sandwiches in very few bites, washing them down with the juice.
After that he got dressed. He sat on the edge of his bed getting out his wand and twirling it. It was awfully quiet. And it was rather boring and lonely to be sitting up here alone. But he was trying to be alone, wasn’t he? Absolutely. He needed to be alone. No need to complicate and confuse the lives of other people with his messed up life.
He’d just sit here then.
And be alone.
But first he’d just go down and listen to the others. Sit on the stairs just to hear their voices and know he wasn’t alone in the world. Just listening would be enough, no need to inflict his company on them at all.
Harry got up and crept silently down the stairs, his need for company gnawing at him insatiably. Silently he padded down the stairs until he could hear the voices in the Common Room.
“Ginny, don’t go up there. I am telling you he’ll come down when he’s ready. Let him come down on his own terms, not because you’ve dragged him somewhere he’s not ready to face!” Hermione’s voice drifted up the staircase.
“Well, he wouldn’t have any problems facing anything if certain individuals could keep their mouths and their wands to themselves!” was Ginny’s reply.
“You know I’m sorry about that-” George was cut off by Ginny’s scathing retort,
“It’s not me you need to apologise to!”
“Well it isn’t easy to go and talk to a bloke nobody will let me near!”
“Well you show me you can be trusted to behave like a civilised human being and I might let you!”
“Let him? Ginny you’re not exactly in charge around here!” Ron soundedrather bored and Harry got the distinct impression that Ginny and George had been having this argument for some time.
“Oh, and I suppose you are in charge, are you Ron?”
“Maybe I am, yeah!”
“If you three could put your egos and wands away and we could get back to the matter at hand ... I don’t want to explain to McGonagall how we managed to destroy the Gryffindor Common Room in one afternoon or explain to Mum how you two contributed when I was supposed to ensure you stayed in bed!” Bill sounded incredibly exasperated.
“There ees the leetle matter of what ees in these boxes you ‘ave brought ‘ere and what you want us to do wiz zem,” Fleur sounded impatient and Harry thought he could almost hear Hermione mirroring her impatience although she had not said anything.
“Fireworks,” said Percy, the word rolling off his tongue most unnaturally, in Harry’s opinion.
“We were up to the matter of repairing Professor Dumbledore’s tomb before the memorial service though. Ron, Hermione, can you just tell me why I have to keep stalling on resealing it?”
“See the thing is, Bill, well, oh Harry should really be here for this,” Hermione sounded pained but Harry was unable to propel himself forward and down the stairs into the Common Room to relieve her suffering.
“Look, he’s not here right now, so the fact is he needs to put Dumbledore’s wand back in it before it’s sealed,” Ron broke in impatiently. Harry started; he had almost forgotten the wand that was secreted in the pouch that had hung from his neck for so many months.
“But hang on,” Charlie spoke slowly. “I thought that was Harry’s wand now, it’s the Elder Wand isn’t it? I thought he was its master?”
“Yeah he is, but he doesn’t want it. He wants his own wand, he fixed it and he’s putting the Elder Wand back. So he needs the tomb unsealed until he does that,” Ron answered.
“I wonder what has happened to the other two of the Brother’s things, the Invisibility Cloak and the Resurrection Stone,” Percy mused. “If the Elder Wand is real then maybe they are too. Some people think so you know, even if it is supposed to be just a legend.” Ron snorted inelegantly.
“For a prefect and Head Boy, Perce you weren’t very observant!” Ron laughed. “Harry’s had the Invisibility Cloak since First Year!”
“Well to be fair Ron, the cloak does keep one hidden I don’t know how Percy is supposed to have seen any of us in it,” Hermione stated reasonably. Harry could see in his mind’s eye the others all staring at Ron and Hermione in shock.
“Harry’s got an Invisibility Cloak?” questioned Bill.
“And you’ve been using it to break rules, Ronald?” asked Percy sternly.
“That’s how you got Norberta though the castle without anyone seeing her!” exclaimed Charlie.
“Yeah, but it only works if you don’t forget to put in on,” muttered Hermione. “You get caught by Filch if you leave it behind after you offload a dragon.”
“I always wondered exactly what you lot were doing out of bed, losing Gryffindor so many points,” Percy said sharply. “No one took Malfoy’s babbling about a dragon seriously at all. I think he was rather put out about that actually.”
“Well,” said Hermione, sounding embarrassed, “at least we won them back and it really did work out-”
“Charlie, am I to understand that you encouraged these children to hide and transport an illegal dragon?” Percy interrupted.
“Could we not refer to us as children?” protested Ron. “I shave you know!”
“Well how old were you then, Ronald? At eleven one is still a child,” Percy said officiously.
“I was twelve by then actually, so was Hermione, hey I wasn’t there anyway it was those two. Harry was still eleven though. Dunno if he shaves though …” Ron trailed off.
“You’ve lived with him for how long now?” Hermione exclaimed incredulously, “How can you not know if he shaves?”
“Well, we don’t visit each other in the bathroom, Hermione, we’re not girls!”
“I ‘ope he shaves,” said Fleur thoughtfully. “Ozzerwise our birthday present was useless.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Fleur,” interrupted Ginny, “he shaves.”
“How do you know?” Ron asked sharply.
“So anyway,” Bill said sounding half amused and half exasperated, “how did Harry get an Invisibility Cloak?”
“It’s a family heirloom; Dumbledore passed it on, Christmas of First Year,” Ron reminisced. “Between that and the map you two gave him I reckon we’ve seen every inch of this castle.”
“Map? What map?”Percy sounded indignant at the thought that Harry and Ron had been getting away with things right under his nose with more than one artefact of which he had no intelligence.
“Getting back to the point,” interrupted Charlie. “That doesn’t prove the Resurrection Stone ever existed.”
“Well no, it doesn’t,” said Hermione. “So if we could move on …”
“Have you seen the Resurrection Stone, Hermione?” asked Bill shrewdly. Harry could have heard a pin drop in the silence that followed.
“Yes,” Hermione whispered eventually. She continued in a stronger voice. “Anyone who was at Hogwarts last year would have seen it.”
“Harry got hold of it, didn’t he, Hermione?” Ginny’s tremulous voice floated up the stairwell and Hermione sighed.
“Yes, Professor Dumbledore left it to Harry inside the snitch he left him in his will.”
“Okay, out with it Hermione, exactly how much of this story are we missing?” Charlie asked and Harry listened to Ron and Hermione fill the others in on the Horcruxes they were searching for, the quest for the Three Brothers’ artefacts and ultimately how and why Harry had ended it.
“So you’re saying that Harry was one of these hor thingies and he had to stand there and let You-Know-Who kill him to get rid of it, and he walked out there knowing that was the only way to end it? He knew and he let the tosser do it?” George’s voice was hollow. Harry figured Ron or Hermione had nodded because the only sound he heard was Ginny as a sob ripped from her throat. He wanted to run to her but felt drained of all energy and it seemed to take forever to go down each remaining step. He had reached the bottom step, not quite in sight of the Common Room when Ron cleared his throat and his voice cut through the stillness.
“So these fireworks then, how are we going to set them out? If we put them in place tomorrow we don’t have to worry about them on the day of the memorial and we can set them off afterwards.”
“We could set them on the Quidditch stands,” said George quietly. “The higher they are the higher they’ll go. They have to be set with care though; it’s actually a bit dangerous.”
“You could ask Hagrid to help, he likes dangerous things,” said Harry as he stood in the doorway. Eight heads whipped around and then Ginny ran over to him, gripping him painfully in a bone crushing hug.
“Are you alright? Is your head okay? Does anywhere else hurt?” her eyes searched his, probably for any sign of a falsehood.
“I think my lungs are about to be punctured by an overzealous hug,” he wheezed. Ginny blushed and apologised, letting him go and straightening out his robes. Then she grabbed his hand and pulled him over to sit with the others. As they neared the fireplace Harry sank into his favourite chair, pulling his hand from her grip and his knees up to his chest, he stared into the fire. Ginny paused before sitting on the arm of his chair. Harry shrank away from that side of the chair, curling into himself even further. Possibly the others noticed as no one spoke for several minutes.
“Well, I think that asking Hagrid is a splendid idea,” Hermione eventually said briskly. “Perhaps Grawp can help, you know for the really high ones.”
“I think levitating them would be safer, Hermione!” protested Ron. “Grawp’s not exactly the picture of grace is he?”
“Ees your muzzer going to approve of these fireworks?”
“Probably not!” said Charlie cheerfully. “Oh she’ll be fine with the fireworks themselves but if we all vanish to set them up she’ll think we’re up to no good and if she knows what we are doing she’ll think we are going to hurt ourselves. Someone’s going to have to distract her.”
“I think perhaps I had better keep mother company tomorrow,” said Percy officiously. “I will at least try and convince her that none of you are up to no good, although I am not sure she will believe me.”
“She’s never going to believe you if you try and say that about us - about me,” George faltered. The room fell silent again all of them keenly aware of who was missing, of their loss. Harry blinked desperately to stop the tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. For once he succeeded and he continued to stare resolutely into the fireplace. After a few moments Bill spoke.
“George, I reckon you have something to say.” Harry heard someone shift uncomfortably and clear their throat. He remained staring into the fire, uncomfortably aware that he owed George an apology.
“George, I’m sorry about what I said last night,” Harry managed to say quietly, still looking into the fire. “I was out of line and I shouldn’t have said that to you.” Harry thought he heard George swear under his breath. There was a rustle of robes and suddenly George was standing in front of Harry who flinched and backed himself further into the chair. George squatted on his haunches, making his face level with Harry’s.
“I think I owe you an apology Harry,” he stated simply. “I belittled your loss, blamed you for Fred’s death, wished you were dead and drew my wand on you. That’s pretty poor form and it really has no excuse.”
“But it’s all true,” Harry whispered in a pained voice as he raised his eyes to finally look at the assembled Weasleys and Hermione. “Why am I still here when other people are dead? I shouldn’t be here, I should be dead. Other people have sacrificed family. You have all sacrificed family. I don’t have any family so it should have been me; my family isn’t going to miss me are they? They’re gone.” Harry got up abruptly, making George stumble backwards, and headed towards the portrait hole. He got halfway there before he felt a strong hand on his arm, spinning him around.
“Don’t you ever think that you don’t have any family to miss you,” Bill said. “We would all lay down our lives for you —“
“Well of course you would, Dumbledore convinced everyone they had to. Protect me; coddle me until I get to die at the hands of some madman who accidentally turned me into something that tethered him to this life and then I can take him out on the way down!” Harry shouted, jerking his arm away from Bill.
“No,” said Bill fiercely. “We would all lay down our life for you, in a heartbeat, because you’re family, because we love you and we don’t want to lose you.”
“Fred’s life wasn’t worth more than yours,” said George as he walked over. Harry took a step back. “If anyone had made me choose between you and Fred I’d have chosen myself before either of you. He knew what he was getting into. We knew that fighting for our freedom could mean death but we had to do it, to make this world safe. It’s not your fault. Fred and I knew what we were doing and we knew why.” George stopped in front of Harry who had backed into a wall and crossed his arms over his chest. He knew that if he looked anything like he felt he currently looked like a cornered animal. George let out a breath and ran his hands through his hair before swearing softly. He turned to Bill and while the attention was off him Harry took the opportunity to flee.
He escaped out of the portrait hole, ran down the stairs and darted behind a tapestry hiding a secret passage on the sixth floor. He had been petrified that George was going to draw his wand on him again and it was an unnatural and unnerving feeling. Harry stopped and leant against the wall, breathing hard. He had heard George’s voice and he knew that George wasn’t going to hurt him but that didn’t stop his body betraying him and he had been unable to control his reactions. Was this how it was going to be from now on? Would he be always deathly afraid of everyone?
Harry sank to floor, his head in his hands. If they loved him, as Bill had said, why was he so terrified?
Chapter 8: Finding Family
It was quite some time before Harry raised his head and decided he had better get moving. He was surprised that no one had run after him but he wasn’t about to bemoan his fortune. As he idly wandered along the secret passage which he knew would take him to a door near the greenhouses, as long as it hadn’t been blocked or otherwise blown apart during the battle, Harry decided that he needed to return the Elder Wand to Dumbledore’s tomb. He wondered if he could do that without being seen but soon cursed his own idiocy, his Invisibility Cloak was in his pouch along with practically everything else he currently owned, which wasn’t much; his razor (which he most definitely used), three wands, a shard of a mirror, the Marauder’s map, a broken Snitch, a letter from his mother, a baby photo, his Gringotts key and his cloak. As he reached the door at the other end of the passage Harry put the cloak on and slipped outside.As he passed the greenhouses Harry noticed that Neville had roped a number of Gryffindors in to helping him continue to fix them up. Seamus and Dean were attempting to repair a number of terracotta pots while Lavender, who was still covered in bandages, was watching Parvati levitate overturned tables. Dennis Creevey was sitting in the corner of one greenhouse idly flicking ear muffs back onto a row of hooks in the wall. He looked drawn and pale with circles under his eyes and Harry’s heart clenched as it was filled with the sorrow of Colin’s loss. Dennis must have come back for the memorial, he would have been evacuated as a fourth year. Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell and Oliver Wood were helping Neville repair the panes of glass in the roof. Assorted sixth years were repotting plants in an already repaired section of the greenhouse.
Well, that explained the empty Common Room. Harry wandered out onto the grounds and dodging various students, families and teachers made his way to the tomb by the lake. The immediate area was deserted, the work to rebuild being carried on in other parts of the castle grounds. As he walked Harry drew the Elder Wand from the pouch around his neck stopping short a scant metre or two from the white tomb. Harry felt a surge of anger as he looked at the devastation that Voldemort had wrought on the final resting place of his mentor. He approached the tomb with trepidation, knowing what he would see inside. It didn’t make it any easier to approach Dumbledore’s body, reach out and place the wand back on the chest of the body.
“Goodbye, sir,” Harry whispered into the stillness. “Thank you for believing in me and trusting in me. I hope I never let you down.” And Harry felt, rather than heard, a voice whisper on the wind,
“You could never let me down, goodbye Harry Potter.” Harry retreated from the tomb, tears glistening in his eyes and cast the strongest spells and charms he could think of to repair and reseal the tomb.
****************
As Harry sat hidden in the shadows of a large bush at sunset, gazing across the lake and skipping stones across the top of the water he felt more at peace than he had done for hours. He twirled the hawthorn wand in his hand while he contemplated the events of the last few hours. He relished the opportunity to sit and think without myriad things to claim his attention. A voice suddenly broke his quiet contemplation.
“The whole castle’s looking for you, Potter,” Draco Malfoy spoke without malice. “Weasley and Granger are going mental and his mother’s practically lost it.” Harry looked down at the wand in his hand and mutely held it out to Malfoy who took it hesitantly.
“The Weaselette’s nearly hysterical,” Malfoy continued, “keeps ranting and raving about losing you. Your whole family’s gone nuts, Potter.” Harry stared at Malfoy in shock.
“I don’t have any family, Malfoy,” Harry rasped, his voice croaky from disuse. “Better go back to your mother before she flips as well.” Malfoy shook his head.
“You don’t get it, do you Potter? That family doesn’t care that you don’t share their genes. You are one of them as surely as if you were born in that hovel.” Harry growled. Malfoy continued,
“Weasel’s dad has gone and organized search parties to scour the castle and told them he’ll not lose another one of his boys. There’s frantic redheads everywhere you turn. I don’t reckon my own mother has ever shown as much concern for the fruit of her loins as that woman is showing for you. Anyone would think she birthed you herself. If you think you’ve got no family you are more touched in the head than Goyle,” he finished. Malfoy shook his head and turned to walk away.
“You’re wrong, you know.”
“Come off it Potter, you must have heard them when they thought you were dead!”
“No, not about the Weasleys,” Harry paused, “about your mother.”
“What would you know about my mother, Potter?” Malfoy spat.
“Your mother betrayed Voldemort for you. He sent her to check that I was dead,” Harry stood and faced Malfoy. “And she told him I was because when she asked, I told her you were alive. She knew that the only way to get into the castle, to get to you, was to convince Voldemort I was dead so that he’d lead them back triumphantly and tell them to surrender instead of just destroying the castle and everyone in it, including you.
“Tom Riddle never knew his mother. He never knew his mother loved him so he didn’t understand the depth of a mother’s love,” Harry had a sudden thought. “I reckon that’s why he and your Auntie Bellatrix got along so well. She didn’t give much thought to a mother’s love either or she never would have taken on Mrs Weasley after trying to throw a killing curse at her daughter.
“My mother’s love for me saved me nearly seventeen years ago. Your mother’s love for you helped save you and everyone else two days ago. Don’t ever think she wouldn’t lay down her life for you, because she would, in a heartbeat.” And with sudden clarity Harry heard Bill telling him exactly the same thing.
Harry noticed the stars that were beginning to twinkle on the dusky horizon and remembered Mrs Weasley’s fear at their late arrival the night before. Glancing at his watch he noted the time meant that dinner was about to get underway in the Great Hall when he noticed some scratches along one side of the face. He mentally shrugged, oh well at least they matched the dents on the back.
“-traditional to give a wizard a watch when he comes of age…it was my brother Fabian’s…it’s a bit dented on the back…”
Harry suddenly took off in the direction of the castle, sprinting towards the great oak door. As he skidded to a stop at the top of the marble steps, breathing hard, Harry heard a commotion coming from inside and if he wasn’t mistaken it was being caused by some Weasleys. He pushed the door open and came face to face with a raised wand.
Because he was breathing hard from running Harry managed to hide the fact that his heart began to thump heavily in his chest and his breathing quickened. He stood petrified, staring down the business end of a wand, unable to move.
‘What is happening to me?’ he thought wildly. He stood there holding his breath, his pulse racing, eyes fixed on the wand. Dimly, as if from far away he heard voices calling his name. The wand moved and Harry breathed. Slowly the rest of the Entrance Hall came into focus. Hermione was there, peering at him concernedly. Had she seen him freeze, no, panic. He’d panicked, had she seen that?
“You people have got to stop pointing wands at me,” he puffed, pushing down the anxiety that threatened to overwhelm him.
“Stop being a git then! Where on earth have you been?” retorted Ron. Harry flinched and shrank back as Ron gave off a very uncanny impression of his mother, only taller. In fact now that Harry thought about it Ron seemed about twice as big as he usually did. “We’ve been looking for you for hours! You can’t just take off like that! How would we know if something had happened to you? Oh we probably wouldn’t, would we? Not until someone brings your body back!” Bill stepped forward, putting his hand on Ron’s shoulder which seemed to shrink him back to normal size.
“That’s enough Ron,” he said softly. “Harry, are you alright?” Harry nodded mutely all too aware of his own palpitating fear that seemed to throb between them like a heartbeat.
“Ron’s just a bit worried about where you’d got to. No one is going to hurt you Harry,” Bill murmured. He had clearly not managed to fool Bill. “Mum’s a bit frantic but if you come and let her feed you she’ll be right.” Harry found his voice.
“Could you check Dumbledore’s tomb when you get a chance, please Bill? I repaired it and sealed it with the strongest charms I know but they are still pretty basic. I’m not sure I know enough about sealing tombs and things.” Bill nodded and Harry took a few deep breaths and fought to control his emotions. Shoving his hands into his pockets, determined to hide the fact that they were shaking, Harry looked around to see who else was in the Entrance Hall.
It looked as though Charlie was the one who’d been brandishing a wand as his still dangled loosely from his hand while he examined Harry critically. Ron had crossed his arms over his chest and was staring defiantly at the floor. Hermione was examining Harry with a very calculating gaze.
“So what’s been going on here, then?” he asked.
“Ron had a slight problem with you running off,” said Charlie. “It’s been making him a bit irrational.”
“I think the events of the past few days are catching up with all of us,” came Mr Weasley’s voice from the shadows. Harry started, he hadn’t seen the Weasley patriarch on his first scan of the Entrance Hall.
“I’m sorry,” Harry said quietly, running a hand through his hair. The shaking had abated and he was feeling more himself again. “I just needed to get away. I needed some time to think.”
“Not to worry Harry, not to worry,” Mr Weasley said. “Let’s get inside and let everyone know we found you.”
“I really am sorry,” said Harry again, staring at the top of Ron’s head, willing him to look up. “Things have been making me a bit, er, jumpy today.”
“Quite alright Harry, quite alright,” said Mr Weasley. “Now how about we go in and call off the search. If we don’t get you in there soon Molly will be out here and I really don’t think we need a repeat of last night on top of everything else.”
Mr Weasley turned and led the way into the Great Hall. There was food on the table but the occupants at one end of the Gryffindor table were not eating it at all. George was staring idly at the table, gouging a small hole it in it with the point of a knife. Mrs Weasley was staring at the fireplace as if waiting for someone to Floo in, Fleur was drumming her fingers on the table, staring fixedly at the water jug and Ginny had drawn her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, all of them ignoring the food Percy was piling onto their plates.
Ron ambled up to them, sat heavily in a chair and started piling his own plate high. His arrival seemed to rouse the other occupants.
“Did you find him, Ron,” his mother demanded.
“Well, he turned up eventually, yes,” Ron said sullenly. Mrs Weasley shrieked and jumped up.
“Well why didn’t you say so!” she demanded and she hurried around the table, her eyes seeking Harry’s as he stood behind Bill. “Are you alright? Where have you been? If you keep disappearing like that you’ll give us all heart attacks!” She seized his face, searching his eyes. Harry fought the urge to pull away. Eventually she released him and pushed him into the chair next to Ginny.
The tension hung over them like a thick blanket as they ate. No one spoke, the hum of other occupants of the room swarmed around them like a low buzz. Harry pushed his food around his plate and suddenly, unable to stand it any longer, he cleared his throat.
“I’m sorry I ran off this afternoon,” he began. “I just needed some time to think.” Ron’s hands started shaking and he dropped his knife. He wouldn’t look Harry in the eye. Hermione’s eyes darted between the two of them; she was studying them as if trying to figure out a giant puzzle.
“I-I’m fine now,” Harry finished.
“Well don’t go disappearing again,” Ron said quietly. “I can’t go through that again. I was scared for you Harry.” He finally looked up at Harry. There was pain radiating from him. “When you took off I couldn’t help it, I thought you weren’t going to come back this time or that something might happen to you. I got so angry that you might be gone. I couldn’t bear it if you didn’t come back.” Hermione sniffed.
“It’s okay,” said Harry, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m here to stay; you can’t get rid of me you know. You guys are my family.”
“Good,” said Ron and he surreptitiously wiped his face with his sleeve as he said it. “Now I think it’s time for pudding.”
Harry turned to look at Ginny. She was playing with her food, her face hidden by a curtain of hair. Harry reached over, putting his hand on hers and he felt her suddenly turn her hand over and grab his tightly. He left his hand resting gently in hers for the rest of the meal.
Chapter 9: Remembering Fred
Author's Notes: Revised version - I polished up the commas ;) . They are probably still wrong ... lol
Everyone gradually relaxed after Ron and Harry had cleared the air although Bill still looked at Harry, when he thought Harry wasn’t looking, as if there was still some mystery to be solved. Harry listened as conversation around them gradually started up.
“I want to replant the garden, when we get home,” said Mrs Weasley. “Perhaps there will even be time to fix up The Burrow a bit.”
“Yes, it’s overdue for a painting I’d say,” mused Mr Weasley. “I wonder what it will be like to work for the Ministry under Kingsley Shacklebolt. I expect that after the horrible place it has recently been I’ll more likely be fixing things up for a while rather than chasing biting teakettles.” Percy engaged his father at once in a discussion about working for the Ministry and where he might set his sights next. Harry’s attention wandered to other conversations.
“I can’t leave just yet,” Charlie said softly to Bill, “but I do want to go back to the dragons.”
“I don’t even know if I still have a job,” said Bill. “Who knows how the war’s affected how Gringotts runs.” Hermione was talking animatedly to Fleur about completing her magical education but the conversation that transfixed Harry began when Ron questioned George about what he was going to do when they left Hogwarts and began to settle back into life again.
“I’ve got to back and see what the shop’s like, haven’t I?” George began. “I mean we left plenty of charms on it but who knows what sort of state things are in. I expect Auntie Muriel’s a bit swamped in Owl Orders by now as well. They were coming in thick and fast a couple of days ago. Oh she’s going to be furious with us for leaving that cauldron going, come to think of it. There will be so much we have to do. I wonder if Verity will be able to come back and work for us. She’s a great little shop assistant and-” George broke off abruptly. He sighed as he scrubbed a hand over his face.
“Auntie Muriel’s not going to be furious with us, is she?” he said tonelessly. “And Verity isn’t going to work for us at all. We don’t have a lot of work to do. I do. Just me. There is no us anymore.” He turned to Ron suddenly.
“How do you do it? Be, just yourself; just me. Just I, no us? I can’t even think of me as an ‘I’. I keep saying us. How am I going to live by myself, with no us, with just me?” George’s voice dropped to a whisper that Harry only barely caught. “How do I just be me Ron? I don’t think I can be alone. I’ve never been alone.” Ron gazed solemnly at George before reaching out a hand and resting it on George’s arm.
“You won’t be alone, George. I know I’m not Fred but I won’t leave you alone,” Ron looked resolutely at George. “I’ll be there.”
“What about your seventh year?”
“I’ll figure something out.”
“You would do that? For me? Because I don’t know how to be alone?” Ron nodded. George studied Ron for a moment.
“Okay, but you can tell Mum!” Ron laughed. It rang out across the Great Hall. It didn’t take long for George to join him.
As the dishes vanished down to the kitchens below people began drifting over to the group of Weasleys. Soon there was a large group of current and former Gryffindors crowded around the table telling stories and reminiscing. Charlie soon had the group listening avidly to a recount of his first Quidditch match. Harry looked over at Ginny who was listening to her brother, a smile on her face. He watched her for a while, his hand still resting in hers before he slowly began to trace lines between the freckles on her arm. The small gap that had been between them diminished as Harry began playing with her hair and the back of her neck. Ginny still hadn’t turned to look at him but somehow she was in his lap and his nose was buried in her hair as he nuzzled the side of her neck behind her ear.
“So, Potter, have you got a better seeker catch than that?” challenged Charlie when he finished his story. “And do I have to watch you two do that?” Harry blushed. Not only did he have no idea how Charlie had caught the snitch in his first game but he’d been caught out by one of Ginny’s brothers while totally lost in her scent, the heady rush he got from just being near her.
“Well, tell Charlie your first match, Harry,” suggested Oliver Wood, who was sitting opposite Harry. “I reckon that was pretty impressive!”
“Well I suppose it is a pretty good story. And I don’t think Charlie would appreciate the story of my first practice — you know, the one where you told me that you’d not be surprised if I was a better Seeker than Charlie Weasley,” Harry grinned. “My first match I was so nervous I couldn’t eat, we were playing Slytherin and I’d never even seen a Quidditch match before. And yet Professor McGonagall had said how I’d caught Neville’s Remembrall during flying lessons, after a fifty foot dive without a scratch and Charlie Weasley couldn’t even have done it, it was a lot to live up to!”
“I thought you were going to tell us about your first match, Potter, not how everyone thought you were better than me,” Charlie grumbled.
“Just setting the scene,” Harry smiled. “Halfway through the game I’m up above all the other players, so pretty high, and my broomstick starts going nuts and I was dangling off it with one hand. Actually, let’s skip the bit about why. So when it stopped I got back on, how I managed that so high in the air without falling I’ll never know.
“I saw the Snitch and I just headed into a dive to catch it. Brilliant dive by the way. There I am, hurtling to the ground when I caught it … in my mouth. Nearly swallowed it actually. Of course it wasn’t exactly graceful since I let go of the broomstick to clap my hand over my mouth and fell onto the ground. Oh wait, I’ve got it here …” Harry reached into his pouch and found it, pulling it out. It fell in two halves on his palm.
“It seems like a lifetime ago,” said Hermione. Harry sat quietly contemplating the Snitch and remembering that during that match Voldemort was actually trying to kill him and Snape was trying to save him. They were events that took on a whole new meaning for him now.
“I wonder if we are going to have Quidditch next year,” mused Ginny. “There wasn’t any this year, not that we’d have stood much of a chance really, down a Chaser and the Keeper and Seeker and Captain missing in action. I’d love to play next year.”
“Well the Seeker and Captain were one and the same,” Ron said, “It’s not like you were missing four players. I reckon if they’d had Quidditch you still could have fielded a side. You had Beaters didn’t you?”
“Reserve Chaser wasn’t about either and who do you think was going to be Keeper? McClaggen had left anyway but it’s not like there’s any other contenders,” continued Ginny, “I don’t know how we’re going to field a team next year anyway. Guess I won’t be playing any more Quidditch.”
“Well,” said Harry slowly, “you’ll have to try out like everyone else or it’ll look like favouritism, but I’d say you’ve got a pretty good chance of making the team.” Ginny spun around so quickly she nearly fell off his lap. Harry smiled at her.
“What do you know, Harry?” she asked, “What do you know that I don’t know?” Harry casually reached into a pocket and withdrew the Quidditch Captain’s badge he’d received from Professor McGonagall the night before.
“I’ll let you know when trials are when we get back,” he said offhandedly. “I haven’t decided when to hold them yet.” Ginny stared at the badge.
“You’re coming back to Hogwarts? You’ll be here, next year?” she said in wonderment.
“Yeah, I’ll be here,” Harry said. “I’ve hardly been on a broom this year though.”
“Oh that won’t make any difference Harry! You never miss the Snitch!” called Oliver Wood.
“No, because someone drummed it into him in Second Year to catch the Snitch or die trying!” George yelled. “He’s taken that on board you know!”
“I did miss it third year though,” Harry said. “When I fell off during that Hufflepuff match and Cedric caught it. Fred reckoned you were trying to drown yourself afterwards!” Harry had managed to say both Cedric’s and Fred’s names without flinching and only a slight tremor of the badge he was holding gave away his emotions.
“Pffft, Harry,” said George, “If you are going to relive that memorable moment when you were devastated and Wood was suicidal because we lost a Quidditch match, you have to do it right! Here, you lay down and be all banged up from falling fifty feet, shouldn’t be too hard, you look about as good now as you did then, only taller. Wood, remember to sulk, and Harry, moan about losing to Hufflepuff.” George leapt onto the table.
“Remember what Fred said before we left?” George asked Harry. “I’ll impersonate him, since none of you sods will do as good a job as me.” George turned to Charlie and winked.
“Don’t beat yourself up, Harry, you’re still the best Seeker we’ve ever had!” George finished with a flourish.
“Oi!” protested Charlie. “You guys are supposed to be on my side!”
“Fred, do get down off that table!” Mrs Weasley said absently as she hurried past. The silence was deafening. George remained standing on the table; his eyes followed his mother as she hurried away. The rest of them held their breath.
“And she calls herself our mother,” muttered George. He turned to the group sitting around the table. “Told you I do a downright accurate impersonation of Fred!” The silence was still laying over the group like a thick blanket when George climbed down from the table. Harry could see that George’s knuckles were white as he grabbed the edge of the table, holding on as if to steady himself. Suddenly George burst out, desperately, as if trying to fill the giant void that had opened up in the room,
“Harry! I have a great idea!” his voice was unnaturally loud. “Let’s play Quidditch!”
“What? It’s kind of dark,” Harry started. George waved him off impatiently.
“Not now, tomorrow. We’ve got all the old team here,” he waved in the direction of Oliver, Katie, Angelina and Alicia. “Well, al-almost anyway, we can play together, like old times and you can get some practice in. Wouldn’t do for the Gryffindor Captain to be so out of practice he has to drop himself from the team!”
“Who are we going to play?” Harry asked cautiously, he wasn’t at all sure how stable George’s emotions were.
“Well I can’t think of everything! Are there enough Ravenclaws here?” George’s voice seemed to be wavering and he was speaking almost too fast to understand him.
“I’ll find a team,” came Charlie’s unexpected voice. “I’d like the chance to settle who is really the best Seeker Gryffindor’s ever had.” He winked at Harry, his eyes watching George carefully. Bill was looking thoughtful.
“That’s really good actually,” he glanced around to check where Mrs Weasley was. “If we are playing Quidditch we have the perfect opportunity to be at the pitch — setting the fireworks. I’ll be your Keeper, Charlie.”
“Hey!” said Ron. “I wanted to be Keeper!”
“We need another Beater,” George said to him. “Come and be a Beater with me.” His tone was almost pleading and Harry didn’t know how much longer George would be able to hold himself together. Ginny went over to George and hugged him. With her arms still around his neck she said quietly,
“Playing a match is a great way to remember Fred. I think it’s a brilliant idea.” Wrapping his arms around his sister George laid his head on the top of hers and let his tears fall unrestrained at last.
**********************
“I can’t believe you’ve talked me into this Charlie!” Percy exclaimed early the next morning, holding a broomstick as if it was about to explode.
“Oh come on Perce! I was running out of options. We need someone! You’re all I could think of!” Harry was trying valiantly not to laugh at the thought of Percy acting as a Beater. Charlie had managed to convince Dean and Seamus to be Chasers with Ginny who had jumped at the chance to play Quidditch. Bill had cornered Neville and pleaded with him to be one of their Beaters but they had still been one beater short. Bill was currently trying to sweet talk Madam Hooch into giving them some practice Quidditch balls. Mrs Weasley had not tried to talk them out of playing Quidditch. It seemed as though she thought they deserved a day to have fun. She admonished them all not to hurt themselves however.
Bill and George had hastily conferred and informed the others that they’d practice in the morning and put the fireworks securely in place then. Lee Jordan had been drumming up a crowd to come and watch the actual match later that afternoon, after the grounds had been set up for the memorial the next day. Hermione had set herself the task of transfiguring ordinary robes into rudimentary Quidditch gear to distinguish the teams. Ron had tracked down enough broomsticks and he, Harry and Ginny had spent time cleaning and repairing them suitable for flying. Everything was set except Percy now seemed to be backing out at the last minute.
“I got the practice balls!” Bill exclaimed climbing through the portrait hole. “It’s easy to get anything you want if you tell someone Harry wants it.” Harry scowled.
“Yeah, I know,” said Ron. “Just tell them Harry’s after a few broomsticks and suddenly they find their keys to the broomshed!” Harry’s face darkened.
“They’re teasing Harry,” said Ginny. “I was with Ron when he wheedled the keys out of McGonagall and he didn’t mention you at all.”
“Well, it’s not funny,” grumbled Harry who had not slept particularly well the night before. “I’m going back to bed, wake me up when you all go down for practice.” He could feel everyone’s eyes on him as he climbed the stairs to his dorm. He closed the door to his dormitory behind him and slumped against it. He had not experienced nightmares the night before but every time he closed his eyes he’d seen either a pair of red eyes or flashes of green light or his sleep had been restless and interrupted. He’d soon given up trying to sleep shortly before dawn and sat in the Common Room, pretending he’d only been up for a few minutes when he’d been discovered shortly before breakfast by an agitated Ron.
His exhaustion must have been the antidote to the visions of red and green and he fell asleep within minutes of crawling into his bed and pulling the covers up to his chin.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d slept when he felt a pillow crash down on his head and a voice yelling.
“Get up lazybones! It’s Quidditch time!”
“Ron, keep it down to a dull roar,” Harry complained as he crawled out of bed. Ron threw a set of transfigured Quidditch robes at him.
“C’mon, get dressed, let’s go!” Ron seemed hyperactive but Harry couldn’t help smiling because he hadn’t seen Ron this excited for a long time. As they stumbled down the last few steps and burst into the Common Room Harry saw Charlie and Bill still trying to convince Percy to play. It was not going well. Apparently during their practice, while Harry had been sleeping, Percy had not had a good time. Suddenly a flurry of activity burst across the room as Fleur leapt out of her chair and strode across the room, snatching the broomstick from Percy’s grasp.
“I weel do eet!” she huffed. “I do not know why you deed not ask me before!”
“Er, you play Quidditch, Fleur?” asked Charlie.
“Of course I can play Quiddeetch! Why you have not asked me zat before I do not know,” she huffed, nose to nose with Charlie. “Of course I do not like to play zis game on brooms and I ‘ave not played Beater before, but ‘ow ‘ard can zat be? You ‘ave too many bruzzers and forget zat women are capable of zings!” She looked quite ferocious and as she turned away to snatch the last set of transfigured robes form Hermione.
“Well if all women are like you I’m glad I haven’t got any more sisters thank you very much,” said Charlie under his breath. Harry was not surprised to see Ginny turn on him.
“What exactly does that mean?” Charlie cowered, she had her wand out. Ron grew impatient and began bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“Who cares what that means,” he whined. “I wanna go play Quidditch!” Ginny began spluttering.
“You-you, I, well, you’re just — BOYS!” She stomped away from Charlie and made to move past Ron and Harry when he reached out and pulled her to him, dipping her exaggeratedly and giving her a big smacking kiss amidst a chorus of wolf whistles and groans, the latter definitely came from Charlie and Ron, before setting her upright again.
“Something wrong with boys, Ginny?” he smirked. Ginny, whose face was now tinged with pink and wore a rather dreamy smile, shook her head. Harry released her and trailing his arm down to her hand, squeezed it, saying,
“I’ll see you after practice, at lunch,” before he turned and climbed out of the portrait hole with Ron.
*****************
It felt good to fly again. It was exhilarating to fly with his old team. After setting their packages of fireworks with the help of Lee Jordan and Hagrid (who had hugged Harry and squeezed him so hard that Harry was sure he’d almost cracked more than one rib), the team put themselves through some drills and played a number of games Oliver Wood showed them designed to practice Quidditch skills. By the time it came to playing the match Harry’s team seemed confident and excited.
The stands were packed, it was as though everyone currently staying at the castle had come to watch the match. Lee Jordan was commentating, though it seemed he had a hard time convincing Luna she need not assist. Harry found it hard to contain a smirk as he flew past to see Lee mouthing ‘Loser’s Lurgy?’ at the back of her head. Madam Hooch had agreed to referee the match and as Oliver and Charlie shook hands Harry soared upwards feeling freer than he had in quite some time.
“Welcome to the Inaugural Fred Weasley Memorial Quidditch Match!” announced Lee. That was new; Harry had not known they’d given it a name. As Lee announced the players of each team, who had been dubbed ‘The Best Team Ever’ and ‘The Challengers’ by Lee he noticed Charlie rise up to join him, high above the other players.
“Ready, Potter?” he challenged.
“Absolutely, Weasley,” Harry returned, grinning. “You are so going down.” Madam Hooch released the balls and blew the whistle to start. Harry began scanning for the Snitch, flying around the pitch with ease despite the rather dodgy broom he was on.
It took a while to get used to the quirks of the broom, it wasn’t anywhere near as fast as his Firebolt had been but his skills as a flier paid off and he soon had the broom responding exactly as he liked, if at about half the speed. As Lee commented on the manoeuvres by the Chasers Harry found himself watching Ginny, her face flushed with excitement and her ponytail streaming behind her. Charlie swooped past him.
“You’re not going to find the Snitch that way mate,” he laughed. Harry forced his attention back to the job at hand.
It seemed no one had taken Fleur’s assertion that she could play Quidditch seriously and equally clear that they should have. Angelina, Katie and Alicia spent more time dodging bludgers sent by Fleur than playing the Quaffle. This was balanced somewhat by Oliver being a much better keeper than Bill by virtue of his professional Quidditch experience. George and Ron seemed to delight in sending bludgers at Ginny in what Harry assumed was an attempt at getting him distracted for a laugh. It had the advantage of distracting Charlie who constantly flew between Ginny, to see if she was alright and Ron and George, to reprimand them.
“Would you two idiots stop that!” bellowed Bill at his siblings exasperatedly after his mother had screamed several times at the sight of a Bludger heading Ginny’s way. Ron and George looked at each other sheepishly and then hit the approaching Bludgers at Dean who, nearly unseated from his broom, swore at them.
After that Charlie spent his time alternating between various strategies that other Seekers had used on Harry before and when Charlie decided to tail Harry, he led him on a merry chase right through the centre of the pitch, easily dodging the Quaffle and the Bludgers that knocked Charlie sideways. At one stage Harry thought he had seen the Snitch and headed down the pitch but the glint of gold vanished before he’d gone more than a few feet. As the match wore on he found it harder and harder to shake the other Seeker. Lee’s exuberant commentary was, for once, largely uninterrupted by Professor McGonagall.
“Wood blocks a fabulous attempt at a goal by Ginny Weasley, she’s a great Chaser that one, could we see her in the professional league one day? And Bell, looking mighty fine I must say, has got the Quaffle for The Best Team Ever and she scores! Bill Weasley should stick to his day job! No, Luna, I don’t think he’s been attacked by Wrackspurts, I think he’s just not a very good player!
“Oooh that has got to hurt, Fleur Weasley has just sent a Bludger that’s hit all three opposing Chasers leaving the space wide open for all of theirs to assault the goals — Wood, you can’t save goals by ducking! And The Challengers score and it’s 90 — 120 in favour of The Challengers, who on the whole are probably just relying on Ginny and Fleur — Neville you’re not supposed to duck the bludgers, hit them man!” Ron and George seemed to change tactics then and began hurling Bludgers at Neville to take him out.
“He can face Voldemort but he can’t face a tiny little iron ball!” Harry heard Ron say as he swooped past him. It was then that Harry realised Fleur had changed her own tactics and was directing Bludgers that came her way to Harry. He began a complex weaving pattern designed to evade them, putting distance between himself and Charlie as he did so.
As he drew up in front of the commentary box he noticed Lee desperately trying to convince Luna that the weather conditions were not worthy of comment and he really needed to get back to the game. Percy had obviously been thrust the magical megaphone and was staring at it in distaste. He looked up and past Harry before raising it to his lips and bellowing,
“I think Charlie’s seen the Snitch!” Harry swore and spun around. Charlie Weasley was indeed hurtling rapidly across the pitch but following his trajectory Harry knew he wasn’t heading for the Snitch, plus he saw it glinting near Oliver’s head. His eyes on the Snitch, Harry flew at a steady pace towards Oliver who was hovering near the middle goal ring. It didn’t take long for Charlie to abandon the feint and begin circling the pitch. As the Snitch darted towards the ground Charlie seemed to have caught the flash it made as it changed direction and both Seekers were now heading for the Snitch, their acceleration making it apparent that they were both seeking the real target.
Harry took off after the Snitch which rapidly changed course several times, while deftly dodging Bludgers sent by a recovered Neville and a ferocious Fleur. George and Ron soon joined him to hit the Bludgers back at Charlie who was rapidly catching up. The Snitch led them the length of the pitch about four feet from the ground before rapidly spiraling upwards. Harry saw Ron go spiraling out of control towards the ground, righting himself only inches from the ground, before he tore upwards after the Snitch, Charlie close on his tail.
Harry sped past Bill, nearly knocking the older man off his broom, leveled off and tore across the pitch once more as he gained on the Snitch. Suddenly the Snitch dove earthward and Harry followed it without hesitation, the ancient school broom hurtling towards the earth with the speed of a rocket.
“And Potter is gaining on the Snitch, Charlie Weasley is totally on his tail, their reputations as Gryffindor’s best Seeker is at stake here, ladies and gentlemen, you will have the answer to that question settled this afternoon and if I am not mistaken Potter’s going to take out the title!” Lee did not distract Harry, his focus was on that tiny gold, winged ball. The ground was hurtling up to meet him at an accelerated rate and he thought he could hear Mrs Weasley scream something about foolishness and if her boys didn’t meet their deaths this way she would kill them herself.
A scant few inches from the ground the Snitch leveled out and Harry forced himself to remain hurtling towards the earth until the last moment. He felt Charlie pull out of the dive a few seconds earlier and as he pulled up sharply to skim the grass with his toes, Harry stretched out his arm to the Snitch and felt the ancient broom wobble precariously. It had obviously not taken the sharp turn and deceleration well and began to thrash from side to side. Desperately struggling to hold the broom on course Harry urged it forward, coaxing a few more feet out of it before he closed his hand around the Snitch, raising his hand triumphantly.
As the crowd cheered and Lee punched the air, declaring, “Harry Potter is the best Seeker Gryffindor has ever seen!” Harry felt the broom shudder and dart upwards. He clung with one hand on the broom as the broomstick wove dangerously from side to side, gaining altitude before suddenly losing all power and speed and dropping suddenly, heading to the ground below, it’s descent completely untamed. He considered that not actually being on the Quidditch team seemed not to affect whether or not he could go through a year without serious incident or injury during Quidditch as he hit the ground and blacked out.
Chapter 10: Memorial
Every muscle and bone he had ached. His head throbbed and if he opened his eyes pain stabbed through them like knives. It didn’t hurt this much to die. That was how he knew he was alive.“Harry,” he heard a soft voice, “Harry, can you hear me?” Harry groaned and felt a warm touch on his cheek. He tried to open his eyes but it hurt too much. He heard the voice again and leaned into the hand that was stroking his cheek.
“Mum is he going to be okay?”
“M-Mum?” groaned Harry.
“Can you look at me, Harry?” the soft voice asked again. “Can you open your eyes and look at me?” Harry tried to open his eyes but it hurt too much, the light was hurting his eyes. He shook his head instead but that hurt more and he moaned in pain.
“It’s okay Harry. Don’t try to move. You just lay there. It’s okay to sleep if you want to,” said the soft voice.
“Mum?” he whispered.
“Shhh, yes I’m here, it’s okay now, just sleep.” And Harry drifted off, comforted by the soft voice whispering to him and the warm hand stroking his face.
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When Harry awoke again the pain had greatly receded. He was able to open his eyes and the soft candlelight that illuminated the room showed he was in his bed in Gryffindor Tower, the covers tucked neatly around him, a tray of food kept warm on the bedside table and Mrs Weasley asleep in the chair pulled up to his bed. Harry put on his glasses and eased himself up on the pillows.
In her sleep Mrs Weasley looked careworn and troubled. Harry could see the grief she was suffering and only sometimes managing to hide when awake, laid bare on her sleeping face. He realised that hers was the warm hand and soft voice he had heard earlier when he’d awoken in pain and that she was the one who had whispered she would stay with him. And she had.
Carefully, he could feel no less than four recently repaired bones, wincing only slightly, Harry climbed out of bed and took the coverlet from his bed and draped it over Mrs Weasley. He didn’t feel hungry, he still felt rather nauseas and as such chose to ignore the food on the bedside table. After making it to the door without incident he stepped out of the dormitory in search of company. He could hear a low rumble coming from the Common Room and hoped that he would not have to go any further to find Ginny. He needed to see her and if he had looked as bad as he had felt earlier she needed to see him, preferably upright.
As Harry entered the Common Room unnoticed he saw George in front of the fireplace, surrounded by the rest of their team, clutching what looked suspiciously like a chipped plaster statue of Fred, wildly gesticulating to the assembled audience. Judging by the look on Ron’s face and the barely concealed laughter on Ginny, Bill and Charlie’s, the subject of George’s discourse was probably a trick he and Fred had once played on Ron.
“I’m going to miss him,” he heard George say quietly as the crowd in the Common Room grew silent. “Anyway, time to be all solemn tomorrow. Here’s to Fred, and Quidditch and to the best Seeker Gryffindor’s ever seen - not Charlie Weasley!”
“Yeah, yeah,” grumbled Charlie. “But does he always fall off his broom?”
“Yes!” came a chorus of voices.
“Hey! I do not!” exclaimed Harry. “There’s usually at least one game a year I manage to stay upright!”
“Harry!” exclaimed Hermione, “how did you get past Mrs Weasley? Are you alright? Should you be out of bed? How are you feeling?” She fired off her questions, putting Harry in mind of a Muggle machine gun.
“I’m fine, Hermione,” said Harry as a red blur came hurtling across the room, throwing herself at him.
“You’re awake!” Ginny threw her arms around his neck and he had to throw an arm out to the wall behind him to ensure he stayed on his feet. “Are you really okay? Mum shooed me out about half an hour ago so I could have dinner, she said she’d tell me when you were up!” Harry wound his arms around her waist.
“I’m fine,” murmured Harry, “especially now.” And he buried his face in her neck, planting kisses along her collarbone.
“He’s doing that to annoy us you know,” Charlie’s conversational tone cut through his senses.
“It’s working,” stated Ron matter of factly.
“And what are you going to do about it then?” asked Bill with amusement.
“Absolutely nothing!” George simpered in falsetto. “Do you know who that is?”
“Yes,” replied Percy. “The best Seeker Gryffindor has ever seen!” The occupants of the Gryffindor Common Room burst out laughing at the disgruntled look on Charlie’s face and the rude hand gesture Harry had directed at George behind Ginny’s back, his lips still on her skin.
“I zink eet ees sweet,” Fleur said dreamily as Harry wound his hand into Ginny’s hair, she arched her neck, exposing her throat for him to kiss before he moved up to her lips.
“I told them not to do that in front of me — I swear, they are doing that on purpose!” Ron whined before Hermione shushed him loudly. Harry pulled away from Ginny and grinned at her.
“I missed you,” he whispered. “It’s a good thing your mum is asleep or she would probably have kept me prisoner up there in my bed. But I needed to see you.”
“I needed to see you too,” Ginny whispered back. “Come sit with me?” Harry nodded. He let her lead him over to a chair by the fireplace and they sat in it together, curled around each other like a pair of cats. Harry played drowsily with Ginny’s hair as he let the conversation of others wash over him, eventually succumbing to sleep in her arms.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
When Harry awoke from a fitful night’s sleep filled with echoing flashes of green and piercing red eyes he was back in his own bed with Ron and Neville snoring loudly beside him. Mrs Weasley had gone, along with the dinner tray, and a neatly pressed set of black robes were laid out across the foot of his bed. He did not want to think on how he had been returned to his bed (again!) but the prospect of thinking about why he had a set of black robes was even less appealing.
Today was not going to be an easy day.
He got ready for the day slowly, the rest of the dormitory’s occupants rousing slowly from sleep. Dean and Seamus had also been asleep behind their curtains and for a few moments Harry could almost capture the spirit that had echoed throughout his years at Hogwarts as Neville poked Ron to stop him snoring, Ron grumbled back at him before lumbering out of bed and into the bathroom, Seamus looked in vain for socks and Dean straightened out a rather faded looking West Ham poster that had obviously been left up since sixth year.
Harry sat on the edge of his bed after tying his shoes, staring into space.
“You alright mate?” asked Ron. Harry sighed. What was the answer to that question anyway? He wasn’t dead from the battle or falling from a broomstick. He was safe and cozy tucked up in the castle. He wasn’t going hungry. He had finished the task he’d been set by Dumbledore. His whole life stretched out in front of him, Voldemort free and unfettered. So many things that had not been alright over the past year were now alright but that didn’t mean he was alright, not today. Today was going to be a difficult day. He looked at Ron.
“Not today, I’m not, but soon,” he said. “Soon I’ll be alright.” He got up, sighed heavily and turned to go down to breakfast.
The mood in the Great Hall was somber. Ron and Harry joined the rest of the Weasleys and Hermione at the Gryffindor table for breakfast but nobody was really eating anything. George and Mrs Weasley both looked pale, the latter showing the beginnings of dark smudges under her eyes. Eventually even Ron gave up the pretence of eating and they simply sat there, the murmur of Mr and Mrs Weasley’s conversation about returning to The Burrow a low hum in the background. It seemed as though Mr Weasley, Bill, Charlie and Percy were planning to return to the Burrow that morning to ensure all was in readiness for the family’s return the next day.
The Memorial Service for those who had fallen during the Battle of Hogwarts was not due to start until late afternoon and Harry had little to occupy his thoughts until that time. He had just begun to think that he could not simply sit in the Great Hall all day and should do something, anything would do, when he noticed Professor McGonagall approaching, Kingsley Shacklebolt trailing in her wake.
“A word with you if we may, Mr Potter,” the Professor asked. She did not sound nearly as severe as she usually did, the sorrow around her eyes making her look less severe also. Harry shrugged and stood up.
“Do you know the charm required for — for this afternoon, Harry?” Harry nodded, his memory of the last time he had carved words into stone making it too difficult to speak.
“Oh good,” Professor McGonagall sighed in relief. “Mr Creevey hasn’t yet learnt it. I am afraid it had not occurred to anyone that his education had not advanced far enough. Ms Granger, I don’t suppose you have time to teach it to him?” Hermione nodded and made to get up but George stopped her.
“I’ll go,” he said. “I need something to do.” As Harry watched George leave a sudden thought occurred to him, one that had not occurred to him before. Snape’s body was probably still in the Shrieking Shack. Did any of the Order grasp his true role or what he had ultimately done? Whose side he was really on? Had anyone understood the nature of his bravery during that confrontation with Voldemort? Was Snape’s name going to be carved into the gleaming white monument?
“Kingsley!” he said breathlessly. “Snape! Has anyone retrieved Professor Snape’s body? Who’s carving his name on the monument?”
“He has been retrieved,” Kingsley rumbled in his deep voice. “We have been unable to find his next of kin. It appears he doesn’t have any magical family left. At present I do not know who will carve his name, most likely a Ministry Official or perhaps a member of the Order will volunteer.”
“I’ll do it,” Harry said firmly, Kingsley nodded. “Er, what was it you came to see me about?”
“Perhaps we could use my office, Minister?” suggested Professor McGonagall. Harry glanced at Ron, Hermione and Ginny before he turned to go, his face telling them he’d come and find them when he finished, before following the temporary Minister for Magic and Interim Headmistress from the room.
When they got to McGonagall’s office Kingsley wasted no time in turning to Harry and getting straight to the point.
“People are clamouring for an awards ceremony,” he began. “More than one person has asked why I haven’t scheduled one to give you the Order of Merlin. It’s obvious they want to see you.” Harry stared at Kingsley, aghast.
“I haven’t even buried those I lost!” he spat. “I don’t want some stupid awards ceremony and people gawking at me! I won’t do it!”
“I’m not asking you to Harry,” Kingsley’s deep voice was placating. “I just thought perhaps we could make a statement in the Daily Prophet to satisfy people for now. I wouldn’t want to put your name on anything without speaking to your first though. Will you speak to someone from the newspaper, just briefly?” Harry glowered.
“Can’t you just release a statement that I’m busy mourning the dead right now and they can all wait until I’m ready?”
“Well, yes, I suppose that would be sufficient, but you can’t dodge this forever, Harry,” sighed Kingsley.
“I know I can’t,” Harry replied, “but I can put it off. I’ll come and see you next week.” Kingsley made arrangements for Harry to contact his secretary and left, saying he would see them that afternoon. Professor McGonagall turned to Harry.
“We’re all here for you Harry, no one will let you go through this alone,” she paused as Harry studied the floor. “Take your time, you have time.”
“Thanks,” Harry muttered. He had not yet reckoned on the impact to his fame. It’s not that he was stupid and thought it wouldn’t impact but he hadn’t exactly had time to reflect on it. His life could turn into a circus.
“Anything else, Professor?” he asked McGonagall.
“No, nothing else, Mr Potter,” she shook her head sadly. She paused for a moment, clearly considering if she should say something. “When Albus left you at the Dursley’s I argued with him. He convinced me that you’d be better off away from the fame, until you were ready. I wish I could spare you now, Harry, but I think now you are ready. As a child you were far better off, growing up away from all that, but we can’t and shouldn’t shield you any longer, you’re not a child anymore.” Professor McGonagall paused, “that’s not going to stop Molly Weasley mothering you though. You should let her.” She patted him on the shoulder and ushered him out the door. Harry spared her half a smile before striding off down the corridors in search of Ron, Hermione and Ginny.
On the way out of the Great Hall, after failing to find any Weasleys or Hermione, he found Dean Thomas and Luna Lovegood and if he wasn’t mistaken they had just been snogging behind a suit of armour that had been set back crookedly on its plinth.
“Hello Harry,” sang Luna. “Ginny said to tell you they’ve gone up to the Common Room. Mrs Tonks was with them. I think she wants to talk to you. I expect a lot of people want to talk to you don’t they Harry?” Harry just nodded.
“Well, we don’t, do we Luna?” said Dean. “Er, not that we don’t like you or anything mate but well, you see, things to do, you know…” He trailed off and Harry failed to hide a smirk.
“Oh yes, come on I was going to show you my pictures of Flibbering Flobgobblers,” and Luna began tugging on his hand. Harry was not at all convinced that Dean followed her because he wanted to look at Flibbering Flobgobblers. He gave Dean a wink and a little salute as the other man trailed after Luna and then continued up the Grand Staircase, heading for the Common Room. It was a lengthy procedure because it seemed the portraits were among those who wanted to talk to him. At first he politely accepted their congratulations and effusive thanks but by the fifth floor he was nodding curtly and striding past, muttering a general thanks to four or five portraits at a time.
Harry reached the portrait of the Fat Lady who, without looking up, droned,
“Password?”
“Er,” Harry began, he realised that he had no idea. The first morning he, Ron and Hermione had found the portrait hanging drunkenly open and the Fat Lady fled and they had simply crawled through. Since then, he realised, he’d been carried up there unconscious or asleep or someone else had opened it. “I don’t know it.” The Fat Lady looked up startled.
“Oh it’s you, you don’t need it!” and the Fat Lady began an effusive shower of thanks that lasted for several minutes. Finally managing to get her to stop Harry ventured,
“So d’you think I could go in?” The Fat Lady, who had begun crying with joy (Harry hoped it was joy) sniffed rather loudly, blew her nose with a noise and a handkerchief that would put Hagrid to shame and swung open. Harry climbed awkwardly through and then stopped, transfixed at the sight that greeted him.
Ginny Weasley was sitting in a squashy armchair by the fireplace, Teddy Lupin cradled in her arms, talking animatedly to him. Sunlight streaming through the window reflected off her hair and Ginny’s face lit up as she spoke softly to the baby who was looking up at her and smiling. Harry leaned against the wall, at the entrance to the Common Room and watched her. He had no desire to disturb the tableau because it was one of the most beautiful things he had seen in quite some while.
Harry watched as Ginny made faces at the baby, would she one day cradle his baby, their baby, and talk lovingly to them? Would she make those faces at his son? As he watched her bring her face right up to Teddy’s and rub noses with his and then blow a raspberry on his neck before moving down to do the same to his fat little tummy, Harry knew without a doubt that one day he wanted her to do that to his son. To their baby.
He was so caught up in watching Ginny that he did not notice Mrs Tonks join him. He realised she was standing at his side only when she said softly,
“She’s quite a picture isn’t she?” Harry felt a blush grace his cheeks at being caught staring at his girlfriend. It felt wonderful to think that. She hadn’t been his girlfriend for a year, but she was now and Mrs Tonks was right, she was a picture.
“Yeah,” he breathed, “she’s beautiful.” Harry turned back to watch Ginny with the baby once more.
“Harry, could we have a talk? There’s a few things I’d like to say,” Mrs Tonks said hesitantly, as if she feared Harry would refuse.
“Sure,” began Harry, “I wanted to talk to you the other night but, well there were a few issues.” Harry looked sheepishly at the floor.
“Oh yes, issues like shouting matches with young Mr Weasley,” Mrs Tonks was looking at him kindly although he could see the sorrow etched on her features. She inclined her head towards a small table near one of the windows and the two of them made their way there, Harry waving at Ginny as she looked up and saw him. Ginny did not attempt to get up but simply smiled at him and nodded briefly before turning back to Teddy and stroking his downy head.
“I’m sorry about Ted and about Dora, Mrs Tonks,” Harry said as he sat down.
“Thank you, please Harry, call me Andromeda. I think perhaps that we shall be getting well acquainted in the coming years. It wouldn’t do to stand on ceremony,” she smiled a sad smile at him. “Dora and Remus told me that they had made you Teddy’s godfather.” She paused and it seemed as if she wanted him to speak.
“Yeah, Remus asked me the night he came to tell us Teddy was born,” Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair nervously. “I don’t know a lot about being a godfather because I never really had mine, but that just means I want Teddy to have me around. I have no idea what I am doing but I want to be around for him.
“I don’t know anything about babies Mrs — Andromeda, I’m surprised I didn’t break him the other day. I don‘t really know him. I want to though. Can I come and visit sometimes, so that me and Teddy, we can get to know each other?”
“Oh, of course you can! Anytime you want to,” Andromeda looked wistfully at her grandson. “He’s all I’ve got left. Sometimes I can’t believe he’s all I’ve got left.”
“If you or Teddy need anything you know you can ask me,” Harry stated. It was not a question. “If it’s within my power, I’ll do it.” Andromeda looked at him.
“There isn’t a lot that isn’t within your power, Harry Potter.” Harry blushed. He was not going to let Teddy down. He didn’t blame Sirius for anything that had happened to him but he was also determined that Teddy would know his godfather and he was going to give him all that he could. And he needed to start by actually picking him up voluntarily.
“Can I - can I hold him?” he asked hesitantly. Andromeda smiled.
“I think if you can pry him away from your lovely young lady you can hold him as long as you like.”
Harry spent the rest of the morning with his godson. It hadn’t taken Harry long to pry the baby away from Ginny, it seemed Ginny liked watching Harry with a baby as much as Harry liked watching Ginny with one. The two of them played with Teddy, consoled him when he cried and even managed to feed him a bottle and subsequently burp him without getting into too much strife.
Teddy had a little crease in his forehead that mimicked the one Harry had often seen on Remus when he was trying to figure something out and when Teddy changed his hair pink and his little eyes crossed involuntarily he was the image of his mother. He was fascinated by Harry’s glasses and whenever he saw Ginny it wasn’t long before he changed his hair to a lovely shade of red. It seemed as though he had a fondness for dragons because that was the toy he most avidly followed when Harry charmed the stuffed toys in his pram to fly around him. When Harry commented that he wasn’t going to introduce him to Hagrid then, if he liked dangerous things Ginny pointed out perhaps he just liked it because it was red. So Harry charmed all the toys red and little Teddy was mesmerised.
“His favourite colour is red,” Harry smiled. “It’s a good choice mate, I like red too. Red hair is simply marvelous, especially when it’s all shiny and it smells good.” Teddy stared up at Harry from his position nestled in the crook of Harry’s arm. He’d just had his bottle, Andromeda had changed his nappy and he was looking a little drowsy. Harry reached out a finger to trail down Teddy’s cheek and the baby’s eyes fluttered shut. A few moments later Teddy was squirming so Harry patted him on his back. He was sure he’d seen Aunt Petunia do that with a visiting baby once when he was small. It seemed to help calm him so Harry lay back semi reclined on the couch he was sitting on and shifted little Teddy to lie with his chest on Harry’s so that he could more easily pat his back. Teddy lifted up his head and gazed at Harry, making a soft cooing sound.
“It’s okay little guy,” Harry crooned. “You can go to sleep, I’ll still be here when you wake up.” Harry did not see Ginny watching him as Teddy laid his head down on Harry’s chest and Harry began patting his back. The baby sighed and snuggled closer to Harry, shifting slightly to situate himself over Harry’s heartbeat. Harry watched Teddy drift off and then his eyes drifted shut as well and the two of them slumbered on the couch in front of the fire under Ginny’s tender gaze.
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“Awwww isn’t that cute.”
“Stop it!”
Harry opened his eyes to find Teddy awake but still cradled on his chest and Ron sniggering a few feet away while Hermione remonstrated with him.
“Hey Ron, have you met my godson?” Harry rose from the couch, walked to Ron and handed little Teddy to him, stifling a snort as Ron paled and held the baby most awkwardly. For his part Teddy gazed up at Ron, a look of fascination on his tiny features, before turning his hair a fetching shade of red.
“Well he’s a bit of a midget, Harry,” said Ron. Hermione made impatient clucking noises with her mouth and proceeded to sit Ron down in a nearby chair and instruct him on how to hold a baby. Harry was stunned to see Ron go along without complaint.
“Girls go all mushy when they see a baby,” came a voice from his elbow and Harry turned to see Charlie watching Ron and Hermione as Ron cradled the infant in the crook of one arm while he pulled faces at him. “Especially a bloke holding a baby.”Charlie looked sideways at Harry.
“I reckon a bloke can go all mushy for a girl if they see her holding one too, Charlie,” Harry said, without missing a beat. He turned to Charlie and grinned evilly. “Ginny has been holding Teddy most of the morning.” Charlie shot him a disgusted look. Harry just smiled as he recalled exactly how Ginny had looked that morning, unaware that Charlie was now looking, shocked, at the expression on Harry’s face.
“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” said Charlie so softly Harry barely heard him. Harry turned to look at Charlie then.
“Yeah, I reckon I am.” Charlie was silent for a moment before he said,
“She’s in love with you. She has been for years,” he paused and smiled. “You should thank Bill and me. We bought her a picture book for her fifth birthday. I reckon she’s had her heart set on you since then.”
“What was the book called?” asked Harry, curious and yet dreading the answer at the same time.
“The Boy Who Lived, the Harry Potter Story,” grinned Charlie. Harry rolled his eyes and turned back to see Hermione remonstrating Ron who appeared to be trying to sing the Chudley Canons theme song to a protesting Teddy.
“I doubt anyone fell in love with anyone else over a picture book, Charlie,” he said. “They made picture books? That’s mad.” He paused. “D’you reckon she still has it?” Charlie stifled a laugh.
“Positive mate. I watched her pack it when we went to Muriel’s!” Harry resolved to examine this curious artefact from Ginny’s childhood as soon as possible. Teddy was fussing in Ron’s grasp and Harry stepped forward to relieve him of the burden.
“Come on, let’s go and find grandma little one,” he crooned, his stomach rumbled. “And maybe some lunch.”
Harry felt the eyes in the Great Hall on him as he strode in, holding a screaming baby. He noted thankfully that he had indeed found Andromeda and handed the infant over quickly when the woman came hurrying towards him. He noticed that Mrs Weasley was looking at him rather thoughtfully and he quickly found a seat next to Ginny, pulling a plate of sandwiches towards himself. Ginny herself seemed to have been staring at him with a distant smile on her face and Harry recalled with a jolt what Charlie had said about girls falling for blokes with babies and then about her childhood book.
“Hey Ginny,” he said casually, “I was thinking about getting Teddy a book, what sort of wizard storybooks did you read when you were little?” Ron and George choked on their food and coughed, Bill turned to look at Charlie a questioning grin on his face and Ginny turned bright red.
“Oh, well a few different ones, you know, Beedle the Bard, Maida the Muse,” Ginny trailed off and hastily stuffed a sandwich in her mouth.
“Yeah, we know Beedle,” muttered Hermione. “Bit more intimately than we ever wanted to really. Say Ginny, did you guys ever have one of the picture books about Harry? I’ve never read one and well, there’s bound to be new editions now I’d love to know if you’ve still got an old one tucked away somewhere. It’d be fascinating to compare them.” Ginny’s brothers, including Percy burst out laughing and Mr Weasley looked bemused. Ginny turned a deeper shade of maroon and turned beseechingly to her mother.
“I know there was one,” sad Mrs Weasley thoughtfully, not seeing her daughter at all. “I expect it’s somewhere in the attic now.” Ron stopped laughing with some difficulty and looked at Harry who winked at him.
“Mum, I think I know exactly where to find that book,” Ron proclaimed. “As soon as we get Ginny’s stuff back from Auntie Muriel’s she can get it for you.” Ginny made a noise like a strangled cat and leapt from her chair but Harry caught her wrist and pulled her back down into his lap. When she failed to pull herself away from the arms that snaked their way around her waist Ginny simply buried her face in his chest in embarrassment.
“Shame on you, teasing Ginny like that,” he grinned at the assembled red heads. “I think it’s endearing that she’s got a Harry Potter storybook and she’s kept it all these years.” Ginny’s head shot up and she looked him in the eyes.
“You knew? Which one of them told you?” her eyes narrowed as she looked at her brothers in turn who studiously began collectively studying the ceiling of the Great Hall which showed a perfectly clear, cloudless day. Harry nudged his head into Ginny’s neck, nuzzling her ear and said softly,
“Don’t be embarrassed, Ginny, I think it’s dreadfully sweet.” She grinned evilly at him before switching her attention to Ron.
“Don’t worry Ron, when I packed my precious childhood possessions in case of impending doom I also packed all your comics and all your letters from Hermione, you know the ones in the box marked ‘Letters from the future Mrs Ronald Weasley’”, said Ginny, watching Ron turn a spectacular shade of red and turn to growl at her. He looked ready to lunge across the table at her. Ginny’s eyes were dancing with laughter in a way they had not been for quite some time and Hermione, faintly pink, was holding onto Ron’s arm and whispering something that was hopefully calming in his ear.
“That’s enough, you lot,” said Mr Weasley mildly. “I’m afraid we need to finish up and get ready for this afternoon. What did Kingsley want this morning, Harry? Anything of concern?”
“Only if you count increased fame and an Order of Merlin of concern,” sighed Harry. “There’s too much going on to worry about that now. I managed to put him off but I’m going to have to deal with it sooner or later. I need to say good-goodbye first.” He blinked, willing the tears that were threatening to vanish. He’d been having a good day under the circumstances but now he just felt sad again and he tightened his hold on Ginny’s waist.
His words seemed to sober the group at the table and they all returned silently to eating contemplating the difficult afternoon ahead.
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As Harry headed out of the castle, towards the lake, he saw hundreds of chairs set out in rows facing the white marble tomb, a large white marble slab had been erected next to it, etched with a border of swirling vines. The sun that hung over the beautiful summer’s day caressed his face as he walked across the grass. He was horribly reminded of Dumbledore’s funeral. Filch standing silently near the castle doors in the same mothball scented suit did not do much to change that.
Gripping Ginny’s hand, Harry followed Mr and Mrs Weasley slowly up the aisle between the seats to a row near the front where they filed in and took their places, George and Harry sat on the edge of the aisle so that they could exit easily when their part of the service was scheduled. Harry, noticing a buzz had erupted nearby and catching a few words that sounded like ‘Harry Potter’ slouched in his seat and reflexively flattened his fringe over his scar. He then concluded that he wasn’t fooling anybody by doing it and he’d better start getting used to it. He let out a lengthy sigh.
“Yeah, I know,” said George quietly his eyes fixed on the blank white slab. “I don’t know if Dennis is going to hold it together. He was a mess earlier today.” Harry squeezed Ginny’s hand tighter in his grip and clasped his other hand on George’s shoulder. The chairs were filling up slowly and on the small raised dais Kingsley and Professor McGonagall had taken their seats but it wasn’t going quickly enough for Harry. Every minute he sat there dragged on and with every minute he heard more and more whispers that sounded like his name.
Dennis Creevey came slowly up the aisle, his footsteps dragging as he got closer to the front. As he stopped hesitantly near George and Harry, staring at the great white slab, members of the DA stepped silently up behind him. Neville slung an arm around the smaller boy’s shoulders and as the rest of the DA filed into the row in front of Harry, Neville held Dennis while he cried. Harry shifted his gaze to stare fixedly at the lone tentacle that the Giant Squid was waving out of the Lake in an effort to stop the tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks. A quiet sniff from George indicated that he had not managed the same. As Harry slipped his arm awkwardly around George’s shoulders Dennis pulled himself from Neville’s grasp and flung himself at George who hugged the younger boy. For a few moments the three of them huddled together and simply cried, Harry losing his battle with the falling tears.
Soon Dennis had been seated between George and Harry, the Weasleys having all moved up a seat to make room. The younger boy was pale and shaky, making no attempt to stop the stream of tears that ran like rivulets down his face. Harry remained almost motionless, one hand resting in Ginny’s and the other arm along the back of Dennis’s chair. George appeared to be staring fixedly at the back of Neville’s head, one foot tapping a silent but nervous rhythm on the grass. The low hum of conversation ceased as Kingsley Shacklebolt rose on the dais and cast a Sonorus charm on his throat.
Harry didn’t hear what Kingsley said, mostly. He heard that they were there to remember those who had died in the battle four days ago. He heard that they had fought valiantly and were brave. He heard that the cause they died for was good. And he heard that the world was safe and their deaths not in vain. He could also hear the contradictory sound of birds chirping in the trees, the creaking of the Whomping Willow’s branches and the lazy splash of the Giant Squid. He heard Hagrid as he blew his nose on his tablecloth sized handkerchief. He heard muffled sobs and sniffles and the occasional splash as a tear dripped from Dennis’s face and landed on the chair with a soft ‘plink!’ Harry forced his concentration back to Kingsley.
“-and we honour their sacrifice as we remember them and as we live our lives fully, doing all the things that they died to give to us. They did not die to see us mourn, they died to see us live. So let us mourn for a time, so that they will not be forgotten and then live as they would have us live. For in becoming the people that they wished for us to become we do their memory the greatest honour.
“For all those who fought at this battle, for all those who fought in this war and the last and for all those who have laid down their lives so that our children can grow up in a safe world, we live. And our lives will stand as a monument to those who gave theirs.”
Professor McGonagall rose as Kingsley sat down, a scroll in her hands. For a moment it looked absurdly as though she was about to commence the sorting, a notion that was momentarily served when she unrolled it and began reading, alphabetically, the names of those who had perished in this, the last battle. One by one the closest kin of those who had died defending Hogwarts and in defiance of Voldemort came forward, most being supported by family members, to carve the names on the memorial and as they did so a minutes silence was observed for each of the fallen.
Creevey wasn’t very far down the list but when Colin’s name was read out, Dennis did not move. He remained shaking and pale perched on the seat between Harry and George. Harry nudged him with his arm but this did nothing to move Dennis who simply looked, petrified, at Harry. As Harry gazed at the younger boy he didn’t stop to think as he tightened him arm around his shoulders and pulled Dennis with him as he stood up. He had taken two steps when he realised that George had risen also. The two older wizards flanked the younger, arms around him as they walked slowly up to the monument.
Harry and George held Dennis upright as, through his tears, he carved ‘Colin Creevey’ on the monument, an everlasting reminder of the enthusiastic young photographer. Harry stood there, his eyes reading over the people who had been lost before he, George and Dennis turned around and still holding one another up returned to their seats.
Harry watched as Andromeda Tonks, tears streaming down her face, stepped quietly up to the monument and carved her daughter’s name there. And then McGonagall was reading out Remus John Lupin and Harry numbly got to his feet once more. Somehow, he didn’t know how, Harry found his way to the monument once again, this time alone, and raising his wand etched the name of the last of his parents’ friends beneath ‘Nymphadora Tonks Lupin’, tears streaming down his cheeks. His heart ached as he read the words he had carved and his mind flashed back to Shell Cottage and Dobby, his name carved on a headstone there.
Blindly he made his way back to his seat and Professor McGonagall read on, down her list. The names of people he’d never heard of etching themselves on his memory as surely as they were being etched into the stone. Miles Midgley…Rudolph Pemberton…Enid Plaskett…Mary Romily…Elias Scriven…
Severus Snape.
Harry rose wearily to his feet once more unable to know if he was capable of going up there one more time. He gripped Ginny’s hand and squeezed it tightly before letting go and turning to make his way back to the monument, his heart heavy, the beat pounding relentlessly through his ears. His hands shook and he gripped the chair in front of him. Suddenly a strong arm grasped his shoulders and he was pulled into a rough hug. Ron guided him back up to the monument and held him up while he carved the name of their once hated potions master into the monument. Ron and Harry had not left the monument when Professor McGonagall’s clear voice shook as she read the final name on her scroll.
Fred Weasley.
They stayed, motionless at the monument as George rose slowly and stepped out into the aisle. Harry could hear Mrs Weasley sobbing into her husband’s shoulder and see Ginny clinging to Hermione as George made the short, solitary journey to the monument. A wand gripped tightly in his white knuckled hand George stood before the monument, his head bowed, fighting the tears that threatened to cascade down his cheeks. He raised the wand, and Harry realised it was Fred’s, and began to shakily carve the name. He got only as far as the first ‘e’ when he faltered, nearly dropping the wand as he sank to his knees. And then Ron was there, kneeling beside his older brother, holding George’s hand up, steady in his own, to finish carving their brother’s name. Then Harry and Ron wrapped their arms around George, pulling him to his feet and the three walked together back to their chairs.
The sun was beginning to sink by the time the service finished, bathing Hogwarts in a yellow light and softening the jagged edges still to be repaired. People moved quietly across the lawns but Harry sat silently in his chair looking at the monument, its carved list of names making permanent the lives lost.
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Dinner in the Great Hall was a quiet affair that night. People seemed too spent to expend much energy and despite their swelled ranks, as those who had arrived from Hogsmeade and the Ministry remained for a meal, it was quiet and somber.
Mrs Weasley appeared to have dropped any pretense that she had been holding onto the past few days and carried her grief openly on her face rather than concealed behind carefully schooled expressions and guarded features. She ate little and remained in her husband’s embrace as he ate one handed. George seemed to have regained his composure somewhat although he was still quiet. The silence at the end of the table where the Weasleys were sitting with Kingsley Shacklebolt and several Aurors was broken by Percy.
“I must say, Minister, that was a wonderful speech you gave this afternoon,” he said. “I too think the best memorial we can give to those who are gone is to live, now that we can do so without fear. I should be most happy to offer my services to help rebuild the Ministry, and our world, in any way that you can make use of me.”
“Blimey Perce, was that a job application?” enquired George. “Fred would be glad to know your ambition’s not changed!” Ron snorted.
“Make fun of him more like,” he said. “Are you making a joke or a job application Percy?” Percy looked at Ron thoughtfully, his chin on his hand.
“Well I did submit my resignation after all. D’you think it still stands if you deliver it to a sea urchin or should I put it in writing?”
“Sea urchin?” enquired Kingsley with a raised eyebrow.
“Yes, I sort of ah, turned Minister Thicknesse into one right before the Acromantulas broke through,” Percy paused. “Only, I am pretty sure Fred hit him with something too after you three stunned his Death Eater.” Percy gestured to Harry, Ron and Hermione. “Who knows what exactly the Minister looked like after that.” Harry shook involuntarily as images of the moment Fred had died swam through his mind.
“You alright mate?” Ron asked quietly. Harry shook his head wordlessly and put down the goblet he had been holding before he spilled its entire contents all over himself. He clenched his hands into fists in an effort to stop the shaking and closed his eyes only to see streaks of green light behind the lids. Green light streaking towards his father, his mother, Cedric, Dumbledore, himself, missing Ginny by an inch. He snapped his eyes open to find everyone watching him.
“I’m fine,” he said but he knew that Bill did not believe him and he was sure, from the look on her face, that Hermione shared his scepticism.
“So what happened next?” He heard George ask quietly and Ron gulped audibly.
“Well, the Minister went down —“ began Percy but George interrupted him.
“To Fred,” he said abruptly. “I want to know what happened to Fred.” There was a deathly silence. Finally Ron broke it.
“He congratulated Percy on his joke,” he said. “He was pretty chuffed that Percy had managed a joke. It was a good gift to give him, Perce, at the-the end.” Ron stumbled over the last few words and fell silent.
“And then what?” George’s voice was harsh in the stillness. Mrs Weasley reached a hand out to him but he shrugged away from her. “I want to know what happened to Fred.” Percy opened and closed his mouth, Ron looked away before burying his face in his hands and Hermione was white and clearly unable to speak.
“George,” began Bill. “Don’t do this — “
“No! I wasn’t there, I don’t know what happened. I need to know,” George pleaded. “I keep imagining all sorts of things and it’s all horrible and terrifying and every time I shut my eyes it’s something new, something different. And none of its real, because I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there and he died without me.” He trailed off brokenly and the tears that filled his eyes threatened to course down his cheeks at any moment.
“It was the walls,” said Hermione softly. “The walls blew apart.”
“He was smiling,” whispered Ron.
“He was laughing at me,” said Percy.
As he looked into George’s pained eyes Harry watched his father, his mother, Cedric, Sirius and Dumbledore all fall again.
“The world fell apart,” he said quietly to George. “That’s what happens next. The world falls apart.”
No one spoke for several minutes after that. Mrs Weasley’s sobs were the only noise to break the silence as the moment stretched on forever. Eventually George spoke.
“We have to put it back together again. We have to pick up the pieces and go on.” Harry looked away, he didn’t know how anymore, there were so many pieces missing now.
“Everybody leaves something behind,” Mr Weasley said, as if he read Harry’s mind. “Soon the missing pieces will seem smaller, when we remember and embrace the pieces that are left, the parts they left behind.” His words seemed to energise George who suddenly leapt from his chair.
“Then let’s go and find some of Fred,” he said. “Let’s do something he’d love. Everybody outside!” He grabbed Ginny’s hand as he strode towards the doors of the Great Hall, the rest of their siblings, Harry, Hermione, Fleur and Lee Jordan hurried in their wake.
“Come on mum, dad!” called Charlie. Mr Weasley seemed to make a decision then and he urged his wife to her feet and they followed their family out, the rest of the occupants of the Great Hall spilling after them.
George was tearing down to the Quidditch pitch, Lee, Ron and Bill in his wake. Harry watched as the four of them aimed their wands at the four towers of the pitch and set off the first of the fireworks that had been placed there the day before. The lawns were filled with people making noises of awe and wonder at the spectacular display of dazzling lights that began streaking across the heavens.
Enormous flourescent Catherine wheels, sparkling green and red dragons, rockets trailing gold and silver stars and multi coloured firecrackers erupted from the Quidditch pitch, hurling themselves into the night sky and exploding over the lawns. Harry recognized the same sorts he had seen during his fifth year but Fred and George had obviously produced a few more varieties before hiding them and escaping the school and Umbridge. He could also see enormous winged horses that cycled the colours of the rainbow and soaring, sparkling bullets that exploded in mid air to let out a shower of miniature lions in red and gold. In the midst of the spectacular light show Harry saw George release sparklers that wrote huge letters in the sky.
'FIREWORKS FOR FRED', they spelled out over and over in red across the night sky. And then another set were writing in gold, a message that said it was time to live, to celebrate. The crowd gasped and oooooooohed and ahhhhhhhed. The last shot of writing sparklers shot out high into the night sky, surrounded by fire breathing dragons and scores of miniature lions and they wrote in green across the sky, 'THANKS HARRY!'
As the cheers erupted around him Harry felt his eyes fixed on the green streaks of light as the sparklers wrote his name over and over again. He felt the world receding, knew he had slumped to the ground, saw Hermione look at him concernedly, Ron swimming into view, Ginny hovering over him but then he could only see the green flashes, his name written in green light and then the green light was shooting towards his father, towards his mother, towards Cedric. The green flashes threw Dumbledore off the tower, missed Ginny by an inch and headed straight for him. Sound broke through his consciousness, they were calling his name but he couldn’t respond there was only the green light flashing towards him over and over again.
He wrenched his eyes shut but the green flashes of light did not go away, they were streaking again towards his father, his mother, Cedric, Dumbledore, himself, Ginny.
“NO!” he pulled the rasping sound desperately from his throat. “Stop!” He felt like he had to claw away from the green light and fighting desperately with the images in his brain he felt strong hands on his face. He forced his eyes open to look straight into Bill’s. Harry grasped Bill’s forearms as if holding onto the one thing that would stop him from drowning.
“Make it stop,” he forced out. “Make it stop.” Bill looked him steadily in the eyes.
“Harry, it’s okay,” he spoke softly, calmly. “I’ve got you. Hang on to me. What do you need to stop? Tell me what you need to stop.” Harry felt his grip on Bill loosening.
“Flashing — stop — lights — dying —,” he breathed out before his energy was spent and his eyes slid shut.
“Stay with me Harry, I’ve got you,” he heard the desperation in Bill’s voice and tightened his hands around the older man’s forearms. Hermione’s shriek came piercing through his head as he fought the panic and fear that was overtaking his body. Fighting to continue the deep measured breaths needed to sustain life.
“Green flashing lights! George, stop the green sparklers!” Harry could hear scrambling and cursing around him and he willed his eyes open to find Bill still holding his gaze, the green writing in the sky framing Bill’s head. Harry gripped Bill’s arms tighter, his fingernails digging into the other man’s flesh, fighting down wave after wave of rising panic, his breathing coming in short jerking gasps.
“You’re okay Harry. Stay with me. We’re making it stop,” Bill said. “Breathe, Harry!” And Bill told him when to breathe in and when to breathe out and Harry, looking into Bill’s eyes, obeyed. He focused on Bill, breathing in and out slowly and listening to his voice softly telling him he was safe. As he looked into Bill’s eyes the green flashing faded away and the waves of panic subsided, replaced by ghostlike glimpses of green on the edges of his vision and a shaking he was unable to control.
Harry closed his eyes, still breathing slowly in and out and clutching Bill’s forearms as if they were his last lifeline and did not protest when Mrs Weasley insisted they take him home right that minute. Harry didn’t say anything when Bill and Ron hoisted him to his feet, half carrying him back inside. He didn’t argue with anyone when they held out a Portkey for him to take and soon he felt a jerk behind his navel that whisked him away from Hogwarts and death and green flashing lights.
Chapter 11: Funeral
Author's Notes: Lexicon says the Battle of Hogwarts was in May but was not more specific. So I picked a day that worked for me :) . Many thanks to everyone who's letting me know they are enjoying this story via review. I love reading those things... :D
Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work.
Harry woke with a start, a scream dying in his throat, his heart pounding, breathing heavily and sweat pouring off his skin like he’d just run a marathon. The sun was about to break over the horizon, it’s reflection bouncing off the bright orange walls of Ron’s room, casting a warm glow over the empty bed on the other side of the room. Just like all the other times Harry had woken that night Bill was sitting next to his bed. Wordlessly Harry took the glass Bill offered him, gulping down a mouthful of the fresh water before sinking back onto his pillow and covering his eyes with one arm. He felt Bill reach out and lay his hand on his shoulder and Harry reached a hand up to Bill’s and grasped it, his heart still pounding from the ghastly nightmare.
Harry heard the door creak open and soft footsteps cross the carpet. There was a clunk as a beaker was placed on the windowsill.
“Your muzzer, she 'as finished ze potion,” he heard Fleur whisper and then the sound of her kissing Bill softly. “Try and get 'im to drink eet. We 'ave 'eard 'ow often 'e is waking up.” Her footsteps receded and the door shut behind her with a soft click.
“Harry,” said Bill, “talk to me.” Harry had not said a word to anyone since arriving at the Burrow the night before. The wards had held well during the time the Weasleys had been away and apart from a thick layer of dust all was in order, including the expulsion of the ghoul from Ron’s room, which had been managed the morning before by Mr Weasley on his brief visit. Ron and Bill had managed to get Harry up the stairs, into a pair of pyjamas and into bed in Ron’s room but Harry had been unable to sleep for longer than an hour without being woken by nightmares filled with red glowing eyes and flashes of green light, he was falling and dying over and over again. And when the light wasn’t coming towards him he watched as one by one those he loved fell to the green flashes. It was like going to sleep and running into one giant Boggart. Mrs Weasley had started making a Dreamless Sleep potion after Harry woke the fourth time a little after midnight.
“I’m worried about you,” Bill tried again. “Please, talk to me.” Harry removed the arm from across his face and looked up at Bill.
“I’m terrified,” he whispered, turning away to look at the wall. “All the time. Well not every single minute but a lot. I was terrified of George. He hexed me and I was afraid of him after that. When I ran into the business end of Charlie’s wand that day in the Entrance Hall I started to panic and then I started seeing green lights. Every time I close my eyes to sleep I see green flashes of light and Voldemort’s eyes. It’s been getting worse. Sometimes when people talk about the war I’ve been getting the shakes or reliving the times when I’ve seen someone killed. Reliving the times Voldemort tried to kill me. I panicked when I saw the green sparklers. I couldn’t help it.” Harry turned back to Bill. “I think I’m going mad.”
“You’re not going mad, Harry. It’s just panic attacks. A normal reaction to everything you’ve been through I’d say,” Bill paused. “It happened to a mate of mine in Egypt. He got trapped in a tomb once when things went a bit wrong and he was dead scared of small spaces after that, couldn’t go into tombs. The thought made him hyperventilate.
“I’ve been watching you the past couple of days. You hide it well but I could see you shaking and your eyes glazing in panic, I just couldn’t figure out what was panicking you. And you go about telling everyone you are fine. They believe you when you say that, you know. Except Hermione I think she was figuring it out too. Don’t cover it up, let us help. If you’re feeling panicky tell us, we can help. Promise me, Harry.” Bill’s eyes were full of concern and they pleaded with Harry to trust him.
“But who’s going to be here? You all live or work someplace else. And I can’t expect your mum and Ginny to deal with me if I am going to panic about every little thing every five minutes,” Harry’s breathing quickened as he continued. “I don’t know what’s going to happen and everybody has got their lives to go back to but I don’t have any place to be and I can’t even go five minutes talking without —“ he broke off panting, gasping, trying to catch his breath. Bill gripped his shoulders and told him to breathe.
“No one’s going anywhere right now,” he said firmly. “You have a place to be — here. We are all here and we are all staying together as a family. We need each other right now and that includes you, kid.” Bill pulled Harry into a rough hug before pushing him back onto the pillow and drawing his covers up. “Now, you are going to drink this potion and get some proper sleep.” Harry choked the potion down with Bill smoothing a hand through his hair as tenderly as if he were Mrs Weasley.
“'Mnot a kid,” mumbled Harry sleepily, “'m nearly eighteen, 'm all grownp.” Harry’s breathing evened out and he drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.
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The sun was streaming through the window when Harry woke again. The clock said it was almost midday but he could smell one of Mrs Weasley’s delicious breakfasts wafting up to the little room beneath the attic. Harry was hungry. He swung out of bed and padded his way downstairs. The entire Weasley family and Hermione were sitting around the kitchen table eating and talking quietly. Ron looked up from his enormous plate of sausages and bacon to spear a kipper from the middle of the table and saw Harry standing there.
“Morning Harry!” he cried. Several heads whipped around and Ginny scrambled from her chair and ran to pull him into a hug which Harry returned enthusiastically.
“Come and have some breakfast before Ron eats it all,” she said pulling him over to sit into the chair between her and Bill.
“It’s a bit late for breakfast, isn’t it?” Harry asked as she and Mrs Weasley began piling his plate high.
“Yes, well we only just got up, we didn’t get much sleep last night,” Mr Weasley said kindly. Harry looked down at his hands.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. He felt Bill’s hand on his arm and looked up at the older man.
“It’s okay, Harry, remember what I said,” Bill said. Ron cocked his head to one side.
“What did you say?” he demanded. Bill resumed eating, swallowing a bite of toast before answering.
“He’s family,” said Bill simply. After a pause he added, “Awfully polite chap though. Reckon you could teach that to Ron?” Ron glowered and Charlie sniggered.
“Well as I’ve been unable to influence Ron, or indeed any of you in that direction all these years, I don’t like his chances,” Percy said as he primly cut his sausages into small bite sized pieces.
“Au contraire Percival my lad!” exclaimed George. “I’ve learnt a lot from you and your example has influenced me no end old chap!” Percy shot him an icy look.
“I’m polite,” Charlie protested. “Have to be when trying to impress the ladies.” He puffed his chest out. Fleur scoffed.
“Eet ees not politeness that ees attractive to women!”
“Really?” said George, leaning forward. “What’s the secret then?”
“Charm, charisma, joie de vivre,” winked Bill. “That and a generous p-"
“William Arthur!” hissed his mother. Charlie sniggered and Fleur blushed.
“-urse,” finished Bill innocently.
“Being polite has always worked with Penelope,” Percy said, his nose in the air. Harry suppressed a snort with great difficulty as he saw Charlie, George and Ron all seize that piece of information.
“Penelope, huh? How about you tell us about Penelope, Perce?” said George with an evil gleam in his eye. Ron began singing a rather childish ditty about love and marriage under his breath that Harry once thought he’d heard a version of on a television show that Dudley was particularly fond of.
“Yes,” said Charlie, “have you shown her your generous purse yet?” Percy looked at Charlie with disdain.
“Our relationship is suitably proper according to those who are not yet married,” he said primly.
“They’re not talking about money, are they?” Ginny said under her breath to Hermione as both girls giggled uncontrollably. Mrs Weasley shot a disapproving look at Bill.
“So, it’s not the size of your purse then, Bill? It’s how generous you are about it?” asked George with a wink. Fleur went as red as any Weasley and Charlie went purple with the effort of trying not to laugh. Ron, who had obviously completely missed the double entendre, chose that moment to add his thoughts to the conversation.
“Well, if that’s all it takes then Ginny’s in luck because I’ve seen Harry’s. It’s sizable and he’s generous to a fault.” Harry and Ginny collectively sprayed their pumpkin juice clear across the table.
“Well, at least Ginny hasn’t seen it yet,” Charlie glared at Harry menacingly.
“Bollocks! Course she has!” scoffed Ron, his mother glared at him and Hermione muttered something about his appalling language. Harry began to choke on the bacon he just put in his mouth.
“She has not!” he wheezed.
“Yes I have Harry,” said Ginny breezily. “Don’t you remember?”
“It’s a bit of a worry if a bloke can’t remember that,” muttered George, a scowl on his face.
“Right before I went to Hogwarts, we had a look down there,” she said brightly her face gleaming with barely suppressed mischief. Harry just looked at her in horror. He could see Hermione behind her, a hand stuffed in her mouth to prevent her bursting into loud, uncontrollable laughter. Ron was nodding along, his mouth full of his tenth sausage and Bill, Charlie, Percy and George were looking at Harry in a way that made his blood run cold. Harry appealed to Hermione with his eyes.
“Well at least she’s only seen it that once and you’re the only one who has access so we can be sure it hasn’t happened again. It’s a pity I haven’t had the chance to see it. I’d love to see your family jewels.”
“You. Are. Not. Helping,” Harry ground out but Bill now shook with silent laughter and George and Charlie stared at Hermione with unconcealed glee. Percy looked as though he was trying to disapprove. Ron swallowed the last of his breakfast.
“Oh give it up Harry, we’re all big enough to deal with the size of it, we’re all grownups here,” he said. “You’ve probably got some really brilliant family jewels stashed in there.” Harry simply groaned and, pushing his plate to one side, put his forehead down and began banging his head lightly on the tabletop.
“Oh, I’d like to see those!” said Ginny, collapsing into uncontrollable giggles, Hermione following suit.
“So it’s okay with you if Harry shows Ginny his family jewels, Ron?” asked Bill, his eyes now twinkling with unconcealed mirth.
“Really Bill —" began Mrs Weasley. But Ron interrupted her.
“Sure,” he said, shrugging. “He should probably wait a while before he gives her any though. They’ve not been going out for long. I mean, I used to have a problem with his generosity but I like to think I’ve matured a bit since then.” That was enough to make Charlie and George lose control completely and they began howling with laughter. Ron looked at them as if they were daft before he turned to Harry, concern on his face.
“Say Harry, you think the goblins will let you back in to it, after the, er, mess we made of Gringotts?”
“Oh, you are talking about my vault,” said Harry weakly.
“Yeah, what did you think I was talking about? Where else would your family jewels be — oh,” Ron went scarlet.
“And there it is,” said George in an undertone that was quite clearly meant to be heard.
“That’s enough, boys,” said Mr Weasley failing completely to hide his mirth despite Mrs Weasely’s glare. “Let’s organise what we have to do today. Who’s going to Muriel’s to collect our things and who’s going to help your mother straighten things up around here?”
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Mrs Weasley soon had Fleur, Ginny and Hermione helping her dust, change bed linens and tidy the kitchen. She packed Ron and Harry off to the chicken shed to clean it out for when Percy and Charlie brought the chickens back from Muriel’s. Bill apparated to Shell Cottage to collect some things for himself and Fleur and Mr Weasley and George headed back to Hogwarts to bring Fred home. The funeral would be the day after tomorrow and the sobering thought considerably dampened the enthusiasm anyone felt for the various tasks they were allocated.
Harry himself was completely distracted by thoughts of other funerals and quickly excused himself to send a letter to Andromeda. First he quickly dashed one off to Kingsley asking for the details for Snape’s funeral. He had then finished writing a letter, asking as delicately as he’d been able, about funeral arrangements for Tonks and Remus, when he realised he had no owl to send them anyway. He didn’t know if Remus had anything organised for his funeral arrangements but he knew he didn’t want Andromeda to have to arrange it alone.
Harry traipsed down the stairs mulling over his owl problem when he heard Charlie and Percy in the kitchen. There was a great thump and a clang before something scraped across the floor.
“This bird is a menace!” he heard Charlie say. “It’s safer to be around dragons!”
“I expect Muriel kept him locked up the last few days,” replied Percy. “Poor little thing needs some exercise. Where’s Ron? He should look after his owl now he’s back.”
Pigwidgeon, thought Harry and he raced into the kitchen to see Percy holding, in one hand, a small cage with a tiny puffball in it, that was obviously Ginny’s pygmy puff, and a spitting hissing covered carrier basket, that was clearly Crookshanks, in the other. Charlie was struggling with three cages of chickens, several trunks and Pig, fluttering about madly in his cage.
“Here, let me take Pig,” said Harry. “I’ve got letters for him.” Charlie handed the bird over gratefully and Harry made his way up to Ron’s room to stow the cage and release Pig with his letters. He bumped into Ginny on the third landing.
“Oh, are Charlie and Percy back?”
“Yeah they’ve got Arnold and the trunks in the kitchen,” Harry answered. He made no move to continue up the staircase though, he simply looked at Ginny. She returned his gaze, her eyes flickering downwards briefly as she licked her lips. As Harry stood on the staircase he realised that they hadn’t actually been alone in quite some time and he took a step towards her. Pig fluttered in his cage much like Harry’s heart was fluttering against his ribcage. He reached out and captured her hand in his own, pulling her towards him.
Ginny looked up at him, her lips slightly parted and Harry felt his pulse quicken. And then his lips were on hers and Pig was unceremoniously dumped on a step so Harry could bury one hand in her hair while the other found the small of her back, pressing her closer to him. He felt her small hands slide up his shoulders and around the back of his neck before she slid one down his spine to rest lightly on his left hip as he opened his mouth, his tongue seeking entrance to hers.
The landing was small and a little cramped, it didn’t take much for Harry to find himself pressed against the wall, one small hand creeping up his chest and the other running softly through his hair while his own hands found the gap between Ginny’s T shirt and shorts, tracing small circles on her bare skin. Then Harry heard heavy footfalls on the steps below and he pulled away from her, pulling her shirt back down and kissing her lightly on the nose.
“Come on,” he whispered, grabbing Ginny’s hand in one of his own and Pig’s cage in the other, swiftly dragging them both upstairs to Ron’s room where he quickly tied his letter to Pig’s leg and opened the window for the tiny owl to speed off before turning back to Ginny whose lips were still swollen and her face flushed from the heady kiss they had shared on the landing.
“You’re beautiful,” he said softly as he reached out a hand to caress her cheek. His other arm snaked out to pull her close to him. “I love you.” He murmured against her lips as he covered her mouth with his own.
Harry had no idea how long they stood there, locked in that embrace, sharing a kiss that made his spine tingle and all his worries fade away. He was, however, sorry that it had to come to end when Ron burst in, the door slamming open with a resounding crash.
“Don’t do that in my room,” Ron groaned.
“Then stop snogging Hermione in mine!” Ginny retorted loudly. “It wasn’t a pretty sight this morning let me tell you!”
“Oh and you think what I just saw paints a picture I want to see?”
“Ronald! Ginevra!” came screeching up the stairs and both Weasleys blanched. Mrs Weasley’s voice was not at all reassuring. “Stop that bickering and get yourselves down here now! And find Harry!” The three of them made straight for the stairs Ron muttering that he’d found Harry alright. As Ron clattered loudly down the stairs, Harry on his heels, Ginny tugged on Harry’s hand, stopping his descent. He turned enquiringly to her to find her looking at him tenderly.
“I love you too,” she whispered. Harry closed the gap between them swiftly as he pressed his lips to hers once more, the kiss sweet and tender until it was broken by Ron’s voice drifting back to them.
“Oi! Don’t do it on my landing either!”
The three of them found a trembling Mrs Weasley in the kitchen. Apparently Mr Weasley had firecalled to say that George had some sort of breakdown at Hogwarts and they would be a little while longer. Madam Pomfrey had treated George but had not yet released him to travel. Mrs Weasley was now in a frenzy, worrying about George and desperately trying to set the living room up so they could put Fred’s body in there when they eventually arrived home. Bill was still at Shell Cottage and Charlie and Percy had returned to Auntie Muriel’s to clean up the room Fred and George had been running the Owl Order business out of. George had been right about her wrath over the cauldron left running.
Ron, Ginny and Harry had no idea what to do when Mrs Weasley had informed them of these events and then began to frantically clean the living room with maniacal zeal. Wordlessly Ron and Ginny had looked at each other and Ginny ran out of the room mumbling something about getting Fleur. Ron and Harry stood helplessly in the sitting room doorway watching Mrs Weasley wield her duster fiercely.
“Mum?” started Ron tentatively. Mrs Weasley shook violently and half the pictures on the mantelpiece that she was dusting fell with a crash to the floor. Mrs Weasley stood, staring at the pictures, their glass faces lying cracked on the floor, a picture of two identical cherubic red headed babies laughing up at her. She sank to her knees amidst the shattered glass, reaching out to pick up the picture of the laughing babies.
The glass hanging from the frame sliced into her skin, but she didn’t seem to notice and the blood dripped from her hand sinking into the threadbare carpet, mingling with the swirls and loops already woven into the faded pattern. Ron crossed the floor in two short strides, kneeling with his mother in the glass fragments.
“I’ll, I’ll get something for that cut,” Harry stammered. He hurried into the kitchen and found Ginny, Fleur and Hermione quickly making a pot of tea.
“Bandages,” he blurted at Ginny. “Your mum cut herself.” Ginny blanched and hurried to collect a box from a shelf before hurrying into the sitting room with Hermione on her heels.
“I wish Beel would ‘urry up and come back,” Fleur said wistfully, staring at the fireplace as if she could make him magically Floo in.
“Why don’t you take that in to the living room? I’ll firecall him, let him know mum needs him,” said Harry. Fleur nodded, gathering the tea things and stepping quietly into the living room. Harry swiftly knelt at the hearth and stuck his head in. He managed to get through to Bill at Shell Cottage, relaying the news about George and urging him to come home as soon as he could.
Bill swore and promised he’d be only a few minutes longer. Harry withdrew his head from the fireplace and went back to the living room where he found Ron and his mother still kneeling in the ruins of the photograph frames while Hermione and Fleur tried to convince Mrs Weasley to come and sit where they could clean and bandage her cut. Ginny was standing shaking and watching her mother silently cry, Mrs Weasley’s tears mingling with the blood still dripping to the floor. His heart breaking, Harry enveloped Ginny in a hug as Ron managed to coax his mother to her feet, still clutching the broken picture frame that held a picture of laughing twin babies. By the time Bill came racing into the room Hermione had repaired the picture frames and was putting them back on the mantelpiece, Fleur had cleaned and bandaged the cut and Ron had removed all the shards of glass from the picture frame Mrs Weasley still clung to.
Mrs Weasley was now sitting next to Ron on the couch staring at the picture, tears still slipping slowly down her cheeks and the front of Harry’s shirt was wet with Ginny’s tears. Bill knelt in front of his mother, putting a hand over hers.
“Mum?” he whispered. Mrs Weasley did not look up.
“I need your father,” she said.
“I’ll go,” said Ron. “I’ll send dad back. I’ll bring George and F-Fred home.” Mrs Weasley patted his knee.
“You’re a good boy, Ronald,” she said softly. Ron got up and Hermione went to follow him but Ron shook his head.
“Please,” he said, “please stay with them.” He indicated Fleur standing helplessly next to the tea service, Ginny sobbing in Harry’s arms and Bill still kneeling motionless in front of their mother who had not stopped staring at the picture of Fred and George as babies. Harry met Hermione’s eyes over the top of Ginny’s head and he knew that they were both aware that someone needed to hold things together right now, and it wasn’t going to be a Weasley.
Hermione gave Ron a swift hug and kissed his cheek as he left to go to Hogwarts and then began to straighten out the living room, pushing Fleur into a chair and handing out cups of tea. The crash of the kitchen door as it opened shattered the stillness of the now sparkling living room where Mrs Weasley still stared, motionless, at the laughing babies and Ginny was sniffing away the last of her tears as Harry stroked her hair. Mr Weasley soon came rushing in looking extremely haggard and gathered his wife in his arms as she unleashed a fresh wave of tears. This seemed to set Ginny off again who flew at her parents and they gathered her in, Mr Weasley rocking both of them as his own tears dripped down the end of his nose, reminding Harry painfully of Ron at Dumbledore’s funeral a year previously.
Hermione looked helplessly at Harry as Bill simply moved to Fleur, now his vigil over his mother was no longer necessary and Harry watched as he laid his head in his wife’s lap seeking her comfort. A crash and an oath from the kitchen startled him out of his reverie and he and Hermione dashed into the kitchen to see Percy and Charlie in a heap on the floor having just come through the Floo — a cloud of ash and dust rising from their robes.
“You prat! Why on earth would you jump in before I’d cleared out?” Charlie said angrily. “I reckon you’ve broken my foot with your great hefty feet!”
“Well it isn’t my fault Muriel went spare when we couldn’t stop that swamp box! She practically shoved me on top of you, screaming at me,” Percy bellowed back. “Now move out of the way she’s going to shove everything else through any minute do you want to be in the way when she manages it?” They were too late. An avalanche of WWW products came tumbling out of the kitchen fireplace as Bill and Mr Weasley burst in the door, stumbling into Harry and sending him careening into the kitchen table. Charlie and Percy lay buried under boxes of Skiving Snackboxes, WonderWitch products and Patented Daydream Charms and the ash from the fireplace rose ever higher in the chaos.
It seemed to Harry that things couldn’t get any worse when he saw a silver panther drop gracefully through the kitchen ceiling and perch on the teetering pile of boxes to say, in Kingsley’s voice,
“Arthur, I sent your boys home in a Ministry car. They’ll be there any minute.” The last time Harry had seen Kingsley’s Patronus at The Burrow it signaled a Death Eater attack and between being winded after crashing into the Weasley’s kitchen table and fighting down a surge of panic at the memory of the attack Harry’s composure was lost. He sank to the kitchen floor gasping desperately for air just as the kitchen door swung open to reveal Ron silhouetted against the afternoon light.
The panther dissipated and Percy and Charlie scrambled to their feet as one final box came flying through the kitchen fireplace, hitting the opposite wall with a resounding splat and burst open splattering the kitchen’s occupants with its contents and rapidly filling the kitchen with an oozing green swamp.
“Oh great,” muttered Percy. “We couldn’t fix the one in Muriel’s second best bedroom and now there’s one in mum’s kitchen!”
“Well, you had to go and have a poke about in the boxes didn’t you!” spat Charlie. “I bet she hurled that one through on purpose!” Harry was still trying to calm his racing heart and regulate his breathing but Bill saw his battle and was by Harry’s side in one huge step, helping him focus and breathe while the swamp slowly oozed over the sink and into the scullery.
“Bloody hell!” exclaimed Ron.
“Language, Ronald!” scolded Hermione.
“How are we going to fix this before mum finds it?” hissed Percy.
“Finds what?” asked Mrs Weasley who was looking decidedly more composed, although her eyes were red rimmed, now standing in the doorway. “What’s wrong with Harry?” Harry felt six pairs of eyes swing towards him as he fought down another wave of fear and began to control his breathing.
“Kingsley’s Patronus,” muttered Bill. “He’s alright, it was a short attack.” Harry closed his eyes, obviously they all knew about his panic attacks because no one asked for clarification. Suddenly Harry heard a snort of laughter coming from the direction of the back door and opened his eyes to find George, looking somewhat pale, doubled over with mirth.
“George?” asked Mr Weasley hesitantly, “are you alright?” George straightened up.
“Yeah, dad, I am,” he replied. “Seeing Perce and Charlie covered in soot and green ooze it’s just like old times. You guys sure know how to cheer a bloke up.” A blob of green slime hung precariously from Percy’s nose as he straightened up and puffed out his chest as if personally responsible for George’s cheery façade. The blob of green slime fell to the floor and made a sucking sound on the floor as it took root and began to transform the hearth into a swamp.The sight of a soot covered Percy standing officiously in front of the kitchen fireplace, up to his ankles in a swamp, with bits of green slime still clinging to his hair and coating his glasses was so absurdly funny that soon the occupants of the kitchen were all laughing.
Ginny and Fleur came in to see what was causing the laughter and Ginny found it particularly funny.
“Oh, if Fred could see you now,” she wheezed. “He once told me that nothing would give him greater pleasure than to swamp you, Percy.”
“Yes, no doubt,” said Percy drily. “He obviously waited for that opportunity. We are treated to this spectacle, courtesy of Fred, who wrote in big letters on a box, ‘Dear Percy, Don’t open this box, Love Fred’. I, of course, am apparently unable to resist such a message.” Percy appeared to be looking disdainfully at himself, if that was at all possible, as he attempted to wipe his hands on his filthy robes.
“Well, I’ll be,” said George wonderingly. “He won the bet. Ten Galleons I said you’d ignore that message if you ever came across it.”
“Eet would appear, Percy, as eef you are Fred’s last prank, non?” giggled Fleur.
“Couldn’t happen to a better bloke, old chap!” cried George. Percy just shook his head muttering that mashed parsnips were preferable.
“Yes, well, we can’t eat dinner in a swamp,” Mrs Weasley fussed. “George, dear do you think you could possibly get rid of this, er, product?”
The mood in The Burrow lifted and although bringing Fred home and situating his lifeless body in the living room was not without tears and sadness it felt, to Harry, like certain ghosts had been purged along with the tears that had been shed that afternoon and that rather than Fred’s spectre hanging over them like a dark cloud his memory enveloped them like a familiar blanket, beginning to chase the sorrow out of the dark corners of their souls that they had all tried to cover up and hide.
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The next day was a solemn affair. George spent the day in his room while his father and brothers prepared the site chosen for Fred’s grave near a grove of trees that bordered the garden. Harry had spent another restless night dodging nightmares. Seeing his pale face Mrs Weasley had tucked him into a cozy chair near the kitchen hearth and plied him with hot drinks and soup and Harry was simply too tired to protest. As she fussed over him, keeping herself busy as she tucked a blanket around his shoulders and felt his forehead, Harry reflected that perhaps Professor McGonagall’s admonition to let Molly Weasley mother him had not been for himself, but for her. He let himself be comforted and mothered and found that his nightmares were a little less that night.
The day of Fred’s funeral dawned clear and cloudless. George emerged from his room, resplendent in flamboyant robes of bright purple which clashed splendidly with his hair. His mother looked at him sideways all through breakfast but chose not to say anything at all. The rest of The Burrow’s occupants were attired more sedately in stiff dress robes in muted colours. As they finished the meal Ron turned to Harry,
“I don’t know how I am going stick it out in these robes all day,” he muttered, pulling at his collar.
“Then why are you wearing them, Ron?” George asked pointedly. Ron stammered and stumbled over a hopelessly garbled explanation about propriety and decorum and fear of his mother.
“And you think that Fred possessed either propriety or decorum?” George enquired, and added in an undertone, “I’ll give you healthy fear of the matriarch.” Ron considered this for a moment while George continued.
“Remember what Fred said at Bill’s wedding?” Ron shook his head. “He said that when he got married he wouldn’t be bothering with all the nonsense and we could all wear what we liked. I know he won’t be getting married but…” George trailed off, staring at the fireplace where Harry cold see a small patch of swamp still hidden behind the kindling box that Mrs Weasley clearly hadn’t noticed.
“Right, er, well, I’ll be right back,” Ron said in a rush and bolted out of the kitchen, thundering up the stairs. He emerged a few moments later in a pair of Muggle jeans, his trainers and a blindingly orange T shirt with a cannonball whizzing across the back. George smiled at him and winked. Mrs Weasley sighed, but there was the ghost of a smile on her face.
When the Weasley family gathered out in the yard to greet those who had come to pay their respects and give their condolences they were an eclectic group. Fleur and Hermione had donned sun dresses of fuchsia and cerulean blue, Ginny was wearing a floaty green skirt and a summer blouse, Mr Weasley was in his best Muggle tweed suit, Bill, an extra large fang in his ear, had on his favourite dragonhide jacket, Charlie wore a bright red shirt with a fire breathing dragon roaring on the back and Mrs Weasley was wearing the sparkly midnight blue witches’ hat that Fred and George had given her for Christmas in Harry’s sixth year. Percy was still wearing his navy blue dress robes.
Harry had changed into comfortable jeans and a T shirt and was hanging back near the house as he watched people arrive. The first person to arrive had been a rather giggly witch who had headed straight for him, fawning over him rather embarrassingly and as such he now chose not to be immediately visible to the people who were streaming in The Burrow’s gate. Harry soon spotted a large group of their schoolmates surrounding Ron and George near one of the hedges and made his way over. Ron hadn’t left George’s side all day and they had now been joined by Lee Jordan attired in rather garish robes of salmon pink. The three of them clashed magnificently.
"Alright, Harry?” asked Neville as he spotted Harry approaching. Harry shrugged. “I mean you left pretty suddenly the other night and — "
“I’m fine Neville,” Harry cut him off abruptly and the other boy swallowed whatever he had been about to say and nodded. Luna floated over to them, clad in voluminous yellow robes, dragging Dean Thomas by the hand.
“Hello, Harry,” she said dreamily. “Have you gotten rid of the Wrackspurts and Nargles yet?”
“Er — " began Harry, quite used to her odd outbursts, but speechless all the same.
“I’ve never seen an attack quite so bad as that before, I expect it was the effect of them combined. Are you quite sure you are alright now?” Luna pressed.
“I’m fine, thank you, Luna,” Harry managed to say before he was suddenly engulfed by a pair of arms swathed in massive black robes, an enormous black feather swung in his face, tickling his nose mercilessly. He was ruthlessly pushed away by the arms and inspected fiercely by none other than Auntie Muriel. Harry caught Ginny’s eye over Muriel’s shoulder and Ginny was looking at him apologetically, mouthing sorry at him.
“So, Ronald, you weren’t boasting at all were you. Seems you do know him,” she eyed Harry critically. “Harry Potter, my you are quite a bit skinnier than I thought you’d be. Hmmm your eyesight’s obviously not much to write home about, dreadfully thick lenses there.” Harry tried desperately to keep a straight face as he caught Ginny collapsing with laughter, Ron turning puce with the effort of holding in his hilarity and Neville staring agog at the back of Auntie Muriel’s head.
“Not to worry!” Muriel boomed as she pulled him back into a suffocating hug and patting him forcefully on the back. “Obviously one can overlook these flaws, you dear, dear boy.” And Muriel burst into loud tears, squeezing Harry so tight that he thought he was going to pass out, and between sobs endlessly pontificating about the incomparable service he had done the wizarding world and that he was to be esteemed among all men for his outstanding courage. She eventually released him before turning to George and patting him forcefully on the head muttering about his ears and then she rounded on Ginny who backed away.
“Ginevra, have you found yourself a beau yet? I can recommend several decent young men that you can correspond with during your final year of education, if you insist on returning of course,” said Muriel loudly, catching the attention of Ginny’s parents. “You’ll have several suitors lined up for your parents to choose from when you finish then. Wouldn’t do to leave you on the shelf!” Ginny rolled her eyes discreetly and Mr Weasley and Mrs Weasley hurried over.
“Ah, Muriel, wonderful to see you, wonderful,” began Mr Weasley and Muriel turned to him, looking him up and down.
“Arthur,” she barked, “one does not say it is wonderful to see one at a funeral. Have you selected any beaux for Ginevra yet? There’s a rather wonderful young man I was sorry I didn’t get to introduce her to before she ran off with her brothers a couple of days ago, perhaps I could bring him around, you know, get things started.” She winked conspiratorially at Mr Weasley.
“That’s very sweet of you, Auntie Muriel,” said Mrs Weasley breathlessly. “We do, er, that is to say, ah, Ginny is, well — "
“What mum means to say,” said George, “is that young Ginny here is currently being, ah, courted, yes courted, by a young man of um exceptional breeding and it is going to be entirely her choice if, well, she lets him, sort of, well that is to say…” George trailed off looking imploringly at Ron and Harry as if begging them to say something.
“He makes me sound like a stud animal,” muttered Harry under his breath to Ron who snorted indelicately.
“It’s fine, thank you, Auntie Muriel,” said Ginny. “As George said just now, I do currently have a boyfriend.”
“Yes, yes,” Muriel waved her hand dismissively. “I suppose he’s some ruffian of no account without name or family, or money for that matter. Boyfriends don’t get you married though. Proper suitors chosen by your elders and betters are what you need. Molly, I do hope you are not encouraging this flight of fancy?” Mrs Weasley stiffened.
“As a matter of fact, Muriel,” she said, “Arthur and I are quite pleased with Ginevra’s choice and she certainly doesn’t need our interference in the affairs of her heart. Perhaps this conversation could be had at a more suitable time.”
“No, no, let’s continue,” said George cheekily. “No better time like the present, would someone care to introduce Auntie Muriel here to young Ginevra’s Romeo?”
“Oh, he’s here is he?” Muriel peered at the assembled crowd which included, at the forefront, a salmon pink and dreadlocked Lee, a pale and trembling Neville and a rather scruffy looking Seamus Finnegan. “Well, which of you degenerates is it?” Harry glared at George before shoving his hands in his pockets and quietly stating,
“Me.” Auntie Muriel’s resulting astonishment rendered her speechless, and possibly gasping for air, and Mr and Mrs Weasley were able to pull her away and sit her down ready to begin proceedings.
“Priceless, Harry, priceless,” said George thumping Harry on the back. “Come on, let’s get this party started.”
People were slowly seating themselves at the graveside as George headed into the house, followed by his brothers. Harry went over to Ginny as the group surrounding them went to take their seats.
“How are you doing?” he asked her softly as he put his arms around her waist, pulling her towards him.
“I’m okay,” she answered. “I’m sorry about Auntie Muriel, she sort of spotted you and swept over here like a giant vulture before I could stop her.” Harry smiled at her as he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
“That’s okay, I have to get used to people wanting a piece of me,” said Harry. “But I promise that there’s always one piece of me that’s only for you. This piece here.” And Harry put her hand over his heart as he bent to kiss her lightly.
“You’d better get inside, they’ll be waiting for you,” said Ginny, smiling and just a little flushed. Harry looked at her, confused.
“No, we need to go and sit down so they can start,” he said.
“Oh, goodness, no one told you?”
“Told me what?”
“Oh Merlin,” Ginny seemed flustered. She seemed to cast her eyes wildly about as if looking for a way to avoid what she was about to say. Finally she forced out, “the coffin, it needs six pallbearers.” Harry paled.
“Oh.”
“You’re supposed to be one of them, didn’t any of those idiots say anything?” Harry shook his head. At that moment Ron stuck his head out of The Burrow’s back door.
“Oi! Potter!” he yelled. Ginny gave him a little push in the direction of the house and Harry slowly walked over to Ron.
“What are you waiting for?” Ron demanded.
“Well, someone to tell me I was supposed to be in there,” Harry shot back.
“Weren’t you listening last night when dad said ‘you boys, his brothers, will be the pallbearers’?” Ron grabbed Harry by one arm and hauled him through the house and into the living room where four red headed men were gathered around Fred’s open coffin.
“I didn’t know that meant me,” whispered Harry.
“You’re daft,” grumbled Ron. Both of them stopped to watch as George reached out and placed something in the coffin that most closely resembled a piece of string and Harry realised it was an Extendable Ear. George sighed heavily and a lone tear dripped down his face and into the coffin.
“Goodbye, Fred,” he whispered. “I promise that I will keep getting up to no good.” And George lowered the lid of the coffin, wiping his face with the back of his hand and turned to face his brothers. “Let’s go then.”
Harry was sure that none of their faces were dry as they carried Fred slowly up the aisle between the chairs set out facing the grave. When they arrived at the front the tufty haired little man again stood waiting to begin and Bill levitated the coffin above the freshly dug grave. It hung there as if suspended on invisible gossamer threads as they took seats next to Mr and Mrs Weasley and Ginny in the front row. As he sat next to her Ginny turned to him, tears spilling down her cheeks and he simply gathered her into his arms and held her while she cried, their tears mingling, as the little tufty haired man in stiff black robes began to address the assembled crowd.
Harry hadn’t been to many funerals but he was fairly certain that most funerals were not like Fred’s. He was fairly certain that at most funerals the somber officiator dressed in black was not interrupted by a loud red head proclaiming that none of all those fancy words meant anything. He was fairly certain that most funerals did not involve an emotional young man dressed in bright purple recounting all the finest exploits of the one whose life they were honouring and celebrating that day. He was fairly certain that most funerals did not involve playing loud Muggle rock music as the coffin was lowered either.
Harry felt he rather preferred a funeral that was not like most others were.
Later that day, after all the mourners had gone home and the family sat limply inside while Hermione and Mr and Mrs Diggory cleaned up the kitchen Harry slipped outside, looking for George who had not been seen in the last hour. Harry found him, kneeling in front of the fresh mound of earth under which Fred lay, tracing the letters on Fred’s headstone with his fingers.
“It’s not much is it, to show for a life,” said George quietly. “Your name and your birth and death date.” Harry knelt down beside George and looked at the white stone monument that had been placed at the head of Fred’s grave.
1 April 1978 — 29 May 1998
Harry thought of the words he had inscribed on Dobby’s headstone and the phrase on his parents’.
“You want to add something to it,” he said quietly. “Something that tells you about Fred and what he did with his life.” Harry remembered George’s words as he’d closed the lid on the coffin and he drew his wand. In precise neat lettering he etched a final phrase on Fred’s headstone.
Two days after Fred’s funeral the Weasley’s gathered at Godric’s Hollow. Andromeda had replied to Harry with the news that Remus and Tonks had not made any sort of funeral arrangements and as she no longer had access to the Black family mausoleum and her husband had been hastily buried in a Muggle churchyard during the war Andromeda was actually entirely unsure what she was going to do. Nor was she sure she would be able to fund it. Harry had Flooed over straight away and convinced Andromeda to let him take care of it. She had been very understanding about Harry’s desire to bury Remus with his own parents and agreed immediately that they should both be laid to rest there.
Harry discovered that he was able to still access his vault (which gave Charlie and George plenty of ammunition to tease Ron, asking him if he’d like to go and have a look at Harry’s family jewels). Harry was entirely unwilling to enter Diagon Alley and be seen in public only one week after the Battle of Hogwarts and not all that keen on trying to go into Gringotts given that the last time he was there he stole their dragon. The benefit of sending Bill was made clear when he returned and revealed he and Fleur were both still gainfully employed. Harry left the funeral service arrangements to Andromeda and arranged payment for the graves, headstones and caskets. It was a lot to do in one day but his name made it very easy indeed.
Kingsley sent Harry back a short note that unless a relative claimed Snape’s body it would be up to the Ministry to arrange his burial. There was a month in which his relatives could claim him, after that it was up to the Ministry. Hearing of the funeral arrangements for Tonks and Remus Kinglsey ensured they were concealed from the press and sent Ministry cars with dark windows for the day. A few well placed Confundus charms and a couple of burly Aurors ensured safe passage into the graveyard where a tall, thin wizard that Harry had never seen before conducted a short service. A light breeze ruffled the trees as Harry, Ron, George, Percy, Charlie and Bill carried first Tonks, and then Remus to the new graves that had been dug next to Lily and James. At first Harry stared unseeing as the tall, thin man began to talk but then his eyes drifted towards his parents’ headstone and he read the words inscribed there over and over. Through the previous two days and the whole process of arranging the funerals and arriving at Godric’s Hollow Harry and kept up an emotionless mask, shoving his feelings deep inside, refusing to feel anything. He arranged things mechanically, ate without tasting and it was only in his dreams that he felt anything at all. In the mornings he put his mask back on and wore it without cracking. Now that he was finally standing, for only the second time, in front of his parents’ graves, listening to the accolades for two more lives sacrificed for the love of a baby son, the mask slipped.
Knowing the events that had occurred the last time she and Harry had ventured here alone Hermione had kept very close to Harry. As Harry’s tears began to fall Hermione reached out and grabbed the hand that wasn’t encased in Ginny’s, holding onto it until the tall, thin man had finished talking and the caskets were being lowered. Following the service workers arrived to fill the graves and erect the headstones. Not able to bear watching that but wanting to see the headstones in place Harry contemplated Teddy for a moment, who was cradled in Ginny’s arms, the baby happy and blissfully unaware of how sad this day made everyone else.
“It’s so different seeing this place in the daylight and not covered in snow,” he heard Hermione say to Ginny.
“When exactly were you here?” asked Ginny.
“Christmas Eve,” replied Hermione. “It was beautiful in its own way then but it looks so much different now.” Harry turned towards them.
“Have you ever been here, Ginny?” he suddenly asked. She shook her head and a slight blush rose on her cheeks.
“Wanted to though, didn’t you squirt?” interrupted Charlie.
“Don’t call me squirt!” seethed Ginny and she shot Charlie a glare that Harry knew had nothing to do with being called squirt. Harry had an idea why she blushed.
“Come on!” he said suddenly. “Let’s go see it!” Charlie and Ginny looked at him, puzzled.
“What do you want to see Harry, dear?” Mrs Weasley enquired.
“You’ll see,” Harry’s eyes were alight with mischief and he grabbed Ginny’s hand and pulled her towards the gate. “Come on!”
“Harry! If you go out there, well, there’s people out there and they’ll see you!” Ginny exclaimed. Harry considered this for a moment.
“Well let’s all go then, including those two,” and he indicated the Aurors standing near the Ministry cars. Harry could see that they all thought he’d finally lost his marbles. He shook his head. “I’m perfectly fine. I want to show you something. It’s cool. Come on!” The Weasleys and Andromeda followed him dubiously and the Aurors brought up the rear and Harry led them out of the gate and emerged into the square where the statue stood.
“Odd how those people are having a look at that big square thing there,” said Ron. “What on earth is it anyway?” Harry grinned.
“Come and see,” he said mysteriously. As they drew closer to the obelisk in the centre of the square Harry watched it transform into the statue and heard the gasps of those around him as it did so.
“It really is there,” muttered Ginny and she wandered towards it wonderingly, Harry, still holding her hand, trailed after her. No one noticed them at first as Ginny stood there gazing up at the statue of Harry and his parents, Teddy blowing bubbles in her arms. Harry slipped an arm around her waist.
“Hey!” said Ron suddenly, loudly. “Harry, you look just like the statue standing there like that!” And suddenly the people in the square turned to look at them.
Harry spent two hours, shaking hands and talking to people. He didn’t mind. The sunshine beat down pleasantly on the little square and birds and insects hovered and buzzed on it’s edges. After Harry thought he had spoken to every possible person in the little square he felt a tug on the edge of his robes. Looking down he saw a little boy with impossibly big blue eyes and curly blonde hair looking up at him solemnly. Harry smiled at the little boy who just stared back at him. Harry squatted down to the boy’s level.
“Hello, my name’s Harry,” he said. “What’s yours?” The little boy just looked at him before suddenly throwing his arms around Harry’s neck. Harry put his arms around the little boy and hugged him back. When he pulled away the little boy smiled shyly at him and scampered off. Harry looked up from where he was still hunkered down near the ground to see Ginny looking at him, a soft smile on her face. Teddy had long since been passed back to his grandmother who had taken him home, so Harry went over to her, gathering her in a hug. Ginny sighed, putting her arms around him and snuggling into his chest. Harry stared after the little boy as he was swung onto his father’s shoulders.
“I want to have kids some day,” Harry said. He smiled down at Ginny as she looked up. “I think mine will have black hair like me, or maybe red. Red haired babies, I’d like that.” And he leaned down and kissed her softly. Their kiss was interrupted by George and Ron. The graves were filled and the headstone erected and it was getting late. Harry took Ginny’s hand in his and the four of them made their way back into the churchyard where the rest of them were waiting.
“We’ll give you a minute, Harry,” said Mr Weasley. “Come on you lot, we’ll wait in the cars.” Harry kissed Ginny on the forehead and told her to go on, he wouldn’t be long. The new gleaming white headstone sat next to that of his parents, Remus and Tonks’s names engraved near the top, their birth and death dates underneath. A small man suddenly came scurrying over, carrying something wrapped in a cloth.
“Terribly sorry, Mr Potter, we about forgot this ‘un,” he said as he carefully placed the parcel on the ground and unwrapped it. Inside was a gleaming white stone. It was smaller than the other two but matched them perfectly.
“It’s okay,” said Harry. “Let me do it, you can go, and thank you.” The man nodded and collecting his cloth walked away. Harry levitated the smaller stone into place between the two larger headstones, the writing on it clear in the sunlight streaming through the trees.
Sirius Black
“Padfoot”
1960 — 1996
Harry heard a rustle and turned to see George standing nearby.
“I thought they should all be together, you know?” he said, his voice only a little strained. “The Marauders. Well the ones who weren’t dirty rats anyway. I know he’s not really there, I can’t bury him, but they’re together. They need to be together here too.” George just nodded as he stood shoulder to shoulder with Harry as the sun slipped lower on the horizon.
“You’re right, it’s not much to show for a life, names, dates…” Harry trailed off. He noticed George get out his wand.
“You want to add something to it,” George said. “Something that tells you something about them.” Harry watched as George carefully etched two words on the memorial for Sirius, nestled between the graves of his two best friends. George slung his arm around Harry’s shoulder as they walked back to the cars. Harry took one last look at the monuments, gleaming in the late afternoon sun and read the words that George had etched.
Chapter 12: Ceremony
Author's Notes: A portion of this chapter is dedicated to my brother, my big, strong, solid carpenter brother. A real man's man, a blokey bloke. A Tough Guy. Who finally cried when my mum played the piano, for my sister's funeral, because normal is that when mum plays the piano, our sister sings. And she wasn't there to sing anymore.
A huge thanks to all the reviewers and those who nominated this story for a DSTA. I'm still in shock that it made the voting list things! I hope you all continue to enjoy it.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work.
The next morning’s Daily Prophet had Harry as front page news. His appearance at Godric’s Hollow was apparently really big news and they even put a large poster insert of him in the edition. Harry just rolled his eyes but Charlie and George took the insert out and gave it to Ginny as she came blearily downstairs for breakfast. Not realising what it was she sleepily opened it and then smiled dreamily at the moving picture of Harry taken the previous day as he smiled and spoke to people in the little square.
“Need some spellotape, Ginny?” asked George.
“I’ll get some for you!” said Charlie rummaging in a drawer in one of the sideboards that lined the kitchen walls.
“I’ll help you come and put it up on your bedroom wall, come on!” said George, grabbing her arm and pulling her in the direction of the stairs.
“What?” sputtered Ginny, “Hey, hang on!” She blushed fiercely as she pulled away from him, thrusting the poster back into his hands and stomped over to a chair at the kitchen table, reaching for some bacon.
“Why are you lot teasing her so much lately?” demanded Hermione, emerging from the rest of the Daily Prophet. George shrugged.
“She’s our sister, that’s our job,” said Charlie.
“Hey, give it here,” said Harry.
“What, you want to put it up above your bed, Harry?”
“No, thickhead. Got a quill Hermione?” Hermione produced one from a pocket and George fetched a pot of ink from the same drawer as the spellotape. Moving the breakfast dishes, Harry spread the poster out on the table and began scribbling in the corner of it. He finished with a flourish, flapped it a little to dry the ink and then presented it to Ginny with a kiss on the cheek.
“What’s this?” asked Ginny, more than a little suspiciously. Harry shrugged.
“Six years ago Fred told me you’d be wanting my autograph. Sorry it took so long.” Ginny unfolded the sheet of newspaper and read, scrawled in Harry’s writing ’Dearest Ginny, Remember that a piece of me is always yours. All my love, Harry Potter xxx’. Ginny smiled.
“Thanks,” she whispered.
“Anytime,” Harry said softly. The look they shared was cut short abruptly by a head appearing in the fireplace.
“Ah, Harry,” said Kingsley, “just the man I wanted to talk to.”
“When’s the ceremony?” interrupted Harry. Kingsley seemed floored by that question. Harry persisted.
“The Order of Merlin Ceremony, when is it scheduled?”
“In two weeks. The twentieth,” answered Kingsley.
“Okay, I’ll talk to reporters then,” said Harry sounding so final that Kingsley opened and closed his mouth abruptly before nodding and pulling his head from the fireplace. Harry turned around to see the occupants of the kitchen staring at him.
“What?”
“You autographed your own picture?” Hermione was bemused.
“You’re going to an Order of Merlin Ceremony, as the guest of honour?” Ginny was dubious.
“You’re going to talk to reporters?” George was incredulous.
“Willingly?” Charlie was sceptical. Harry shrugged. He paused, looking thoughtful.
“I’m going to need new dress robes aren’t I?”
“Who are you and what have you done with Harry Potter?” asked George. Harry simply grinned at George.
“I think he grew up.”
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
In the end it was Mrs Weasley who went to Diagon Alley to get Harry some new dress robes. Ron warned him they would likely match his eyes but Harry didn’t care. He spent the two weeks peacefully, at The Burrow having long sleep ins, playing chess with Ron, degnoming the garden or finding quiet moments alone with Ginny. Every few days he went over to see Andromeda and Teddy. Ginny usually went with him and they spent hours at a time taking care of the infant while Andromeda rested. Harry noticed that Teddy seemed to prefer turquoise hair but he would often change it to red when he saw Ginny. As he came up to three months old Teddy began smiling more and more and recognising both Harry and Ginny. Harry found himself looking forward to the visits more and more as Teddy became more responsive to him.
After a week or so Percy and Mr Weasley returned to work at the Ministry and Bill and Fleur went back to work at Gringotts. Charlie, unwilling to return to Romania just yet remained at The Burrow helping his mother with odd jobs during the day and preventing his father from destroying Muggle machinery in his shed at night. Hermione was trying to locate her parents using Muggle methods in nearby Ottery St Catchpole. The busy pursuits of most of The Burrow’s occupants did nothing to hide the fact that George spent most of his time, alone, in his room.
Harry had thought George would be returning to his shop but he’d made no mention of it. Three days before the Order of Merlin Ceremony, when Harry and Ginny were visiting Teddy, Ron had a long talk with George and they must have come to some sort of understanding or arrangement because the next day George and Ron went to Diagon Alley soon after breakfast and returned just before lunch. They were both animated and Ron was busy drawing up some sort of plan on a large piece of parchment. He later told Harry that the shop had been mostly protected by the wards but there was a little bit of damage to the outside that needed repairing and an inventory had showed stock was severely depleted. The plan was to have the shop open in time for the back to Hogwarts rush in late August. Harry didn’t see a lot of Ron after that. He was either repairing the shop or helping George create the customary explosions from his bedroom.
Life neither went on nor stopped for Harry those two weeks. Despite his foray into the public arena at Godric’s Hollow he was reluctant to go out in public again. Although he had no further panic attacks he couldn’t be sure if that was because everything was so normal and predictable that they wouldn’t have happened anyway or if he was getting over them. He had the odd nightmare but they seemed less intense somehow. Bill and Fleur returned to The Burrow each evening and told stories of Diagon Alley. It seemed Ollivander was about to reopen his shop and that Florean Fortescue had reappeared with no apparent reason for having been away and insisting to anyone that asked that he was simply not going to keep his ice cream parlour closed over summer, when the best trade was to be had.
Mr Weasley and Percy brought news from the Ministry and Harry felt strangely detached, as if he should be doing something about the Ministry but not really knowing how and definitely feeling as if he didn’t want to. He spent the day before the Ceremony with Ginny, down by the pond, talking about Quidditch (the league was starting up again), Teddy (who smiled at Ginny for the first time just the day before) and the possibility of going to Australia with Hermione.
Ginny wasn’t at all sure her mother would be happy if she took off half way around the world and she wasn’t of age yet to do so in any case but neither of them could bear the thought of being apart. Hermione had researched and discovered that Australians were a little particular about who and how they let people into the country and the only magical way in from overseas was a designated portkey station concealed within Sydney International Airport, the country’s largest. She hadn’t yet discovered where her parents had gone due to the annoying privacy laws that protected the information on Muggle aeroplane tickets and other documents. Hermione had, however, organised and submitted the extensive paperwork required for her travel and entrance to the country by Magical means.
Hermione was determined to go alone if necessary even though this made both Harry and Ron very anxious. The three were still in negotiations about who would go and when. Ron was unwilling to leave George and equally unwilling to let Hermione travel alone. Harry was reluctant to leave Ginny but had promised Hermione they’d go and get her parents. After all the things they had shared together over the years and their general inseparability, this inability to figure out the adventure was beginning to wear on all three of them.
“You should just go,” Ginny said softly, her face turned up to catch the sun’s rays. “I’ll be okay, and you won’t be long, will you?” Harry, who was lying next to her on his stomach reached out to stroke her fingers.
“But I’ll miss you,” he said quietly. “I said we could be together now. If I go away again, we can’t be together.” He rolled onto his back, screwing up his eyes against the sun, his fingers plucking at the grass.
“Oh Harry,” cried Ginny, she placed her hand over Harry’s heart. “We’d still be together, in here. When you leave, if I know you’re coming back to me we’re together, even when we are apart. We were together all last year because I knew you were coming back to me.” Harry gazed up at her as she leant over him, her hand resting on his chest and her hair falling out of the hastily constructed ponytail it had been put in that morning, curling around her face in the humidity of the June afternoon.
“It didn’t feel like we were together,” he whispered. “I missed you so much.”
“Me too,” Ginny breathed as she lowered her head and met his lips with her own. The rest of her hair came tumbling down as Harry threaded his hands into her hair, pulling her closer and deepening the kiss. He ran his hands down her back and pulled her to him, her hair falling like a curtain around their heads as they kissed. Harry could feel little trails of heat where Ginny’s hands traced the muscles on his chest through the thin cotton of his T shirt and moved to rest on his waist. Their legs and feet entwined and Harry rolled over, pinning Ginny beneath him. It was a slow and sensual kiss not at all rushed and Harry felt like it was getting hotter laying out there in the June sunshine while Ginny’s small hands slid up under his T Shirt and ran up his spine.
“Oi!” They hastily broke apart at the sound of Ron’s voice and looked over to see him glaring at them while George stood at his elbow and smirked. “Can’t you two keep your hands to yourselves?”
“No,” stated Ginny, “and why would we want to?”
“Because I don’t want to see it, that’s why, you know that!”
“No one invited you to look, Ronald!”
“Well if you carry on in public like this I don’t have much choice do I?”
“Oh, so would you rather we ‘carried on’ in strict privacy, you know where you can’t see us, no one to stop us…” Ginny trailed off an evil grin on her face and Harry blushed tomato red.
“I — well … that’s just … the thing is … oh that’s completely beside the point!” Ron, white faced and stammering turned to George. “Tell her!” George shook his head mutely he was clearly enjoying this little show. Harry sighed.
“When you two figure out exactly where the boundaries of our relationship are, and in which areas we can conduct it, you let me know, okay?” he snapped and strode off into the house hearing Ginny screech at Ron as he went back towards the house.
“Everything alright, dear?” asked Mrs Weasley as Harry stomped up the back steps and into the house closing the door a little more firmly behind him than was strictly necessary. Harry just nodded and edged out of the kitchen silently, taking the stairs two at a time until he reached Ron’s room and flopped down on his bed.
He heard Ron, Ginny and George enter the kitchen noisily a short while later, the din carried through the house and up to the little room under the attic. Suddenly all noise ceased and then Harry heard the tread of one set of footsteps on the stairs. There was a knock at the door.
“Harry?” Harry sighed, debating whether or not to let Mrs Weasley in. It wasn’t a long debate and he got up and opened the door.
“May I come in dear?” she asked him and he just nodded as she took a few steps inside before he closed the door behind her and sat heavily on his bed. Mrs Weasley didn’t beat about the bush.
“What’s bothering you Harry?” He shrugged. Mrs Weasley continued. “Ron doesn’t mean to interfere, you know. He was upset when you and Ginny broke up last summer.”
“Yeah, so was I,” muttered Harry as he stared out of the window.
“I know they tease her,” Mrs Weasely sighed. “But really, to them, only you have ever been good enough for Ginny. Ron worries you’ll break up with her again. He covers it up by pretending he doesn’t want to know you two are even going out. For the other boys it’s just teasing, but Ron’s scared.”
“I know he doesn’t want me to hurt Ginny,” said Harry. “But why’s he so scared? It wouldn’t mean anything to him in the long run would it? Ginny and I are the ones who’d have to deal with it.”
“What happened when you broke up with Cho?” Mrs Weasely enquired. “What about Ron and Lavender?”
“Merlin, you heard about Lavender too?” shuddered Harry. He looked up. Mrs Weasley didn’t look at all pleased to have heard about Lavender and Harry couldn’t stop the grin forming on his face before he frowned. “Cho and I couldn’t even look at each other after we broke up. I don’t think Ron can look at Lavender now.”
“Well, that’s what Ron’s afraid of,” said Mrs Weasley. “If you and Ginny end up that you can’t even look at each other he’s worried he’ll get stuck in the middle. He’s not dealing with it very effectively of course. If he keeps going the way he is he’ll ostracise the both of you without you even breaking up. I’ve seen the way he looks at you two before he remembers to be outraged. There’s a look that steals over his face at first when he sees you two whispering to each other or when you hold her hand or she kisses your cheek. He loves watching you two love each other.” Harry started, staring at Mrs Weasley in surprise. She leaned over and patted him on the knee.
“He’s just scared of losing you if you break up badly. Ginny reacts because she doesn’t understand why Ron can’t be happy for her and for you. He wants you to love her the way she’s always loved you, he’s scared of what will happen if you do though,” Mrs Weasley paused while Harry blushed.
“He’s too late. I already love her,” whispered Harry. Mrs Weasley smiled.
“I think deep down, he knows that. He’s still trying to learn how to share you with someone besides Hermione. They’ll sort it out. Now come down and have a spot of tea,” she finished as she rose and headed for the door.
“Thanks,” said Harry softly as she opened the door and Mrs Weasley turned and smiled at him.
“No worries dear, now come on. I made scones,” she said as she hurried back down the crooked staircase. Harry leapt off the bed and bounded down the stairs after her.
As he entered the kitchen Ron and Ginny both looked up from the cups of tea they were stirring endlessly. George was leaning against a sideboard munching on a scone. He looked as though he was waiting to watch a much touted Quidditch match. Harry wordlessly took the cup of tea Mrs Weasley thrust at him and sat down.
“Er, mate…” began Ron before he trailed off. Ginny sighed.
“What he means to say is sorry,” she said quietly. “We’re both sorry, aren’t we Ron?” Perhaps she stepped on his foot or kicked him under the table because Ron suddenly winced and nodded.
“Yeah, I’m sorry I just, well…” Ron stopped and ran a hand haphazardly through his hair.
“ ‘Sokay Ron, doesn’t matter,” interrupted Harry. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper, sorry.”
“No,” started Ron fiercely, “you shouldn’t be apologising! I was the one who acted like a great big ar— “
“Ronald!” warned Mrs Weasley. Ginny giggled and Ron blushed. Harry found it hard to hide a smile.
“Ah, I was a bit unfair, have been for the past couple of weeks. Reckon I could be a bit more mature about things, you know? ‘Sides, ‘snot like Hermione and I — er, well so anyway I’ll keep my opinions, you know, to myself or something,” said Ron. His face softened and he looked at the table. “I like that you two are together. I don’t want you to stop … you know, but, well, seems I can’t help blowing things out of proportion inside my head and imaging the worst.” Ron shrugged helplessly as a blush crept up his neck and onto his cheeks and Ginny threw her arms around him.
“Oh Ron, you’re so sweet!” she sniffed. George threw down his scone and launched himself at them wailing theatrically about sibling love and ickle Ronnikins and how the babies were growing up right before his very eyes.
“Geroffame! Gerroff!” mumbled Ron from his place at the bottom of the pile of Weasleys now on the kitchen floor. “Harry, help!” For his part Harry just grinned until George reached out and pulled Harry off his chair into the pile of tangled limbs on the floor.
“Come and feel the love, Harry!” They were still trying to untangle themselves when the back door creaked open. Charlie shook his head as he stepped over them and snatched a scone off the plate in the middle of the table.
“How old are you lot?” he asked rhetorically as he surveyed the four of them laughing helplessly on the floor. It seemed that was the moment for homecomings as a few minutes later Bill and Fleur burst through the door, Fleur giggling outrageously. Bill shook his head at the tangled bunch on the floor and he and Fleur made for the stairs. They seemed a little breathless and flustered when Mrs Weasley began to ask them about their day, and were clearly trying to exit the room with exceeding haste. Harry stifled a snort with a great deal of difficulty as George murmured that Bill and Fleur clearly had certain activities on their mind and their mother was definitely cooling their ardour.
“The woman gave birth to seven children. How can she not see what they are thinking? I’ve seen the way she looks at dad too,” George whispered with a shudder.
“Well are you going to rescue them then?” muttered Charlie and he stooped down to help George up and hide the smirk now gracing his features.
“No way!” exclaimed George. “This way is so much more fun!” Charlie extended a hand to Ron and then Harry while George pulled Ginny to her feet and the five of them sat down in a row at the kitchen table watching Mrs Weasley chat aimlessly to the young married couple as they fidgeted and tried to edge to the hallway and the staircase beyond.
“Maybe it’s time they went home,’ whispered Charlie. “It must be killing them!”
“They forgot the silencing charm last night,” muttered George in an undertone. “Home time indeed.” Harry noticed that Bill was now glaring at his younger siblings. Mrs Weasley had succeeded in dragging Fleur into the small scullery off the kitchen and Bill stood with his arms crossed and a very grumpy look on his face.
“Ginny! Can you come in here a moment? We need to get the vegetables for dinner started.” Ginny pulled a face.
“Because I’m a girl, yay, I get to help cook,” she scowled. Harry smiled at her sympathetically before she flounced off into the scullery. Harry wondered briefly why Mrs Weasley was considering starting the vegetables when he could distinctly smell a delicious stew simmering in the cauldron on the stove. Then Bill advanced on them.
“Thanks a lot!” he hissed. “I know very well that you lot knew perfectly well what was going on there, could you not give a bloke a hand?” Charlie tilted his head to the side, studying Bill carefully.
“Nope!” he said cheerfully. “Why should I assist you in obtaining that sort of goal if I myself have no opportunity for the same?” George nodded sagely.
“Besides that was punishment for your forgetfulness last night,” he said. Bill sat down heavily at the table and groaned.
“We forgot the silencing charm?” George and Charlie nodded.
“Trapped in a room with your brothers it’s the last thing you need to hear coming from the next room, mate,” Charlie informed him with a shudder.
“Did you two hear it as well?” Bill sighed, looking at Ron and Harry who shook their heads mutely. Harry felt his face heating up listening to a casual conversation about intimate matters. Just as the back door creaked open and Percy entered the kitchen with his father, Mrs Weasley, Fleur and Ginny emerged from the scullery looking decidedly flushed and not actually carrying any vegetables out of the tiny room.
‘Beel, I zink zat per’aps we shall be going ‘ome tomorrow, after ze Ceremony, non?” said Fleur.
“Yes, well if you are going to forget silencing charms, that probably is best,” Percy said, hanging up his cloak by the kitchen door.
“Percy!” his mother hissed.
“Come now, are we not all adults here? We should be able to discuss these things in a frank and open manner,” insisted Percy.
“Ginny is not yet an adult,” Mrs Weasley asserted. “There is a time and a place and, well … certain company, in which to discuss these things!” Ginny rolled her eyes behind her mother’s back.
“Yes, and I wish it wasn’t in mine,” said Harry out the side of his mouth to Ron. “At the Dursleys they were still telling Dudley that babies came from the Cabbage Patch. I think they thought he still believed them! There was never a frank and open discussion about anything other than how much trouble I was.”
To Harry’s relief the conversation went no further as at that moment Hermione flew in her face flushed and eyes sparkling with excitement.
“I found them!” she burst out. “I found them!”
It seemed that Hermione had placed personal ads in each of Australia’s major daily newspapers seeking Wendell and Monica Wilkins and had finally gotten a reply.
“They’re in Yackandandah!” Hermione squealed.
“Yackkawhere?”
“Yackandandah! It’s about twenty minutes from Wodonga, in Victoria’s goldfields but they needed dentists and my parents went there!” said Hermione excitedly.
“Wodowhat? They’ve got Galleons sitting around in the fields down there? Haven’t they ever heard of a bank?”
“Oh Ron, stop being silly,” said Hermione, bestowing a beatific smile on him as she slid into a seat next to Harry at the kitchen table. It seemed nothing could dampen her mood right now. “Yackandandah is an Indigenous word describing the town and Wodonga is the nearest regional centre. It’s on the river that borders Victoria and New South Wales and Wodonga means bulrushes. Goldfields are areas where they mine for gold.”
“Hermione, I have absolutely no idea what any of that means. You know that don’t you?” said Ron and Hermione nodded feverishly. “But you have been reading books again, haven’t you?” Hermione slapped him on the arm.
“Actually Ronald, I’ve been learning all about the internet and emailing on the computer. The librarian showed me all about it and I set up an email and the letters just appear in there and everything but it does research Ron! It’s like having thousands of books in one computer!” Hermione was positively glowing and no one had any idea what she was talking about, although Harry did have a head start as he did know what a computer was at least.
“Muggles,” Mr Weasley said shaking his head as he sat down, “it’s amazing the things they come up with.”
“So you know where they are now dear, that’s wonderful,” said Mrs Weasley from the stove where she was stirring a positively massive cauldron full of delicious smelling stew.
“What did you tell them to get them to respond?” asked Bill.
“I said in the personal ad that it was in relation to an inheritance matter,” Hermione blushed. “It’s sort of true…some people think children are an inheritance…of sorts…I didn’t do anything underhand or wrong and well, they won’t care when they get their memories back will they?”
“So you’ve found them, you’ve submitted your paperwork and you’ve figured out how to reverse the memory charm then?” enquired Bill. Hermione shook her head.
“I’ve found them, I’ve submitted paperwork but I haven’t figured out how I’ll go about the reversal yet. It was next on my list.”
“When are you going?” asked Ron softly.
“I don’t know. The paperwork could take another month or even two, then I have to organise funds and book portkeys and things,” Hermione admitted. “As soon as possible. I want to go as soon as possible, Ron.” Ron turned to Harry, his eyes pleading.
“Can you help me submit the paperwork, Hermione?” Harry asked slowly. “I want mine to be ready when yours is.” Harry almost felt Ron sag in relief and Hermione’s eyes shone with unshed tears as she threw her arms around his neck.
“Hang on,” said George sharply. “Why aren’t you going with her Ron?” Ron shifted uncomfortably and rubbed the back of his neck looking at the floor.
“Is it money?” demanded George. “Because if it’s that I’ll —“
“No, it’s not that,” interrupted Ron.
“Well then why is Harry going? Why is he leaving Ginny again when Hermione’s your bird?”
“I am not a bird!” huffed Hermione.
“Oh, you know what I mean, Hermione!” snapped George. “It’s affectionate and all that guff, you tell me why Harry’s going and not him?”
“Really George,” said Ginny timidly, “it’s okay. We all talked about it.”
“Well not with me you didn’t!”
“And what’s it got to do with you anyway?” demanded Ron.
“Everything if the reason is me!” The four of them shuffled their feet and looked anywhere but at George. George stood up and began shouting.
“They,” he indicated Harry and Ginny, “have been apart for a year and you want him to go running off to look after the woman that you are supposed to love, and be apart again? Why? Is it because of me? Is it because of me?”
“I told you I wouldn’t leave you alone, George, and I’m not going to. Yeah we all talked about it because we’re the ones who are going to have to live with the decision and miss each other like crazy. We’re adults, George. We can make our own decisions. We have been all year,” Ron was trying desperately to keep his voice down and failing miserably.
“Ginny is not an adult,” spat George.
“I do wish people would stop saying that,” the girl in question muttered. “It’s only fifty two days until I am.”
“Counting Gin?” smirked Charlie.
“Not much.”
“I don’t like the idea of either of you running off to Australia dears,” said Mrs Weasley. “Perhaps you could leave it to the Ministry, I am sure they’d be able to take care of it. What sort of things could happen to you in that place? We don’t even know if you’ll be safe!” She started to tremble and Fleur took her wand and sat her down in the nearest chair. Harry and Hermione looked guiltily at each other. They had definitely not meant to cause all of this!
George and Ron started up their argument again, Mrs Weasley continued to wring her hands and Harry and Hermione were at a total loss. It was Bill who managed to restore order.
“Hermione, it strikes me that you may need a little help when you get there. Curse breakers are very useful types of people to have around when reversing spells, jinxes and curses … or memory charms. Fleur and I never did get a honeymoon and Australia sounds like a delightful place. We could spend some time there after sending you and your parents back home,” said Bill thoughtfully. “How about it Fleur?” Harry rather though Fleur agreed given the way she flew at her husband squealing and kissing him full on the mouth — something he was happy to reciprocate.
“Still doesn’t solve the fact that Ron should be with her,” insisted George. Fleur waved her hand airily as she surfaced from the passionate kiss she had bestowed upon her husband.
“Zo, ‘e shall come too, non? Eef money ees not a problem as you zay, zen ‘e can come too.”
“I’m not leaving George,” stated Ron, immovable.
“Zo, breeng ‘im wiz you, I do not care. We shall ‘ave more zan one room, oui mon amour?” Harry swore she began to purr at Bill. “I am sure zat a ‘oliday in zee country weel do ‘im some good. Eet weel do me some good.” She was definitely purring.
“There, that’s settled then,” said Mrs Weasley briskly. “Let’s get this table sorted for dinner.”
“Harry should still go,” Ginny said quietly. He looked at her in surprise and shook his head.
“If Ron and George and Bill and Fleur are all there, they don’t need me to go too!” he exclaimed. “I want to stay with you.”
“Well, like Fleur said, it would be a wonderful holiday and honestly who most needs a holiday in this room?” Ginny was sounding fairly sure but Harry could see her hands trembling and the unshed tears collecting in the corners of her eyes.
“I want to stay with you,” repeated Harry. “If I don’t need to go away from you I’m not going to, ever again. I know I told Hermione I’d help her bring her mum and dad home but Hermione understands.” Hermione nodded emphatically. Harry reached out to hold Ginny’s trembling hands in his. “I don’t need a holiday if I’m with you.” Fleur looked up from where she had been nuzzling Bill’s neck.
“Just breeng ‘er too. Zen you can have your ‘oliday and Ginny at ze same time.” Ginny shook her head ruefully.
“Now someone conveniently forgets I’m not of age,” she muttered.
“Capital idea, splendid!” started Mr Weasley. His wife looked at him in horror.
“You cannot be serious, Arthur! Letting Ginny go halfway around the world? I don’t think so!” Mr Weasley however was not to be swayed.
“She’s nearly of age, Molly. She’d be with Bill and George and Ron and they would never let anything happen to her,” he stood up and looked Molly directly in the eye. “She’d be with Harry, Molly. She couldn’t be any safer. And you’d be doing this for Harry too. He won’t leave her and you tell me he couldn’t use some relaxing days in the sun?” Mrs Weasley turned around to inspect Harry.
“It’s winter in Australia,” said Hermione. “I’m not sure there’d be any sun.”
“Well, you are looking a bit peaky, dear,” Mrs Weasley said as she eyed Harry critically. “Maybe you should go, do you the world of good.” Harry shook his head. The matter was dropped but there was lingering tension and Harry couldn’t quite put his finger on who it was between or what it was over, it simply swirled around the room like mist. As they cleared the table at the end of the meal Mr Weasley pulled Harry aside.
“File your papers, file Ginny’s too. Leave Molly to me,” said Mr Weasley quietly. "Just bring me hers, I'll sign them." They were all shooed to bed early by a still unsettled Mrs Weasley who cited the next morning’s ceremony as the reason but somehow they all knew it was so she could have it out with her husband. As they made their way up to the first landing George got out his wand and made a production of showing Bill how to cast a silencing charm. He had the charm cast on his own head for his troubles.
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Harry heard a ruckus as he made his way down the stairs early the next morning. He’d woken up early after a fitful nights’ sleep, feeling a nervousness that a long hot shower had not helped. He had given up trying to do anything with his hair and headed downstairs despite the fact that it was still too early for breakfast to be on. It was shaping up to be a day too warm to be wearing stiff and formal dress robes and he was feeling generally disgruntled. His previous positivity towards the Order of Merlin Ceremony had been replaced by a ball of nervous energy and a pit of anxiety in his stomach. As he entered the kitchen he discovered Ginny at the centre of the maelstrom of activity.
Why George and Charlie deemed this morning to be the one to find her Harry Potter storybook and use it to take the mickey out of her was a complete and utter mystery. Neither saw Harry as he entered the kitchen, too intent were they on teasing Ginny who was trying desperately to grab the book that was being levitated just out of her reach.
“Just you wait until mum and dad get in here,” raged Ginny at Charlie. “You’re only doing this because I can’t use magic back at you! I am so going to get you for this!”
“It’s my prerogative to tease you, squirt,” said Charlie. “I’m trying to get my fill in before I go back to Romania. I know it seems like I’m picking on you a lot, but really it will all even out.” Charlie waved his wand back and forth and made the book soar through the air, skimming Ginny’s fingertips.
“Oooooh, I just wish you’d go away already!” fumed Ginny. “I have had enough of you, I can’t wait until I am of age!” Charlie laughed. Harry took out his wand, still unseen by the other three.
“Expelliarmus!” he cried and Charlie’s wand flew out of his hand and Harry reached out to catch it as it spun across the kitchen towards him. The book fell earthward with sudden speed, landing on Charlie’s head, knocking him off balance and to the floor and Ginny ran to snatch it up. Charlie looked up at Harry a bizarre mixture of fear and sheepishness on his face.
“And that’s why they are giving me an Order of Merlin,” quipped Harry as he helped Charlie to his feet.
“You always take her side,” muttered George. Harry smiled and shrugged.
“She’s got more to offer me than you lot,” he said as he reached out to stop Ginny leaving. She was trying to edge backwards to the kitchen door her hands behind her back, shaking her head as Harry walked towards her. George snickered. Ginny was bright red.
‘C’mon, lemme see it,” wheedled Harry. Ginny shook her head violently. Harry tried his best puppy dog look, the one that always worked with Mrs Weasley.
It did not work with Ginny.
Unluckily for her Ron came barreling through the door at that moment, saw what was behind her back and swiped it from her without her even noticing he was there.
“Oh ho!” he cried in triumph. “Little Gin-Gin’s book!” Ginny looked to be on the verge of tears.
“Give it back to her, Ron,” growled Harry, his protective instincts going into overdrive at the sight of Ginny’s distraught face. Ron handed it back to her solemnly, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like ‘whipped’. Ginny snatched the book and ran back up the stairs. Harry shook his head at the three Weasleys in the kitchen before going after her.
He ran into Hermione and Mr and Mrs Weasley on the stairs as he took them three at a time. They must have seen Ginny race up just before him because they did not stop to question him and moved aside to let him pass. He caught sight of the bottom of her robes as she reached the landing and disappeared into her room, the door slipping quietly closed behind her. Racing up the last few steps he knocked softly on her door to no avail.
“Please, Ginny, let me in,” he pleaded with the smooth wooden door. Percy came past at that moment and asked Harry rather pointedly if it was appropriate to be going into Ginny’s room. Harry was unsure whether Percy’s commonsense made him drop the subject and hurry down the stairs or if it was the look on his face and raised wand.
“I don’t care about the book. I won’t look at it. I just want to make sure you’re okay. Please, let me in,” Harry tried again. He leaned his forehead on the door. “Don’t shut me out.” Harry could hear the faint sounds of Hermione and Mrs Weasley remonstrating with Charlie, George and Ron downstairs. Slowly Ginny’s bedroom door creaked open, her brown eyes peering out at him like they had that first morning he’d come to The Burrow. Her eyes were red rimmed and Harry reached out a hand to stroke her cheek.
“Can I come in?” he whispered. Ginny moved away from the door and Harry pushed it open and slipped inside. Ginny had her back to him and Harry closed the door quietly before putting his arms around her. As he noticed the book tossed haphazardly on her bed she turned around in his embrace and began quietly crying into his shirt. This was not the Ginny he was used to. The Ginny he was used to rarely cried and definitely didn’t cry over teasing of the familial variety. He patted her back awkwardly and had absolutely no idea what to do or say.
Suddenly Ginny pulled away and turned to fiddle with her hairbrush. Harry kept silent, hands in his pockets as he waited for her to speak.
“It should have been Fred,” she suddenly whispered, staring out of the window. “I don’t care if they tease me, not really. It’s a little embarrassing — “ and she waved vaguely at the book on her bed which Harry could see had a heart drawn around his name — “but the thing that hurts the most is that it was Charlie. It’s so stupid. Here they are threatening to expose my silly childhood fantasies, to you and I’m crying because it was Charlie teasing me and not Fred! I just miss him, you know. If things were right, if it was normal it would have been Fred and George, not Charlie and George.” She finished in a whisper, turning around as a lone tear rolled down her cheek. Harry just held her in his arms and let her cry.
A short time later they both descended the stairs, the book in hand for Hermione who had wanted to see it. George and Charlie were sitting at the table, subdued and Ron was trying to get Hermione to talk to him. Harry handed Hermione the Harry Potter storybook. She squealed in delight and immediately opened the book and buried her head in it.
“Hang on!” exclaimed Charlie. “It didn’t look like that before!”
“Oh, I fixed it,” replied Harry airily. He had embellished the heart a nine year old Ginny Weasley had drawn around his name on the cover, adding 'HP 4 GW' inside it and giving the drawing of a very young Harry on the front a thought bubble that said 'Ginny Weasley is my Chosen One, I just don’t know it yet'.
Ron shook his head and Hermione, taking a look at the cover gave Harry a long winded lecture about the care of books and how one does not write on them, thank you very much! Harry just smiled and reached for Ginny’s hand under the table, eating one handed as he entwined his fingers with hers.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Harry felt a certain sense of trepidation as he Flooed into the Ministry Atrium. Kingsley had reopened the Apparition points at the Ministry so that people could attend the Ceremony but had connected The Burrow up to the fireplaces in the Atrium. He assured Harry that it was to offer him a measure of security because they could control that area but Harry wondered rather privately if it was because he hadn’t actually got an Apparition licence. Everyone had seemed willing to let him Apparate in until Hermione helpfully pointed out that he didn’t have a licence. The Burrow had been connected to the Ministry within the hour.
As he tumbled out of the fireplace Harry noticed that the dreary darkness which had overtaken the Atrium during the past year had lifted. It was deserted which he found unusual but certainly not bothersome and the dark floors once again shone, the peacock blue ceiling with its roving gilt shapes seemed to be more vibrant than ever and the dreadful statue that had dominated the Atrium last time he had been there was gone. In its place was a raised dais. Harry contemplated what it might be for, trying to ignore the rotund security wizard who was standing three feet away staring at him. Mr Weasley had Flooed in behind him. The rest of the family were exiting the fireplace one by one.
“That’s temporary, for the Ceremony today. They are going to put a fountain there again, when someone gets around to designing one,” Mr Weasley explained. Harry nodded and, having had enough of being stared at, strode over to the security wizard and stuck his hand out.
“Hello! Harry Potter. Nice to meet you,” he said. “And you are?” The wizard offered a pudgy hand rather mechanically.
“Er, S-s-salisbury S-stoke,” the little round man stammered. Harry shook the man’s hand with apparent enthusiasm and then lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
“I don’t suppose you could tell me who’s supposed to be meeting me and taking me to see the Minister, could you?” Clearly it was Salisbury’s job because he abruptly came to his senses and rather officiously nodded.
“Of course, of course, this way Mr Potter,” and Salisbury Stoke led Harry into a lift, the Weasleys and Hermione crowding in after him. They soon found themselves in Kingsley’s office and Mr Stoke had scurried away, looking back over his shoulder a couple of times as if he still couldn’t quite believe he had seen Harry Potter, in the flesh. George stopped ribbing Harry about not giving the poor man an autograph when Harry promised to autograph George’s forehead with everlasting ink.
Kingsley greeted them and began to explain the Ceremony that would take place that morning. It was going to be short and sweet; just an hour, broadcast on the WWN, with a press reception afterwards; the questions had already been submitted and approved by Kingsley, followed by lunch. Then he could simply go home.
“Kingsley, you are the best Minister of Magic in the History of, well, magic,” said Harry. “Not too long, not too fussy, brilliant!”
“Mr Potter, you forget I have come to know you fairly well and pomp and ceremony are definitely not your thing,” returned Kingsley.
“Understatement,” coughed Ron behind his hand. Hermione elbowed him in the ribs.
“Say, Kingsley, you don’t think there’s anyone about who can do my Apparition test?” Harry asked. It turned out there was, and in the short time they had before the Ceremony was to start, a rather starstruck witch tested Harry on his Apparition and issued his licence. Then the Weasleys returned to the Atrium while Harry went with Kingsley to stand on the dais in the now crowded Atrium, the assembled witches and wizards falling absolutely silent as they joined several witches and wizards on the dais.
There was a sudden cacophony of sound as the crowd in the Atrium began cheering when they saw Harry, delaying the start of the Ceremony for a good ten minutes. A few official looking people began to give speeches about the new direction of the Ministry, the future and the incomparable sacrifice that those who had lost their lives had made. Harry watched as the sea of brightly robed witches and wizards cheered and clapped each brief speaker but he wasn’t yet eighteen and, quite frankly, stuffy middle aged men and women delivering speeches about an event in which they had not taken part was not only boring for an active young mind but Harry found it just a little hypocritical. He found his mind wandering and he began to search the crowd for faces that he knew to pass the time.
There was a knot of Weasleys close to the edge of the dais. Mr and Mrs Weasley looking up at him, wearing expressions that made them look for all the world like they were his proud parents. Harry reflected that for all intents and purposes they were and he had never felt so blessed to have had them in his life. Harry gave them a little wave and Mrs Weasley beamed wider. Charlie was conjuring what looked like a sign and trying to pin it surreptitiously to Percy’s back as the latter stood stiffly, his back ramrod straight, attention riveted on the speakers. Harry was not surprised to see Penelope Clearwater had joined them, her arm hooked through Percy’s. Bill was standing behind Fleur, his arms around her. Harry was not at all certain they were listening as they seemed to be swaying slightly and wearing dreamy expressions. Not seeing George, Ginny, Ron or Hermione he began to search the crowd for them.
Mrs Figg was there, still in her carpet slippers but clearly wearing her best housecoat. Harry idly wondered where the Dursleys were right now and decided that although he did not care he should at least find out. Dudley had been decent enough the last time they saw each other after all. His eyes still roving, Harry spotted Xenophilious Lovegood in burnt orange robes waving his arms in the air in a complex pattern that Harry was sure he once seen Luna do when waffling about Wrackspurts. He couldn’t see Luna, however. He kept looking, spotting various members of the Order of the Phoenix, a few people he rather thought worked at the Ministry, Hagrid waving to him from the furthest corner, Auntie Muriel and her enormous pink feathered hat and Neville’s grandmother, her vulture hat looking as though it could eat Muriel’s feather concoction for dinner. Still Harry failed to find any of his friends; Neville was nowhere near his grandmother.
Frowning slightly and wondering why those who were closest to him had decided to either not come or wander off and not pay attention Harry spotted Andromeda with little Teddy and standing slightly behind her, Viktor Krum. Maybe it was a good thing Ron had apparently vanished. Forcing his attention back to the speakers, and vowing to have words with his friends for abandoning him, Harry caught the tail end of Kingsley’s speech.
“ —and so it is not only one man who effected the future we all now look forward to, welcome the members of Dumbledore’s Army without whom we would not be celebrating this victory today!” Harry spun around to see Ron and Hermione, grinning broadly and leading a group of young witches and wizards whom Harry knew intimately onto the dais. His jaw fell open.
“Brilliant!” he breathed at Kingsley who just smiled and handed him a medal that Harry saw was an Order of Merlin, Second Class, with Ron’s name on it. He looked at Kingsley questioningly.
“Haven’t been listening, have you Potter?” muttered Kingsley out the side of his mouth. Harry blushed. Kingsley turned to address the assembled crowd who were cheering and clapping as the members of Dumbledore’s Army filed onto the stage. “Mr Potter will now address us before he presents these fine young people with their medals.”
Harry gulped. He caught Ron’s eye and noticed he was trying not to laugh at the look on Harry’s face, which, if the way Harry was feeling was anything to go by, was probably a look of sheer panic. Hermione was trying to look encouraging and nodding at him. Behind them stood Neville who looked pleased and proud, Luna who looked just a little bit vague and Ginny who was smiling that same radiant smile she had bestowed on him in the Room of Requirement as she climbed through the portrait hole followed by Fred and George and Lee. As his eyes roamed over the group assembled behind them he remembered that these were the people who had first trusted him, first believed him. These were the people who had first shown faith in him as he taught them how to defend themselves in a room at the top of Hogwarts. His eyes came to rest on George and Harry heard Fred in the Room of Requirement that night, defending Dumbledore’s Army to his mother and Harry knew just what to say.
“There were some people who didn’t think we were serious. Some people thought we were just a group of children, a teenager’s gang, playing about,” he said to the assembled crowd who had fallen silent when he began to speak. “But these are the bravest people I know. They were the people who first believed in me. Without Ron and Hermione I wouldn’t even be here, they’ve been my best friends, my lifeline. Without Neville and Ginny and Luna this past year we’d never have held it together long enough to defeat Voldemort —" Harry rolled his eyes at the audible gasp that went up.
“We couldn’t have done it without you. It’s taken me a while to figure this out but I don’t have to do everything alone,” said Harry as he turned to address his friends. Hermione sniffed but smiled at him as a tear rolled down her cheek. Harry turned back to the audience. “We may have been a teenager’s gang but we dared, we dared to take on Voldemort and we won. This group of teenagers, this gang, was the first to turn up, to dare.” A cheer went up as Harry finished and turned to hand the medal in his hand to Ron.
Kingsley Shacklebolt read out the names of Dumbldore’s Army starting with Ron and Hermione then reading out Neville and Luna and Ginny. Harry handed each one of them a medal and gave them a hug. He was sure that the kiss he gave Ginny on the cheek was noticed by at least one person as he heard George wolf whistle as he did so. Harry realised he didn’t have to pretend anymore and before she left his embrace he lowered his head and gave her a lingering kiss on the lips. Seamus and Dean joined in the wolf whistling and more than one camera flash went off but Harry didn’t care. At that moment, standing with those friends and family most dear to him he felt like the happiness had finally come.
He released Ginny, who was blushing to the roots of her hair, and as Kingsley went alphabetically through the members of Dumbledore’s Army he handed each one a medal. He hugged Hannah Abbott, Lavender Brown, Katie Bell and Susan Bones before shaking the hands of Terry Boot, Cho Chang and Michael Corner. Cho looked a little disappointed but Harry was too busy looking at Dennis’s sad face as Kingsley read out Colin’s posthumous award. Harry took the medal gingerly and looked at the name engraved on it, tracing it with his finger.
“Make him proud,” he whispered as he hugged Dennis, handing him Colin’s Order of Merlin and then his own. Dennis managed a watery smile as he moved to stand with the others where Neville waited to comfort him. Justin Finch-Fletchley, Seamus Finnigan and Anthony Goldstein might have only got handshakes but after Angelina got a hug Lee Jordan moved in for one as well and laughing, Harry complied. Pompous Ernie Macmillan and the Patil twins were followed by Zacharias Smith, Alicia Spinnet and Dean Thomas. And then only George was left and two medals were still in the little box Kingsley held.
His eyes swimming with tears Harry took them both and as Kingsley read out Fred Weasley and then George Weasley he handed them to George who stared at them for a long moment before Harry reached out and embraced him. George hugged him back and as he pulled away, wiping his cheeks he grinned at Harry and said,
“Don’t you even think of snogging me Potter!” The assembled group of young witches and wizards on the dais burst out laughing as they all gathered around Harry for one enormous group hug and it was with some difficulty that Kingsley managed to extricate Harry in order to receive his own medal, an Order of Merlin First Class.
“Thank you, Harry,” said Kingsley, his voice low and rumbly. “We are in your debt.” Harry shook his head.
“Then your repayment is to live, to rebuild your lives and keep going,” he said and the crowd cheered as he posed with Dumbledore’s Army for several cameras.
The press conference was over quickly with straightforward questions about what he was going to do now, if he supported the current Minister of Magic becoming permanent and if he was going to try out for Professional Quidditch. Lunch was a rowdy, enjoyable affair with the Weasleys, most of the Order including Hagrid and Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore’s Army. Before they were seated Mrs Weasley scolded him for his extremely public display of affection but Harry could tell she didn’t really mean it. Behind her back Charlie gave him two thumbs up and Mr Weasley winked at him making Harry blush as heavily as Ginny had earlier.
No one wanted to leave the Banquet Room that they had repaired to for lunch after the meal itself was over. Hestia Jones and Dedalus Diggle informed him, when he asked, that Vernon, Petunia and Dudley had returned home after Number Four Privet Drive had been rebuilt by magical means and were as well as could be expected which meant that Vernon was still ungrateful, Petunia was still thin lipped and nervous and Dudley was asking if Harry was really alright. After consoling an emotional Hagrid and being swept up by several Order members for pats on the back and handshakes Harry snuck away from the crowd and pulling Ginny with him, found a secluded spot that was largely obscured by a massive potted fern.
“Hey there, Ginny,” he asked as he pulled her close. “How come you guys didn’t tell me about the medals?” Ginny grinned up at him, her red hair framed her face like fire and her eyes sparkled.
“We wanted to surprise you. Kingsley asked us what we thought and we told him you’d hate to be singled out so he spoke to Neville and Luna and he figured you’d want the DA to be recognised,” she said. “That day you asked him about the Ceremony, the day that newspaper article came out, he was going to tell you but you were so confident when you spoke about it that we decided to keep it a secret and surprise you.”
“It was a lovely surprise,” whispered Harry and he dropped his lips to hers, their bodies melding together seamlessly as they stood behind the massive fern.
That was where Bill found them twenty minutes later, their lips still caressing each other’s, Ginny’s hands in his hair and his hands stroking her back. A discreet cough broke them apart.
“Mum’s looking for you two,” he said, grinning. “Be glad I found you. Dad’ll have no chance of convincing her to let Ginny go anywhere with you, much less Australia, if she ever catches a look at that!” Blushing, Ginny and Harry straightened themselves out and tamed their hair before stepping out from behind the fern. Privately Harry doubted anything they had done to fix themselves up was going to fool Mrs Weasley because Ginny’s lips were still swollen and she had a languid wanton air about her that he was sure no one could miss. He found himself unable to keep his hands off her and they wandered the room searching for her mother with arms around each other, Ginny stealing glances at Harry when he periodically kissed her cheek or hair.
They found Mrs Weasley and she did look at them with eyebrows raised. Harry looked suitably sheepish but Ginny just looked back at her imperiously and finally Mrs Weasley smiled.
“We’re heading off now, your father and I,” she said. “Can’t keep up with you young ones.” She smiled wistfully as she watched Neville and George, ably assisted by Lee and Dean, balancing several glasses in a pyramid on a nearby table. Seamus was waiting with a bottle of butterbeer to create a frothy fountain that filled all the glasses when the pyramid was finished.
“We’ll see you at home, then,” she suddenly sniffed and launched herself at Harry, enfolding him in a rib cracking hug. “We’re so proud of you, dear. Look after my baby.” And before Harry could hug her back she was gone, threading her way through the crowd to where Mr Weasley was waiting at the door.
It was quite some time later, after treating Ginny to his newly licensed skill of Apparition by taking her Side-Along, that Harry and Ginny stumbled through the back door of The Burrow with Ron and Hermione at their heels laughing and having had just a little too much butterbeer.
They stumbled into chaos.
Chapter 13: Christening
Author's Notes: Hello! May this satisfy all your cliffhanger emotions...and check out my bio page for a special picture of one of my other creations :D .
Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work.
Mrs Weasley flew at them engulfing them one after the other in rib cracking hugs, sobbing loudly.
“Oh you’re safe, you’re okay,” she wailed. “You are okay aren’t you? All of you?” Harry nodded dumbly, gazing in horror at The Burrow’s kitchen. The floor was strewn with broken crockery, cutlery was thrown haphazardly about the room and the chairs and table were overturned. Three Aurors roamed the room making notes and taking pictures.
“What the bloody hell happened here?” demanded Ron. Charlie and Percy were standing in the doorway to the hallway and both of them shrugged.
“Was like this when we all got home,” said Charlie. Harry noticed Ginny was pale and shaking and he put his arms around her instinctively.
“Where’s George?” asked Hermione.
“Dunno,” answered Charlie. “We were hoping he was with you lot.” Mrs Weasley was staring anxiously out of the kitchen window as if that could make George appear. Mr Weasley came in the back door just then and proclaimed that all wards were intact and given the lack of damage to any of the outside doors they must have come through the Floo during the Ceremony.
“We’re finished here now Mrs Weasley,” said one of the Aurors. “Bad luck Arthur, hope there’s nothing missing, they don’t appear to have gone upstairs at all. You should be right to fix this up now. We’ll be fixing the security on the other end of the Floo as soon as we go back through.” The Aurors left through the Floo and Mrs Weasley picked up a chair and sank into it with a heavy sigh.
“What happened, dad?” asked Ron again.
“Death Eaters,” grimaced Mr Weasley. Harry blanched and Hermione gasped.
“What?” barked Ron. “I thought we got rid of all those tosspots!”
“They have been mostly captured in the last three weeks but there are a couple still on the run,” explained Mr Weasley. “They wanted to leave a warning.” And he thrust a sheet of Parchment at Ron.
“Bloody hell,” whispered Ron, his face going white. Harry reached over and snatched it from Ron’s grasp and promptly leaned over and retched when he saw what was written on the parchment.
We’ll get the rest of your brats, Weasley, and then we go after Potter.
Hermione and Ginny helped Harry into a chair while Ron cleaned up the vomit. Harry was shaking violently, Ginny not faring much better and Mrs Weasley was beginning to rock back and forth muttering about George and wringing her hands.
“Charlie, go and look for George. Percy, you go and fetch Bill. This is more important than forgotten silencing charms,” ordered Mr Weasley quietly. They both nodded and hurried off, Ron in pursuit of Charlie. Hermione made tea that no one drank and Mr Weasley began setting the kitchen to rights while they waited for the boys to return.
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“How can this happen?” whispered Harry after what seemed like hours. Bill and Fleur had returned and Fleur had made something to eat but no one had much of an appetite. George, Ron and Charlie still had not returned or sent any word and darkness was falling.
“He’s supposed to be gone,” said Hermione quietly. “I can’t believe everything we’ve gone through to still be faced with this.” Harry couldn’t believe that the happiness he had felt that morning had been so easily dissipated. It almost felt like a Dementor had swept in and was hovering over them. He hadn’t eaten a bite and he felt so cold. He began shivering, heedless of the concerned looks that Bill threw his way.
Suddenly there was a commotion at the door and it burst open to reveal three red headed men, the two on the outside supporting the one in the middle. Ron and Charlie dragged George into the room between them. All three of them were covered in blood, but George appeared to be unconscious.
“Him and Lee together with Neville, Dean and Seamus took Dennis Creevey out for some Firewhiskey,” Charlie puffed as he hefted George through to the living room. “I have no idea what they could possibly have been thinking. Nutters the lot of them. And as for Aberforth, he’s not blameless in this either!” He and Ron dropped George on the couch and Mrs Weasley flew over to him.
“It’s just superficial mum, he’s not bleeding much. He got knocked out though, tripped over a tree root the silly git,” said Ron. “I could use a few healing spells here though.” Ron exposed his arm, a deep cut ran the length of it and Mrs Weasley and Hermione cried out in alarm.
“What in the blazes happened to you!” bellowed Mr Weasley. “You’ve been gone for hours, you send no word and you turn up bleeding with George unconscious! Where on earth have you been and what have you been up to?” George began to stir. Mrs Weasley and Hermione tended to the wounds, and George, as he came around, and Charlie explained what had happened.
He and Ron had gone back to the Ministry to find the place in an uproar. Two Death Eaters had apparently Flooed back in and tried to blast their way out of the still crowded Atrium. One had been captured but the other escaped. Tracking down Cho, the last remaining DA member in the Banquet Room, they found out where George and the others had gone. Unfortunately Cho had already given that information to a mysterious stranger.
“She’s been more trouble than she’s worth, that one!” exclaimed Ron. Ginny growled. “Honestly you’d think she could tell what a Death Eater looked like by now. Well we hot footed it to Hogsmeade of course, found the Hogs Head full of spell fire. If that lot hadn’t been drunk they could have fought off our old friend but he’d pinned them behind the bar the dozy gits.”
“Wasn’t expecting Ron though,” said Charlie, pride in his voice. “Took him down with one hex, sent him flying through the window!”
“Yes, had the unfortunate effect of sending a piece of flying glass at me though,” winced Ron as Hermione continued to clean his wound. “Aberforth thought it would be a good idea to charm the windows so that if someone goes flying out of one, all the glass comes flying straight back inside and reforms back into the frame. You stand too close to one when you send someone flying through it and manage to get in the way of reforming glass and you end up like this.”
“So you’re all okay then? Nobody got hurt apart from that?” demanded Mrs Weasley.
“No, the blood on me is all Ron’s and George here is banged up only because he was too drunk to walk straight and as we tried to get him home he lurched off into the Forest and fell over,” explained Charlie.
“The Aurors came and took away the Death Eater. They interrogated the other one and turns out they were the ones here. Kingsley reckons they are both a bit deranged,” said Ron. “Says there’s no more Death Eaters out there either. They were the last two. Trials start now though.”
“We had to apparate Dean, Seamus and Dennis home and deal with their very irate mothers,” Charlie continued. “Angelina’s got a bigger temper than Lee’s mum.” He shuddered.
“Angelina?” asked Ginny.
“Yeah, apparently they are an ‘item’ now. She’s not a fan of drunk Lee,” Charlie confessed. “By the time we finished all that, George here had drunk Aberforth under the table.”
The family sat there in silence while Mrs Weasley dotted dittany on the scrapes on George’s face and Hermione bandaged Ron’s arm to protect the new skin that was forming over his cut. Harry closed his eyes and let out a deep breath as Charlie and Ron finished their stories.
He snapped his eyes back open as the flashes of green returned and the glowing red eyes leered at him.
“Are you alright, Harry?” asked Ginny softly. Wordlessly Harry nodded and avoided Bill’s gaze. Mrs Weasley chivvied them off to bed only moments later and while Ron fell asleep immediately his head hit the pillow, Harry sat huddled against the wall by his bed, staring into the darkness far too afraid to close his eyes.
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Panting, soaked with sweat, Harry shot upright in bed, the sheets tangled around his legs. He thrashed about the feeling of being trapped was pressing down on him and he leaned over the side of the bed as that very thought made him violently ill. A hand was rubbing his back and a soft voice was whispering something to him, a cool flannel pressed to his forehead and a glass of water thrust into his shaking hands. Bill…
Harry looked up into Bill’s concerned face as he gulped the water down. Bill vanished the vomit from the floor and took the glass, setting it on the windowsill. Harry let the tears slip from his eyes and slide down his cheeks as Bill gathered him in a hug to rival one of Mrs Weasley’s. Harry didn’t care that it was Bill, that he was crying on another man’s shoulder. He thought vaguely that it should feel a bit weird but the fact was it didn’t.
“I told you to tell us, kid,” Bill was whispering. “If you’re feeling bad, tell us, we can help.”
Harry sniffed and pulled himself off Bill, sitting upright in the bed.
“How did you know? Was I screaming out or something?”
“No. I saw you, downstairs, and I knew that something was bothering you,” replied Bill. “I could tell so I came and sat with you because you lied. You told Ginny you were alright. I knew you weren’t, she knew you weren’t. The only reason I’m here and not her is because I sent her to bed half an hour ago.” Harry let out a shuddering sigh. His nightmares were back and he was too afraid to sleep. He thought the nightmares were behind him but clearly they weren’t.
Bill pressed a Dreamless Sleep Potion into his hands. Harry drank it and sank back onto his pillow as Bill pulled the covers up around his shoulders and stroked his hair until he fell asleep.
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It was a very pale Harry who made his way down the stairs for breakfast the next morning. Despite the Dreamless Sleep Potion he hadn’t actually slept much after staying awake half the night to avoid nightmares. Dark smudges sat under his eyes and his feet felt heavy as he plodded down the stairs. Mrs Weasley inspected him carefully, feeling his forehead and peering into his eyes before pushing him into a seat and giving him a heaped pile of bacon and eggs. He felt numb and more than a little bit detatched.
And then Ginny was there. He watched as she twirled into the room, her hair flying as she danced away from Charlie and his teasing. He watched her as she greeted her mother good morning with a kiss and settled herself next to him and her kiss on his cheek seemed to break the silence and thaw his soul. The kitchen came back to life and time began again. Harry reached for her and held onto her as the dam broke again and he cried. He had absolutely no idea why he was crying he thought he’d moved beyond that now. He’d buried the dead and sorted things out — he found the happiness — so he had no idea what was happening now.
But nobody moved to accuse him of not holding it together, to tease him or mock him. Ginny simply held him as he cried and when he finished Charlie handed him a clean handkerchief and Mrs Weasley gave him a fresh plate of piping hot eggs and bacon and patted him on the cheek. He spent the day sitting in the living room with Ginny, talking quietly or dozing, his head in her lap.
The following days passed in a similar fashion. He would fight nightmares at night, eat breakfast in the mornings and then spend the day quietly with Ginny. Sometimes Ron and Hermione would join them and Harry played chess with Ron. Once they all went swimming with George down at the pond and Harry even laughed as they splashed about. Mrs Weasley spent her days making his favourite foods and doing his washing, Mr Weasley brought him Muggle appliances and pieces of the flying motorcycle and asked him to explain what they were for (he never did quite manage to convince Mr Weasley that a CD could store music) and Bill and Fleur stayed until Harry’s nightmares stopped.
Percy kept them all updated on the trials that were held daily at the Ministry. The day he brought home the news that Dolores Umbridge had been imprisoned for her crimes against Muggleborns George declared it Justice Day and that night set off a series of Red and Gold fireworks over Fred’s grave. The day Percy told them that the Malfoys had weaseled their way out of Azkaban by proving collusion with Harry at the end of the battle George declared it Ponce Day and spent the night in his room devising a new series of confectionery that he sent to Malfoy Manor and refused to tell anyone what they would do. Rumour had it that Draco and his father spent a good three weeks in St Mungos but it was largely unconfirmed.
Harry had sent a statement about Narcissa’s actions at Kingsley’s request and the Wizengamot had called Hagrid in to testify as the only alive and non incarcerated witness to Harry’s ‘death’. Fleur expressed loudly the opinion that Hagrid had bollixed it up (Mrs Weasely was rendered speechless at her language before declaring her boys a bad influence on the women in their lives) and Ron and Harry rose up in defence of Hagrid but it soon degenerated into a fight between the two of them about the contents of Harry’s statement. When Harry conceded that Lucius had definitely taken advantage of the situation and Ron admitted that maybe Narcissa did side with Harry, albeit briefly, their argument cooled and Harry’s impassioned plea that they let it go instead of continuing the sort of hatred for which Riddle had been well known made a big impact. The day after the Malfoy trial a haughty looking owl delivered a package to The Burrow. It contained Ron and Hermione’s wands. Ron was heard to say that if Malfoy could let it go he would let it go, but no one had better expect him to talk to the git.
Charlie went back to Romania at the end of June. He patted his mother on the back as she released a fresh flood of tears all over him, squeezed Ginny tightly and called her squirt and shook Percy’s and his father’s hands. He kissed Hermione’s cheek, gave Ron and George back slapping hugs and when he pulled Harry into a hug he whispered in his ear,
“Take care of the squirt, if you need anything, just owl.” And Charlie was gone. Percy went back to his own flat after that with a much more reserved and handshake heavy farewell. The days marched on relentlessly to July, there were strange explosions coming from George’s room, Ron, Harry and Ginny flew around the orchard after raiding the broomshed while Hermione sat underneath the apple tree and read from Seventh Year textbooks and the ghoul began rattling his chains again.
Hermione filed the extra travel paperwork. Mr Weasley had convinced Mrs Weasley to let Ginny go with them (Ron thought that it was likely his father pointed out that they wouldn’t have to use any silencing charms if Ginny went with the rest of them, leaving The Burrow empty of children and earned a slap on the arm from a red faced Hermione when he expressed it). After a week and a half of very little exertion and complete pampering at the hands of Mrs Weasley Harry was almost feeling like his old self when a flurry of owls caused excitement levels to rise at the Burrow.
The Daily Prophet declared that Kingsley had been made the permanent Minister of Magic and contained an announcement that Hogwarts was to reopen as usual on September first. Students could expect their Hogwarts letters within the next few weeks. Hermione squealed and began dancing around the kitchen while Ron smiled at her indulgently. Mrs Weasley divested an owl of an official looking envelope which turned out to be an invitation to Teddy Lupin’s Christening on July 5th, less than a week away.
“He’s not Christened yet?” asked Harry.
“No, they were going to do it next time it was safe to contact you,” Mrs Weasley explained. “That time never really came I suppose. It was going to be a quiet affair, a bit secret really, especially with the godfather having a price on his head. I expect Andromeda wants to make a big fuss now there’s no reason not to.” Mrs Weasley looked at the invitation in her hands rather wistfully. Harry opened his own envelope from Andromeda which included a letter.
Dear Harry,
I have gone ahead and arranged Teddy’s Christening. I hope you don’t mind. I’m sorry the notice is short but this is the little church Dora was christened at and the only date free before you return to Hogwarts. It is to be a small affair but if there is anyone you wish to invite, let me know. Molly told me you’d been under some strain these past few days when I contacted her to see why you’d not been to visit. That nice Neville Longbottom has been around a couple of times though. I invited him to the Christening. He seems to be quite attached to little Ted.
I do hope you are feeling better these days and please, come over as soon as you can. I know Teddy misses you.
Yours, Andromeda.
Harry felt suddenly terribly guilty. He’d been so tied up in his own thoughts that he’d not made the time or found the energy to go and see Teddy. He’d be back at school soon and his chances to see him would dwindle. Ron was still eating breakfast and Mrs Weasley, Hermione and Ginny were contemplating what to wear to the Christening and if they had the time or the funds to get something new. Making a decision he abruptly pulled out his Gringotts key and tossed it onto the table.
“Funds,” he said briefly, as he got up. “I’m going to see Teddy today. Just keep Ron away from my family jewels!” Ginny snickered. Ron stopped eating long enough to make a rude hand gesture at Harry.
“How many times Ronald Weasley? I will not tell you again! If I see that one more time I’ll jinx your fingers together!” his mother shouted at him before turning on Harry. “And what do you think you’re doing?” Harry crossed his arms and simply looked at her.
“I’m dragging myself out of the pit of misery I’ve been wallowing in,” he said. “I’ve been so busy indulging in my own grief that I forgot I even had a responsibility to Teddy. Sirius went after Pettigrew so that he could avenge my parents and it kept him from me. Remus spent his time in seclusion and despair instead of with me. Teddy needs me. He’s got his grandmother but he needs me too. At least Neville remembered that.” Mrs Weasley studied him silently for a moment before speaking.
“I’m glad you’ve worked that out dear,” she said with a smile. “I told Andromeda it wouldn’t be long. I was actually referring to this dear.” And she waved his Gringotts key at him.
“Oh, don’t worry. You won’t have any problem making a withdrawal. I had Bill set it up so Ginny could use it,” Harry stopped abruptly, blushing as Ron’s jaw dropped. Harry shuffled his feet uncomfortably. “Please don’t say you can’t accept it. When was the last time any of you had something new? You all do so many things for me and…please?” Mrs Weasley’s face softened.
“Well just this once,” she eventually said.
“Good, that’s settled then,” said Harry. “I’m going to change and Floo over to see Teddy. I’ll be back for dinner.”
“Can I get a new broom, Harry?” called Ron cheekily to his retreating back. Harry answered with a rude hand gesture and Mrs Weasley began to berate Ron for being so incredibly rude.
“How come he doesn’t get his fingers jinxed together and I’m the one who gets into trouble?” Ron’s indignant voice came wafting up the stairs. “George was right! He is your favourite!”
Harry laughed. It was good to be with family.
Harry changed quickly and headed back downstairs to Floo to Andromeda’s. He found Ginny alone in the kitchen washing up and staring out the window as if in a trance. He came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist, kissing her on the side of the neck. She tilted her head to give him better access and he continued to press soft kisses along the side of her neck and behind her ear.
“Why did you do that, Harry?” she suddenly asked, still looking out of the window. Harry froze.
“Do what, exactly? I’ve done a lot of things…” he trailed off. It had sounded far more amusing in his head. Ginny turned in his grasp and fixed her gaze somewhere over his left shoulder.
“Set your key up like that,” was all she said. Harry pulled away from her, his arms dropping to his sides.
“Why are you asking?”
“Because I want to know,” said Ginny evasively.
“Do you have a problem with it?”
“No.” Ginny shook her head.
“So, who cares why?” Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned away to study the coat rack just inside the back door.
“I want to understand,” was the only reply he got. Slowly he turned around. She had turned back to the washing up and was slowly dragging a cloth over a plate.
“Because you are everything,” he said. He took a step back towards her. “I feel more … complete with you. It’s like not being with you just means I have to get back to you. It matters to me how you are … I want you to be happy — “
“Oh and you think money will make me happy?” Ginny slapped a large pan forcefully into the sink and it made a satisfying smacking sound as it hit the water.
“No!” said Harry fiercely. “My life isn’t complete without you. So if you’re not happy … well that matters to me. And you … need to be involved. You’re happiest when I share parts of me with you.” Ginny turned to look at him.
“Harry — “
“And this is part of me. If I don’t share all of me with you, why share anything at all?” Harry continued. “That day the Death Eaters came I got so panicked but I didn’t tell you. Bill told me that I lied to you and I did. I said I was fine and I wasn’t at all. I’m sorry.
“I’m sorry I didn’t apologise before now. It made me think though. I don’t want to lie to you, I want you to know all of me, every part. Keeping something from you, anything, even my vault, isn’t doing that. My whole life is open to you. I belong to you. Keeping anything back … keeping something apart from you isn’t … it won’t … what’s mine is yours.” Harry took another step forward and shrugged. “It’s not about the fact that there’s money in there … so I got Bill to fix it so you had access.” Ginny stared at him. He felt pinned under her gaze.
“I don’t care if you never touch it or if you spend it all,” he said as he reached out and took her wet, soapy hand. “I love you. This is because I love you.” Harry looked into her eyes and felt himself caught up in eternity as he stared into their depths. Slowly he lowered his face towards her and her eyes slid shut and her soft pink lips parted ever so slightly. As he looked at the lashes splayed across her cheeks and the freckles dusting across her nose he could smell that unique flowery scent that was Ginny and as he lowered his lips to hers he whispered, “With all my heart.”
Harry heard the door creak open as someone came in from the hallway just as he slid an arm around Ginny’s waist and pulled her towards him, running his tongue along her bottom lip as he did so and waiting for her to allow him entrance. Her lips parted and he deepened the kiss before a discreet cough made him pull reluctantly away. Ginny, her eyes still closed, leaned into him, laying her head on his chest and Harry looked up to see Ron with his hand on the door handle obviously trying very hard not to take the mickey out of them. He was turning purple with the effort.
“Just saying goodbye, Ron,” said Harry. “Will words do for you or would you like the same sort of goodbye?” Harry could feel Ginny shaking with laughter against his chest as Ron backed out muttering something about randy gits. Harry looked down at the beautiful woman in his arms and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“I should get going,” he said reluctantly. “I’ll see you tonight. Have fun, okay? Oh, and you look divine in green.” He winked at her and released her going to the fireplace and grabbing some Floo powder from the pot on the mantelpiece.
“Harry,” Ginny stopped him. He turned around. “I love you too.” Harry smiled and gave her a little wave as he whirled out of sight and past the all the fireplaces to come tumbling out at Andromeda’s house.
He found Andromeda walking a screaming Teddy up and down the hallway, toys strewn all over and the kitchen a mess. It was extremely unusual.
“Oh, Harry, lovely to see you dear,” she said tiredly when she saw him stepping out of the kitchen hearth. “Sorry about the mess.” She gestured vaguely at the room and resumed ineffectively patting Teddy on the back and his screams seemed to grow even louder. Harry was at a complete loss but he could tell that Andromeda was nearly out on her feet so he decided to take Teddy and he pulled out a chair for Andromeda to sit in.
Teddy quieted for a brief moment when Harry took him and he took that opportunity to set the kettle and begin making some tea — which was no mean feat one handed. Teddy began squalling again within minutes.
“Hey, little guy,” soothed Harry. “What’s wrong? Bad hair day? I know, I get them a lot. I’m not sure fuchsia is your colour you know.” Teddy did not stop crying. Andromeda let out a big sigh as Harry inelegantly plunked mug of tea in front of her on the table.
“I don’t know why he’s crying. He’s been doing it for hours,” she sounded on the verge of tears herself. “I know babies do that sometimes it’s just, well … hard.” Harry reached over and patted her awkwardly on the shoulder.
“Listen, I think you need a long break,” he began. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around much. It must be so hard…” he trailed off feeling completely inadequate. Andromeda looked up at him as she sipped her tea. Teddy seemed to be running out of steam he began sobbing quietly and hiccupping his tiny fists grabbing handfuls of Harry’s shirt.
“I’m too old for this,” she muttered. “How can I possibly be the best person to look after him? Look at me, I’m all alone and this place is a mess. You’d think I’d know something about looking after a baby! But the poor soul has been crying for hours and I don’t even know how to fix it.”
“You are the best person to look after Teddy,” said Harry softly, the baby beginning to snore quietly on his shoulder. “You’re his family and you love him. And you don’t have to do it on your own. I know I was a bit preoccupied but Mrs Weasley said you called — why didn’t you ask her for help? Please, call us if you need help. Don’t ever, ever think you’re alone.”
Andromeda laid her head down on the table and cried while Harry rocked the slumbering Teddy in one arm and patted her back with the other. After a few minutes she straightened up and looked at Harry.
“You must think I’m a silly old woman, sobbing about the place, unable to even keep the house straight,” she said. “Well, best get on I suppose, that is if you don’t mind watching young Ted for a bit?”
“Get on? To where?” demanded Harry. “You’re not going to clean this place up, you’re going for a nice, long nap.”
“Oh really?” snapped Andromeda. “And who exactly will clean this place up then?”
“Kreacher!”
“You’re JOKING!” Andromeda gazed at him in horror. “That foul, loathsome little b — “ Kreacher arrived in the kitchen with a loud crack.
“Yes, Master Harry?” Harry ignored the disgusted look Andromeda was throwing his way.
“Kreacher, your services are needed here, I won’t be going back to Grimmauld Place any time soon, and well, Andromeda needs some help here for a bit,” explained Harry. Andromeda shot him a filthy look.
“I can’t believe you — “
“Always willing to serve a member of the Great and Noble House of Black,” said Kreacher, bowing so low his nose swept the floor.
“Please, Andromeda,” pleaded Harry. “Kreacher’s not so bad. He’s changed a bit lately. See he’s even overlooking the whole disowning thing. You need the help. I’m going to Australia soon and then back to Hogwarts in a couple of months. I don’t need Kreacher but you do. Please.” Kreacher had already started to straighten out the kitchen and Andromeda let out a long sigh, knowing she was defeated.
“Now, pack some things for Teddy. Let me take him for a holiday at The Burrow. Mrs Weasley would love the chance to fuss over him and Ron won’t admit it, but so would he,” said Harry. “You can come and collect him when you’re rested — take as long as you need.” Andromeda looked at him warily.
“Well, I suppose if Molly’s going to be there…” Harry smiled and Andromeda sighed as she got up, ruffling his hair as she passed. “You’re a good man, Harry Potter.”
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Harry finally heard a commotion in the kitchen and happy laughing voices drift up the stairs. He sent up a silent prayer of thanks to whichever deity was listening. Carefully carrying his precious cargo he hastened down the stairs and burst into the kitchen to find Ron, Hermione and Ginny stacking all sorts of parcels on the table.
“Where’s mum?” he demanded desperately over the extremely loud screaming emanating from Teddy.
“She’s stopped off to have a bite of lunch with dad, we came on home cause we couldn’t bear to watch them making eyes at each other any longer,” Ron shuddered. “Why is the midget squawking like that?”
“I don’t know, Ron!” said Harry exasperatedly, as Ron took the infant from his arms. “Don’t you think if I knew I would do something to stop him?” Harry immediately headed to the pantry to fix himself a sandwich. As he gulped it down rapidly Teddy was passed from Ron to Hermione to Ginny but did not stop screaming for any of them.
“Why is Teddy here?” asked Ginny as she tried desperately to soothe him and he screwed up his face in response and wailed louder.
“I’d say because his Gran has gone insane with that caterwauling,” shouted Ron in disgust. “Trying to send us all barmy as well is she?”
“She’s exhausted,” explained Harry taking Teddy from Ginny’s grasp and attempting to rock him. “I brought Teddy here for a day or two so she can get some rest. I sent Kreacher there to help sort things out. She’s not been coping.”
“Well, how are we meant to cope?” demanded Ron.
“Well, for a start there are more of us than there are of her!” retorted Harry. Teddy reacted badly to the raised voices and began to scream even louder, something Harry had not thought possible.
“Has he been fed? Changed his nappy?” asked Hermione briskly. “What about sleep? Maybe he’s sleepy? If he’s fed and clean then what else is there?” Harry simply rolled his eyes.
“He might be in pain,” Ginny said softly as she ran her hand over Teddy’s downy little head. He gazed back at her miserably, his lip trembling as if threatening to unleash a fresh assault on their eardrums. Ginny continued to stroke his head as Harry rocked him while snuggling the baby against his chest and Teddy’s eyes slowly slipped shut.
Harry looked up to find Ron looking at him and Ginny with an odd wistful look on his face. He raised an eyebrow in question but Ron merely shrugged. Harry began to breathe a little easier as Teddy appeared to fall into a fitful, but quiet slumber and he eased into a chair, careful not to jostle Teddy at all. He sat there, Teddy cuddled up on his chest and Ginny standing behind him, stroking her hands through his hair and easing the tension that had built up after a morning of infant wailing.
There was only a few moments respite however as Mrs Weasley came out of the Floo not long afterwards, dropping a number of parcels on the hearth, knocking over the fire irons and stumbling into a chair.
“Oh goodness, I’m not normally so inelegant,” she muttered. “I must not let Arthur order so much butterbeer next time.” She looked up startled as Teddy started up his monologue of wailing. Harry winced and struggled to his feet to begin pacing. Mrs Weasley, abandoning her parcels, hurried over to him.
“Goodness, what are you doing to that poor child, Harry dear?”
“It’s not me,” said Harry in exasperation. “It’s him. He won’t stop. He’s barely stopped all day and he’s been going half the night!”
“Oh dear, poor Andromeda,” tutted Mrs Weasley as she expertly took Teddy from Harry’s grasp.
“That’s why he’s here. She needs a break,” Harry explained. “It seemed like a good idea until I figured out that I have absolutely no idea how to deal with him.” Mrs Weasely smiled fondly at him.
“Not to worry dear. I’m sure we can figure something out.” Sure enough, before long Mrs Weasley had Teddy clean, fed and wrapped snugly, sleeping in the cradle that had belonged to George, Ron and Ginny. Harry shook his head wonderingly as he gazed at Teddy’s peaceful face.
“How did you do that?” he breathed.
“Years of practice dear,” she smiled. She looked at Teddy wistfully. “I know my last baby is nearly seventeen now but after seven babies, you don’t forget some things. Fred was my screamer, you know. He cried all day and all night for a week when he was Ted’s age. I thought we were all going to go mad. I think Bill and Charlie looked after George that entire week really. Bill was only seven so I’m not sure how George survived.” Mrs Weasley had a faraway look on her face and a lone tear slid down her cheek as she thought about her twin babies, one of whom was now lost. She seemed to pull herself together as she wiped the tear from her cheek.
“I just did for Teddy what I eventually figured out worked for Fred. We’re just lucky it worked on a different baby,” she sighed. “They are all so different. No two are alike, even when they are identical twins. Now, let’s get on and see about dinner. I’ll just pop over and make sure Andromeda is alright for a meal, she must have been exhausted.”
“Kreacher’s there,” said Harry absently, watching Teddy sleep. He suddenly found himself engulfed in one of Mrs Weasley’s rib cracking hugs. As Mrs Weasley pulled away he looked at her in confusion.
“What was that for? I brought a wailing infant into your home, without asking you first, expected you to work a miracle on him and you give me a hug?”
“Oh Harry dear, you just don’t know how wonderful you are, do you?” Mrs Weasley’s eyes shone as she looked at him. Harry’s eyes just looked confused. Ron chose that moment to enter the kitchen and his mother shushed him hurriedly before moving Teddy into the living room.
“Blimey, at least she got him sorted out. Kid’s got a set of lungs on him I’ll give you that,” said Ron. “Those girls are giggling up in Ginny’s room. I hate to contemplate what they are doing. You just be thankful you didn’t have to endure the fashion parade today. I managed to slip away after a bit and fix up the shop a bit more but blimey, girls can shop!” Harry’s shoulders shook with laughter as Ron continued his monologue about girls fussing over books and pet shop windows and taking forever to decide ice cream flavours but completely missing the point about broomsticks.
“There’s a new broomstick in the window at Quality Quidditch Supplies. I think it’s a new Firebolt model,” Ron paused. “Ginny seemed to care, but then Hermione dragged her away to look at some ruddy pink quill! You have got to come next time. We’ll leave Hermione in Flourish and Blotts and us three’ll go to check out Quidditch gear.”
“Well I guess that’ll be when we get our Hogwarts letters,” said Harry. “Well, not that you’re going, I ‘spect you’ll be at the shop anyway if students are buying school stuff. It’s going to be weird at Hogwarts without you…” he trailed off.
“We’ll still see each other though,” said Ron hurriedly. “Hogsmeade weekends, and I’ll come to every Quidditch match for sure. I can’t imagine you’ll be stuck at Hogwarts though to be honest. Of age and Harry Potter to boot? You’d be able to get out, no worries, any time you want.”
“Already can, or had you forgotten I’ve been doing that since I got there? Not allowed in the third floor corridor due to enormous three headed dog? Grab your flute and head on down anyway. Damsel in distress? Follow the underground chamber only two people can open. Didn’t get your form signed to visit the village? Put on your Invisibility Cloak and go underground to Honeydukes. Need to chase a dog? No problem there’s a secret passage to the Shrieking Shack. Mega dangerous tournament? Not an issue, just portkey on out,” Harry grimaced. “Not that that one was voluntary, but still … need to rescue an escaped convict? Jump on a Thestral! To get back in? Just fly over the gates. Nah mate, I don’t think I’ve ever stayed within accepted boundaries.”
“Always a first time, mate. Make it a goal,” said Ron slapping him on the shoulder. “Bit of a troublemaker aren’t you? Oh yeah speaking of letters, in all the excitement this morning seems we overlooked this one. It’s for you, from Kingsley.” Ron took a letter down from the mantelpiece. Harry took the letter, turning it over in his hands to break the seal. He read the contents and then looked up into Ron’s expectant gaze.
“No one’s claimed Snape’s body. Kingsley wants to know if I want to claim it or if they should give him a quick Ministry burial.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Claim it.”
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Teddy stayed three nights at The Burrow. Mrs Weasley experienced hand seemed to settle him as much as the techniques she used to stop him crying. She showed Harry how to carry him ‘just so’ to ease what was probably some sort of tummy or wind pain and how to wrap and soothe him so that he felt warm and safe. It was tricky to remember how to do it all at three o’clock in the morning but Harry was determined not to put anybody out with his decision to bring home a squalling infant and he got up to him every time he cried at night.
By the end of Teddy’s stay Harry knew exactly why Andromeda had looked such a wreck the morning he had flooed in and when she came to pick Teddy up he made her promise to keep Kreacher as long as she needed him before heading up to his bed, intending to sleep for a week.
The day of Teddy’s Christening dawned bright and clear and that afternoon the inhabitants of The Burrow assembled downstairs, dressed in their finery, ready to apparate to the little church where the Christening was to be held. All the inhabitants that was, except a certain bespectacled wizard. Just as Mr Weasley was about to go and see what was keeping Harry, he could be heard thumping down the stairs and came through the doorway at a run.
“Ron, thanks for hogging the bathroom, mate. I love a cold shower,” he said sourly.
“Thought you needed one mate,” said Ron cheerily. Harry simply glowered at him.
“Come on, come on, that’s enough, boys,” fussed Mrs Weasley. “It won’t do for you to be late, Harry dear. Now, are you sure you are okay to apparate there?”
“Yes thanks Mrs Weasley,” said Harry. “You look very nice by the way.” Mrs Weasley beamed at him.
“Thank you dear.” Harry knew she did not mean only for the compliment. That’s when Harry took a proper look at the kitchen’s occupants and saw Hermione in a new floaty sort of creation in a very soft pink and Ginny, perched on the edge of the table in some truly breathtaking pale green robes. She was talking animatedly with George and must have felt Harry’s eyes on her because she suddenly turned and smiled at him. Harry moved towards her compelled by some unseen force, but he didn’t resist it. Reaching out a hand to her he leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek.
“You look beautiful,” he breathed close to her ear. She put her hands on his chest and gazed up at him before reaching up to try and fix his hair. Her hand trailed down his jaw and her eyes feasted on his lips before she adjusted his collar and his tie. Harry reached up a hand to tuck a piece of flyaway hair behind her ear and then his fingers left a trail down her neck and across her shoulder and he slid his arm down to take her hand in his. He was happy just to look at her, to be the one holding her hand. Ginny looked back into his eyes and he felt himself mesmerised by them.
“Oi! If you two stop preening each other we can get going!” Ron was watching them exasperatedly. Harry grinned at him before hurrying out the door behind Mr Weasley so he could apparate to the little church near Andromeda’s house.
“Why can’t I go with Harry?” asked Ginny as her father prepared to Side-Along apparate her.
“He only just got his licence! He can’t possibly Side-Along anyone!”
“Dad, he did it the other day! Harry’s been able to Side-Along apparate people since before he was seventeen,” snorted Ron. Mr Weasley looked stunned.
“Who on earth would be foolish enough to let an unlicensed sixteen year old apparate them?” barked Mrs Weasley, clearly she suspected Ron would.
“Professor Dumbledore,” muttered Harry, irritated. Mr and Mrs Weasley fell silent and Harry, feeling conspicuous under their gaze simply mumbled that he would see them all there and apparated quickly away.
His part in the Christening dictated that Harry did not sit with the Weasleys so he did not speak to them again until after the service. The incident before they left had put him a little off kilter but holding Teddy, dressed in an antique Christening gown that had belonged to Ted Tonks’s Muggle family made him feel a little more balanced and he began to relax.
“Ted’s family were quite religious you know,” said Andromeda as they sat near the front, waiting for the service to begin. “A couple of his cousins have come today, ones that understand the magical world — there’s no way I can disguise that hair!” Harry grinned as Teddy blew bubbles and turned his previously turquoise hair black like Harry’s. Andromeda went on to explain how some Muggleborns combined their Muggle church heritage with their magical world so there were a few churches around where the priests and pastors were able to perform the religious rites for wizarding children.
This satisfied the curiosity Harry had about his own Christening and the completely secular nature of Dumbledore’s funeral and Bill’s wedding which had been performed by wizarding officials. With a Muggleborn mother he’d had access to Muggle church rituals as did little Teddy.
“Dora and Remus didn’t name any other godparents, so it’s just you,” explained Andromeda as she gave him the service sheet that indicated his part in the service. Harry saw the Weasleys and Hermione file into the church and sit with Bill and Fleur just before the pastor began the Christening. He wondered vaguely what had kept them as he’d disapparated a good twenty minutes earlier but his involvement in the ceremony distracted him and he turned his full attention to Teddy.
Without the presence of Teddy’s parents, Harry alone presented him for the Christening rite, Andromeda declining to stand in for her daughter and son in law, sitting quietly and shedding a few silent tears that they had missed this. Harry made a promise then to always be there for every big moment and lots of small moments in Teddy’s life. He couldn’t afford to wallow in depression; he felt an undeniable need to make sure Teddy’s life was free from the miseries that he’d experienced. As he took part in the Christening ceremony the promise was cemented.
Harry didn’t have much experience with churches and God but as he promised the rites of the church he applied them equally to the wizarding community.
“Will you pray for him, draw him by our example into the community of faith and walk with him in the way of Christ?” intoned the pastor. As Harry answered that he would, he applied that to providing for Teddy examples of being a good man, the sort of man his father had been, how Remus would have showed him how to be a good man if he had lived, and a lone tear rolled down Harry’s cheek, splashing into the yellowing, delicate lace of the Christening gown as he vowed in his heart to always walk with Teddy in the wizarding community which he himself had been denied for so long.
“Will you care for him and help him take his place within the life and worship of Christ’s Church?” droned the pastor. Harry said that he would, at the same time he gazed at Teddy and vowed to help him find and take his place as a wizard and know about his family. In his mind he promised Sirius that he’d be a better godfather than him and he rather felt that he heard Sirius laughing and possibly his dad and Remus joining in. The thought made him smile as he silently promised Teddy that he’d always be there for him, for anything.
The pastor baptised Teddy and pronounced blessings on him that Harry was not really aware of, his thoughts now turning to Ginny as he watched her, sitting quietly with her family. She smiled up at him and he smiled back and when the service was over and the pictures taken, the flash going off reminding Harry of Colin but the feeling was not sad or panicky for once but a warm memory, Harry took his godson over to see Ginny. He turned his hair red when he saw Ginny and neither of them saw Mrs Weasley looking at them fondly as they fussed over the infant in Ginny’s arms. Harry slipped an arm around Ginny’s slender waist and leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered in her ear. “I shouldn’t have left like that, it was a bit rude of me. I just —“
“It’s okay, Harry,” interrupted Ginny. “We understand. You should have heard Ron go off at mum and dad. I think he ranted for a good fifteen minutes! Hermione had to threaten to hex him to get him to stop.”
“What did he say?” asked Harry curiously as he tickled Teddy’s tummy.
“Some pretty choice words about being polite and it wasn’t the Done Thing to question the skills of Harry Potter,” Ginny giggled. “It was quite funny actually. Mum just stood there with her mouth opening and closing like a fish and dad sort of stared at him like he had two heads. Then Ron went off on a tangent about how it wasn’t smart to question your abilities if they want the house to remain standing because he’s seen you get when you’re angry and if they’re going to set you off while you’re still, well, a bit upset from the ‘whole war thing’ they could have a major magical catastrophe on their hands.” Harry looked startled.
“What does he mean I’m a ‘bit upset’?” demanded Harry. Ginny shrugged.
“Well you are,” she said. “It’s not like we haven’t seen you moody before, no one cares, but your moods do swing a bit suddenly at the moment.” Ginny looked at him apologetically. Harry felt defensive and crossed his arms over his chest. Ginny put a hand softly on his arm and went on. “And that’s okay. Anyway he got into full stride and started going on about all sorts of odd things that no one quite got the gist of. I think he was basically saying they have to remember you’re an adult and extremely powerful and use a lot more tact, or something. I’m not really sure. That’s when Hermione threatened to hex him.”
“What’s this extremely powerful rubbish?” scoffed Harry, still defensive.
“Oh come on Harry, you know you are,” snapped Ginny. She began to walk away as Teddy, sensing the argument began to fret. Harry followed her, watching as she handed the baby to Andromeda. Ginny turned back to him.
“No, I’m not,” he whispered fiercely at her, a grim smile plastered on his face as he waved at Hagrid who was stuck outside, a little too big to get in through the doors and had watched the Christening through a window specially modified for the day.
“Oh you are so, stop being difficult,” sighed Ginny. “Do all thirteen year olds conjure fully corporeal Patronuses? Do fourteen year olds win Triwizard Tournaments?”
“Crouch fixed that! And what about Cedric?” snapped Harry. Ginny barked a short burst of laughter.
“Well, that just proves my point. He was seventeen! You totally matched him,” said Ginny exasperatedly. “You learned all those spells on your own. How many people can summon something with Accio from the castle to the Forest? I can barely get something across the classroom most days!” Harry was still looking at her grimly, his eyes narrowed. Folding her arms across her own chest she narrowed her eyes right back at him. Harry tried not to notice what that did to rearrange her chest and how beautiful she was when she was flushed. He forced his mind back to what she was saying.
“Most of us can’t fight off possession by evil wizards,” she hissed. Harry blanched. “Other people get him in their head and he takes over. You on the other hand are strong enough and powerful enough to put up with him in your head and throw him out if you so choose.” She broke off and looked at him for a long moment before turning and stomping off. Harry watched her retreating back in a daze, her slim ankles showing beneath the hem of her robes which clung to her in all the right places. It occurred to him a little too late that he should go after her. Standing motionless he was soon caught up in a crowd of guests, all of whom wanted to talk to him.
Harry politely and a little distractedly made small talk with the guests at the Christening. He went back to Andromeda’s garden where tea was served ably by Kreacher but with the duties of being godfather he never seemed to get a moment near Ginny, let alone a chance to talk with her. He endured introductions to all of Ted Tonks’s Muggle cousins and a long winded conversation with Dedalus Diggle about the Dursleys. There were official duties like cutting the cake and thanking everyone for coming. Ron and Hermione seemed to have disappeared and Harry was soon cornered by Neville who launched into a long monologue about his plans for the year.
He’d decided to return to Hogwarts and properly complete his NEWTS and Harry fidgeted through a long winded description of who Neville thought might make a good replacement Defence Against the Dark Arts instructor and who would be the new Muggle Studies teacher.
“No doubt McGonagall will put the curriculum back the way it’s supposed to be. Two most important subjects I reckon. We have a lot of ground to make up with Muggleborn relations I’d say after last year. Got to do a lot of work to undo the rubbish we were taught in Dark Arts last year. Who’d you reckon would be good at it, Harry?”
“Oh, er, I dunno, Neville. An Auror would be good probably,” said Harry vaguely as he scanned the crowd for Ginny.
“Professor Sprout said the herd has welcomed Firenze back into the Forest, so Trelawney’s back to being the lone Divination teacher. I can’t believe some people put stock in that stuff you know,” Neville sighed and affected a dreamy look that startled Harry. “Still it’s what makes some people tick you know. For me it’s plants. For Parvati it’s Divination…”
“Pavarti?” asked Harry, ceasing his search for Ginny as he focused on Neville properly. “What’s going on with you and Parvati then?” Harry wished he had not asked. Neville commenced a discourse on her bravery, beauty, grit and determination that went for a full ten minutes.
“And she likes dancing too. She’s been helping me learn how to do it without, you know, stepping on her toes,” Neville said wryly. “Poor Ginny never once complained at the Yule Ball you know.”
“Yeah, yeah, she’s a great dancer,” said Harry distractedly as he spotted Ginny with her parents, talking to Andromeda. They looked like they were saying goodbye. “Listen, Neville, why don’t you stop by The Burrow some time, bring Pavarti. I’ve got to go.” And he dashed off leaving Neville waving after him cheerily and saying he’d be by sometime next week. Weaving through the crowd he reached Andromeda just as Ginny and her parents disapparated. He groaned aloud.
“Oh, there you are Harry!” exclaimed Andromeda and she dragged him off to meet a series of people who Harry could not remember and who he never expected to see again. It was nearly dark by the time he returned home. Ron and Hermione had turned up half an hour before, looking not a little bit disheveled and Harry ribbed them about it for the whole time they spent helping Kreacher clear up. They said good night to Andromeda and Harry promised he’d be back later in the week before they disapparated back to The Burrow.
“Hello dears,” called Mrs Weasley from the stove where she was making hot chocolate when they walked into the kitchen, Harry still mocking them over their earlier disappearing act. “I wondered when you’d be home, it’s getting on a bit after all.” She walked over to Harry and pulled him into a gentle hug. “You did wonderfully today dear. We’re very proud of you and, well I’m sorry about this morning I was a little surprised is all. Ron er, set us straight though.
I’m sorry I underestimated you.” Harry smiled wryly.
“So I heard. Where’s Ginny?”
“She went on up to her room as soon as we got home,” Mrs Weasley paused, looking thoughtful. “She’s been a bit quiet all afternoon. I haven’t been able to figure out what’s wrong.” Harry sighed and flopped into a chair.
“I think we might have had a bit of a disagreement.”
“You think?” asked Hermione incredulously. “How can you not know?”
“What did you say?” asked Ron resignedly as he pinched a biscuit from the plate on the table and perched himself expectantly on the sideboard.
“How do you know I said anything?” said Harry defensively. Hermione just raised her eyebrow at him and Harry sighed.
“You should go and apologise,” stated Ron as he stuffed another biscuit in his mouth.
“Hey, hang on! How do you know I’ve got something to apologise for?” When Ron raised his eyebrow at him Harry merely sighed and stood up.
“Just so you all know, I am going to go and apologise now,” announced Harry as he headed for the stairs.
“Oh, good show Harry, you’ll get points for that,” said George as he entered the kitchen. Giving George a glare Harry ascended the stairs mumbling about smart alecks and he heard Mrs Weasley call after him that she could see what he was doing with his fingers and she wouldn’t hesitate to jinx them together next time.
Ron’s laughter echoed up the stairs after him.
Chapter 14: Birthday
Author's Notes: On advice from archivists I have changed the rating back :) Hopefully Harry and Ginny will cntinue to behave!
Like most authors I worry about getting Hagrid's dialogue right. Forgive any inconsistencies, please!
Harry stood outside Ginny’s closed bedroom door. He was thinking rapidly over the conversation they had earlier and trying desperately to figure out which bit to apologise for. Giving up he knocked quietly on the door.
“Come in.” Harry pushed the door open slowly and stuck his head around the edge of the door. Ginny was sitting at the window, resting her elbows on the windowsill, her chin on her hands. There was a candle nearby and the light reflected off her hair causing a reddish glow to surround her. Though he could not see her face he remained transfixed as he studied her slender form and curves, highlighted by the soft glow of the candle.
“You can come in, Harry,” she said without turning around.
“How’d you know it was me?” Harry slipped inside and closed the door with a soft click.
“Your smell,” she replied as she turned around. “You smell different to the other boys here and Hermione doesn’t knock.”
“Oh,” he paused before blurting, “I can smell you in Amortentia.” He felt rather foolish after he said that and Ginny tilted her head to one side and studied him carefully.
“Hermione can smell Ron, you know. His hair,” she replied conversationally. He nodded dumbly. “I’ve never smelled it.” She stood up and stepped slowly towards him. “But you smell like wood, like broomsticks and sunshine. What do I smell like?” She was standing right in front of him now, her head tilted back, her neck exposed. He could see the pulse beating in her neck and the rise and fall of her chest as she stood otherwise motionless waiting for him to speak.
“Like flowers,” he whispered, afraid to break the spell she was weaving over him. “Like flowers and like home.” He crossed the short distance between them slowly and reached out to take her hand in his. Ginny looked down at their joined hands before looking up into his eyes. Harry was mesmerised and lifted his other hand to caress her cheek before trailing it down the back of her neck. His fingers felt like they were on fire. Ginny shuddered as her eyes slid shut.
“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered as his hand moved down her back. “I don’t want to fight.”
“We’re not,” murmured Ginny as she opened her eyes to look deep into his own. Involuntarily the hand on Ginny’s back pulled Ginny towards him as he gazed down at her. He broke her gaze, his eyes flickering down to her lips and when he looked back up he saw that her own eyes were on his lips and he licked them nervously.
“I didn’t see you all afternoon,” said Harry quietly. “I didn’t mean to argue with you. I never got used to the idea that people think I’m a powerful wizard. I’m just Harry.” Her eyes were still on his lips as he spoke. Harry wasn’t at all sure that she meant to speak the next words aloud.
“Well you certainly have a power over me,” before she leaned in and captured the lips she had been staring at hungrily, in a searing kiss. Harry felt all the worry that he’d been feeling all afternoon lift from his shoulders. He lost himself in the kiss and the feel of her lips on his. He was startled when Ginny’s tongue darted out and begged for entrance to his own mouth, she normally waited for his request. Willingly he parted his lips and as Ginny’s tongue began playing with his own and he felt it run along his teeth he was suddenly overwhelmed by her and the need that he felt coming from deep inside him. It was powerful and scary and wonderful all at the same time.
Somehow, he didn’t know how, Ginny had backed him into the door and as his hands tangled in her hair he felt her body pressing into his as she explored his mouth. The involuntary reaction of his body did nothing to slow her down. While Harry was acutely embarrassed and tried to pull away it seemed to only make Ginny press herself against him further. Harry gave himself up to her and when Ginny made a little noise in the back of her throat he found himself pressing her against the door, something which she did not protest in the slightest.
Ginny had one arm around his neck and the other resting on his chest as Harry’s hands skimmed her hips and upper thighs as they continued to kiss heatedly. Only a thumping on the other side of the door broke through and cooled them down. Harry broke off the kiss, breathing raggedly as he heard Ron shout,
“You’ve had enough time to make up! Get down into the kitchen for some hot chocolate!” Ginny giggled breathlessly and, now that the spell was broken, Harry flushed with embarrassment and tried to pull away from Ginny hurriedly. There was an evil gleam in her eye as she grabbed his waist, pinning him to her.
“I don’t mind,” she said, looking up at him. “I think it’s sort of … sexy.” Harry blushed harder but Ginny seemed unbearably unflappable. Letting go of his waist Ginny placed two small hands on his cheeks and forced him to look at her.
“It’s okay, I love you,” she whispered. Suddenly a sly grin stole over her features. “And I thought you wanted to share everything with me?”
“That’s, that’s …” Harry paused, she was turning his words against him now. He pulled her roughly against him and growled in her ear. “That’s sneaky Miss Weasley.” She pulled back a little and looked at him seriously.
“I mean it Harry, I don’t mind. I’d be honoured to share that with you,” she lowered her voice to a whisper. “I’d love to share that with you.” Harry’s heart skipped a beat as he watched her, eyes sparkling, lips swollen and face just a little flushed from her admission.
“Me too,” his voice was barely a whisper. “But not now, not yet.” She nodded, understanding him perfectly. Not now, not yet, but some day. Harry kissed her again, softly, gently this time and she sighed against his mouth. They didn’t bother to straighten out or tidy themselves up a bit before heading down for hot chocolate.
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Harry claimed Snape’s body the next day and he and most of The Order attended his burial next to Dumbledore on Hogwarts school grounds two days later.
“I didn’t know the true Severus Snape all this time. The man he showed me, the one he showed most people isn’t who he really was. He put himself on the line, all these years, protecting me … I thought he was trying to kill me,” said Harry as he smiled wryly, a ripple of quiet laughter went up. “This man was one of the bravest, most loyal people I have known. He loved my mother, always, until he died. I thought about burying him near her, where he’d want to be, but I figured my dad might have a few words with me about that and make my eternity miserable.
"But he belongs here anyway, with Professor Dumbledore who was the only one who really knew him, knew who he was.” Harry paused. The Giant Squid splashed lazily and Harry heard Fang bark. “No one should be forgotten.” Later when he stood contemplating the headstone he realised George had joined him.
“Getting to be a habit of ours,” said George, only half smiling. “What are we going to put on the bottom of his?” Harry contemplated for a moment before inscribing, at the bottom of the headstone,
He contemplated the words for a long time, knowing now they did not refer only to Gryffindor House. He turned to find George several feet away with a mischievous gleam in his eye. Hurrying over to Dumbledore’s tomb Harry watched as George added an epitaph to the white monolith. In the bottom right hand corner he carved in small neat lettering
The rest of July was spent aimlessly. Sleeping late (rewarded by having to degnome the garden if they did it too many mornings in a row), going to see Teddy (who had learned to roll over and Andromeda said it was very early for him to be doing that), visiting friends (and being visited by lovestruck mates and their dotty girlfriends) and playing Quidditch (with bewitched apples in the orchard). One day shortly before Harry’s birthday, Dean, Luna, Neville and Parvati had dropped by and Harry and Ginny were sitting in the garden with them when Ron returned from Diagon Alley. He flopped down ungracefully beside them.
“What’re we talking about today?” he asked. “Or are we snogging, today?”
“Do we look like we’re snogging, Ron?” demanded Ginny.
“Not at the minute but you two always look like you’ve just been snogging.”
“They were snogging when we got here,” piped up Dean helpfully. Ginny narrowed her eyes at him. “Not that there is anything at all, in the slightest wrong with that course of action at all, ever, in fact Ginny should just really snog whoever, whenever she feels the er, absolute need.”
“Oi, what’s with the whoever?” grumbled Harry. Ron shuddered.
“I did not need that image, thanks, Dean.”
“Oh, anytime, mate, anytime,” Dean waved his hand airily before muttering something that sounded like ‘payback’ under his breath. Ron glared at him.
“I was scarred for life, I’ll have you know! I reacted perfectly sanely if you understood my personal situation at the time!”
“What, the pining over Hermione situation?” scoffed Ginny. Harry groaned and flopped back on the grass. Neville looked puzzled.
“You just made that worse,” growled Ron, stabbing a finger in the air in her general direction. Dean was watching Ginny and Ron apprehensively.
“Just stop it,” groaned Harry. “We do not need to hear an entire Weasley family kissing history again!” The others looked at Harry curiously as Ron and Ginny blushed. Neville timidly ventured a question about what that could possibly mean.
“Ah yes, ‘tis a time honoured sibling tradition. Catch your sister snogging her boyfriend, express outrage and threaten to decapitate said boyfriend. She returns in kind by mocking your lack of romantic prowess in front of his best mate,” Dean nodded sagely, trying to conceal a grin.
“I never threatened to decapitate you. Stop being so dramatic,” retorted Ron. “You left pretty smartly as I recall,” he finished smugly.
“Must we go over this?” asked Harry, disgruntled. “We do not need to rehash old ground.”
“Scared they’ll start on you next, Harry?” asked Parvati pointedly.
“I did not save the world to be mocked about failed teenage romances,” muttered Harry.
“Well, you’re the one who described his first snog as ‘wet’!” laughed Ron. Parvati, Neville and Dean burst out laughing.
“She was crying!” said Harry exasperatedly and he closed his eyes to shut out the sight of his friends falling about laughing. Luna looked at him thoughtfully.
“Are you that bad a kisser, Harry?” Harry opened one eye and glared at her.
“No, I am not!”
“Woeful dancer though.”
“Thanks a bunch, Parvati.”
“Anytime.”
“I think the Yule Ball was the worst night of my life,” moaned Ron. Parvati muttered that it wasn’t his finest moment and Harry shuddered. Parvati threw grass at him.
“First dates, hey?” said Ron. “Good times, good times …”
“Are you mental? There was nothing good about our first dates, Ron!” exclaimed Harry. Parvati threw more grass at him … and several small twigs.
“Mine was alright,” said Neville looking dreamily at the sky until Ginny stepped on his foot. He started guiltily. Ginny laughed.
“I still have my feet, it’s okay. Although I’ll have you know, I could have gone with Harry,” she pretended to swoon and then giggled.
“You would have had a shocking time, it would have turned you off me for good,” said Harry. Parvati nodded emphatically and threw another handful of twigs at his head. “I was fourteen and not into girls at all.” Neville, Dean and Ron were all overcome with a coughing fit that sounded suspiciously like ‘Cho’.
“Oh look, Ginny’s little hackles rise when you say Cho!” crowed Ron. He began repeating it in a sing song voice while Ginny growled at him. “Oooh I wonder if it works on Harry too … Michael … Dean …” Harry had fallen about laughing helplessly and Ron stopped because Ginny had narrowed her eyes at him in a menacing fashion.
“Lavender …” she hissed. Ron went pale. Dean and Neville joined Harry in helpless laughter as Ron spluttered before going silent.
As the playful banter wove back and forth under the glorious summer sky Harry contemplated that in actual fact this was exactly what he had saved the world for.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
“What will we do for your birthday, Harry?” asked Mrs Weasley at breakfast the day before he turned eighteen. Harry shrugged.
“Let’s have a party!” crowed George from his seat next to Harry. “It’s been ages since we had a birthday party at The Burrow!”
“It’s a bit short notice, George dear,” said Mrs Weasley, frowning.
“No it’s not!” said George.
“It’s tomorrow, dear,” said Mrs Weasley. “How would you let everyone know — what if they’re busy?”
“Ha! This is Harry, mum! No one’s going to be ‘too busy’! I ask you…” he trailed off as he began to turn out his pockets. He obviously found what he was looking for amidst the Ton Tongue Toffees, squashed packet of Canary Creams and what looked like six pairs of Extendable Ears. “Here we are! No problem, you put the Weasley twins on the case and you get results!” His mother froze as George held his DA Galleon aloft. As he looked at it George seemed to realise what he had said. He hurriedly shoved the mess on the table back into his pockets and laid the coin on the table. Stabbing it viciously with his wand he attempted to charm it to reveal details for Harry’s party. His hand was shaking and the spell didn’t seem to work and he only managed to turn the Galleon a very unbecoming shade of green.
Suddenly he threw the wand across the kitchen and it narrowly missed Hermione’s head as she came down for breakfast. Nobody moved except George who dropped his head into his hands.
“I keep picking up stupid Fred’s stupid wand,” he cried. “I keep forgetting I’m not twins anymore. I wore the ‘F’ jumper yesterday and no one said anything. It’s like he wasn’t ever even here …” Mrs Weasley sat down heavily and burst into tears. Ron, who had been silent the whole exchange, went over to his mother and wordlessly gathered her into an embrace. George sat staring at the DA Galleon and Hermione moved over and put her hand on his.
“What were you trying to charm it to say, George?” she asked softly.
“Harry’s Birthday party, tomorrow,” he said quietly. Hermione charmed the Galleon to invite anyone who had one to come to The Burrow for Harry’s birthday the next day and then George broke down. Harry and Hermione put their arms around him at the same time and just held him as he cried.
It was a quiet day at The Burrow. George, for the first time seemed reluctant to remain in his room all day and he sat in the living room answering anyone who tried to engage him in conversation with monosyllables.
“Why does he sit down here like he wants company if he doesn’t talk to anyone?” wondered Harry as he, Ginny, Ron and Hermione ate lunch in the kitchen.
“I don’t think he wants company really,” said Hermione thoughtfully. “He’s been looking at that baby picture a lot, the one of him and Fred.” Harry jumped up.
“That’s brilliant,” he breathed. “I’ll be back!” He hurried to the fireplace and throwing some Floo powder in called, “Diagon Alley!”
When Harry actually arrived in Diagon Alley he began to regret his hasty decision to go there alone, without his Cloak. The place was packed with witches and wizards and he suddenly realised that he’d likely be recognized within minutes. Flattening his fringe over his scar and keeping his head down he made it to Fortescue’s store. Ducking inside he beckoned the man over. He’d been kind to him before third year, perhaps he’d remember him.
Oh who was he kidding, he didn’t need to be remembered. Harry mentally rolled his eyes at himself. He did manage to leave Fortescue’s within ten minutes, wearing a borrowed wide brimmed wizarding hat that was a rather violent shade of red but it covered his scar and the brim hid his face. He walked up the steps of Gringotts in it unencumbered. Now that he was here, he had no way of finding Bill, he realised. Stepping up to the nearest teller he explained that he wanted to see Bill or Fleur Weasley but the goblins seemed singularly uninterested in helping him. In exasperation he took the hat off and wiped his brow. The protuberant eyes on the goblin in front of him looked as if they would pop out of his head all together when he realised who Harry was. After a twenty minute lecture on breaking into Gringotts and stealing dragons, Harry was delivered to Bill Weasley in a cart that travelled more swiftly than was necessary.
Understanding Harry’s request, Bill told Harry to warn his mother to expect him and Fleur for dinner that night. Harry crammed the ridiculous hat back on his head and made his way back to the Leaky Cauldron to Floo back home.
He would not be drawn on where he had been or what he had been up to. George studied him briefly when he poked his head into the living room and bluntly asked him if he was trying to blend in with that abominable hat, whereupon Harry shoved it on Hermione’s head, pulling it over her eyes while she was engrossed in a book.
“You’ve got a mischievous streak there, Potter,” said George with admiration in his voice.
“I learned from the best, George. I learned mischief from the best,” and George and Harry shared a quiet grin.
Mrs Weasley turned out to be extremely pleased that Bill and Fleur would be there for dinner and added several dishes to the massive amounts of food she was turning out for Harry’s birthday party. Bill and Fleur arrived carrying a rather large parcel. It was covered in brown paper and beyond saying it wasn’t Harry’s birthday present they refused to say what it was.
When they’d all eaten their fill and the dishes had been cleared away Bill asked everyone to go into the living room. He followed them with the large parcel. Taking a slightly smaller one from the pocket of his cloak he handed it to George and the larger one to his parents.
“We thought you would like these,” he said simply and everyone in the room knew he meant him and Harry, not him and Fleur. Slowly George unwrapped the parcel in his hand as Mrs Weasley tore the paper off the larger one. Inside was a framed photograph, taken at Bill and Fleur’s wedding. The twins in their dress robes stood laughing at the camera. They watched as photo George poked his finger in photo Fred’s ear and Fred attempted to reciprocate before George affected great injury to his missing ear. The two of them flung their arms around each other’s shoulders and waved at the camera.
A lone tear dripped down George’s cheek, splashing on the glass as he watched the photo. Mrs Weasley reached out to touch the laughing image of Fred solemnly.
“It’s the last one we had taken together,” said George quietly. Bill nodded.
“That one’s for you. The other one’s for in here.”
“Oh Bill, it’s wonderful. Thank you,” murmured Mrs Weasley.
“It was Harry’s idea,” said Bill. “He would have done it if not for the fact the photos were at my place and his ridiculous and conspicuous headwear.”
“Even without headwear he’s ridiculous and conspicuous,” said George. Everyone started laughing and Mr Weasley hung the photograph in pride of place on the living room wall.
“How did you know, Harry?” asked Hermione. “How did you know that would help?” Silently Harry made his way up the stairs and returned a few moments later with a small photo frame that he handed to Hermione.
“Oh,” she said softly as she watched James and Lily Potter waving at the camera from a snowy Hogsmeade street.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Harry awoke the next morning because of a pillow to the head.
“Wake up birthday boy!” yelled Ron several decibels louder than necessary.
“Shuddup,” Harry mumbled as he buried his head under his pillow. Ron jumped on top of him then.
“Geddup! Geddup! Geddup! You should have been down ages ago!” he yelled bouncing up and down on top of Harry. Harry pulled his head out from under the pillow and glared at him.
“Just how old are you, Ron?” he yawned. “Anyone would think it’s your birthday — or Christmas, the way you’re carrying on!” Ron jumped off the bed and hauled back the covers, pulling on his arm.
“Alright, alright, I’m coming!” Harry managed to pull on some jeans and shove his feet into his trainers and was pulling a T-Shirt over his head when Ron grabbed his arm, hauling him out of the room.
“Come on!”
“What is with you, Ron?”
“It’s your birthday! There’s presents!” Harry simply shook his head. Well of course there were presents; he was fairly used to there being presents by now.
“We’re eighteen, Ron, I think a little decorum might be in order?” he said exasperatedly as Ron tried to pull him faster down the stairs. He found himself going slower just to annoy Ron. “Oh wait, I get it, someone’s clearly bought me a big box from Honeydukes, haven’t they? And you can’t wait to get into that.”
“No, no, no, no! Well I think there is a lot of chocolate and stuff there, anyway I already opened the Bertie Botts, oh, er … oh just come ON!” Ron finally succeeded in pulling Harry all the way into the kitchen, whereupon Harry stopped dead.
“Hullo Harry! Happy Birthday!” Hagrid had squeezed his great bulk into The Burrow’s kitchen and was carrying a rather large box.
“Hagrid!” called Harry cheerfully as he made his way across the kitchen (which wasn’t far considering Hagrid was so big he filled most of the kitchen). “It’s good to see you!” As he reached Hagrid the large box was thrust at him.
“Made it meself,” said Hagrid. “Grawp wanted to ‘elp but, well, he’s jus’ not very good with tha’ cookin’.”
“Thanks, Hagrid,” said Harry, opening the box to reveal a lopsided birthday cake. Putting it on the table next to a pile of gaily wrapped presents he threw his arms around Hagrid and braced himself for the reciprocation. As he regained his breath and tested his lung function Harry realised Ron was gesturing wildly and whispering urgently to Hagrid.
“Well, I dunno, Ron,” said Hagrid. “It’s supposed to be here. It were supposed to get’ere tha same time as me, that bein’ the signal an’ all.”
“Stupid Percy,” muttered Ron. “Why did we trust him with it again?” Mrs Weasley who was cooking at the stove gave Ron a sharp look.
“Happy Birthday, Harry dear,” she said as she gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Sit down, sit down, breakfast is nearly ready. Ron, go and get everyone else. I don’t know why everyone is so slow this morning.” As Ron dashed back off up the stairs, Hagrid told Harry a little about how Hogwarts was coming along.
“It’ll be in fine shape when you all come back an’ all,” he said. “Good as new an’ ev’rythin’.” Mr Weasley came in through the back door just then and George, Ginny, Hermione and Ron came thundering down the stairs. Mrs Weasley hustled them all to seats and gave them all heaping piles of breakfast. Harry noticed Mr Weasley pulled Mrs Weasley aside and they were having a furious whispered conversation.
“Well, it’s supposed to be here. I don’t know why it isn’t!”
“That was the whole point of using Hermes!” Ginny and Ron kept glancing up to look out the window and Hermione raised an eyebrow at Hagrid who shrugged.
“Er, is everything alright?” asked Harry. “You all seem a little tense.” Hagrid reached out and patted Harry on the shoulder, knocking him off his chair.
“No problems at all. Here, have a present,” said George hastily as he hauled him back into his seat and shoved a box from the pile at him. “That one’s from me and F-Ron it’s new stock for school.” Before he could open it the fireplace flared to life and Bill and Fleur came tumbling out.
“Happy Birthday, Harry!” said Bill cheerfully. “Did you like your present?” he was hurriedly shushed by the other occupants of the room. Harry looked at them all with a great deal of suspicion.
“I haven’t opened any yet,” he said pointedly. Bill looked confused.
“But Hagrid’s here,” he said. Harry shook his head deciding they were all completely mad. He opened the box in his hands. It was filled with an assortment of Wheezes not all of which were familiar.
“Thanks, George, thanks, Ron!” he said. Hermione handed him another package as George nodded absently and glanced out the window. Harry took the parcel Hermione held out and peered out the window. “What’re we looking for George?”
“Nothing, nothing at all,” said George hastily. “That’s Hermione’s. It’s a book.” Harry rolled his eyes and tore the paper off. He looked at it curiously.
“Hermione, I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but why did you get me a book on broom care when I haven’t got a broom?” Hermione flushed a deep shade of pink.
“Well, you know, you’ll get one soon, won’t you?” said Ron hurriedly plucking another parcel off the pile and thrusting it at him. Harry shook his head resignedly and looked at Ginny but she was engrossed in some sort of silent conversation with her mother that he could not decipher. Shrugging Harry opened the parcel to reveal some Chocolate Frogs from Ginny when the fireplace flared again and Percy stepped out. The room fell even quieter than it had been, which a feat was considering they had all been sitting in tense silence as it was.
“Percy!” his mother hissed at him. “Where is Hermes?”
“Well, Errol showed up!” cried Percy. “It’s like he knew you’d given his job to another owl! He kept pecking me and I had a lot of trouble sending Hermes off.”
“Well, is it coming?” demanded Ron.
“What about the other?” asked Hagrid.
“Any minute now,” hissed Percy. “Ah, Harry, many happy returns.” He handed Harry a small package. Harry looked up as he pulled the paper off the gift in his hands.
“Thanks, Percy,” he said before he looked back down. He stared at the item in his hands completely at a loss, his brows drawn in confusion before he shook his head and put it on the table next to the book from Hermione. Ginny reached over and picked it up.
“Percy, why would you get owl treats for someone without an owl?” He knew she didn’t mean it but Ginny’s words were like a knife twisting in his gut and he didn’t hear what excuse, if any, Percy gave her. Ron looked sharply at his sister and Hagrid made a choking noise. Mrs Weasley thrust another package into his hands and he thanked Bill and Fleur gratefully for a nice, normal unpuzzling gift of parchment and quills.
“Not very interesting I know,” apologised Bill. “But you know, practical.” He shrugged and looked pointedly out of the window. Harry resolved to ignore their strange behaviour, there was whispering now, and pulled the last of the packages towards him. Mr and Mrs Weasley had given him a box of Honeydukes chocolate.
“Thanks everyone,” he said but they all ignored him as Hermione, now standing by the window shrieked,
“Here it comes!” Everyone scrambled to the window, except Harry who began to eat his breakfast, firmly resolved to ignore the continuing odd behaviour of his family.
He didn’t get very far as everyone suddenly dived out of the way as two owls came soaring in with an absolutely enormous parcel that they dropped right in his breakfast, spilling his pumpkin juice.
“Happy Birthday Harry!” squealed Ginny, clapping her hands gleefully.
“This is your real present, mate!” crowed Ron gleefully.
“But there was nothing wrong with the other presents,” said Harry.
“Go on! Open it!” urged Mrs Weasley. Harry was about to but he was distracted by the owl that had arrived with Hermes. She wasn’t a particularly large owl but given that she was a Snowy Owl who bore a strong resemblance to Hedwig and had commenced pecking his hand it was not surprising that she caught Harry’s attention.
“Happy Birthday, Harry,” said Hagrid softly as he pulled a large cage out from behind his chair. The owl hopped onto his arm and clawed her way up to his shoulder, nipping him on the ear. Harry unearthed a piece of bacon from underneath the enormous package and gave it to her.
“She’s mine?” he whispered, looking up at Hagrid who nodded.
“She’s only ‘bout a year old. Found a bloke who was inter rescuin’ owls, yeh see,” Hagrid began. “Jus’ over a year ago there were a massive Snowy Owl slaughter. Reckon You-Know-Who was lookin’ to get Hedwig.” Hagrid stopped and sniffed. Harry blinked. “Anyway, the babies are born in May and this bloke found a nest, the mother had been killed and all the lil’ babies didn’ make it, ‘cept o’ course this un. He took her ‘ome an’ hand-raised her.” Ginny reached out to stroke the beautiful owl.
“Oh, that’s so sad,” she cried softly. Harry contemplated the bird, orphaned by Voldemort, and could only agree with the next thing Hagrid uttered.
“See ‘n she’s meant ter be yours, Harry,” sniffed Hagrid. The owl had climbed onto Ginny’s arm and she had opened the bag of owl treats (after throwing an apologetic look at Percy) and offered her one. Harry leapt out of his chair and in spite of his earlier remonstrations to Ron about acting their age he threw himself at Hagrid as if he were eleven years old again.
“Thanks, Hagrid,” he murmured into Hagrid’s shoulder (which he could only just reach even though Hagrid was sitting down). Hagrid patted him on the back.
“Yer welcome, Harry, yer welcome.”
“So you knew, hey Perce?” said Ron as Harry surfaced from Hagrid’s embrace. Percy nodded.
“Hagrid brought that owl along with the br-present and suggested they both bring it,” he explained. “That also caused some delay. Hermes, er was a bit too, well, friendly this morning.” Percy blushed and Ron laughed.
”What are you going to call her, Harry?” asked Hermione. Harry watched as Ginny stroked the owl’s head and crooned softly to her. He wondered what Ginny wanted to call her.
“Don’t let her do it!”exclaimed Ron as if he’d read Harry’s mind. “She’s the one who named Pigwidgeon! I’m tellin’ ya mate, don’t let her name your kids without some serious input!”
“But if he lets her name the animals he can get significant naming rights over the kids,” interjected George. Harry just looked at them and shook his head. He reached over and stroked the bird still perched on Ginny’s shoulder and the owl nipped his fingers affectionately.
“What should we call her, Ginny?” he asked softly as the owl hopped over to Harry and leaned over to investigate the cage next to him.
“Liberty,” said Ginny. Harry smiled.
“Perfect.” The two of them stood there petting the snowy owl and Ron made an indistinct noise in his throat.
“If you two have finished being domestic, do you think we could get to the present opening?” he asked pointedly.
“It’s from all of us,” said Mr Weasley. “Go on, open it.” Harry saw the occupants of the kitchen watching him expectantly. He reached out and began to peel off the paper. Ron gave a noise of disgust and tore off a huge piece of the paper covering the parcel.
“Hurry up Harry!” he said exasperatedly. Harry laughed and together they ripped into the parcel. When the contents were revealed Harry could only stare in astonishment.
“The Gryffindor Captain needs the best broom there is.”
“Even Charlie agreed that’s a Seeker’s broom.”
“See, it comes with its own servicing kit.”
“It’s so shiny!”
“It’s a Firebolt Three!”
“Say something Harry!”
“I … it’s for me?” Harry looked up, his eyes wide. Ginny nodded vigorously. “I … wow … thanks!” Harry breathed. Ron was bouncing up and down, his own broomstick in his hands, his behavior finally explained. Harry should have known only a broomstick could get him acting the way he had been all morning.
“Come on, Harry! Let’s go flying!” Harry looked expectantly at Ginny as he picked the broom up but she shook her head as she handed him a bacon sandwich.
“I’ll see you out there after I help clean up in here. Go with Ron, I’ll put Liberty’s cage away.”
“Come flying with me later?” Ginny nodded and Harry kissed her on the cheek hastily before tearing out the kitchen door after Ron.
He spent the next hour with Ron, flying around The Burrow. They took it in turns to ride the Firebolt Three. It was a magnificent broomstick and responded like it was part of him. Then Ginny had come out to fly and he coaxed her into riding the broom with him. As she slid onto the back of the new broomstick and clasped her arms around his waist he took off and she shrieked as they rocketed towards the clouds. Harry dipped back down and levelled off, flying in circles around the trees in the orchard while Ginny drew lazy circles on his stomach with her fingertips. He could feel her breath on the back of his neck, her legs pressed up against him and that made him very aware of the rise and fall of her chest as it pressed against his back.
He started when he realised Ginny was pressing feather light kisses on his neck and across his shoulders and that her hands had worked their way under his T-Shirt. He flew around two more apple trees and then nearly collided with a pear tree when the feel of her fingertips on his skin made him shiver and lose concentration. He landed softly in the shade of the pear tree and turned in her arms. Wordlessly he wrapped his arms around her, the broomstick still in one hand and began pressing soft kisses along her jaw before capturing her lips in a slow and sensual kiss. He didn’t stop when they heard Ron land right next to them and ask if he could have a go on the Firebolt Three if they were going to snog instead of fly. Harry simply held the broomstick out in the vague direction of Ron’s voice and when it was liberated from his grasp, used his now free hand to run up and down Ginny’s back. They were interrupted by Liberty who landed roughly on Harry’s shoulder, causing him to yelp in pain.
“What was that for, you silly bird?” he cried as he rubbed his shoulder, Liberty having hopped to Ginny’s arm when he yelped.
“Don’t call her silly!” reprimanded Ginny. “She’s just a baby, aren’t you gorgeous girl?” As she began to coo at the owl and stroke her feathers Harry just shook his head and wrapped his arms back around Ginny’s waist from behind, splaying his hands across her tummy. Liberty suddenly took off and they watched her soar back to the house where they noticed Hagrid was leaving. He called out to them.
“Got ter be heading back now! Happy birthday Harry! I’ll see you two back at Hogwarts!” He waved cheerily as he flagged down the Knight Bus at The Burrow’s gate and Harry watched until the Bus took off.
“Are you having a good day, Harry?” asked Ginny softly as Harry rested his chin on her shoulder, watching Liberty swoop around the trees in the orchard.
“Yeah, I am,” he replied. “But then, any day with you is a good day.”
“Flatterer.”
“No, I mean it,” said Harry earnestly. “Being with you just makes me feel good.” George had come out to the orchard and they watched him chase Ron around the trees, the new Firebolt easily eclipsing George’s broom and Liberty swooping between the two of them.
“Flying feels pretty good too,” murmured Ginny. “It feels so different now. It’s like the whole world feels free.”
“That’s because we are,” said Harry, unable to resist pressing a kiss on the soft skin just behind her ear. “Flying is wonderful, and I love the broom. I can’t believe it’s mine … that’d you’d all get it for me. It’s amazing.”
“You should go get it back off Ron, have a real go at it. Go on,” she urged him. “Mum’s not going to let you help with any chores today anyway — go on, go fly.” Harry spent the rest of the morning flying. Liberty joined him occasionally before going off to hunt or swoop on the garden Gnomes which seemed to endlessly fascinate her.
Feeling mischievous Harry would fly past Hermione as she sat reading under one of the trees, going so fast the pages in her book fluttered uncontrollably and he would laugh gleefully as she got flustered and told him off. But he kept doing it and she didn’t stop him.
When Ron and George were called to help set up tables for the party Harry flew in circles around the lawn, doing his best to get in their way and hanging upside down from his broom as he flew alongside giving ‘helpful’ tips on how to levitate the tables and where to put them. Ron called him a silly git and that he’d put the tables wherever he wanted but neither of them told him to stop no matter how many times he messed up their concentration and he’d laugh riotously as he shot away from the havoc he’d created.
Percy, Bill, Fleur and Mr Weasley had gone to work after watching him fly for a few minutes when he first went out but Mrs Weasley was in the kitchen cooking up a storm. When he’d had his fun with Hermione and finished with Ron and George, he flew up to the kitchen window and hovered there until Mrs Weasley opened the window.
“Hello dear,” she said, pushing the window open and the curtains aside. “Are you having fun? Is it a good broomstick? The boys picked it out, I don’t know much about broomsticks you know.” Harry grinned at her.
“It’s great Mrs Weasley! Thanks!” he said. “Did you know that you are the second most beautiful woman here today? And the best cook in the entire world?” Mrs Weasley shook her head at him.
“What do you want, Harry?” she asked. Harry grinned at her some more.
“Are you making treacle tart?”
“Of course I am! Now be off with you before you fall off and into my herb garden!” And Harry soared away his laughter carrying on the air. Harry swooped and dived, Liberty alongside him, and reflected that he’d not felt this free and this happy in quite a long time. Spotting Ginny carrying what looked like decorations out to the garden he soared over to her and hovered only long enough to plant a kiss on her cheek before climbing up into the sky and commencing another circuit of the orchard. He didn’t realise that far below him The Burrow’s occupants were reveling in Harry’s mischief and fun as much as he was, for they had never seen him so carefree and happy and no one was willing to change that no matter how many pages he ruffled or tables he caused to crash to the ground.
People weren’t due to start arriving for Harry’s party until mid afternoon. He’d been shooed from the kitchen by Ginny and Mrs Weasley shortly after lunch and spent the first part of the afternoon with Ron and Hermione down at the pond. The three of them had not spent a lot of time together recently and as they splashed in the pond, soaking up the summer sun Harry was suddenly overcome by the realisation that things were about to change. He stopped throwing water at Ron abruptly and waded over to sit on some rocks near the bank.
“What’s wrong, mate?” asked Ron, following Harry as he hoisted himself onto a smooth, flat rock near the water’s edge. Harry pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and sighed.
“Things are going to be all different,” he explained. “Which is a good thing for lots of reasons, but … well I guess I realised I’m going to miss you … miss us.” He looked at Ron sadly.
“But —“
“Never mind,” he said quickly. “It’s silly of me. You’d think I could get by for a few months without my best mate.” Ron looked at him thoughtfully.
“You’ll still have Hermione.”
“She’s a girl,” Harry grimaced, and Ron laughed. “It’s not the same.” Hermione managed to make her way over to them and Ron hauled her onto the rock beside them. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to sit between his legs, her back resting against his chest.
“George needs me,” he said as he leant his cheek on top of Hermione’s head.
“Yeah, I know.”
“And you’ll have Ginny.”
“She’s a girl too.”
“What’s wrong with girls?” demanded Hermione sharply. Ron laughed.
“Nothing, Hermione,” replied Harry. “It’s just not the same.” Hermione leaned over and put her hand on his arm.
“I know,” she said. The three of them sat companionably in the sun for a long time.
“I don’t think I ever thought this time would come, you know,” said Harry, breaking the stillness. “Growing up, doing different things. I don’t know if it’s because I didn’t think I would get to grow up or it just seemed too far away.”
“Maybe no one ever thinks they are going to grow up? Maybe it’s like this for everyone,” mused Ron.
“Did you ever think of yourself as an adult?” asked Hermione suddenly. “You know, with a job, married, maybe some kids?” Harry shook his head. Ron surprised them both by nodding emphatically. Hermione smiled.
“What did you imagine, Ron?”
“Having a daughter,” he said, leaning back on his hands and tipping his head back to sun his face. “Weasley women are rare but that would make her so much more special. And she’d be smart, heaps smarter than me, like her mum.” He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Hermione then, placing a light kiss on her neck.
“But I always imagined having a son too,” he continued, “one who plays Quidditch. He’s going to be brave and loyal. I reckon he’d be a bit of a troublemaker though. I figure he’d get that from his Uncle Harry.” Ron winked at him and they both stifled laughter as Hermione launched into a spiel about how she would not be at all surprised if his own son got that entirely from him.
“You wouldn’t need Harry’s help to corrupt our son,” she finished exasperatedly. “I am sure you would be quite capable of doing that on your own.”
“Ours, huh?” Ron asked softly and Hermione blushed.
“Yeah,” she admitted shyly, “my imaginary children always had you as their dad.” Harry contemplated leaving them to it as he watched Ron nuzzle the side of Hermione’s neck when suddenly Hermione asked him if he wanted kids.
“Yeah I do,” he said after a moment. “I used to think I didn’t even have a future. I reckon I’ve got one now. I want to be an Auror and get married and have some kids. If I had a son, I’d call him James.”
“Who do you reckon he’d look like then?” asked Ron idly as he twirled a strand of Hermione’s hair around his finger.
“Me, I reckon,” said Harry wistfully. “Only maybe he’d have brown eyes like my dad … Everyone could tell him he looks just like his father only with his mother’s eyes … I always thought you and me’d be Aurors together though. Maybe that’s why I can’t imagine the next year without you. I always thought we’d be together.”
“That’s the sort of thing you say to a girl mate,” snorted Ron. Harry shook his head.
“It’s not like that and you know it!” he protested.
“Yeah I know.” They lapsed into silence again. Harry watched Ron as he trailed his fingers up and down Hermione’s arm and she shivered before leaning into his touch.
“Ginny’s the only girl I trust you know,” said Ron suddenly.
“Huh?”
“With your heart,” said Ron as he averted his eyes to stare over the pond. “No one else is good enough for you.”
“Your mum told me you all thought I was the only one good enough for Ginny,” Harry said softly, staring into the distance.
“That’s true too,” sighed Ron. “But you mean as much to me as she does. And no one loves you like she does, you know. She’s my baby sister — don’t tell her I said that — and she means the world to me. But you do as well. Take care of each other, okay?” Harry nodded.
“We will.”
“It’ll be okay won’t it?” asked Hermione suddenly. “We’ll be okay now?” Harry looked at her, sensing the worry behind her question but it was Ron who answered her.
“Yeah, we’ll be okay now. We’ve been through too much for it all to fall apart now,” he said with authority. “Look after my girls at Hogwarts, Harry.” Harry smiled.
“You can count on it, Ron.”
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The party was a great success, the garden filling up with young people in only a short time and a pile of unexpected presents growing ever higher on one of the tables. Lee and Angelina turned up together with Katie Bell and cornered George. Harry found Katie and George a short time later, behind a tree, looking very much involved. He left them to it, a smile playing across his lips. Neville, Dean and Seamus spent quite some time exclaiming over his new broomstick with Ron but Lavender, Luna and the Patil twins spent more time with Liberty, exclaiming over her. Most of the DA came and a few brought friends. Alicia brought Oliver Wood and they appeared to be very much an item. As he watched Ron and Hermione wandering around fingers entwined and Luna apparently attached to Dean’s hip he began to wonder where Ginny was. Watching Parvati feed Neville some grapes just made him nauseous but it also gave him a longing he knew meant he wanted to see Ginny, be attached to her hip, hold her hand, maybe not so much the grape eating but the involvement behind the tree thing was looking mighty attractive.
He still hadn’t found her amongst the guests when he spotted Cho heading towards him purposefully. He knew it was desperately obvious of him but he began casting about for someone else, anyone else, to talk to as she approached. He did not like the look on her face one little bit. It was predatory. He shoved his hands in his pockets and took a few steps back as she reached him and stretched out a hand, placing it on his chest and reaching up to kiss his cheek. He thought she lingered far too long and had he not been backed up against a table he would have taken another five steps backwards to get away from her. As it was he leaned his torso back as far as he could without toppling over while Cho seemed to be purring at him and asking if he’d had a good birthday. Casting around for an escape he saw Ron laughing at him and shot him a venomous look.
“So, Harry,” Cho purred, “have you had a good day? How does it feel to be eighteen?”
“Yes, it’s been a good day, thanks,” he said, flustered. “I — I feel sort of, well, you know … the same.” He took a step sideways, managing to move out from under her hand. He was disconcerted to find her following him.
“So, what have you been up to?”
‘Ah, well, I … er … flying!” he finally blurted. “New broom.”
“Oh, perhaps you could take me up for a ride then?” she was batting her eyelashes at him. Harry looked around desperately searching for Ginny and found himself near the present table.
“Oh, well can’t … see gotta open these,” he said trying his best to sound authoritative as he seized one of the packages, holding it front of himself like a shield. He could see Ron and Hermione hiding smirks, Neville and Parvati openly grinning and Padma shaking her head as if disgusted. He sent them all pleading looks but they were suddenly busy inspecting shoelaces or fingernails. Harry marched over to Ron, grabbing his arm and pulled him over to the presents.
“Ron is going to help me, aren’t you Ron?” he said, situating Ron between himself and Cho. Managing to stay well away from Cho, Harry and Ron opened the pile of gaily wrapped gifts revealing a large stash of chocolates and sweets, several books about Quidditch, an assortment of stationery and a number of items of clothing. Still Ginny was nowhere to be seen and Cho was somehow making her way through the present barrier Harry had erected around himself.
“Do something!” muttered Harry out of the side of his mouth to Ron as she got closer.
“What should I do?” hissed back Ron. “Has she not got the hint?”
“Maybe you should be more direct with her,” said Hermione firmly. Both of them looked at her, horrified, as if this was possibly the least sane course of action on the planet. At that moment Ginny finally appeared and Harry’s heart began fluttering madly about in his chest, banishing any thought of Cho and her unwelcome advances.
She had changed out of the cut off shorts and T-shirt she had been wearing that morning and was now wearing a simple but stunning green dress that seemed to float when she walked. Her feet were bare and her hair had been left lying loose on her shoulders. With his eyes fixed on her as she walked across the lawn Harry did not notice that Cho had finally made it to his side nor did he notice the look on her face when he ignored her and went straight over to Ginny.
“Hi there,” he said as he slid his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. “I was wondering where you were.” Ginny smiled up at him as he lowered his voice to a whisper. “Cho’s been trying to dig her claws into me all afternoon and I don’t know why she won’t take a hint!”
“Oh, well perhaps this will convince her then,” said Ginny with just a hint of mischief in her voice as she reached up and kissed him, winding her hands into his hair and pulling his head closer. Harry did not need any encouragement and he tightened his hold on her waist before he teased her lips open with his tongue.
“Oi!” Harry surfaced and grinned at Ron who simply grinned back at him before inclining his head slightly to the left. Harry twisted to look and saw Cho, an angry look on her face slinking back to the edge of the lawn. Harry smiled and spent the rest of his party with his hand in Ginny’s, stealing quick kisses from her while he ate and talked to his friends.
It was around sunset when Harry caught up with Oliver Wood. The two of them began to talk about his new broomstick and Gryffindor’s prospects for winning the House Cup.
“I have absolutely no idea really,” said Harry. “There was no Quidditch last year, half the previous year’s team was on the run and we have lost our Keeper. I’d say it’s looking pretty dodgy to be honest. We’ve got a partial team who are so out of practice it’s not funny.”
“Yeah but you’ve got that new broom, Harry,” exclaimed Oliver, “and you are a brilliant Seeker. The other team was pretty good at the Memorial match — how many of them will be on the team?”
“I can’t see Neville agreeing to try out, but Dean and Seamus likely will,” mused Harry.
“Demelza and the Beaters will be back too Harry,” interjected Ginny. “If Seamus is any good as a Keeper we’ve got a team right there.”
“Do you reckon Seamus would be any good?” Ginny shrugged and began waving her arms as she got involved in a discussion about the various strengths and weaknesses of the players as she saw it. Ron drifted over and the four of them were soon engaged in a lively discussion about how best to ensure Gryffindor’s Quidditch success that year.
“You’re pretty good yourself, Ginny,” said Oliver when the discussion of the Keeper and Beater positions had been exhausted and they had thrashed out the weak spots on the Chaser’s line up. “Have you ever thought of going professional?” Ginny stared at him.
“Oh mum’d go berserk!” laughed Ron. “Can you imagine it, little Ginny, professional Quidditch star and all the danger that would bring!” His laughter stopped abruptly when he saw her furious face. Harry watched with amusement as Ginny advanced on her older brother who was backing away from her, his face betraying the fact that he was more than a little scared of her.
“Little?” she hissed quietly. Ron shook his head violently.
“Well, that’s just a figure of speech, er, you know because, well … er —“ his eyes pleaded with Harry to say something while Ginny advanced relentlessly.
“You think it’s funny that I could be good enough to play professional Quidditch?”
“No, you’re good enough, absolutely positively good enough,” stammered Ron as he backed into the dessert table, putting his hand right in the middle of a treacle tart. Ginny stopped advancing abruptly and swung back around to face Oliver.
“Thank you for that, Oliver, I may just consider that suggestion seriously,” her eyes narrowed at Harry, “unless anyone else has any objections?” Harry shook his head vehemently.
“I think it’s a great idea,” he smiled. Ginny turned from the ferocious tiger that had advanced on Ron to a soft pussy cat who purred as she wound her way back into Harry’s arms.
“You’re just the best boyfriend ever,” she sighed against his chest and Ron shot Harry a disgusted look and mouthed ‘suck-up’ at him behind Ginny’s back.
Bill and Fleur had returned after work along with Mr Weasley. Percy had arrived, bringing Penelope with him, shortly afterwards. As the sun set and the lanterns that Ginny had strung up began to glow Mrs Weasley brought out the most enormous cake that Harry had ever seen. Decorated as a Quidditch pitch there were tiny little flyers enchanted to play Quidditch across the top of the cake. Ron and Harry were at first mesmerised by the tiny Quidditch game and began to cheer on the miniscule Gryffindor players as they outmanoeuvred a rather straggly Ravenclaw team. Padma sniffed at it and Cho glowered when the little Ravenclaw Seeker hit the green icing turf but Luna laughed dreamily and began to sing “Weasley is Our King”. Only when Mrs Weasley suggested it was time to cut the cake did Harry see, for the first time, Ron at odds with the prospect of eating. To navigate the impasse Bill conjured up a cardboard pitch and transferred the tiny flyers to a new home. The little match lasted four days before the enchantment wore out and it remained in place of pride on Ron and Harry’s bedroom floor until then.
Someone turned on the WWN, music began pouring out into the warm night and Angelina and Lee began dancing in the middle of the lawn. Laughing, several others followed suit.
“Come on Harry!” Ginny tugged at his hand pulling him towards the group of dancers. Harry shook his head and tried to avoid it but it was no use. He couldn’t deny Ginny anything and he found himself in the middle of the lawn, dancing with Ginny. When a slower, more romantic song came on a short time later he showed no such reluctance in pulling her into his arms and swaying with her on the spot as he peppered her lips with little kisses, dancing one of his hands up and down her spine.
“Have you had a good birthday?”
“Yeah, I have. It’s been almost … magical,” Harry laughed at his own little joke. “I mean a new owl, a new broomstick, hanging out with my best friends, a party, a magnificent cake and time with my best girl. All that’s missing is the fireworks.”
“George was going to do fireworks,” said Ginny softly, not looking at him, “but I asked him not to. I’m sorry. I just … well … last time …” she trailed off uncertainly. Harry looked at her, the sadness in her eyes was palpable. He reached up, putting his fingers on her chin and tilting her face to look at him.
“It’s okay,” he whispered softly. “I understand why you did it. Were you scared?” Wordlessly Ginny nodded. Harry sighed heavily and pulled her in closer. They stood there swaying for a few moments longer, listening to the song fade away. The announcer’s voice came over the wireless then.
“And it’s a very happy birthday today to The-Boy-Who-Lived. Wherever he is I hope he’s having a good time!” Nervous giggles spilled out around the garden, the guests at Harry’s party knowing how much he hated his fame and that particular title but Harry simply threw back his head and laughed, twirling Ginny in his arms now that a new song was playing.
“Let’s risk it,” he whispered to Ginny as he pulled her close again. “Let’s find George and tell him to let the fireworks out!” Pulling on her hand he dragged her over to George and convinced him to set off the fireworks he’d had planned. Harry settled himself on the grass with Ginny in his arms and watched as the first rockets flew into the air with a bang. And when the sky writing sparklers began writing ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY’ in the sky in red and gold and green Harry just hugged her closer and watched as the words faded and wrote themselves over and over again.
As he lowered his head to kiss Ginny’s sweet lips he thought to himself that it had been a very happy birthday indeed.
Chapter 15: Dad
Ron and Harry pulled pillows over their heads when they heard pounding on their bedroom door. A raucous end to Harry’s birthday party the night before had seen them both tumble haphazardly into bed without bothering to locate pyjamas or toothbrush. From beneath a mound of blankets Ron pointed his wand at the door and locked it. Dimly, Harry thought he heard Hermione on the other side. He pulled the covers up over the top of his pillow. He and Ron both forgot that this was Hermione they were trying to keep out.“Oh, open up!” she shrieked as the door blasted itself off its hinges. Ron poked his head out of the blankets and looked at her warily.
“Oi, you’d better fix that! We can’t go about with no door!” He missed the gleam in Hermione’s eyes that Harry saw as he emerged from his own covers.
“What do you need a door for? Afraid someone might ogle you? All the way up here? Come on, get out of bed!”And Hermione swished and flicked her wand, levitating Ron’s covers off him and out of the open doorway. They landed on Ginny who was coming up the stairs to see what all the fuss was about.
Harry clutched his own covers to his chin desperately while Ron blushed furiously and grabbed a pillow to hide behind.
“I’m getting up, I’m getting up, just … get out first … and fix our door!” Harry nodded furiously in agreement with Ron as Hermione’s wand wavered over to his bed. Her hand twitched and his covers moved, exposing a portion of his chest and he grabbed at them furiously, scowling at her.
“Oh, stop it, both of you. We shared a tent for months. I’ve seen plenty!” huffed Hermione. She stabbed a finger in Ron’s direction and then Harry’s. “I’ve already seen you both with your shirts off!” Ginny had extricated herself from Ron’s bedclothes and reached the bedroom, throwing the covers back at Ron who grabbed at them gratefully.
“Good view was it Hermione?” asked Ginny, her eyes twinkling with mirth. Hermione winked at her and then turned back to Ron and Harry.
“Just both of you, get your scrawny bums downstairs in five minutes,” her eyes were sparkling. “I’ve got news!” She turned to go down the stairs and Ginny grinned at a red faced Harry as Hermione pulled her downstairs, waving her wand at the door to repair it as she went.
“Hey!” yelled Ron after them, “our bums are not scrawny!”
The boys burst into the kitchen a few minutes later, half dressed in jeans and t shirts but without having donned shoes or brushed their hair, Harry still trying to evade Ron’s demanding questions about his derriere.
“Honestly Ron!” he said exasperatedly. “I don’t know if your bum is scrawny! How would I, it’s not your bum I spend my time looking at!” He blushed vividly as the entire kitchen went silent at his admission.
“Yes well, I have news!” said Hermione after a lengthy pause. “I have here a letter from Kingsley and he has managed to prod along the paperwork and an owl should be arriving tomorrow with all the travel details. We can leave for Sydney the day after tomorrow!”
“Brilliant!”
“Well we can if we can get a portkey. I don’t really know how long it will take until we can get one booked. It might take a few weeks,” Hermione clarified.
“So let’s book it today then,” said Harry biting into a piece of toast.
“I did try to get in touch with the Department of Magical Transportation and make an appointment with the Portkey Office but they were singularly unhelpful,” complained Hermione. “Apparently no one can see me today. I suppose Saturday isn’t a good day.”
“I really don’t understand why they wouldn’t at least make an appointment,” said Mr Weasley. “Ethelda Sutton is normally such a good natured woman, although she always has been a bit of a gossip. I expect they are overrun just now. No doubt everyone’s looking to travel now the war is over. Saturday shouldn’t make a difference, everyone’s working around the clock at the moment getting things back to rights. I’m going in for a few hours myself today.”
“What do you mean ‘she’s a bit of a gossip’ exactly, Mr Weasley?” asked Harry.
“Oh, you know one of those witches always in a flap about the latest celebrity on the cover of Witch Weekly,” said Mr Weasley. “She’s always talking about that sort of thing. Opens all her conversations with ‘Did you hear about so and so? Got themselves into a right state on the cover of this here magazine…’ It can be terribly tiresome. She swore to us she saw Dixon Brinley in the Portkey Office once. As if he would deign to come in and organise his own portkey. Honestly she’s always been completely turned by celebrities.”
“Dixon Brinley? Who on earth is that?”
“The male answer to Celestina Warbeck,” shuddered Ginny. “Parvati’s been dead keen on him for ages, have you never heard her say anything about him?”
“Well, I have been a bit busy worrying about things other than wizarding world celebrities,” said Harry a bit more sharply than he’d intended. Ginny looked stung. Harry sighed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that the way it came out.”
“So,” said Ron, swallowing a piece of bacon, “all we need is a celebrity to soften up this Ethelda and we’re booking a portkey so fast we’re out of here before you know it.”
“We could drag Lockhart out of St Mungos,” mused Ginny. “He’s still daft enough we can simply tell him what to do, surely?”
“What about Kingsley,” said Mrs Weasley, “Surely he could do something?”
“Would the Minister of Magic be celebrity enough for her, you reckon?” asked George snidely.
“Oh, I couldn’t bother Kingsley,” protested Hermione. “He already pushed through all the travel paperwork.”
“But what’s the point of knowing high profile types of people like Kingsley if you don’t use that to your advantage?” asserted Ron
.
“Not sure if politicians are her thing. She’s more into the sensational type of celebrity that makes the front pages,” mused Mr Weasley turning the front page of the Daily Prophet.
Harry just shook his head as he watched the picture of himself (which took up half the page) on the front of Mr Weasley’s paper, wave at the camera. The headline said ‘HARRY POTTER MAKES IT TO EIGHTEENTH BIRTHDAY’ and the small blurb underneath proclaimed his birthday celebrations so secret this paper had not been able to find out what they were but they hoped he’d had a good day.
Harry got up, and went to the fireplace. Throwing a large pinch of Floo powder in and sticking his head into the fire he called,
“Ethelda Sutton’s Office!” His head spinning madly he felt a bit ill when his head finally stopped spinning and he found himself looking directly up at a rather squat witch in pale blue robes. She was staring at him as if her eyes were about to fall out of her head.
“Hello!” said Harry cheerfully. “Do you think I could make an appointment to arrange an International Portkey booking? I know you’re awfully busy, but if you could just squeeze me in?”
‘Y-you’re H-harry P-potter,” the witch stuttered.
“Yes, I am, you are Ethelda Sutton, are you not?” She nodded dumbly at him but did not speak. At last, his knees going numb, Harry asked, “is eleven o’clock a good time?” She nodded so Harry said he’d see her then and pulled his head out of the fireplace.
“Eleven o’clock, Hermione,” he said as he shook the ash from his hair.
“Cor, how did you manage that, Harry?” asked Ron in awe. “Hermione was just saying she was most unpleasant to her.” Harry rolled his eyes and taking Mr Weasley’s discarded paper he thrust the front page under Ron’s nose.
“What’s the point of knowing sensational front page celebrity types if you don’t use that to your advantage?” Harry snatched up a piece of toast and banged out of the back door, going to sit on an old tree stump at the edge of the garden and contemplating the garden gnomes as he ate. He finished his toast and decided to degnome the garden. He heard Ginny approaching as he picked up the third gnome and hurled it over the hedge.
“I really am sorry,” he said as he caught a fourth gnome. “About before. I didn’t mean to sound so snappy.” Harry flung the angry gnome over the hedge.
“That’s okay,” said Ginny softly. She paused. “Ron feels a bit stupid about what he said about using high profile people to our advantage.” Harry looked at her startled. She continued. “He wanted me to come out and talk to you first, reckons I’ll soften you up a bit before he has to have a go at apologising.”
“He thinks I’m angry?”
“Yeah, well you did leave pretty abruptly and you’re throwing gnomes like you’ve just spent three hours in detention with Snape.” Harry dropped the gnome and it bit him on his bare foot.
“Ow!” yelped Harry and he swore violently. “I’m not angry. Not with any of you. It feels a bit weird though to use my fame like that though. I never do that. Maybe I’m a bit angry at myself; for that, and for snapping at you. I’m sort of pleased with you lot though.” And he looked ruefully at his foot which was bleeding copiously from the gnome’s bite marks.
“Pleased?” asked Ginny as she moved to take a look at his foot. “Better come inside and let mum fix that up.” The two of them started back to the house, Harry leaning on Ginny a little as he hopped along.
“Yeah, pleased,” reiterated Harry. “Not one of you even thought of me. Sitting there discussing high profile, front page celebrities, and there is my picture, on the front page of the daily paper and you start wondering if you can get hold of Lockhart or about Kingsley.
That’s brilliant is what that is.” Ginny smiled up at him from under the arm he had draped around her shoulder.
“Well, you’re just Harry, aren’t you?” Harry smiled at her and wrapped his other arm around her shoulders before leaning in to give her a kiss.
Mrs Weasley tutted about the state of his foot, healed it, bandaged it and then pushed him into a chair and made him sit with his foot elevated for an hour. Ron had laughed at the fact that he would defy Voldemort but be cowed by his mother.
“Oh shush, Ron,” said Hermione briskly. “He likes being mothered, leave him alone.” Harry blushed, embarrassed, and stuck out his tongue at Ron who reciprocated and they were both scolded by Mrs Weasley.
“No one would know you two are eighteen,” Hermione sighed as she went upstairs to gather some documents for the appointment at the International Portkey office.
At precisely eleven o’clock Harry and Hermione arrived at Ethelda’s Office door. It had been an interesting journey through the Ministry and Harry was rather glad Hermione had insisted that they leave early as he had been waylaid by some ten different people as he tried to make his way to Level Six. He’d been detained in a lift all the way to Level Two and finally managed to extricate himself from a well meaning wizard who just wanted to shake his hand — for ten minutes — to find Hermione had located Mr Weasley who was able to guide them back through the Levels and back up to Level Six, straight to the door of the Portkey office, without further delay.
The door swung open at Hermione’s knock to reveal the same squat witch in pale blue robes that Harry had seen earlier. She also appeared to be as star struck as she had been earlier. When Hermione asked her about booking an International portkey to Australia as soon as possible, Harry had to repeat the request before Ethelda came out of the trace she was in. The first available portkey to Australia was not until seven o’clock in the morning the following Friday. So it was virtually a week away but not even Harry could change the International Portkey schedule. After booking seven open ended return portkeys and two one way home for Hermione’s parents — Harry and Hermione bade Ethelda goodbye and made their way back through The Ministry. Once back on the streets of London Harry had a sudden thought.
“Hey, Hermione,” he said as he stopped suddenly on the street outside the phone box, “how long do you think we’ll be gone?”
“I really don’t know, Harry,” she replied thoughtfully. “It could take a couple of days to get to Yackandandah from Sydney. I’ve been able to find out precious little about Australian Magical Transportation beyond the fact that we aren’t licensed to apparate there. And we’ll arrive on Friday. We may not be able to travel until after the weekend, so it might take us until Monday or Tuesday to arrive there. I think we’re looking at a week, I wouldn’t count on being home before the eleventh.”
“Oh,” was all Harry said and began walking along the street. Hermione caught up to his thought process pretty quickly.
“Oh no,” she exclaimed hurrying up alongside him. “What about Ginny’s birthday?” Harry nodded and stopped in the middle of the footpath, holding up several Muggles who huffed as they stepped around him. Hermione grabbed his arm and pulled him across the street.
“Come on, let’s go somewhere and figure this out,” she said. “Next question, Grimmauld Place or the Leaky Cauldron?” They decided to go to Grimmauld Place as it was also a good chance to check out what, if any damage had been done to it by Voldemort’s minions.
They found that Number Twelve was structurally sound but the Death Eaters had obviously had a field day redecorating the inside. They obviously weren’t all completely stupid and had managed to dismantle Moody’s curses but the staircase was half missing, most of the wallpaper in the hallway scorched off and the kitchen not at all as gleaming as Kreacher had left it. The most surprising discovery was that someone had managed to rid the front entry of both the troll leg umbrella stand and the painting of Mrs Black. Harry surmised that not even the Death Eaters could stand her but he wondered how Kreacher would take this development and resolved not to tell him until he absolutely had to. A falling beam from the dilapidated staircase narrowly missed his head and made expedient their decision to repair with haste to The Leaky Cauldron.
When they entered however Harry was entirely unsure if that had actually been the wisest course of action. Half an hour later he made it through the pub to the bar, having shaken at least thirty different hands along the way, some of them more than once. He was reminded of the first time he came there with Hagrid. Tom greeted them warmly and tried to give them a butterbeer on the house. After Harry had convinced him to let him pay he and Hermione sat at a little table in the corner. The table was so tiny their knees bumped and when they leant their hands on the table their fingers were touching.
“What will the Weasleys say if we are in Australia for Ginny’s seventeenth birthday?”
“Oh, so you’re running off to Australia then? The two of you?” Hermione’s face paled as she stared at the person behind Harry’s head. Harry recognised the voice. He did not want to turn around and then a camera flash went off. Harry groaned as Rita Skeeter pulled up a chair and situated herself at their tiny table.
“So, how long has this been going on then?” asked Rita sinuously, her ghastly Quick Quotes Quill hovering behind her left ear. “Heading off to Australia are we? Romantic rendezvous away from it all?”
“No, as a matter of fact, not so much,” said Hermione firmly.
“You’re a bit fickle, aren’t you, Harry,” said Rita, ignoring Hermione completely. “It was just six weeks ago you were spotted conspicuously with Miss Weasley, was it not? What does she have to say about your abrupt change of heart?”
“I haven’t had a change of heart,” protested Harry.
“Oh, since fourth year then?” Rita nodded at Hermione in what Harry assumed she thought was a knowing way. “You’ve forgiven her for the dalliance with Krum then, or are the two of you still rivals for Miss Granger’s affections?” Harry looked at Hermione desperately, a look that Rita obviously mistakenly interpreted as a look of love as she began gushing about their unhidden passion for each other and the veritable fairytale ending this was to the tale of Harry Potter.
“It’s hardly the end of my life!” Harry exclaimed. He indicated himself and Hermione, “and we’re not going out! We never have!”
“How does it feel to be the most eligible bachelor in the wizarding world, Harry?”
“I’m not eligible,” said Harry grumpily. Rita’s eyes lit up and he regretted ever opening his mouth; to say anything to her at all.
“So you are off the market then? I say again, does Viktor Krum know you have won the heart of Miss Granger?”
“Hermione, I think we need to go now,” muttered Harry. Hermione nodded feverishly in agreement and they both hastily stood up and edged away from Rita Skeeter who was following them, her acid-green quill scribbling furiously in her wake as she screeched after them to enquire if Hermione was still using love potions. Harry and Hermione dove almost headfirst into the fireplace and left her far behind.
As he tumbled out of the kitchen fireplace in The Burrow Harry stumbled on the edge of the hearth and landed, sprawling on the kitchen floor just as Hermione came through and tripped over him, the pair of them lay stranded on the kitchen floor as they caught their breath. George wandered in as they lay there, panting.
“What have you two been up to then?” he asked. “You look like you’ve been running from some of Hagrid’s half breed creations.”
“Not far wrong,” muttered Harry. “Which publication do you expect we’ll have to keep our eye on, Hermione?”
“Better keep a look out on the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly I suppose. It’s going to be horrible, isn’t it?” Harry grimaced and nodded.
“Do you think we need to warn Krum?”
“Probably best.” At that moment Fleur came bustling in from the living room.
“Why do you need to warn Viktor?” she asked curiously.
“Rita Skeeter,” answered Hermione and Fleur nodded sagely.
“What’d she do?” asked George eagerly. Hermione explained the way she’d ambushed them.
“And so there’s bound to be an article full of incriminating pictures and all sorts of terrible lies and probably something about me breaking Viktor’s heart this time,” she finished exasperatedly.
The Daily Prophet, unable to find out anything about Harry for weeks now and frustrated by their inability to uncover his birthday party secrets had obviously decided to print Rita’s idea of truth instead. Three days later the front page sported a rather large photograph of Harry and Hermione, squashed into their little table at The Leaky Cauldron and the Headline
The recent hiccup in their romance not withstanding it seems that the love affair between Harry Potter and the rather plain Miss Hermione Granger is not yet over. Spotted in London recently making plans for an overseas getaway the couple appeared cosily in love as they planned their upcoming trip to Australia.
Harry Potter, wizarding Britain’s most eligible bachelor, has denied that tag, stating very clearly to this reporter “I’m not eligible.” Could it be, perhaps that this trip is more than a simple holiday and perhaps an elopement? It appears that Mr Potter’s interest in the Weasley girl is no more than a passing fancy, or perhaps she too used the Love Potions which made Mr Potter so attached to Miss Granger during her undoubtedly less than enchanting years at Hogwarts. It appears that Miss Weasley did indeed use illegal means to obtain her desires.
“She had him completely bewitched, you know,” says Miss Romilda Vane, one of Miss Weasley and Mr Potter’s Hogwarts housemates. “I mean one minute she’s got more boys than you can count twisted around her little finger and the next she’s got Harry Potter snogging her in front of everyone. That’s just not like Harry at all. She had to have bewitched him. I expect she slipped it to him in some food, or chocolates or something.”
So could it be that all along it was Miss Weasley using the Love Potions to secure herself boyfriends and not Miss Granger? Perhaps Miss Granger and Mr Potter have a relationship that has simply withstood the test of time and betrayals that all other dalliances are mere rumours or red herrings? Viktor Krum doesn’t seem to think so.
“We had a very good time when we were together,” says Mr Krum, of his relationship with Miss Granger during what was her fourth year at Hogwarts. “She was a bit at odds with one of her male friends at that stage though. I do not think he approved.” Undoubtedly the male friend to which he refers is Mr Potter. One can only assume that such a good time with another is what led to Mr Potter seeking the affections of other girls, for a time. One such girl reassures us that he is definitely not interested in her now. Miss Cho Chang says she once kissed Mr Potter and they enjoyed a brief relationship. It was obviously always undermined by Miss Granger, lurking there in the background. Miss Chang speculates that Miss Granger also kept young Mr Ronald Weasley dangling as he was never seen with any other girls until his sixth year.
“It is entirely possible,” says Miss Chang, “that Lavender [Brown] obtained some of the Love Potion Ginny Weasley was brewing. They were after all, in the same house at Hogwarts. It was a very sudden thing, their relationship.” Investigations by this reporter reveal that Mr Weasley is indeed going with the couple to Australia. Is he the witness to their secret wedding or is there something more to their threesome than meets the eye?
“Imagine if she got hold of the fact that we spent most of last year alone in a tent together, some of it without Ron,” sniffed Hermione as she threw the paper down on the Weasley’s kitchen table. “If she can twist Viktor’s innocent words like that what can she do with something that actually does look questionable?” Ron snorted into his breakfast and said something that sounded suspiciously like ‘innocent, ha!’ Hermione fixed him with a glare.
“There was nothing questionable about the tent, Hermione,” said Harry exasperatedly.
“Well I know that and you know that and Ron knows that, but would Rita and the rest of the world believe that?”
“Good point,” said Harry gloomily as he stabbed his eggs with a fork. The three of them were alone in the kitchen, Mrs Weasley having gone to roust Ginny from her bed right before the Daily Prophet had arrived. They sat morosely picking at their breakfast when the fireplace flared to life and Viktor Krum’s head appeared in the flames.
“Hello Viktor,” said Hermione listlessly.
“Hullo Herm-own-ninny,” said the head in the fireplace. Ron snorted. “Hullo Veasley, Potter.”
‘Er, yeah, hi,” stammered Ron blushing.
“I am sorry about that article. That voman has tvisted my vords.”
“Don’t worry about it Viktor, she twisted ours too,” said Harry, sighing.
“Vell, should you like I take care of her?” Hermione choked on her bacon.
“What do you mean take care of her?”
“She cannot be allowed to get avay vith this!”
“She always gets away with it!” Ron said. “What are we supposed to do?”
“Vell,” mused Viktor, “in my experience it is better to refute such things rather van let them go on. You should make a statement.” He swung towards Harry.
“Me?” Harry squeaked.
“Yes, you,” said Viktor definitively. “Clear up the rumours, convirm or deny the trip to Auztralya, clarify your statement that you are not eligible. Vat does zat mean, anyway? You are unmarried, yes?” Harry nodded.
“I’m only eighteen! What on earth makes her think I am even thinking of getting married?” he said exasperatedly. “Who gets married at eighteen anyway?”
“I did, dear,” said Mrs Weasley as she came back into the kitchen. “Oh hello Viktor dear!” she said as she noticed his head floating in the fireplace. Harry backpedalled quickly.
“Not that there’s anything wrong with someone getting married at eighteen of course it’s just, well I don’t know anyone who did, or I thought I didn’t and well I couldn’t…” he trailed off uncertainly and Mrs Weasley smiled at him.
“And why are you discussing marriage anyway, Harry?” she enquired as she bustled about the stove. Harry blushed to the roots of his hair, Ron looked shiftily at the floor while Hermione tried to surreptitiously hide the morning paper.
“I shall be going then,” said Viktor from the fireplace. He looked at Harry. “Get a press representative.” Then he was gone.
“What do you need a press representative for dear?” said Mrs Weasley briskly as she brought another plateful of piping hot bacon to the table just as Ginny and George entered the kitchen behind their father. The three newcomers slid into their seats just as Mrs Weasley spotted the edge of the Daily Prophet that Hermione had been trying to slide under her plate. Hermione wasn’t quick enough and Mrs Weasley pounced on it.
“Oh good, it’s finally arrived. Tuesday is household cleaning tips day,” she said briskly as she rifled through the pages, completely ignoring the front page. Unfortunately this meant she held it up for the rest of the table to look at. George let out a low whistle.
“Oh, she got you two a good one. Lovely photo,” he said. Ginny looked up from her eggs and promptly spat them out all over the table.
“Really Ginny,” said Mrs Weasley as she lowered the paper, “you shouldn’t eat so fast if you’re going to spit everything out like that.” Ginny said nothing but snatched the paper from her mother, smoothing out the front page. Harry and Hermione watched her warily while Ron took another bite of toast and then waved the half eaten piece in Ginny’s face.
“It’s a load of rubbish,” he said unnecessarily. Ginny finished reading it and glared at him.
“I know that, dunderhead,” she snapped, “but just you wait until I get my hands on Romilda Vane!” Mrs Weasley was peering at the front page as Ginny read it. As she finished the article she tutted and shook her head.
“That woman,” she huffed, “Viktor does have a point though, perhaps you do need a press representative; someone to refute these ridiculous claims.” Harry sighed and ran his hands through his hair before resting his head in his hands. Mr Weasley took the paper to have a closer look. He frowned as he read through the article.
“Well, you do need to say something,” he eventually said. “She’s got you eloping to Australia! And what possessed you to say you weren’t eligible?”
“It was practically the only thing I even said to her and … well I’m not!” protested Harry hotly.
“Perhaps you don’t think so,” said Mrs Weasley gently.
“The witches will consider you eligible until you’ve got a ball and chain, Harry,” said George. Ginny and Hermione glared at him. George continued, “and some of them will probably still consider you eligible.” Harry sighed again. Ron groaned.
“What?” asked Harry. “What now?”
“Don’t open any mail!” he barked at Hermione. “Even if it’s addressed to you; especially if it’s addressed to you!” Everybody looked at him strangely.
“Why not, Ronald? I’m still waiting for my Hogwarts letter. I just has to get here before we leave.”
“Well, you can open that one,” conceded Ron grudgingly, “but don’t open any others.”
“Why not, Ronald?” asked Hermione impatiently. “You can’t tell me what to do!”
“Well it’ll probably be hate mail, won’t it?” reasoned Ron. “D’you fancy pus filled fingers again?” Hermione subsided. Apparently she saw his point. Mr Weasley stood up.
“Not to worry, Harry,” he said. “I’ll have a chat to Kingsley today see if we can’t sort this out. Okay I’m off now, see you all tonight!” He kissed Mrs Weasley on the cheek and left out the back door to apparate to London. Ron and George left soon afterwards to go to Diagon Alley. They planned to open the shop as soon as they returned home from Australia, so there was a fair bit to do.
It turned out that the whole reason Harry and Hermione had stopped in The Leaky Cauldron to discuss Ginny’s birthday was a non issue for her family. Ginny had been excited to spend her birthday in a different country and although Mrs Weasley had been reluctant to let her go at first, she soon realised that with most of her brothers away she wouldn’t have a particularly festive birthday at home with Percy and her parents in any case. She sighed and said Ginny could still go and they’d have a special birthday dinner when they all got home. This kept things on a tight schedule to ensure all was ready for their departure and Hermione soon chivvied Harry and Ginny upstairs to finish packing.
“We aren’t leaving for three days, Hermione!” protested Ginny.
“You can’t leave everything to the last minute, Ginny!” huffed Hermione. “No wonder we are always late leaving for Hogwarts!” Harry gave Ginny a rueful smile as Hermione pushed her into her own bedroom and sent Harry up to pack his own things. Ginny evidently packed in record time and managed to satisfy Hermione at the same time because it was only a short while later that Harry looked up from sorting his laundry to find Ginny slipping in the door. He hastily shoved the underwear in his hands behind his back. Ginny laughed as she threw herself on Ron’s bed.
“I’ve seen it before, Potter,” she smirked. “Who do you think helps my mother with the laundry?” Harry sighed and inspected the contents of his hands before tossing it into the laundry basket near the door.
“That’s not the point,” he grumbled good naturedly as he continued sorting his socks.
“Haven’t you finished packing yet?”
“No, I have not, it’s not everyone can be as speedy as you Miss Ginevra,” he replied as he shook out a pair of maroon pyjamas that he realised were actually Ron’s. Ginny took a good look around the room then and sighed.
“You two live in a pigsty. You know that don’t you?” she said conversationally. “Hermione never warned me about that.”
“Hey, it’s not me who lives in a pigsty, it’s Ron!”
“You can’t fool me Harry, I know that particular pile over there,” she pointed to a rather untidy heap by the wardrobe, “is yours.”
“But how do you know Ron didn’t put it there?” he smirked at her as he wadded up a pair of jeans and lobbed it into his bag. Ginny rolled her eyes at him and climbed off the bed.
“Honestly Harry, is that how you always pack?” she asked as she began to pull all of the contents from the bag on Harry’s bed. Harry started to protest and then sighed heavily before slumping onto his bed, defeated.
“Oh no you don’t Potter, I’m not doing this while you laze about doing nothing! Go and sort out that festering pile over there, we need to get this stuff cleaned if you are going to take it with you,” she began sorting through the items on his bed and discarding most of them into the laundry basket.
“Hey, it took me ages to pack all that!” protested Harry, swiping at a pair of boxers as they sailed through the air towards the basket. “And how do you know those are dirty?”
“I assume,” Ginny stated loftily. “I can see I shall have to train you if you ever wish to actually call yourself not eligible.” Harry studied her intently before asking softly,
“You think I’m eligible right now?” Ginny looked up at him startled. “Because I’m not. I haven’t been for over a year. I’ve been yours. I’ll always be yours.” He studied Ginny who stood motionless, a pair of socks covered in Snitches dangling from her right hand. She blinked at him, and looked down at the socks in her hand.
“It’s not — “ she broke off, hesitating, “I hadn’t really thought about it. Dreamed maybe, but not serious thought.” She put the socks back in the bag, mechanically following them with a pair of matching boxers and folding the jeans Harry had wadded up moments before. Harry put out a hand to stop her, causing her to look up at him.
“I might not be getting married, or even engaged, heck I’m not even planning to get engaged right now, but that doesn’t make me eligible,” he reached over and took her hand, forcing her to drop the jeans she was holding. “I might not be planning to get engaged but I know who I’m planning to marry. She already has my heart. I’m not eligible for anyone but her.” He heard Ginny swallow audibly as she stared at him. Her eyes were wide and he could see the pulse beating erratically in her neck. He lifted his other hand to touch it and with his fingertips resting on her pulse he pressed a feathery soft kiss to her lips. He pulled back slightly but found his lips captured once again as Ginny launched herself at him.
He could feel her arms around his neck, her lips as they played across his own, her hair as it caressed his arms as he wound them around her waist. He opened his mouth willingly as she demanded entrance, her tongue dancing over his teeth and lips. He felt her familiar warm hands slide down his back and then creep up his shirt. His own hands traced patterns up and down her back as her tongue found his and as she stroked it with her own he realised his hands had moved south, travelling over new, curvy territory and he was pressing her hips to him as he began to chase her tongue back into her own mouth. The kiss that she had so boldly started had turned the tables on her and blindly Harry backed her towards Ron’s bed and they fell on it in a tangled heap. Harry reached out to break his fall but did not break the kiss.
His hands moved back down to grasp her hips before travelling back up her sides, finding more new curves and he melted bonelessly into her as he crawled onto the bed on top of her. There was a distant bang as she tangled her feet with his and her own hands travelled to unexplored territory, pressing his hips closer to her own. Harry wasn’t embarrassed this time when he realised that it was his reaction that had prompted her boldness. Neither of them saw the door swing open as they lay on Ron’s bed kissing fiercely, Ginny’s hands caressing Harry’s considerably less than scrawny bum and his hands pinning her beneath him as his mouth plundered hers.
“It’s a good thing I’m not her mother.” Hermione’s voice broke through their passion. Indeed it cooled it considerably. Harry broke off the kiss and they both sat up hurriedly, straightening their clothing as Hermione continued, dropping a clean pile of laundry on Harry’s bed as she did so. “Equally, I am sure you are more than relieved I am not Ron either. He’d have something to say about that sort of activity on his bed, I’m sure. Now if you could finish packing?” She left, taking the dirty laundry basket with her as she went.
“Bet Ron wouldn’t have a problem with it if he was the one doing it with her,” muttered Harry. Ginny giggled nervously.
“She’s right. It’s a good thing she wasn’t mum.” She stood up and began nervously folding the jeans she had dropped earlier, refusing to look at him.
“Ginny,” said Harry as he scrambled off the bed, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lost control like that. It’s just I … I’m sorry.” He raked his hands through his hair as Ginny stuffed the jeans into the bag. She finally looked up at him.
“Oh Harry,” she said, “don’t be sorry. I’m not. A trifle embarrassed that Hermione walked in on us perhaps, but not sorry.” She gazed up at him and the light from the window cast a glow on her face that made him catch his breath and he leaned down to kiss her softly.
“One day,” he whispered, “one day I will marry you and the whole world will know I’m not eligible. Right now maybe only you know it, but that’s enough.” Ginny looked more than a little flushed but she smiled at him and reached out a hand to stroke his cheek.
“We’d better get packing then so we live long enough to make that dream come true,” she said. “Hermione will be back in a minute to supervise. I am sure she doesn’t trust us at all now.” Sure enough only a few minutes later Hermione was back to make sure they kept busy packing rather than busy with each other but she couldn’t stop them sneaking longing glances at each other as they finished packing Harry’s bag and began straightening up the bedroom.
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Wednesday night at The Burrow Mrs Weasley started running through a checklist of things to ensure that everything had been done for their trip.
“Laundry all done?” Harry and Ginny stifled giggles while Ron looked at them strangely and Hermione glared at them.
“All done Mrs Weasley,” she replied.
“Toiletries packed?” They all nodded. “Paperwork?”
“Really, Mrs Weasley,” said Hermione, “everything has been taken care of. All we need do is show up to the portkey at the right time and we’re set. Bill and Fleur have a separate portkey for convenience but we should all arrive in Sydney at around the same time, late afternoon Friday.”
“And you know where your portkey is?”
“Stoatshead Hill, same as for the World Cup.”
“Money!” said Mr Weasley suddenly. “Have you got enough money? If you’re arriving in the middle of a Muggle airport I expect you’ll need some Muggle money. Oh you’ll be able to find out how planes stay up won’t you?”
“I hadn’t thought about that,” cried Hermione in alarm as if forgetting anything at all was a crime. “We’ll have to go tomorrow and change some Galleons at Gringotts. Do they do exchanges to Australian dollars there?” Mr Weasley nodded.
“They’ll exchange anything at Gringotts. Don’t know how fair the exchange will be.”
“How will we know how much to exchange,” fretted Hermione. “I did a bit of research about it but it’s very confusing because all the exchange rates changes so frequently and I don’t know how much we’ll need. I suppose we’ll have to convert it to pounds first and then dollars, or do you think they’ll go straight from galleons to dollars? They do use galleons in Australian wizarding society, don’t they? I hadn’t even thought!”
“Calm down Hermione,” said Harry as he swallowed a forkful of treacle tart. “It’s not an issue anyway. I said I’d go and see Teddy tomorrow before I left but just take Ginny with you, change whatever you think we’ll need and then some. Grab some extra galleons too so we don’t have to worry about wizarding money either, okay?”
“What’s Ginny got to do with it?” asked George. Harry didn’t answer and shoved another forkful of treacle tart into his mouth. Eventually Ron, throwing an evil look at Harry, replied.
“Harry gave her access to his family jewels. She can go down anytime she wants.” Harry aimed a hard kick at him under the table and glared while George paled and looked at Harry suspiciously.
“I beg your pardon?” he asked. Ginny was glaring at Ron, blushing to the roots of her hair.
“My vault, George, relax,” said Harry. He smiled wryly.
“Got you a beauty though,” beamed Ron. “That’s payback, that is.” George threw a dinner roll at his head and looked pointedly at Harry.
“Yeah well, just you see that she doesn’t have access to anything else!”
“Must we discuss this at the dinner table?” asked Mrs Weasley fretfully, looking frantically to Mr Weasley for support. For his part Mr Weasley was buried in some parchment he had pulled out as soon as he’d finished his own treacle tart and only nodded along absently to the conversation going on around him. Ginny suddenly exploded.
“Must we talk about this at all? Why is it any of your business anyway?” she demanded. “What I choose to do in my sex life has nothing to do with you!” Mrs Weasley looked frantically at her husband and slapped his arm to get his attention.
“Say something Arthur!” Mr Weasley looked up to see Ron and George glaring at Harry who was bright red and Ginny who looked as furious as anyone had ever seen her.
“Yes, yes, she’s quite right,” he said forcefully, clearly not wishing to get on the wrong side of his daughter who was evidently working up a head of steam.
“You have got to be joking, dad!” exclaimed George. “She can’t just … they can’t … and you’re letting her go off to Australia with him!” Ginny leapt out of her chair.
“How do you know what we do? It’s none of your business!” she screeched. Mr Weasley looked puzzled. It was obvious he had no idea what was really going on. Harry looked at Ginny who was furiously glaring at George and could tell she was moments away from getting her wand out.
“We don’t have a sex life, George,” he said without showing a hint of the embarrassment he was actually feeling. “But she’s right, it is none of your business.” He saw Ginny look at him and then subside back into her seat as he stared at George, daring him to comment.
“Who wants more treacle tart?” asked Mrs Weasley a little louder than was necessary.
“No thanks, Mrs Weasley,” said Harry quietly as he rose from his chair. “Excuse me.” He slipped quietly out the back door without saying anything else to anyone. He wandered across the garden and stopped at the shed, leaning his shoulder against it, looking up into the darkening sky where stars twinkled faintly, hands in his pockets. He turned as he heard someone coming across the garden behind him.
“They’ll look different in Australia, won’t they,” said Mr Weasley as he stood next to Harry looking at the sky.
“Yeah, Hermione read about it.”
“Come help me in the shed, Harry,” said Mr Weasley as he unlocked the door and pushed it open. “I had to move the motorbike in here. I think Molly still doesn’t know, she can’t tell the difference between all these Muggle bits.” Privately Harry thought Mr Weasley might have been hoping a bit much to think that his wife did not know he had practically a whole flying motorbike in his shed but he followed Mr Weasley into the shed which was crammed with the oddest assortment of items that Harry had ever seen.
Along one wall was a series of boxes and Harry could see that they were full of plugs. Three old toasters were sitting on the bench at the far end of the shed and no less than six electric frying pans littered the edges of the floor. Extension cords, table lamps and old digital clocks were dangling from a beam that ran the length of the shed and a bar fridge was stuffed in one corner, the door hanging open to reveal that it housed approximately twelve screwdrivers, an electric drill and a box of nuts and bolts. Harry thought he could see a television and a Playstation on another bench but he was only guessing because whatever it was had been taken thoroughly apart. Pieces of Sirius’s motorbike were lying haphazardly in the middle of the floor and a rusty lawnmower was shoved behind the door.
Harry wandered around the shed uncertainly, staring at the things that Mr Weasley tinkered with in his spare time; while Mr Weasley himself lit the lamps scattered around the shed and pulled a dusty box out from under one of the benches. Digging through it, and tossing aside a worn out cordless kettle, four packs of Muggle playing cards and what was once a Discman, Mr Weasley extracted two cans of soft drink. Setting them on the bench he refilled the box with the other items, added one of the electric frying pans for good measure and pushed it back under the bench.
“Now, Harry,” he said eagerly, “can you tell me what these do?”
“They’re drinks, Mr Weasley,” he said.
“Ah, splendid! Splendid!” crowed Mr Weasley. “I told Perkins that is what they were!” Harry smiled at his exuberance.
“Would you like me to show you how they open?” he offered. Mr Weasley nodded eagerly.
“Do you think we could drink them?”
“I guess so,” Harry studied the cans, “although they’re normally served chilled. How long have you had them?”
“Oh, got them in the last raid before things went completely rubbish after Easter and we went into hiding at Muriel’s,” replied Mr Weasley as he applied a cooling charm to the cans. “Middle of The New Forest,the snacks in one of the pubs started flying around the room; most disconcerting for the Muggles. We had to collect a whole lot of things, sort out a right mess that time. These came back with the enchanted snack food but we weren’t able to find anything odd about them at all.” Mr Weasley seized the cans and sat down on the floor in a clear spot between the lawnmower and what looked like the exhaust pipe of the motorbike. Hesitating, Harry sat down, cross legged opposite him. Mr Weasley handed him one of the cans.
“You open that one and I’ll copy you,” he said. Harry grasped the can and levered the ring up a little, Mr Weasley copying him exactly. When Harry cracked his can open by pulling up hard on the ring and pushing the end down the can’s contents spurted out the top and drenched Mr Weasley in a foamy mess. Harry was mortified. Clearly Mr Weasley relished it as part of the experience because he simply laughed and cracked open his own can, showering Harry with orange foam.
“Most people try to avoid that actually,” murmured Harry wryly as he shook the fizzing liquid off his hands. “Must’ve been a bit shaken up.”
“I think we’re all a bit shaken up lately,” said Mr Weasley as he used his wand to siphon up the spilled fizzy drink. He then to