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SIYE Time:13:25 on 29th March 2024
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Meaning of One, Part One: Stone and Fire
By Sovran

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Category: Alternate Universe
Characters:Albus Dumbledore, Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Minerva McGonagall, Ron Weasley
Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, General, Humor
Warnings: Violence
Story is Complete
Rating: R
Reviews: 1026
Summary: If two people are deliberately created to be together, how will the challenges in a world of magic and Dark Lords be dealt with? What would it mean for two people to truly become one? A re-imagination of first year.
Hitcount: Story Total: 547595; Chapter Total: 30392
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
Thanks to moshpit, Jonathan Avery, regdc, and Chreechree for their invaluable assistance on this chapter.




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The kitchen was silent as Harry and Ginny faced off against her brothers. Sweat dripped from all six boys’ faces, and their eyes flicked nervously between each other and the young pair in the centre of their circle. After a long moment, George turned to his twin and broke the silence.

“Fred?”

“Yeah, George?”

“Whose side are we on?”

“Right,” Fred said as both twins put their wands away. “We’ll have no part of this.”

Harry tightened his hand around Ginny’s wrist, feeling her pendant pressing into his palm. Keeping their eyes and wands on the two oldest brothers, Ginny concentrated on Professor McGonagall while Harry kept all of his attention on Bill. After a few seconds, the metal disc grew slightly warm where it was pressed between his hand and her wrist.

“Help us, Professor,” Ginny whispered. “We don’t want to hurt them.”

“Hurt us?” Bill scoffed. “You may have managed to surprise Mum and the Headmaster, but I can cast a shield much faster than either of you can say the incantation for that hex of yours, Ginny.”

“There are other spells,” Harry said in a tight voice.

“You’re a first year. What are you going to do? Try to fight me with Wingardium Leviosa?” Bill asked.

Ginny saw Ron suddenly go pale, his freckles standing out sharply against his stark white skin. He hastily stuffed his wand into his pocket and sat back down in his chair. The tall boy stared at his hands, which seemed to have developed a slight tremor as they rested on the table in front of him.

As Ron sat down, Ginny turned to Charlie, who had been staring at the back of Harry’s head before Ginny turned around. As she met his gaze, Charlie’s eyes widened in shock, and he glanced back and forth from his wand to her face. His arm faltered for a moment, but he maintained his aim. Glancing aside towards Ron, as if he were seeking some support, Charlie’s expression shifted from surprise to puzzlement when he saw that his youngest brother was sitting down. Wiping the sweat from his brow with his free hand, Charlie flicked his eyes to Percy and then over Harry’s head to Bill. Slowly, his shoulders relaxed, and he bent his elbow to let his wand point harmlessly at the ceiling.

“Bill, I . . .”

At that moment, Harry heard a sound from the living room, and he started to cast a spell before he realised that Bill had not moved. Bill tensed and pushed his wand an inch closer to Harry when he thought the small boy was going to attack. On the other side, Ginny stiffened, fearing the confrontation at her back, but she kept her wand on Charlie.

The first noise was followed by three others in rapid succession, and this time Harry and Ginny recognised the sound of the Floo. Multiple footsteps crossed the living room at a run. Professor McGonagall burst into the kitchen first, followed closely by Arthur, Molly, and Dumbledore.

“Put those down!” Mr. Weasley’s voice thundered in the small kitchen. Rushing around the table to stand between Charlie and Percy, he snatched the wands away from them and tucked them into his pocket. Placing a hand on each of their shoulders, he forced them back down into their seats. He continued his circuit of the table, and Fred and George offered their wands to their father without any prompting or protest. Ron, sitting at the table, pulled his wand out of his pocket and set it on the table in front of him for Arthur to pick up.

Completing his walk around the table, Mr. Weasley came to stand beside Bill and Harry, who still had their wands trained on each other.

From the doorway, Dumbledore spoke in a calm, measured voice before Arthur could say anything. “Mr. Weasley, I have recently learned what it feels like to have my face abruptly modified, and I cannot say that I recommend it. Think very carefully about what you are about to do.”

McGonagall stalked over and placed herself bodily between Bill and Harry, confronting the eldest Weasley brother. She did not draw her wand but stood straight and proud with Bill’s wand a few inches from her collarbone. Harry sighed heavily in relief and let his own wand fall to his side.

Behind McGonagall’s back, Harry listened as she spoke quietly but sharply to Bill. “Mr. Weasley, are you a Gryffindor, or are you a Slytherin?”

While Bill gaped at McGonagall, Mr. Weasley reached out and pulled his son’s wand from his hand even as the long-haired young man started to lower it. Ginny and Harry, seeing that the threat was thankfully over, held their wands out for her father to collect.

“Keep them,” Arthur said in a voice sharp with anger. “Of all the people who have drawn their wands today, you are the only ones who had good reason.” He turned and walked back to the doorway, where Dumbledore and Molly still stood.

Ginny turned around to look at her mother. The older woman had her back pressed to the wall next to the door, and her eyes darted around the room without meeting anyone’s gaze. Looking more closely, Ginny could see a web of fine, white lines across her mother’s nose, but otherwise Mrs. Weasley looked unharmed.

“Albus, Minerva,” Mr. Weasley said, facing the Headmaster. “I would greatly appreciate it if you would stay with us for a short while, but I will require your wands. If you would prefer to return to Hogwarts, please feel free to do so.”

Both professors handed their wands to Arthur without any hesitation, and he turned to his wife. Without a word or even a glance at anyone else, Mrs. Weasley produced her wand, and Arthur took it from her. Turning back to Harry and Ginny, Mr. Weasley pulled the entire bundle of wands from his pocket and held it in one hand. With the other, he reached into his robes and produced his own wand, which he added to the collection.

Arthur crossed to Ginny and placed all ten wands into her tiny hand. “Hold these for us, please.” Without hesitation, Harry added his wand to the group.

“But Dad . . .” Bill began.

Arthur spun to look up at his oldest son with an expression of cold fury. “William, I have only one question for you. Do you trust your sister?” When Bill did not answer immediately, Mr. Weasley continued, pronouncing each word as a separate accusation. “It’s very simple, William. Do you trust your sister?

Bill looked back at Mr. Weasley defiantly. “I was just going to break that ruddy connection! Of course I-”

“You what?! ” Arthur roared at his son, causing Bill to take an involuntary step back. Then he leaned forward and continued in an icy tone. “You were going to try to break their union?”

After a tense moment, Bill nodded tightly. Mr. Weasley shook his head in sad resignation, beseeching the heavens for patience.

“Sit down, all of you, and listen for once in your lives,” Arthur instructed.

Bill sank into one of the chairs Harry and Ginny had previously occupied. Harry sat in the other chair, and Ginny settled herself across his lap, still clasping his hand firmly in her own. Molly quietly sank into the empty chair at the end of the table, next to George. McGonagall crossed the room and sat next to Dumbledore on a bench near the doorway to the living room.

Arthur mopped his brow and crossed the kitchen. He opened the back door to the winter morning and then sat at his usual place at the head of the table. Harry and Ginny knew that cold air was rushing into the room, but for the moment they still felt uncomfortably warm.

When everyone was seated and silent, Mr. Weasley spoke. His voice was soft, but his expression remained utterly enraged as he locked eyes with his oldest son. “When I asked Ginny and Harry to come back here, to come home, I told them that no one would try to hurt them, and no one would try to separate them. I promised them that because I was absolutely sure that I could trust my own sons to take care of their sister and her best friend.

“I cannot believe you betrayed my trust so easily.”

Bill opened his mouth to reply, but Mr. Weasley cut him off with a curt chop of his hand. “Did you even think about what you were doing? Did you think you were helping Ginny?”

Arthur paused to stare at all of his sons. “Did any of you stop to consider that what you call help might be the worst thing that you could do to her?” Turning back to Bill almost involuntarily, his voice rose to a shout. “You attacked your own sister, William Weasley!”

Pausing to calm his breathing, Arthur continued to glare at his eldest child. “You may not think that’s what you were doing, but I know it was. I saw Harry when Ginny was unconscious, and I saw Ginny when she finally woke up again.”

Taking a deep breath, Arthur turned to his daughter and spoke very gently. “Ginny, can you tell me what it felt like when you were stunned?”

She trembled in Harry’s lap and whispered without looking up. “It felt like . . . like I wasn’t really a person anymore. I was more like a . . . a shadow, or an echo of a person.” She paused, trying to find words to describe what she had experienced. “Everything was dark and . . . and cold and just . . . nothing.” Her shaking voice dropped even further, so that it was barely audible even in the silent room. “I felt . . . so empty.”

Over her shoulder, Harry could see her parents and brothers looking at her tiny, quaking body. Each of them was clearly horrified by the effect that merely recalling the experience had on their daughter and sister. Harry pulled Ginny tightly to his chest and let the pressure of his arms soothe her.

“You see, Bill?” Mr. Weasley asked. “That is what happened when they were only partially separated. Harry said that Ginny was still there, but she didn’t seem like herself. Can you imagine what might have happened had you succeeded in separating them completely? Can you possibly live with the idea of doing that to your sister permanently?”

Bill blanched, but Arthur continued his diatribe mercilessly. “And what arrogance possessed you to think that you could do anything about it anyway? Do you honestly think that we have not thought about blocking or removing their connection? The Headmaster himself has examined them as closely as anyone could, and he has come to the conclusion that there is nothing there to remove.

Harry and Ginny stiffened when they heard that Dumbledore had examined them so thoroughly, and Mr. Weasley turned to them, working hard to regain control of his usual even temper. “I’m very sorry for not telling you about that before. He did examine you without your knowledge, but he did not try to change anything. When we realised that we couldn’t remove your connection, we stopped trying to think of ways to do it. We didn’t want to do anything that would hurt either of you. I hope you’ll be able to forgive us for that.”

Ginny looked up to meet her father’s solemn, earnest gaze. Seeing the compassion and concern there, she was more than willing to forgive him. Harry, almost to his own surprise, agreed with her. They both nodded silently.

“Thank you,” Mr. Weasley said.

“Albus, how could you do something like that?” Professor McGonagall demanded. “Why didn’t you tell me? They are my students.”

"I found myself in a rather difficult position, Minerva,” the Headmaster said. “This union has many properties the world has never seen before, and I have been trying to study them and determine their implications. When Molly and Arthur asked about such a thing, I felt compelled to answer as well as I could."

McGonagall sniffed indignantly.

Ignoring the byplay, Arthur turned to sweep his gaze across his family and the two professors. “It is time for all of us to be perfectly honest with ourselves and with each other. Albus, do you know the approximate balance of Harry’s vault at Gringotts?”

Dumbledore coughed into his hand. “As of the beginning of the school year, it was approximately half a million galleons.”

“And does Harry have access to the full amount?”

The Headmaster nodded. “Yes, he does.”

“And have you yet thought of any way to prevent Harry and Ginny from transporting themselves at will?”

“No, I have not. I remain ignorant of the principles involved, let alone how one might prevent it from happening.”

Arthur nodded in acceptance before turning slowly and meeting the eyes of each of his sons. “Haven’t you figured it out yet, boys? Harry and Ginny have the means to live completely independently. They can go anywhere they please, and they can pay for anything they may need for the rest of their lives. They don’t need us.”

Looking one last time at Bill, this time without rancour, Arthur willed his son to see reason. “We cannot stop them. If they had really wanted to get away from all of us today, we would never have found them. So we have a choice. Either we can accept them both as they are, to the very best of our ability, or we can drive them both away from our family. What will you choose?”

Arthur paused to look at Ginny fondly, before turning to Harry and carefully meeting the boy’s gaze. “For myself, I will see them welcomed with open arms as long as we are all a family in more than name.”

Harry nodded at Mr. Weasley, accepting the implicit invitation. For Ginny, Harry would try his best to get along with everyone.

Mr. Weasley turned to the twins. “Fred? George?”

Fred spoke for both of them. “We’ve got no problems at all with them. If you lot treat them like Filch, it’s your own lookout.”

Arthur nodded. “Good lads. Ron?”

“I’ll stand up with them,” Ron muttered. He looked up, and Harry was surprised that Ron managed to convey both apology and promise in one expression. “Every bloody time, alright?” Mrs. Weasley clucked softly at his language, but she did not speak or look up at her son.

Ginny smiled slightly and nodded. Mr. Weasley gave Ron a quizzical look before turning to his third son. “Percy?”

The studious boy was quiet for a moment, and then he spoke in a strained voice. “I would not wish to alienate my sister.”

“Good enough,” Mr. Weasley said. “Charlie?”

“I’m not sure it’s as simple as all that,” he said, “but I’ll be damned if I’ll hurt Ginny. Harry seems alright, anyway.”

“Bill?”

The whole room seemed to hold its breath as Ginny’s oldest brother stared down at the table in front of him. “It’s not about you, Harry.” Bill raised his head and met Harry’s eyes. “You’re a good lad, as far as I can tell, and I can hardly say that you won’t take care of Ginny when she needs it. But for this… for this to be happening… and to Ginny, our Ginny, my Ginny . . . it’s pretty hard to accept.” He sighed deeply. “And yet . . . if this is the way things are going to be . . . and it’s not going to change any time soon, then the best I can do is work on accepting it.”

Bill shifted his gaze to his sister. “I love you, Ginny. I hope you and Harry can both forgive me for what I tried to do today. And yesterday, too, for that matter. I’m very sorry.”

Ginny raised her chin and faced Bill squarely from Harry’s lap. “I will, but only if Harry will.”

Harry knew how much Ginny wanted to be reconciled with her favourite brother, but she was also committed to making sure that Harry was treated properly by her family. He thought that, perhaps, he could find common ground with Bill, and he knew he had to try sooner or later.

“I’d do anything for Ginny, Bill,” he said.

The young man smiled slightly and nodded. “Anything for Ginny.” He reached a hand across the space between their chairs, and Harry shook it tentatively. Ginny felt Harry’s tension begin to fade, and she placed the bundle of wands on the table in front of her. Then she leaned across the gap to hug Bill’s arm and rest her head briefly on the point of his shoulder. Bill twisted to put his other hand on her back, and he kissed the crown of her head.

Bill, Ginny, and Harry all resumed their positions and looked back at Mr. Weasley. He smiled at them, and then looked to his left at his wife.

“Molly?” he asked softly.

Without looking up, she whispered, “I will not lose my daughter.”

“Mum?” Ginny asked in a small voice. At last, Molly looked up and met Ginny’s eyes. The web of curved scar tissue stood out sharply against her flushed nose. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, dear,” her mother said, looking at the floor again.

“I’m sorry, Mum.”

Mrs. Weasley nodded. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “So am I.” She took a deep breath and then looked up. Her gaze locked several inches above Harry’s head. “Harry, I’m sorry for . . . for treating you as I have. I can’t be . . . happy about this, but it’s not your fault. As long as Ginny wishes it, you will be . . . welcome . . . in my house.”

Harry heard the forced and unnatural tone of the woman’s voice, but he had to admit to himself that Mrs. Weasley would probably do as she promised. “Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Weasley. I won’t ask you for anything more than Ginny needs.”

Ginny was less than pleased with the distance still remaining between Harry and her mother, but she knew that it was the best they could manage for the moment. A space had also grown between herself and her mother, and she was upset by that and by the obvious distress it caused her father and brothers.

Harry looked up at Arthur. “Mr. Weasley, I would be more than happy to buy my own food, if you’ll show me where there’s a grocer.”

Harry! You don’t have to . . . she trailed off and then sighed sadly at the current state of her family. Maybe we should, at that.

Harry was sad that Ginny was reaching the same conclusion he was. “Or I could just pay rent, if that’s easier for you.”

The older man closed his eyes and shook his head. “No, Harry. We Weasleys take care of our own, and in one way or another, you’re one of ours now.” The corners of his mouth twitched upwards a fraction of an inch. “I doubt Ginny would let us take your money, anyway.”

“Not for the wrong reasons, I wouldn’t,” Ginny said flatly.

Mr. Weasley looked deeply into her eyes, and Ginny looked back at him without blinking. “You never cease to surprise me, Firefly.” He sighed. “Let’s all hope that you never do.”

“I would ask you to do your . . . to do us a favour, Ginny,” he continued. “We’d like you to keep wearing your pajamas at night, once we get them cleaned up a bit. I’m sure that they’re not necessary. Really, I am. But they help us older people feel better about the way we see things. Can you understand that?”

Ginny remembered her father’s conversation with Harry in the snow outside Hogwarts. “I understand, Dad,” she said. “But . . .” she trailed off, staring down at a lock of hair she was twirling in her fingers. She raised her head and met her father’s eyes again. “I’ll wear them for now,” she said finally. “But I want my door back, and I don’t want to have Percy checking up on us at Hogwarts anymore.”

Ginny looked around at her brothers, her gaze lingering on Charlie and Bill. “And no more staring. If you have something to say to Harry or to me, just say it. If you have a question, we’ll try to answer it. If you don’t like what we are, we can . . . we can live with that. But you can’t just stare at us. It’s . . . it’s inhumane.”

To their credit, all six of her brothers nodded. Ginny was not at all sure that they would all stop looking at her and Harry oddly, but she thought that at least they would be more aware of it when they did.

“Alright, Ginny,” Mr. Weasley nodded. “We’ll put your door back. Percy, I think that Ginny and Harry can get themselves to sleep without you. Thank you for helping us these last few months.”

The fifth year nodded solemnly, and Arthur turned his attention to the professors seated by the door. “There will be no problems at Hogwarts?”

The Headmaster opened his mouth to speak, but Professor McGonagall was faster. “None that we can prevent, Arthur, I assure you.”

“Thank you, Minerva,” Mr. Weasley replied. Then he spoke more loudly, his voice sounding deliberately cheerful. “Now then! If I have not lost track of too much time, I reckon that it is still Christmas morning. There are things we do on Christmas, aren’t there?” He rose from his chair and closed the back door as the room finally reached a somewhat comfortable temperature.

Molly straightened suddenly and looked across the kitchen at her cooking range. “Yes, there are,” she said in strained voice. “I must get started on dinner. Albus, Minerva, I do hope that you will able to join us.”

“Thank you for your kind offer, Molly,” Dumbledore said with sudden cheer. “However, as difficult as it may be for the students here to believe, we have our own traditions at Hogwarts, and we are quite looking forward to them.”

“Yes, of course you are,” Mrs. Weasley said, crossing to her counter. “You’re always welcome here, you know. Always welcome.”

“You are most generous, Molly.” McGonagall smiled. She rose from her stool and walked over to stand behind Harry and Ginny, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. She leaned down and whispered, “You handled the situation very well. If you need me again, you know how to reach me.”

Harry smiled tremulously at their Head of House. “Thanks a lot, Professor.”

Minerva nodded. Standing straight again, she spoke in a clear voice. “Happy Christmas, Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley.”

Ginny picked up the bundle of wands from the table and held it out to McGonagall. The Professor picked out two wands, pocketed her own, and passed the Headmaster’s on to him.

The two professors started across the living room, but Dumbledore turned back to look into the kitchen. “Ah, and Mr. Potter?” Harry looked up, vaguely afraid of the Headmaster’s reaction to him. The old man smiled, his eyes twinkling. “Well cast,” he said. “Well cast, indeed.”

Dumbledore and McGonagall let themselves out the front door, and a moment later two soft cracks came from the lawn as they returned to Hogwarts.

“Just us Weasleys, then,” Arthur said, winking at Harry. “Now, your mother needs room to cook one of her delicious Christmas dinners, and there is plenty for us to do without getting in her way. Harry, Ginny, why don’t you go upstairs and get cleaned up. Boys, let’s all straighten up the living room, shall we?”

“Harry and I need to go flying, Dad,” Ginny said quietly.

“There will be plenty of time for that tomorrow, Firefly,” he answered. “I think you’d be better off getting clean now.”

“Dad, why do you go out to the shed to tinker with Muggle things?” Her father’s face tightened in recognition. “Harry and I need to go flying. Please.”

Mr. Weasley nodded. “Alright. Put on some warmer clothes first, then.”

Harry picked up his own wand and then went back to the front door to retrieve the Nimbus. With the broom in hand, he and Ginny went to the back door and donned their heavy cloaks, hats, and gloves.

As they prepared to walk out into the garden, Charlie emerged from the living room. “You might want to have these on out there, Harry,” he said, holding out the Seeker’s gloves he had given Harry earlier in the morning. Harry nodded and pulled the oversized gloves on over his woolen ones.

They walked out to the paddock together and looked up into the crisp blue sky.

You first, Ginny said. She sat on the garden bench and wrapped herself in her cloak, closing her eyes to let herself soar along with Harry.

Harry mounted the broom and took off into the cold winter air. He quickly abandoned his usual high speed due to the freezing wind it generated. Instead, he settled into a large, sweeping figure-eight pattern, which he could follow without conscious thought.

I’m sorry, Ginny, he said. I know you don’t think it’s my fault, and maybe you’re right, but I’m sorry anyway. I know what your family was like before you met me, and this . . . this isn’t it.

I wouldn’t trade back, Harry. Not for anything.

I know. Neither would I, but I have a lot less to miss.


Ginny’s voice was hopeful. I really think they’ll get used to it, Harry. Ron and the twins seem to be okay with it, and Charlie is trying, at least. Percy is, well . . . he’s Percy, and that’s about all we can hope for. He made the right decision today when it mattered, didn’t he?

Maybe
, Harry said cautiously. But what about Bill? And your mum?

Bill’s coming around,
she insisted. He really is pretty easy to get along with most of the time. He doesn’t dislike anyone without a good reason, but he’s had a hard time looking at you the way he looks at everyone else.

Ginny sighed heavily, pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on her forearms. Mum is . . . well, she’s my mother, Harry. As long as she’s trying even a little bit, I can’t help but believe she’ll get there in the end, even if it takes ages.

I don’t reckon she’s very happy with me, even now.

No, she isn’t,
Ginny agreed. And I know you don’t like her very much either right now. But you’re doing the best you can, and I have to believe that she is too. I’ll always love my mum, Harry, but that doesn’t mean I have to like her all the time.

Harry shook his head as he flew. I can’t promise to do any more right now, Ginny. She just . . .

Let you down too hard,
she finished.

Yeah.

I understand, Harry. How could I not? I know you’ll keep trying.


Finally feeling some of his tension ebb away, Harry pushed the Nimbus into a climb. When he reached the height he knew he should not pass at the Burrow, he tipped the handle of the broom down and dived straight for the ground. He shot through the air, ignoring the biting cold on his cheeks and spiraling tightly as he descended. Sooner than he normally would, he pulled out of the dive in mid-spiral when he was ten feet from the earth. He felt his cloak billow out beneath him before he completed his spin and flew upright, parallel to the ground.

Harry slowed the broom and skimmed the grass on his way to the bench where Ginny sat. Your turn.

They traded positions, and Ginny launched herself into the air. Rather than talking, they just absorbed the sensations of flight, feeling the curve of every turn and the lift of every loop Ginny made.

Harry turned at the sound of footfalls and saw Mr. Weasley approaching the bench. The older man sat next to him, pulled his cloak more tightly around him, and looked up at Ginny as she streaked across the sky.

“She’s a wonderful flier, isn’t she?” Arthur asked.

“You should know,” Harry replied.

“Yes, I should. I’ve never tired of watching her fly.” Without moving his gaze, Arthur spoke more softly. “Harry, did you know that Ginny’s mother once wanted to keep her from flying?”

Harry nodded.

“The first time Ginny tried to fly a broom, she fell off and broke her wrist. Her mother was terrified. Ginny loved to fly, even then, but her mother wouldn’t let her because she was afraid.

“Eventually, of course, she came around. She saw how happy flying made Ginny, and we showed her how good Ginny was at it. Molly used to play Quidditch herself, of course, so she couldn’t deny knowing how wonderful it feels to fly. It took some time, and she spent hours and hours watching Ginny in the air, but Molly finally got used to the idea of her daughter riding a broom at high speeds and taking the chance of getting hurt. Now, she helps Ginny with new moves and techniques from her Quidditch days, and she wouldn’t let anyone stop our daughter from flying.”

Harry and Ginny could see the parallel, even if they did not like the implications of it.

“Please be patient,” Mr. Weasley said. “She does love you, and she does want you to be happy, but she needs to see for herself that you’re okay. We just haven’t had time for that yet, with you away at Hogwarts all the time. I really hope that the rest of the holidays can help us all get a little bit closer to accepting things the way they are.”

“Would you come down here, Ginny?” he asked in a quiet voice. Ginny abandoned her loops and dropped to the ground next to the bench. She set the broom on the ground in front of her and walked up to stand in front of her father. Mr. Weasley lifted her into his lap so that she faced Harry and wrapped his left arm around her narrow shoulders. With his right arm, he pulled Harry into his side, and he hugged both children tightly.

“I’m very sorry all of this happened today,” he whispered. “You certainly didn’t deserve it. I want you both to know that you’ve behaved wonderfully and handled yourselves far better than any of us had a right to expect. We should have had a lot more faith in you.”

Ginny put her right arm around her father’s neck and laid her head down on his shoulder. She reached out with her left hand, and Harry caught it with both of his own, completing the strange embrace. As her father released them, Ginny glanced over his shoulder and saw her mother watching from the kitchen window with a remorseful and resigned expression.

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat. “Now, it really is too cold out here for you to fly for very long when you’re not properly dressed. Why don’t you go inside and get cleaned up? The boys and I put all of your gifts into your trunk and took it to Ginny’s room. Dinner should be ready by the time you’re finished.”

“Please consider wearing your jumpers, alright?” he asked quietly. “Your mum really did make them for the right reasons. It would mean a lot to her if you’re both wearing them today, no matter what else may have happened. It would mean quite a bit to me as well. I’d like to see the family today, instead of a group of people sharing a building.”

Ginny nodded and climbed out of her father’s lap, but Harry just rose to his feet, looking at Mr. Weasley uncertainly.

“You always have a choice, Harry,” Arthur said. “You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to.”

Ginny met Harry’s eyes from a few feet away, and her expression was as clear as her feelings. I think you’d look very nice in it, Harry, but it’s up to you. I just . . . I want to try.

He knew he would never truly deny her anything he could give her, so he nodded. I suppose it never hurts to try.

Mr. Weasley must have guessed something of their exchange. “Harry, you said just the right thing to Bill this morning. I think you may have made a friend.”

Someday, I’d like to make a friend without having one of these ‘adventures’ first.

Ginny grinned. Someday, maybe you will.

Arthur led them back to the house, and Harry and Ginny went straight upstairs. You shower first, Harry. It’ll take forever to get my hair clean, and there’s no need for you to be dirty while you wait.

Harry went to Ron’s room to get his clothes. A few minutes later, he stood under the hot spray, watching dirty water spiral down the drain. Once he was clean, the beginnings of bruises were visible on his skin, and he was glad that they would be covered by his clothes. He had far too much experience with bruises, and he hated the looks he got when others could see them.

Damn it, Harry, you shouldn't have to think things like that! No one should have to think things like that.

It’s all in the past now, Ginny. Don’t think about it too much.

But she’s my mum! She knows better! You shouldn’t look like you spent your holiday with those . . . those people!


Harry let Ginny fume in the back of his head while he finished scrubbing and rinsing himself clean. As he dressed in his baggy jeans and one of the shirts from his Hogwarts uniform, Harry felt Ginny’s own anxiety and frustration growing as she prepared for her own shower. Crossing the hall quickly, he found her sitting on her bed, wearing one of her old nightgowns and wrapped in a flannel robe. In her lap, she held her once-pristine pajamas, and she was staring at the tiny spots of red-brown scattered across the cheerful blue fabric.

I didn’t mean to, she said, her eyes glistening. I was so angry and scared, but I never meant to hurt her.

Harry sat on the bed next to her and put his hand over one of hers. Everyone knows that, Ginny.

How could I do that to my own mother? How could she do that to you?

We all got a bit . . . carried away today. But everyone’s okay now,
he said.

You’re not okay! You’ve got bruises bigger than my hand!

He rubbed her back gently. Don’t worry, Ginny. They’ll go away in a few days, and they don’t bother me.

Don’t lie to me, Harry,
she said, but there was no real rancour in her voice. It doesn’t work.

Okay, they’re a bit tender. But they will go away in a day or two.

I wish it could all have been different,
Ginny said sadly. I wish you’d never got those bruises at all. Her emotions shifted, frustration layering atop her sadness. I wish they’d never done those things to us!

Harry lifted his hand to stroke her matted hair. They all know that they shouldn’t have, Ginny. You saw them in the kitchen. They all seem really sincere about treating us differently.

I know they are. I just . . .
she sighed. I can’t change the past, can I?

Trying to lighten the mood, Harry said, If you can, I have a nice long list for you to work on.

She smiled tiredly. If I could, you’d be the first person I’d help.

Take your shower, Ginevra,
he suggested gently. You’ll feel better.

She nodded and stood up. She pushed her stained pajamas deep into her laundry basket and then picked up a pile of clean clothes she had set out earlier. With a tremulous smile at Harry, she crossed the hall to the lavatory.

As Ginny had predicted, it took nearly half an hour for her to clean her long hair. Harry retrieved the flashing button from his pajamas and found Ginny’s on the table next to her bed. Carefully, he cleaned them both with a corner of his pajama shirt. When Ginny emerged from the lavatory, dressed for the day, Harry had set the buttons aside, put his filthy pajamas in her laundry basket, and got her hairbrush out of her bag. Ginny took the time to brush her hair properly while Harry tried vainly to get his unruly black mop to cooperate with his comb. At last, Ginny put her hair back with the clip Hermione had given her, and Harry gave up his futile efforts.

Opening Ginny’s new trunk, they found their Christmas jumpers folded neatly inside. Next to them, Harry’s new trainers gleamed in the light. Harry reached for his jumper but stopped when Ginny did not move.

It’s weird, isn’t it? she mused. These silly jumpers started the mess this morning, and here they are, just as nice and pretty and clean as they were to begin with. But we’re not. Not now.

Harry shrugged. They’re really just jumpers, Gin.

Yeah, I suppose they are.


He reached for his jumper again and winced as he raised his arms to pull it over his head.

This is ridiculous, Harry. Don’t go anywhere.

Without waiting for a response, she went downstairs. Harry sat on the bed, content to wait for her return, though he was not sure how he felt about her plan.

Ginny heard her mother in the kitchen, but her father and brothers were all waiting in the living room.

“Dad,” she said. “Could you come and help me with my trunk? It’s not in the right spot, and it’s awfully heavy.”

Mr. Weasley looked at her quizzically, but he rose from his chair and followed her up the stairs. Bill got to his feet also. “Don’t trouble yourself, Bill. I’ll do it.”

He followed Ginny into her room, where Harry was still waiting on the bed. “What do you really need, Firefly?”

Ginny smiled. Never underestimate Dad.

“You know how to heal bruises, right?” she asked him. “I’ve seen you do it for the boys after Quidditch games.”

“Yes, I know how. Did you hurt yourself?”

“No.” She turned to face Harry. “Take off your shirt.”

Harry was embarrassed to have Mr. Weasley see his injuries, and he did not want to break the fragile truce that the family had reached that morning.

“Err, that’s okay,” he muttered.

Take off your bloody shirt!

Ginny’s intensity surprised him, and he started visibly. Without further protest, he unbuttoned his uniform shirt and set it on the bed next to him.

“Oh, Harry,” Mr. Weasley sighed. “You should have said something.”

“It’s not that bad,” Harry argued.

Arthur pointed at the large red area on Harry’s right shoulder. “Anytime you get a bruise that large, it needs attention sooner than later. Now hold still.”

Mr. Weasley pulled out his wand and tapped Harry’s flesh lightly. In a moment, the yellow colour faded, leaving normal skin. Arthur stood Harry up and walked around him, healing the other, smaller bruises he had.

“What about your legs, Harry?” he asked.

“They’re okay.”

The older man narrowed his eyes and looked to his daughter. “Ginny?”

“He’s telling the truth this time, Dad. Professor McGonagall healed his ankle, and that was all he had on his legs.”

“Good,” Mr. Weasley nodded. “Harry, there’s no shame in asking for help when you’re injured. It’s no trouble to heal something like a bruise, and they can get very painful if you don’t treat them.”

“He knows, Dad,” Ginny said sadly. “Believe me, he knows.”

Arthur looked sad for a moment and then sighed. “Well then, do something about it next time, okay?” he asked, and Harry nodded reluctantly. The shrewd look returned to Mr. Weasley’s face. “Harry, I know better than to ask Ginny this, so let’s try something new. Would you please tell me, does Ginny have any bruises or anything?”

Harry could not help grinning. Never underestimate your dad. Ginny rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him.

He shook his head and spoke aloud. “No, Mr. Weasley.” He glanced at Ginny. “I don’t think I would have let her leave the Hospital Wing if she had.”

“Fair’s fair then, eh Harry?” Arthur asked with a smile. “Now, are you two ready to go downstairs?”

Harry put his shirt back on, and then they both pulled their jumpers on over their heads and pinned the twins’ buttons to the fronts. Harry leaned down and tied his new trainers tightly as Ginny watched. Examining each other, they decided that they looked presentable enough for Christmas dinner and nothing at all like they had when they walked into the Hospital Wing.

“We’re ready,” Ginny announced, and they all went down to the kitchen together.

Christmas dinner in the dining room was a very subdued affair. Molly’s turkey was superb, and Harry made sure to say as much. The twins, to Harry and Ginny’s eternal gratitude, kept the long meal from succumbing to awkward silences.

“Who’s up for Quidditch tomorrow?” Fred asked after everyone was finished. Except for Percy and Arthur, everyone wanted to play, though Molly had to be prodded into agreeing.

“Four on four, then.” George said. “Ron and Bill, you’ll Keep?” The oldest and youngest brothers nodded. “Fred and I will Beat ourselves to death, as usual. Mum’s Chasing . . . you want to Chase too, Gin?”

“Yeah, of course,” Ginny said. She was eager to use the skills her mother had taught her, though she was less than enthusiastic about playing against her mother after the events of the day.

“Err . . . no offense, Ginny, but is that fair?” Bill asked. “You’ve never played before.”

The twins’ grins were absolutely feral, and Harry was sure that his was quite similar, as Fred commented, “You just wait, Bill. Unless we’ve completely lost our senses, you’ll have to wear that goal if you want to guard it.”

“That implies that you had any senses to begin with,” Charlie added.

“True, O Mighty Seeker,” George nodded. “Shall we release the Snitch for this bout of ours, or will you and Harry Chase, too?”

“Well, it’s a lot more fun if there is more than one Chaser on each team,” Charlie said. “What do you say, Harry? Mind flying down with the vulgar herd for a match?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, alright.”

“You just don’t want him to beat you to the Snitch,” Ginny said.

“Have some faith in your big brother, Ginny,” Charlie said, feigning offense. “Harry and I can play Chaser for the game, and then we’ll have a bit of a Seekers’ duel.”

“A Seekers’ duel?” Fred asked. “I’ve never heard of that one.”

Predictably, Ron had. “The starting and reserve professional Seekers do it together for practice. Two seekers, two Snitches. The first to catch and keep both Snitches at the same time wins.”

“What if each Seeker gets one Snitch?” Ginny wondered.

“Well, that’s the hard part, see,” Ron said. “If you don’t catch the second Snitch within five minutes of catching the first, you have to let the first one go again.”

“Did you bring a second Snitch, Charlie?” George asked.

“As it so happens, I did,” he said leaning back in his chair. “And not a battered old thing like we have here. I picked up a new one a few months ago.” Charlie looked at Harry again. “Well, Harry?”

It sounds like great fun, Ginny offered.

“Yeah, we can do that,” Harry agreed.

“Excellent,” Fred declared. “So we’ll play Mum, Bill, Charlie, and me against George, Ron, Ginny, and Harry. Then we’ll all watch Charlie and Harry try to embarrass each other. Any objections?”

“Yeah,” Charlie said with a smirk. “I don’t think it’s polite to humiliate you kids that badly.”

“Charlie, you disappoint me,” George said, shaking his head sadly. “Don’t you know that youth and speed will beat age and experience every time?”

Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Fred all laughed at George’s adaptability, but the rest of the family seemed to think that their amusement was more than his statement really called for.

A few minutes before three o’clock, after a remarkably casual hour of conversation once pudding had been served and consumed, Arthur stood up from the table and led the family into the living room. He turned on the wireless, and they each resumed their seats from that morning.

“Mr. Weasley, do you think the Queen knows anything about us?” Harry asked. “Wizards and witches, I mean.”

“No one I know can say for sure, one way or the other, but I rather think that she does,” he answered. “Either way, she’s still our Queen, so I think it’s important to hear what she has to say.”

As the Weasleys and Harry sat in silence, the Queen’s voice began to emerge from the battered wireless.

In 1952, when I first broadcast to you at Christmas, the world was a very different place to the one we live in today.

Most of the speech concerned people, places, and events that Harry had heard of in passing but had no real knowledge about. A few passages, however, caught Ginny’s attention, and she began watching her family to see their reactions.

One by one, these liberated peoples have taken the first hesitant, and sometimes painful, steps towards open and democratic societies.

Harry lowered his eyes, grateful that none of the Weasleys were staring at him.

There are all sorts of elements to a free society, but I believe that among the most important is the willingness of ordinary men and women to play a part in the life of their community, rather than confining themselves to their own narrow interests.

Ron seemed disinterested, which did not surprise Ginny in the least. The twins were clearly listening, and Fred smiled slightly when Ginny looked his way. Percy was sitting ramrod straight at his end of the sofa, staring at the wireless, and Ginny thought she might be able to see him straining his ears to listen. Unfortunately, he did not react at all to what he was hearing.

All the selfless voluntary work in the world can be wasted if it disregards the views and aspirations of others. There are any number of reasons to find fault with each other, with our Governments, and with other countries.

But let us not take ourselves too seriously. None of us has a monopoly of wisdom, and we must always be ready to listen and respect other points of view.


At this, Bill blushed slightly, and Charlie actually winked at Harry. Mrs. Weasley clutched the arms of her chair, and Ginny could see the tension in her jaw and the unshed tears in her eyes. Next to her, Mr. Weasley had reached a hand between their chairs to rest on his wife’s rigid forearm, and he looked over at her with an expression of concern. When he saw Ginny watching him, Arthur shifted his gaze to her and inclined his head a fraction of an inch.

They met in peace, they talked freely, they listened, they found much on which to agree, and they set a new direction for the Commonwealth. I am sure that each derived strength and reassurance in the process.

The Queen finished her address by wishing her Commonwealth a happy Christmas, and Mr. Weasley stood up and turned off the wireless in complete silence.

“Think she knows about magical folk, Ginny?” he asked as he sat back down.

Ginny thought for a moment before answering. “I hope she does. It doesn’t matter, though, does it? What she said works for anyone if you just change a few of the words. That’s the idea, right?”

Mr. Weasley smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a familiar pattern, and nodded. “That’s the idea, Firefly.”

Mrs. Weasley rose from her chair suddenly and spoke to the room without facing anyone. “Time to clean up the kitchen. Fred, George, Ron . . . come along, you can help this year.”

“I can help too, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry offered tentatively.

Again, she would not meet his eyes. “Thank you, Harry, that’s very generous of you. But the boys have all done it before, so there’s no need for you to trouble yourself.”

“Harry’s been cleaning up after Christmas dinners since he was four, Mum,” Ginny said. “He’s just never been allowed to eat one before today.”

Bill’s head snapped up, and he stared at his sister with a furrowed brow. “What? Never eaten a Christmas dinner? What does that mean?”

Charlie and Percy also looked confused and concerned. The twins appeared surprised and almost angry, and Ron shook his head sadly.

Damn those Muggles,” Mr. Weasley muttered.


Harry realized that Ginny knew what to say and when to say it, so he made no effort to keep her from speaking despite his increasing discomfort.

“You all know that Harry grew up with his Muggle relatives, right?” The brothers all nodded. “Well, they’re just awful, nasty people. They’ve never let him eat Christmas dinner before, but they’ve always made him clean up after they’ve stuffed their faces and binned what’s left in the rubbish. He hadn’t even had a Christmas present until the other day when Hermione gave him some chocolate frogs.”

She continued to face her brothers, but her eyes shifted over to her parents. “They treated him like some sort of unwelcome insect, and they did their level best to make sure he never thought he was worth anything at all.”

Bill gaped at her. “And nobody ever knew? The entire wizarding world . . . and nobody ever knew?” Next to him, Charlie was visibly shocked, and even Percy blinked in confusion.

“Ginny wondered, at least,” Mrs. Weasley whispered.

“That she did,” Bill nodded. “Maybe we should all listen to her a little more closely.” He turned to Harry. “I wish you hadn’t had to go through that, Harry. Everybody deserves a Christmas dinner.”

Harry shrugged and continued to stare at the pristine white material of his trainers. “I can’t change the past, can I?” He asked, and then he paused for a moment. “I had a really good Christmas dinner today, though.”

“All the more reason you shouldn’t have to clean up after it, Harry,” Mrs. Weasley said after an awkward moment, still looking at the floor. “You and Ginny can have a turn next year.” She led the three boys into the kitchen, and soon the sounds of enthusiastic, and probably inefficient, cleaning came through the doorway.

Arthur broke the remaining tension by sighing loudly and good-naturedly. “Why is it that it’s always easy to find the twins, except when they’re getting into trouble?”

“Probably because they’re smarter than they look,” Ginny said with a small smile, and then she yawned. “Dad, can we take a nap?” She lowered her voice carefully. “It’s been a . . . long day, so far, and we haven’t had a lot of sleep the last two nights.”

“Of course you can. I should have thought of that myself,” Mr. Weasley replied. He turned to Bill. “Ginny’s door is out in the shed, Bill. Go get it and put it back up for them. I’m sure you remember how.”

Bill rolled his eyes and nodded. As he left the room to go to the back door, Harry heard him mutter something that sounded suspiciously like “twelve years!

Harry and Ginny went upstairs and changed into t-shirts, and Ginny traded her skirt for Ron’s old pajama trousers. By the time they were done, Bill had replaced their door, and they settled into bed gratefully.

I never would have thought about missing my door before someone went and took it, Ginny said.

Harry and Ginny slept soundly until dinnertime, and they woke up feeling much calmer than they had before their sleep. They rejoined the Weasleys for a light meal of leftover turkey and cold potatoes from Christmas dinner. The family spent the evening singing Christmas carols, listening to the wireless, and relaxing together as best they could. At their usual bedtime, the two children were more than happy to go back to bed, and they went to sleep grateful that this time there was no one staring at them from the hallway.

Boxing Day dawned mostly sunny and relatively warm for the season. At breakfast, the day was universally dubbed as perfect for Quidditch, and challenges and promises flew back and forth between the two impromptu teams. Mrs. Weasley was still noticeably subdued, but she recovered a bit when discussing the familiar topic of backyard Quidditch.

All ten residents of the Burrow donned their winter cloaks, and Harry made sure to wear his new gloves again. Charlie came downstairs wearing a similar, but newer pair of gloves and carrying a small box which contained his Snitch. Percy brought the book Harry and Ginny had given him, and Mr. Weasley carried a mug of hot tea. The rest pulled their brooms from the shed and faced off in the middle of the field.

“Alright,” Mr. Weasley called from the garden bench. “Everyone knows the rules. There’s only one goal on each end, two Beaters, one Bludger. Two Chasers per team. Since there’s no Snitch, the game goes until noon. If there’s a tie at noon, the next goal wins the game. If any of you fouls one of the others, you all know I won’t be nearly as nice about it as Madam Hooch. We’ll call today’s teams the Titches and the Codgers. If you can’t tell which is which, you’re on the wrong team.”

“Ha!” Fred cried. “Told you I was older, George.”

“You merely paved the way for my greatness, old bean,” George shouted back.

Harry mounted the Nimbus, which Ginny had insisted he use, while she rose into the air on one of the Weasley’s old Comets. Charlie had a Cleansweep Six, which was clearly the next best broom on the field, so no one complained about Harry’s broom. He rose up into the air and hovered next to Ginny, waiting for Percy to toss up the Quaffle.

You go for it first, Ginny. You’ve done this loads more than I have.

Okay. We’ll have a hard time getting around Mum and Charlie, but I think we can do it.


Percy, still holding his book in one hand, launched the Quaffle straight up into the air. Charlie and Ginny rushed towards it, while Harry paralleled Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley flew over the others to get closer to the Titches’ goal. Charlie used his speed advantage to snatch the Quaffle out of Ginny’s reach, and he passed it ahead to his mother. Ginny and Harry executed a quick turn, pulling their brooms up and looping to fly upside-down before they righted themselves and flew towards their own goal.

You go left, and I’ll go right, Ginny instructed. We’ll try to get around in front of them at the same time, and I’ll see if I can get the Quaffle away from Charlie.

Harry put on a burst of speed and swept far out to his left. Ginny took a shorter path to her right and managed to close the distance to the opposing Chasers. As she pulled alongside Charlie, Harry turned his broom sharply to get between Ron and the Codgers.

The next thing they knew, Harry and Ginny were struggling to remain aloft. Both of them slowed their brooms and pulled up to avoid falling, but they could not seem to fly in a straight line as their vision swirled and they began to get dizzy.

Stop, Harry. I can’t tell where I’m going and where you’re going.

They both stopped in midair, and then Harry flew over to Ginny while she focused on staying still. Together, they tipped their brooms and flew slowly to the ground.

Mr. Weasley trotted over as the rest of the family landed nearby. “Everything alright, you two?”

“Well . . . I’m not sure,” Ginny said, dropping to sit on the unmoving ground. “We’ve never flown at the same time before. As long as we did the same things, flying forward in a mostly straight line together, we were okay. As soon as we tried manoeuvring separately, though, we couldn’t tell which of us was doing what.”

“You can walk around just fine,” Fred said.

“Yeah, but that took some practice. Ron, you remember we told you how Harry fell on the steps while I was racing on the lawn?”

Ron nodded. “Yeah. You said he got confused, or something.”

“I suppose that doing different things made it harder to separate ourselves enough to fly,” Ginny said.

“You mean you have to think about doing things separately all the time?” Bill asked with a confused frown.

She shrugged. “More or less. If we’re not paying attention, we both see . . . well, we see everything at once, and we end up doing the same things.”

“Can we help somehow?” George asked.

Ginny shook her head. “Not really. We just have to practice, but we can’t both play Quidditch right now.”

Well, that’s easy, Harry said.

“You play, Gin,” he continued aloud. “I’ll get to fly with Charlie this afternoon, anyway.”

“Sounds good to me,” the older boy agreed. “I’ll sit out, too. We’re not really Chasers anyway, eh Harry? Much too clumsy, tossing a ball around like that.”

Thanks, Harry, Ginny said with a warm, broad smile.

Harry passed the Nimbus to Ginny, and Charlie exchanged brooms with his mother.

“You’re in trouble now,” George said with a triumphant grin. “Ginny’s at least as fast on that thing as Harry is.”

Ginny laughed and, without mounting the broom, directed it to fly straight up. As it rocketed towards the sky, she wrapped her legs around it and steered it back down to normal playing height. “C’mon, slowcoaches!” she shouted. “I want to win by at least a hundred.” The other members of the two teams returned to the field in her wake.

Harry saw Charlie tracking his sister’s progress as she shot into the air. “Bloody hell,” he muttered. Turning to Harry, he said, “Sometimes, I wish I was the size of you or Ginny again.”

“Why’s that?” Harry asked.

“The less you weigh, the faster your broom can accelerate. Even if we all had Nimbus Two Thousands, you and Ginny could beat us all in a straight race. Ginny could probably beat you, too, because she’s even smaller than you are.”

See, Potter? You couldn’t catch me if you tried.

He grinned. We’ll find out someday when we have two brooms and can tell each other apart.

“Mum’s doomed,” Charlie declared.

Percy tossed the Quaffle up again, and Ginny caught it before her mother was within a broom’s length of the red ball. The racing broom allowed Ginny to sweep out around the older woman without coming close enough to have the Quaffle stolen. Ginny flew straight towards Bill, who was hovering in front of the Codgers’ goal hoop.

When she was only a few feet away from Bill, Ginny steered off to her left. Bill adjusted his position to block her, but she did not attempt to score. Instead, she pulled up sharply and shot over her brother’s head, parallel to the goal. As she passed above it, she leaned down and tossed it lightly through the top of the hoop, missing her brother’s head by a few inches.

“Titches 10, Codgers 0!” Mr. Weasley called happily.

Harry glanced over at Charlie, who was shaking his head. “I’ve never seen anyone but Mum do that.” He turned to Harry. “She’s been flying for years without telling us, hasn’t she?”

“Since she was six,” Harry nodded. “Mrs. Weasley started teaching her tricks when she was eight.”

The rest of the game was largely the same. Mrs. Weasley played well, but she could not match her daughter’s speed, and Ron was as good a Keeper as Bill was. Ginny rejoiced in never making two goals with the same kind of shot. She threw the Quaffle straight at the hoop from every possible direction. She scored while diving past Bill’s shoulder, and she scored again while performing a barrel roll around her beleaguered brother. He did manage to stop many of her shots, but she kept the Quaffle in her possession enough that the score rose in the Titches’ favour anyway.

As the game progressed, Mrs. Weasley learned to hold the Quaffle tightly against her body to keep Ginny from darting in to steal it from her. In this way, she could get into scoring range, and Ginny was not allowed to interfere with a shot on goal. Mrs. Weasley, riding a slower broom, was not as quick to make the same manoeuvres Ginny did, and Ron seemed to have been paying attention to Bill’s efforts at the other end of the pitch. When his mother tried to slip the Quaffle through the hoop above his head, Ron held the broom between his knees and raised both arms to catch the red sphere. Based on that, Molly adjusted her style and went for more high-speed, direct shots, which caused Ron more problems.

At noon, the Titches won with a score of 250 to 180. Ginny was ecstatic, and she landed next to the garden bench practically bouncing with excitement. She leapt to Harry and hugged him tightly, bouncing all the while. He grinned, completely delighted by her joy, and hugged her back.

Molly landed behind Ginny, and the tiny girl spun to hug her mother without thought. “That was wonderful, Mum. Thanks so much for teaching me.”

“You’re welcome, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said. She was smiling, Harry noticed, an honest and genuine smile for the first time since they had arrived at the Burrow. “You made your Mum proud.”

Ginny caught Harry’s thoughts and pulled back to look up at her mother. “See, Mum? Flying was great once I got to practice a bit.”

Mrs. Weasley’s smile faded a bit, but she still seemed happier than she had in days. “I see, Ginny.”

Next, Ginny turned to Bill and smiled up at him. “No hard feelings, Big Bill?”

“Nah,” he said. “Quidditch has never been one of the things I get defensive about. That’s Charlie’s department.”

“Youth and speed scored a mighty blow today, Fred,” George said.

“Indeed, George. It’s a good lesson for age and experience, though.”

“Perhaps they will learn that lesson more quickly next time.”

“Stranger things have happened,” Fred said. “Mostly to our baby sister.”

Ginny spun to face the twins. “Hey! I resemble that remark!”

“She’s stealing our lines, Fred.”

“They’re just really good lines, George.”

Mr. Weasley appeared to be almost bursting with pride and happiness. Putting one arm around his wife and another around his daughter and Harry, he led the family back inside the Burrow. “Come on inside. We’ll get warm and fed, and then we’ll watch Charlie and Harry make us all feel vaguely inferior.”

“Now he’s stealing our lines,” Fred stage whispered.

“I think we stole that one from him,” George whispered back.

Lunch consisted of a selection of sandwiches, and none of the Weasleys were interested in dawdling over their food, not even Percy. Half an hour after the morning game ended, nine Weasleys plus Harry were back in the yard, Harry and Charlie having reclaimed their brooms.

When they were ready, Charlie released his Snitch, and it zoomed away into the bright sky. Fred dug the Weasleys’ old Snitch out of the shed, and it fluttered somewhat haphazardly away from the ground.

“Keep time for us, Percy?” Charlie asked. “Yell at us five minutes after one Snitch is caught.”

The solemn boy nodded and took his watch off of his wrist to hold it in his hand.

“Ready, Harry?” Charlie grinned. “Even at this late stage, you can still back out and avoid total humiliation.”

“Why would I want to avoid your humiliation?” Harry asked. “Ginny and I are looking forward to it.”

“That’s why we’re here, too,” Fred agreed.

“Oi! It’s a conspiracy, that’s what it is,” Charlie protested. “Alright, then. Let’s find out whether or not I’m getting old.”

Percy counted to three, and the two Seekers launched themselves into the air. Harry spotted the slow Snitch hovering several yards above the far end of the paddock, and he zoomed towards it. Charlie was right behind him, but the older boy’s prediction about their speeds was correct. Harry reached the Snitch first and caught it cleanly, stuffing it in the pocket of his robes for safekeeping.

Harry swept higher into the air and began scanning the area for the fast Snitch. Charlie had apparently given up chasing the slow Snitch when Harry approached him, and the older boy was already searching on the other side of the paddock.

How far can the Snitch go, Ginny? There’s no real pitch here for it to stay inside.

Ginny turned and asked the rest of the Weasleys the same question.

“The charms on the Snitch know how big a regulation pitch is,” Ron explained. “So, from the point where they were released, they can go 250 feet to the left and right of the person who releases them, and 90 feet in front of and behind the person. Here at the Burrow, they can only go up 100 feet. That’s part of the wards, right Dad?”

“That’s it exactly,” Mr. Weasley agreed. “Otherwise we’d never be able to find a Snitch without tipping off the Muggles.”

Charlie and Percy both had their backs to the house, Ginny said, so that probably covers the front yard, the Burrow, the garden, and most of the paddock one way, and almost to the edge of the woods to either side.

So I have to worry about it hiding around the house, but not in the trees. That’s something right.


Harry adjusted his path to cover more of the house and less of the paddock and extended his search to either side. He realised, belatedly, that he was now flying a pattern very similar to Charlie’s and that he could have simply observed what territory the more experienced Seeker was covering and scanned the same area.

Both fliers covered the area thoroughly, but neither made any move to dive towards the fast Snitch. When five minutes had passed, Percy yelled, and Harry released the slow Snitch from his pocket. It flew away immediately, and Harry was sure that he was not allowed to simply chase it down from where he had started. Instead, he continued hunting for the fast Snitch and let the slower one wander off.

A minute later, Ginny said, Charlie’s about to get the slow one, Harry. Behind you and to your right.

Harry glanced over his shoulder in time to see Charlie casually sweep the Snitch out of the air and into his pocket. Now, he knew, he had to be sure to catch the fast Snitch first, or he would lose the game. He knew he needed to narrow his search, so he swept closer to the Burrow. If the fast Snitch were in the open area, he thought he probably would have seen it by now, so it was more likely to be hiding near the house.

As he made his second loop around the house and yard, he spotted the fast Snitch hovering in the angle between the sloped roof and the chimney. Without hesitating, Harry dived across the length of the house to reach it. Charlie had been circling over the garden, but Harry was closer and his broom was faster. He carefully aimed his dive to pass through the crevice where the Snitch was hiding without colliding with the Burrow.

When he was twenty feet from the Snitch, it leapt into motion and whipped around to the far side of the chimney. Harry slowed his dive carefully, passed through the crevice, and made the tightest turn he could around the chimney. The Snitch tried to circle around the chimney again to evade him, but his momentum was too great, and he caught it before it slunk out of sight.

Harry had the fast Snitch, but Charlie had the slow one. Harry thought that less than a minute had passed between the two catches. That meant that, if he wanted to win immediately, Harry would have to catch the slow Snitch less than a minute after Charlie was forced to release it. Otherwise, he would have to let the fast Snitch go, and the field would be even again.

To give himself the best chance of catching the slow Snitch quickly, Harry veered over towards Charlie. When the older boy released his Snitch, Harry thought it would be okay to follow it and catch it once it had left the immediate area where it was released. Charlie, apparently, had heard of this tactic, because he sped away when he saw Harry approaching.

For the next three minutes, the game turned into a one-sided version of tag. Charlie used his greater experience to evade Harry, while Harry took advantage of his quicker acceleration and higher top speed to keep up with the older Seeker. When Charlie darted into the edge of the woods and weaved in and out of the trees, Harry flew above him and waited for an opening to dive down through the canopy if he released his Snitch.

Charlie abandoned the woods and streaked out across the grass of the paddock, flying only a few feet above the ground. Harry dived to the same level and gave chase, quickly catching up with the slower broom and its heavier rider. When Harry was close enough that he could have almost reached out and grabbed Charlie’s cloak, the red-haired young man pulled up forcefully on his broom, slowing drastically and climbing at the same time. Harry shot beneath him at full throttle, and he was halfway across the paddock before he could turn around to approach Charlie again.

As Harry completed his turn, he spotted Charlie still in the center of the field, holding the slow Snitch in his right hand.

He’s going to throw it when Percy calls time, Harry! Ron says it’s okay to do that in these things.

He didn’t tell me that.
He thought for a moment. How much time do I have?

Seven seconds! There’s no way to tell which way he’ll throw it.

Then I won’t let him throw it at all.


Harry flattened himself on the handle of the Nimbus and urged it to top speed, flying straight towards Charlie, who was almost motionless. Charlie noticed him only two seconds before the two fliers would collide, but he did not have a chance to do more than widen his eyes in the time available. At precisely that moment, Harry shifted his path slightly to the left and skimmed past Charlie at a distance of no more than six inches. At the same time, he braked and climbed, inverting himself in a loop over Charlie’s head.

Just after Harry passed Charlie and before the older boy could recover, Percy yelled, and Charlie was forced to release the Snitch without throwing it. Harry reached the apex of his loop and righted his broom in time to see the slow Snitch zipping away towards the Burrow. He dived towards it without regard for Charlie, the approaching ground, or the Weasleys standing between him and the house.

Charlie tried to catch up with him, but Harry had the advantage of momentum, and Ginny’s brother could only watch as Harry plunged towards the ground. The other Weasleys scrambled away from his path, but Ginny simply smiled and stood directly in front of the speeding Seeker.

Harry flew a foot above the grass, laying flat on his broom, with his right arm extended. As the Snitch tried to dip even closer to the ground, Harry put on a short burst of speed and caught it with his hand and the handle of his broom only four inches above the soil. Without taking the time to stow the Snitch in his pocket, Harry pulled up on the handle of his broom, decelerating as quickly as he possibly could before colliding with Ginny. When he had slowed enough to avoid injury, he unhooked his heels from the handle of the broom and dug them into the thick turf, further slowing his approach as he pulled the broomstick fully vertical.

Two feet from Ginny, he came to a stop, and he used the last of his momentum to stand up from his braced crouch. With his broom in his left hand, he held the slow Snitch out to Ginny with his right.

“Here you are, Gin.”

She giggled and took it from him, and he reached into his pocket to retrieve the fast Snitch. “And here’s the other one.” He handed it to her, and she took it with her other hand, now struggling to control her laughter.

Ginny glanced down. “You got dirt on my shoes, Potter,” she accused.

“Sorry, Miss Weasley,” he said. He took his broom in both hands and gingerly swept the soil off of her winter boots. When he straightened again, she could resist no longer, and she burst out laughing. It was a loud, joyful sound, and Harry thought that he had not heard it and felt it for far too long.

With a Snitch in each hand, Ginny wrapped her arms around Harry’s neck and kissed his cheek. His dives and turns had been just as much fun for her as they had been for him, and she felt as though she had been given a late Christmas present.

Ginny saw Charlie land behind Harry as the rest of her family walked back towards the young pair. “Brilliant, Harry! Bloody brilliant!” the older Seeker exulted.

“How does it feel, Charlie?” Fred asked. “Toppled from your throne by an eleven-year-old pretender?”

“I’m glad to be beaten by someone who flies like that.”

Ginny handed Charlie’s Snitch back to him with a smile. “Good thing Harry caught this for you, Charlie. We might have been out here all day.”

“Ouch, Ginny,” George said. “That was just cruel.”

“Well done, little sister,” Fred nodded.

Harry, that was incredible! I don’t know if I want to fly myself or ride along when you fly.

How about we learn to fly at the same time and try that?
he asked.

Yes, we absolutely have to do that.

“Share with the rest of us, Ginny,” Mr. Weasley said with a smile.

“It was amazing, Dad!” she said, beaming up at her father. “I didn’t even notice the cold, and I just knew we weren’t going to hit the chimney, and then our robes were flapping and actually touching the ground, and it was unbelievable!”

He laughed and put a hand on her shoulder, steering her towards the Burrow. Harry, still holding her hand on the other side, was pulled along.

“How did you manage to time that last move, Harry?” Charlie asked. “I’ve got a watch on, but I didn’t think you did.”

“I don’t,” Harry said. “But Ginny could see Percy’s watch.”

“I thought it was only fair since you didn’t tell him it was okay to throw the Snitch,” Ginny said, lifting her chin defiantly as they all approached the house. “He just let it go when his time was up.”

“Sorry about that, Harry,” Charlie said, grinning ruefully. “I really did just forget that part.”

“It’s okay, Charlie,” Harry said easily. “Ron knew about it and told Ginny before you did it, so I knew by the time it was important.”

Bill opened the back door for them all. “Handy trick, that.”

Ginny shrugged. “We don’t do it for games at Hogwarts, unless Harry’s going to get hit by a Bludger or something. He chases the Snitch, and I watch the Chasers.”

“That’s very sporting of you,” Arthur noted as they all sat at the kitchen table.

“Well, it wouldn’t be much fun to win the other way, would it?”

Mrs. Weasley brought them all mugs of hot cocoa and joined them at the table. “That was excellent flying, Harry.” She still did not meet his eyes, but her voice was lighter than it had been the previous evening.

She won’t look at me, Harry said. She still doesn’t like me at all, does she?

I don’t know for sure. Maybe she’s just embarrassed.


“Thanks, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said aloud. “You’re a great Chaser. I bet you could teach the Gryffindor Chasers a thing or two.”

“Here, now,” Fred protested. “There’s no need to badmouth Angelina and the girls.”

“I think they’re great, Fred,” Harry said. “But I’ve never seen them even try some of the things Ginny and your mum were doing.”

“Perhaps Ginny can teach them then,” Mrs. Weasley suggested.

“Well, yeah, I suppose she could. Would you, Gin?”

“I’m sure they can do it, Fred,” she countered. “They just don’t do things like that because they have teammates, and there’s a lot more effective stuff you can do with two other Chasers.”

“I bet they’d like to see it anyway,” George said.

Ginny shrugged. “Ask them, then. If they want to see those things, I’ll show them.”

The group dissolved into scattered discussions of teams, players, and prospects, and Harry knew that this was a normal occurrence on Boxing Day at the Burrow.

This is what it’s supposed to be like, Harry.

This is . . . nice, I think.

Nice?

Okay, it’s bloody brilliant,
Harry admitted. Are you happy now?

Thrilled, Harry. Absolutely thrilled.





A/N: The passages from the Queen’s speech are quotations from her actual speech on December 25, 1991. You can find the full text on the Monarchy’s website. Obviously, I do not claim credit for her words, even if they do fit the situation in my story beautifully.

Also, future chapters may not be published as quickly as they have been thus far. RL is catching up with me and my beta team. I will still publish chapters on a regular basis . . . perhaps around 1.5-2 weeks apart. Obviously, if the chapters are ready sooner than that, I'll post them.
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