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SIYE Time:10:29 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: 547588; Chapter Total: 29553
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
Thanks to moshpit, Jonathan Avery, regdc, and Chreechree for their invaluable help on this chapter. Thanks especially to moshpit, who had quite a lot of other things going on and still managed to help me make sense of this.




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In the days following Boxing Day, Ginny and Harry spent as much time as they could in the paddock, struggling to learn how to fly at the same time. They could do almost any manoeuvres they wanted if they did them at the same time. The problem arose whenever they separated their paths for more than a moment, because their vision swam and their stomachs would sometimes churn. Then they were forced to descend to the ground to catch their balance.

Snow fell overnight shortly after Christmas, but the days were fairly mild and quite suitable for flying. Sometimes, Ron brought his broom out to join them, and they took turns shooting with the Quaffle while he attempted to block them. At the end of the first afternoon of practise, Ginny’s brother put away his broom and headed for the Burrow, but she put her hand on his arm to stop him.

“You okay, Ron?” she asked, letting go once he was looking at her.

He looked puzzled. “Yeah, shouldn’t I be?”

“After . . . you know . . . Christmas morning . . .”

“Oh. Yeah, that.” He scowled for a moment and then shrugged. “I’m alright, really,” he repeated. “Look . . . err, about that thing in the kitchen. I meant what I said, right? Every bloody time.”

“We know.” Ginny smiled at Ron. “Us too.”

Ron shrugged slightly and looked at the ground for a long moment. Glancing around to make sure no one was near, he scuffed his shoes in the dead grass before shifting his gaze to Harry. “Didn’t know you had that much money, Harry,” he said quietly.

“I didn’t either,” Harry admitted.

“Well, just don’t . . . you know, don’t be like Malfoy or anything, right?”

Ginny rolled her eyes as Harry snorted. “Honestly, Ron, can you imagine me acting like Malfoy?” he asked. “I’d rather butter my broomstick with Snape’s hair grease and eat it whole.”

“Ugh, that’s gross! Don’t ruin my dinner,” Ron said. He paused for a moment and then nodded. “Yeah, alright, I can’t really picture you being that much of a plonker, but I can’t picture half a million galleons, either.” Ron shook his head for a moment, then stood up and turned towards the house. “I’m going to get a sandwich or something. You coming?”

So much for ruining his dinner, Ginny said.

Harry answered for them both. “No thanks,” he said. “We’re going to stay out a bit longer while it’s not so cold.”

“Suit yourself,” Ron said. “Oh, and Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t leave, okay? Hermione would drive me barmy without you around.”

Harry grinned at his friend. “Alright.”

“Hey, what about me?” Ginny demanded in mock outrage.

“You?” Ron shrugged and grinned. “It’d make an even trade, I suppose.”

As Ron turned to walk away, Ginny scooped up a handful of snow and threw it right into the middle of his back. Her brother spun back towards her with a startled oath and then bent down to pack his own snowball. This led to a three-sided snowball fight that lasted half an hour. Ginny and Harry found it almost impossible to hit each other with snowballs, since they always knew when and how to dodge, but all three of them emerged from the battle covered in snow and sure that they had been victorious.

After that day, Ron spent hours in the paddock with them, but he never talked about the events of Christmas Day. Harry and Ginny were happy to just fly and play with him without constant reminders of the situation with the rest of her family.

On Monday morning, they were still doggedly working to learn to fly together. A few minutes after they started, they were once again forced to land and get their bearings. As they sat in the grass, frustrated, Harry spotted Charlie crossing the garden towards them.

“Morning, Ginny, Harry.”

“Hi, Charlie,” Ginny replied with a small smile. Since Boxing Day, Harry and Ginny had felt more at ease with her athletic older brother and more comfortable in his presence than they had around Bill or Mrs. Weasley.

Charlie stopped a few feet away and stood with his hands pushed deep into the pockets of his winter cloak. For once, Ginny was as confused as Harry about why her brother was standing there and apparently counting blades of grass. When Charlie finally raised his head to look at the pair, he offered them a wry smile. “Look, I just wanted to . . . well, I’m sorry about before, alright?” He looked down at Ginny hopefully.

She nodded slowly, understanding that Charlie had a hard time admitting failure and that his unusually quiet demeanour and slouched posture spoke more than any words he might use. She smiled a little more widely at her dragon-wrestling brother. “Alright, Charlie.”

What? Harry asked.

It’s his way, Harry. Charlie would rather do something than say something, you know?

“I mean, I don’t . . .” Charlie trailed off, staring off into the trees. He took a deep breath and then exhaled sharply. “You two seem to be having a few problems staying in the air. Would you mind telling me what’s wrong?”

Ginny sighed in vague frustration at the abrupt change of subject. See? He wants to do something. He’s always been like that.

For Harry’s benefit, she remembered another odd interaction from several years before. Charlie had laughingly said that Ginny might never be big enough to ride a full-sized broomstick. He had not known how much that would hurt Ginny’s feelings, so he had been surprised and dismayed when she burst into tears. He had tried awkwardly to apologise, but he had given up quickly. Instead, he had lifted her to sit on his shoulders and then carried her around the house and garden for the rest of the day, telling everyone that she was the tallest of them all.

Accepting that Charlie would always approach things in his own way, Ginny answered the question he had asked. “It’s just the same as it was when we started the game. We can do just about anything if we do it at the same time and in the same direction. We’ve even done some of Harry’s dives. But as soon as we start doing anything separately, we get dizzy. Then we have to land, wait a few minutes, and start all over again.”

Charlie scratched his head. “So you need a way to practise without worrying about falling off of your brooms, is that it?”

“Aside from running into things, yeah, more or less,” Harry said.

“Maybe I can help, then,” Charlie said while watching the clouds. “What if I ride along with Ginny and let her fly. Then, when you get dizzy, I can take over while you two sort out . . . whatever it is you need to sort out.”

“That might work!” Ginny said, “Harry can fly just fine if I close my eyes for a minute, and once we get ourselves straightened out, we can try again without having to land and start over.” She beamed at her brother. “That’d be great, Charlie.”

Grinning sheepishly, Charlie said, “Yeah, well, let’s see if it works first, alright? We might all end up eating snow in a minute or two.”

Ginny and Harry got back on their brooms, and Charlie climbed on behind his sister. “Err, okay, Harry. I have to hold on to Ginny unless I’m steering, so let’s keep it simple for now while we all get comfortable. Let’s see . . . maybe you can just try to fly in the same direction at different speeds.”

Harry nodded, and they lined up the two brooms side by side. They started across the paddock at the same sluggish pace.

Okay, Harry. You speed up a little, and I’ll try to stay upright.

Harry pulled ahead, still flying in a straight line, and they felt the odd disorientation of moving at different speeds. They were able to stand it for longer than they had the first time, but after a minute, Ginny closed her eyes and whispered, “Charlie.”

Her brother removed his large hands from their light grip on her waist and reached around her to hold the handle of the broomstick. As soon as she felt him take control, Ginny focused her mind entirely on Harry’s flying to ensure that he was safe, just as she would when they flew individually.

Once Harry and Ginny were sure that he had recovered, she carefully concentrated on separating Harry’s senses from hers. She gripped Charlie’s muscular forearms in her hands for balance, trusting her brother to keep the broom moving.

When she felt focused enough, Ginny returned her hands to the broomstick and opened her eyes as Charlie let her reclaim control. Again she was able to fly for about a minute before closing her eyes to regain her focus.

After several slow trips up and down the length of the paddock, and several more slightly faster trips for Harry, they were able to fly for almost two minutes before becoming dizzy.

“Getting better, eh?” Charlie called, loudly enough for them both to hear without shifting their concentration.

“Yeah, definitely,” Harry said.

“Can we keep going?” Ginny asked as she opened her eyes again.

“Sure thing, Gin,” Charlie said. “I’ve got all day.”

By eleven thirty, Ginny was able to fly the full length of the paddock while Harry crossed it and returned to the middle, although they were both moving as slowly as the brooms were able. When they had done that for the fourth time in a row, they flew back to the garden bench at a leisurely pace and landed.

As soon as Charlie dismounted, Ginny dropped the broom to the ground and spun to hug her brother. “Thank you so much, Charlie. It was a lot easier with you helping.”

Harry saw the older Weasley smile broadly, and he had no problem seeing how much affection Charlie had for his sister.

“You’re welcome, Ginny. You too, Harry. I’ll help you anytime I can.”

Ginny stepped back from her embrace and looked up at him with a hopeful smile. “Tomorrow morning?”

Charlie chuckled and nodded. “Tomorrow morning.”

“We’re going to go tell Dad about this, and, oh, maybe lunch will be ready,” Ginny announced, suddenly aware of both her hunger and Harry’s empty stomach.

“Go ahead, then,” Charlie said. “I’ll put the brooms away for you.”

Harry smiled. “Thanks again, Charlie.”

“Don’t thank me,” he said, holding his hands out in denial. “If you think you can keep up with Ginny, then I should be thanking you.”

“Ha!” Ginny barked. Then, without warning, she sprinted away towards the Burrow.

Hey! Harry said as he launched after her in pursuit.

They heard Charlie call out from behind them as they neared the Burrow. “See?”

Ginny beat Harry to the back door of the Burrow, and she giggled as they went inside the house and hung up their cloaks.

Dad’s probably in the living room, Ginny said. C’mon!

They crossed the kitchen towards the door to the other room, but as they approached, they heard voices from the other side.

“ . . . but they’re just children, Molly.” Mr. Weasley’s voice said. “They want the same things the boys always wanted. The only real difference is that they’re always together.”

“There’s a lot more to it than that, Arthur, and you know it,” Mrs. Weasley said.

“I know it.” There was a long pause. “But . . . that’s all we can really worry about for now. Let them be together. They’ve shown us that they need it. Not just want it, but really need it.”

“Later on, though . . .”

“Yes, love,” Arthur sighed. “But later is later. Later, there will be new challenges for all of us. But Molly . . .,” they heard the sound of a chair scraping across the floor before Arthur continued. “If we don’t do our best now, there may not be a later for us to worry about. At least, not one that we’ll ever see.”

Mrs. Weasley sniffed. “You’ve said that a dozen times now.”

“It’s been true every time.”

Let’s go, Harry. Maybe Dad can get through to her, but I don’t think he needs our help.

They climbed the stairs to the first landing and went into Ginny’s room, where she propped the door open with a one of the textbooks Percy had given them. They flopped onto the floor on their bellies with their heads together. Outwardly, they pretended to be flipping through their Transfiguration book, but they were really only waiting for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley to finish their talk.

Do you really think your Mum will ever really accept us? Harry asked as Ginny turned a page at random.

Her long silence was more than enough answer, but Harry could feel her half formed thoughts tickling the back of his mind. Sooner or later, Harry, I hope she will. With any luck, it’ll be sooner.

I really hope so, Harry replied, and then he followed Ginny’s gaze as she turned to another chapter of the book. In spite of their silent discussion, they found themselves reading bits of the textbook they had already learned.

What do you suppose we’ll do next? Ginny asked idly.

I dunno. Transform quills into spoons, or something.

They turned a few more pages, half-reading and half-discussing the material, before they heard footsteps on the stairs. A moment later, Mr. Weasley stood in the doorway and looked down on them with a gentle smile.

“I thought I heard you two go up the stairs,” he said. “Do you know that you always walk up those stairs with exactly the same pace? If the sound didn’t come from more than one stair at a time, I’d think it was Percy or Bill.”

“Where is Percy, Dad?” Ginny asked. “I feel like we haven’t seen him in days.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows ruefully. “Well, you know Percy. His OWLs are coming up, so he’s been burning the midnight oil studying. Speaking of which, what are you looking at there?”

Ginny sat up and held the book towards her father. “Transfiguration. It’s really a lot of fun.”

“And you’ve been reading your Transfiguration book ever since you came in from the paddock, have you?” Mr. Weasley asked slyly.

They both averted their eyes, and Arthur chuckled. “You heard your mum and me talking, didn’t you?”

It’s awfully hard to put one past him sometimes, Ginny said.

I see what you mean.

“Just for a minute,” Ginny admitted. “We didn’t intend to, I promise.”

“I know you didn’t, Firefly. We should know better than to talk in the living room if we don’t want one of you lot to hear us.” Mr. Weasley stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. “Did you learn anything today?”

“Yes!” Ginny said, excited and smiling as she remembered their original purpose. “Charlie helped us today, and we managed to fly all the way across the paddock with Harry going faster than I was. I think that if we keep practising, we could play Quidditch together someday.”

Her father laughed quietly. “Woe to the Weasley boys when that day comes.” He paused for a moment. “That’s great, Ginny. Really great. You too, Harry. But what I was asking was whether you learned anything from what you heard in the living room.”

“Oh.” They thought for a moment. “I don’t think so,” Ginny said. “You didn’t say anything you haven’t said before.”

Arthur nodded. “Yes, that’s right. But did you learn anything about your mum?”

They cocked their heads to one side, eliciting an unexpected chuckle from the older man. Ginny glanced up at him, but her father just shook his head and waited for their answer. “I suppose . . . I suppose that maybe she’s getting used to it a bit or, at least, trying to understand better,” Ginny offered hesitantly.

Mr. Weasley sat cross-legged on the floor facing them and was quiet for a few moments. “I put together that Lego you got me, Harry. Did I tell you that?”

Confused by the change in subject, Harry shook his head.

“Well, I did. It was great fun, and I can’t wait to do it all over again. As you said, there are lots of tiny pieces, and they have to go together just right to make the airplane.

“Do you know what the trick is, Harry? What makes building that airplane easiest?” Harry shook his head again, and Arthur continued. “You just have to do it one piece at a time. At first, it doesn’t look anything like the airplane, but if you keep adding those tiny pieces, one by one, you end up with an airplane.”

Mr. Weasley’s voice softened. “Ginny’s mum is like that. She’s taking it one little step at a time, and she has to do it in the right order for herself.” He looked down at them and shook his head slightly. “We’re all like that, really. Some of us just take bigger steps than others. It may take a long time, but I really think that, eventually, your mum will have an airplane for you.”

“I’d be happy with just a raft, Mr. Weasley,” Harry said.

The older man’s lips curled in the slightest of smiles. “I know you would, Harry, but my wife doesn’t build rafts. She builds airplanes with lots of comfortable seats and a real kitchen in the back. It’s all she knows how to do.”

They sat in silence for a moment as Harry and Ginny thought about what Mr. Weasley had said.

“Daddy,” Ginny began finally, “can we ask you a question?”

“You can ask me anything, Firefly. You know that. You know the rule, too.”

“You don’t have to answer if you have a good reason not to,” she supplied.

“That’s right.”

“We were just wondering . . .” She trailed off, studying the rug they were sitting on, and then she raised her eyes to her father. “You and Mum are so different, Daddy. How do you get along so well?”

"You mean how can we love each other so much?"

Ginny nodded. Mr. Weasley took a deep breath and released it slowly. Then he scooted back towards the door and leaned against the doorjamb as he stared at the ceiling and furrowed his brow in thought for a while.

"I don't know how well I can answer that one, Firefly, but I'll give it a try." He thought for a moment longer and then looked back at Ginny and Harry. "There are lots of reasons you might like someone. Some of them are better than others. You might like the way someone looks, as that Elisabeth girl did with Bill. Or you can like the fact that they're smart, or funny, or charming, or even that they've got a lot of money." He scowled slightly, and Ginny and Harry wondered if he might be thinking of the same family they were.

"But that's not enough, not by a long shot," Arthur continued quietly. "All of those things can be . . . helpful, or fun, or pleasant, but even if you have them all, you won't necessarily be happy. You don't really need any of them to be happy."

He leaned forward, tapping the floor in absent emphasis. "The key, the real key, is understanding what's important. It doesn't matter if you're rich, or beautiful, or powerful, or anything else. You just have to . . . to care about each other better than anyone else ever can." He looked down at the floor and furrowed his brow in thought. "You have to know all the good things and bad things about the other person, and just . . . accept them and want them to be exactly the way they are, imperfections and all."

Mr. Weasley shrugged. "That's what love is, in some ways, and . . . you have to know, deep down inside, in here," he stressed, thumping his palm in the middle of his chest. "You have to know that you couldn't love anyone else in the world more than you love that person. And if you do it right, you'll know that that person loves you just as much."

"When you have that," he said, smiling faintly in recollection, "everything else becomes almost . . . unimportant. Meaningless, even. You can ignore the little things that might bother you. We all change as we go through life, sometimes in good ways, sometimes not. And when big things come along, you can just . . . talk through them. Some of them hurt . . . they might even hurt a lot, but you can get through it. No matter what happens, it's worth it because you know, without any doubt at all, that the person you love will still be there when it's all over."

Arthur settled back against the wall with a sigh. "That's the way it is with your mother and me. There are times, like now, when she does things that . . . well, that I don't really agree with, or even like. Goodness knows there are times I do things that she doesn't appreciate." He grinned with boyish charm. "Like that car, Harry. It flies as well as it ever did, you know."

"We guessed as much," Harry said.

"Yes, well, Molly knows it too. And she hates the thing. Absolutely hates it. But she tolerates it and a few other quirks of mine, and I accept a few things she does . . . because we can't imagine being as happy with anyone else as we are together. Even when times are rough, we still have that. We know each other, we really understand each other . . . well enough that all of those other things are details to be worked out."

Arthur smiled dreamily, and Ginny thought she could see the light dancing in his eyes. "Your mother is a wonderful woman, Ginny. No one is perfect, but she's awfully close. Much closer than I am, I think. Everything she does . . . she does because she loves you so very much. That doesn't always make her right, but she does love you, and I know that someday she'll be happy for you both because she loves you so much."

Ginny squirmed slightly, and Harry fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. "I'm sorry, Daddy," she said. "We didn't mean to imply that . . ."

"I know you didn't, Firefly. I know you'd never think something like that, and I don't think Harry would either."

Harry shook his head quickly.

"Does that answer your question at all, Ginny?" Mr. Weasley asked after a moment.

"I think so, Dad," she said slowly. "You mean that . . . that it doesn't really matter how you or Mum look at things, or do things, because you understand and accept each other, and you make each other happy. You love each other enough that it's . . . bigger, somehow, than anything else."

He smiled broadly and nodded. "You've got it, Ginny.” Arthur reached out and patted her cheek and then ruffled Harry’s hair before standing up. “Enough for now, anyway. Now let's go get some lunch. And remember what I said, alright? One little piece at a time."

Harry and Ginny nodded and followed Mr. Weasley down to the kitchen for a sumptuous lunch of beef, potatoes, and vegetables from the garden.

As the family and Harry finished their meal, Ron looked down the table. “Fancy a game of chess, Harry and Ginny?”

They quickly decided that the warmth of Ron’s room would make a pleasant change from the cold outdoors, so Harry nodded. All three children excused themselves from the table and climbed the stairs to Ron’s room, where he set up the chess board in the middle of the floor.

“It's not like I haven't been playing you both all along, eh?” Ron asked as he arranged his pawns.

“Err . . . yeah, mostly,” Harry admitted.

The red-haired boy looked up in curiosity. “Mostly? When haven’t I, then?” Ginny started to answer, but Ron raised his hand to stop her. “Wait, don’t tell me. Back in September, wasn’t it? Around the second week of classes.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, that was it. Ginny was upstairs talking to Hermione, and I was trying to play on my own.”

“Bloody awful games that day, you know,” Ron said. “I had a good time and all that, but the play was horrible. At least when Ginny’s playing, too, there’s a bit of sport to it.”

He went back to his pieces, lining them up carefully and ensuring that the pieces were paying attention properly.

I think you could probably play chess as well alone as we do together, Harry. You were awfully, err. . . distracted that day.

Distracted by trying to distract myself, you mean.

Yeah, that.


Ginny and Harry spent the afternoon playing chess and, inevitably, discussing Quidditch. Ron was in his element, and Ginny was pleased to see him continuing to behave normally in their presence. They lost every game they played, but it was fun anyway.

Around three o’clock, Ron stood up from his latest victory and stretched. “Going for a bite to eat. You want anything?”

Harry and Ginny were not hungry, so Ginny shook her head. “No thanks, Ron.”

Shrugging, Ron left the room, and they heard his heavy footfalls as he thundered down the stairs to the kitchen.

Ginny got up and went downstairs to the loo while Harry waited in Ron’s room. As she climbed back up towards the fourth floor, Bill emerged from the twins’ room. Her oldest brother was chuckling softly. When he spotted Ginny on the stairs, he smiled at her, and his chuckle became hearty laughter. Without a word, he descended the steps, leaving her standing on the landing.

Scowling, Ginny crossed to the open doorway to her brothers’ room and found the twins sprawled across their beds, grinning as though they had done something especially clever.

“What was that all about?” she demanded.

George looked up at her, his grin staying firmly in place. “We were just telling Bill about our little adventure last month. Biggest prank Hogwarts has seen in years, I bet.”

“Did you tell him we helped?” Ginny asked. She was not sure how she felt about Bill knowing of their involvement.

“’Course we did,” Fred said. “That’s why we told him in the first place.”

Ginny blinked twice in rapid succession. Come down, would you, Harry? Looking at the twins, she made her intentions clear. “What for?”

Harry stood up, and they transported him to the twins’ room next to Ginny. Both boys leapt up from their beds as he appeared.

“Blimey, Harry,” Fred said, exhaling sharply. “Don’t do that to a bloke. Not without warning, anyway.”

“Sorry,” Harry apologized hastily. “Why’d you tell Bill about the prank?”

George sighed, and both twins sat together on Fred’s bed. “Step into our office, Potsleys, and we’ll tell you.”

Ginny and Harry crossed to sit on George’s bed. “Getting a lot of mileage out of that joke, aren’t you?” she asked.

Fred nodded. “Well, yeah. What good is teasing if you don’t keep it up?” In a flash that Ginny and Harry had grown accustomed to, her brothers’ expressions became serious.

“Bill came up after lunch and asked us about you,” George said. “Seems like he’s been talking to Percy and Ron, too, and I know he’s spent hours with Mum and Dad after the rest of us go to bed at night.”

Ginny sighed. “I told you lot to talk to us, not to everyone else in the bloody house. Why’s he going around behind our back?”

Fred shook his head. “I don’t think it’s like that, Gin. He didn’t really tell us what he thought or what he thought we ought to think. He just asked us what we thought, and he wanted our thoughts about the things that made us think that way. I think.” George just nodded once in agreement.

Ginny grinned in spite of her concern. “What thoughts did you tell him you thought about when you thought, then?”

George looked her in the eye. “Nothing but the truth, honestly. You two, together, came up with something absolutely brilliant. We’d never have thought of it ourselves. We’re pretty sure that you, Ginny, would never have come up with it on your own before this year, and . . .” he shifted his gaze to Harry, “no offense or anything, Harry, but from what I’ve heard, I don’t think you’d have come up with it on your own either.”

Harry shrugged. “No, you’re right.”

“So we told him about the idea, and how you decided where to put the powder,” Fred continued. “Then we got to talking about what happened the next morning, and it took us nearly an hour just to describe everything. Bill was laughing his arse off by the time we were done.”

“He wasn’t upset or anything?” Ginny asked cautiously.

“Nah,” George said, waving his hand airily. “He thought it was brilliant, too.”

She nodded. “That’s good, then, I suppose.” A stray thought floated through their minds, and Ginny cocked her head at the twins. “How did you find us that night, anyway? You had no reason to be in Harry’s room.”

Fred grinned and looked insufferably superior. “Sorry, dear sister. Trade secret. You’ll find out when you’re older.”

Ginny rolled her eyes theatrically. “You have no idea how often we hear that these days.”

“Ah, but there’s a difference when we say it,” George said waggling his eyebrows. “In this case, it’s absolutely true and, at the same time, completely pointless.”

She sighed melodramatically and then grinned. “Let’s go, Harry. When they get cryptic, there’s no reason to talk to them. They just start wallowing in their own cleverness and ignoring their betters.”

In unison, Fred and George flopped onto their backs and rolled from side to side on Fred’s duvet. “Wallow! Wallow, wallow, wallow!” they chanted in ecstatic voices.

Ginny snatched up George’s pillow and flung it at them, and then they got up to return to Ron’s room, leaving the twins doing their best imitation of pigs in mud.

As they approached the door, Fred called them back. “Oi, bookends!”

Harry and Ginny spun around to find the twins upright again. “Bookends? That’s a bit of the pot and the cauldron, isn’t it?” Harry asked for Ginny.

The two brothers turned to each other with false looks of shock. “What do you know, Fred,” George said. “We do look a bit alike.”

“I suppose I can see the resemblance,” Fred agreed. “But those two don’t look alike at all.”

“No, they don’t look alike. They be alike. Bit of a distinction.”

“And quite distinctive, too.”

“I think they’d make nicer bookends than we would,” George said with a fake expression of deep thought. “They’d fit much more easily on a shelf, and they’ve already admitted that they’re better than us. That must be what they meant.”

“Does this nonsense have a point sometime soon, or is it just for your own personal amusement?” Ginny asked.

George shook his head. “Children these days. No patience at all.”

Fred leaned forward. “Look, third years and up can go to Hogsmeade on weekends now and then. You know that, right?” Ginny and Harry nodded. “Well, that’s us now. If you need anything from the village, let us know. Sweets, quills, knick-knacks, or, you know . . . clothes or something. Just say the word. We’ll probably even bring back the change.”

“And if your requests should happen to include Zonko’s products, intended for some nefarious scheme, we would never notice such a thing,” George added. “Right, Fred?”

“Right, George. We’re really thick about things like that . . . provided we get in on the plan.”

Harry chuckled as Ginny rolled her eyes again. “We’ll be sure to let you know if we need something,” Harry said. “Thanks, Tweedledum and Tweedledee.”

With puzzled expressions, Fred and George froze in mid-grin. “What?”

“Err . . . they’re characters from a Muggle story,” Ginny explained, reviewing Harry’s memory of a film he had seen in primary school. “Quite appropriate, really.”

“I’m not sure I like it when you two know something I don’t,” George said.

“Yes, well, trade secret, wasn’t it? Now we’re even.” Ginny flipped her hair over her shoulder, raised her chin proudly, and marched out of the room. Harry turned to follow her, but he looked back over his shoulder to grin at the twins, who waved merrily.

Are you sure those two are really related to the rest of you? Harry joked.

I’ve been saying for years that they must be from another planet, but nobody’s believed me.

Well, I do.


That night, as Harry and Ginny were drifting to sleep, there was a quiet knock at her door.

Ginny sighed in irritation. “Come in.”

The door opened, and Bill poked his head into the room. “Sorry, Gin. I’m sure you two are tired. Do you mind if I come in for just a minute?”

“No, that’s alright,” Ginny said. She sat up and turned to face the door, shifting Bun-bun into her lap, while Harry pushed himself upright behind her.

Her eldest brother stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. “I just wanted to say that . . . well, I’m glad you’re safe, Ginny. I can understand how this must be just as strange for you two sometimes as it is for the rest of us, but we don’t see that because you’re so . . . I don’t know, content with the whole thing.”

“It’s not wrong for us to be content, Bill,” Ginny said.

He shook his head. “No, of course not. I personally don’t think I’d like to be in your situation, but I can’t very well say it has to be bad for you. I’ve been talking to the others . . .”

“Yeah, we heard,” Ginny said.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Bill said, his eyes imploring them to understand. “I’ve only been around you two for a few days, and you’ve spent most of your time outside. I can’t blame you for that - it’s been rather tense here in the house for you. But in any case, I haven’t had a chance to see what you’re really like now. And I wanted . . . I needed to know.”

“You could have just asked us, Bill.”

He nodded. “I know I could have, but I wanted to hear what everyone else had to say. How could you explain it to me in a way I’d understand? To you, it’s just the way things are, right? You’d be the least able to explain the differences.”

Ginny nodded slowly. “I suppose that’s true somehow. What did you learn, then?” she asked, remembering her father’s question from earlier in the day.

“Percy was completely useless.” Bill snorted, leaning back against the closed door. “He told me that you always went to bed on time and that you looked quite ‘accepting’ with each other.” He rolled his eyes. “Whatever that means.”

“Fred and George told me all about that prank you lot pulled,” Bill said with a grin. “That was brilliant. I wish I’d been there to see it.” He turned his head to stare at the blank wall next to the door, and his grin faded. “They said that before, they had a little sister who was a pretty good sport. Now, they have two friends who are a lot of fun, and one of them just happens to be their sister, too.”

Bill smiled faintly and turned back to Harry. “I think you impressed them, Harry.”

Harry grinned and nodded, happy to have someone else confirm his fleeting impression of the twins’ reactions.

It’s a shame we’ll never be able to tease them for saying all that, Ginny said.

Wouldn’t be right, he agreed.

“Anyway,” Bill continued, “then I talked to Dad. Mum was there, too, but . . . well, she didn’t say much. Dad told me what happened the first time you both visited here, and he explained why you two need to share a bed at night.” He paused and then muttered, “It was bloody hard to argue about that once I’d heard the whole story.”

“Ron . . .” he stopped himself, furrowing his brow. “What did you do to Ron?”

Harry and Ginny shifted nervously. “What do you mean?”

“He wouldn’t tell me a damn thing. Not a word. He said he liked you, Harry, and that you were a great flyer. That was it. He told me that if I wanted to know anything else, I’d have to find someone else to ask. What happened to him?”

Ginny paused. “Did you ask the twins?”

“Yeah, I asked them,” Bill nodded. “They said they didn’t know, not really. But from what they did know, they didn’t expect any less of Ron. How helpful is that?”

What do you think, Harry?

The same thing you do,
he said. We might be able to tell him as much as we told the twins, but anything beyond that isn’t really ours to tell. And if he tells others, well . . .

“Bill,” Ginny began, “I have to ask you this, and you have to be as honest as you can be. Alright?” Her brother nodded slowly. “If we tell you something, will you tell Mum and Dad?”

The long-haired man thought for a long moment. “Will any of you get hurt if I don’t tell them?”

“No, it’s all over now.”

“Will you ever tell them?”

They considered the idea as they both fiddled with the blankets. “Someday, maybe,” Ginny said at last. “It’s not entirely our story to tell, and we’ll keep other people’s secrets until they decide to say something themselves.”

Bill nodded, but his voice was hesitant as he answered. “Alright, then. Since no one will be hurt and it’s in the past, I won’t tell Mum and Dad. But if I think you should, I hope that you’ll reconsider.”

“Alright,” Ginny agreed. “On Halloween, during the feast, there was a troll in the dungeons. Our friend Hermione didn’t know about it, and she was down in the dungeons too. Ron, Harry, and I went to get her, but the troll found us before we could get back to the common room. We . . . we fought it, and we won. Ron . . . well, Ron helped a lot.”

“You fought a troll?” Bill asked, wide-eyed, and they nodded. “Four first years took on a troll and won?”

“Yeah . . . we won.”

“How the hell does a first-year fight a troll?”

Ginny raised her chin in pride for her youngest brother. “With a first-year spell.”

Bill narrowed his eyes at her. “There’s a lot more to this story, isn’t there?”

She met his gaze without flinching. “You already know that.”

He matched her stare intently for a few long moments and then sighed. “You’re all okay? You didn’t get hurt?”

“A few scratches and such,” Ginny said. After a moment of silence, she focused entirely on holding her brother’s gaze. “This Christmas hurt a lot more.”

Bill winced. “Damn, Ginny. I’m very sorry about all that. I feel like . . . like I could have . . . I don’t know, helped out or something, rather than hurting you, if only I’d paid more attention.”

Ginny shrugged. “It’s over, now.”

“That part of it, anyway,” he muttered. Bill started looking around as though avoiding something, and his eyes dropped to the stuffed rabbit in Ginny’s lap. He looked confused as he changed the subject. “Where’d you get a pink bunny, Gin? I can’t imagine you wanting anything that colour.”

“Harry made it for me.”

“Made it? With Muggle sewing or something?”

“Nope,” Ginny said with a grin and a wink. “Watch.”

Harry picked up his wand from the bedside table and cast finite incantatem on the bunny, turning it back into a white Hogwarts towel. Then he said, “brunesempra,” and the towel became Bun-bun again.

“Where’d you learn that, Harry?” Bill asked.

“I didn’t. I was messing around one day, and this just happened.” He avoided saying what he had been doing and why.

The long-haired man whistled appreciatively. “How long does it last?”

“About twelve hours, we think,” Harry said.

“That’s ruddy impressive,” Bill said. “The Egyptians used traps that did things like that, but they set them to cast on people. They’d transfigure someone into a rock or a pane of glass or some silly thing, usually for three or four hours. The people it happens to are never quite the same. Glad it’s never happened to me.”

Ginny looked her brother straight in the eye. “It almost happened to you on Christmas Day, Bill.”

The blood drained from her brother’s face, and he opened and closed his mouth a few times before he recovered. He bent his knees and sat heavily on the floor by the door. “Bloody hell, Harry, thanks for not doing that.”

Harry refused to meet Bill’s gaze and just dropped his head. “I didn’t really want to, but I couldn’t think of anything else. Ginny’s hex takes too long to say.”

Bill sighed. “You’ll learn jinxes and such a bit later on. In the meantime, has Professor McGonagall warned you about using transfiguration on people?”

“She told us not to do it, but she didn’t say why,” Ginny said.

“Well, here’s why. You need to know if you’re going to use spells like that one.

“When you transfigure a person into an inanimate object,” Bill continued, “you’re taking away all of their senses. They can’t see, hear, taste, feel, or smell anything at all. They’re still alive, but they have no way to interact with their bodies or the world around them. The Muggles call it ‘sensory deprivation,’ and they use it for torture. Well, except for a few weirdoes who enjoy it as a hobby. Anyway, the difference is that what the Muggles do isn’t nearly as complete as what we can do with transfiguration.”

Ginny whimpered and turned to put her face in Harry’s shoulder. He put his arms around her back and stroked her hair gently.

“What’s wrong, Gin?” Bill asked. His concern was clearly written on his face.

“That’s what happened that morning when Dumbledore stunned her,” Harry whispered. “She was alive and awake, but she couldn’t feel anything from her body at all. All she could do was share everything through me, but she couldn't really make sense of anything. She was too busy trying to find herself, and she . . . well, she didn’t really know where to look."

“Oh, damn, Ginny. I had no idea. I mean, Dad said . . . but I didn’t really understand.”

Ginny spoke without moving her head. “I think that if . . . if I didn’t have Harry, if he wasn’t here, then I would be like those people you work with. Or sort of like that. Maybe forever.”

Bill closed his eyes and shook his head. “You’re a damned fool, William Weasley,” he whispered. Then he took a deep breath and opened his eyes. “Well,” he said soothingly, “we’ll just have to make sure nothing happens to Harry. Right, Gin?”

She lifted her head a little bit and nodded, while Harry felt her summoning the bravest face she could. Her voice was barely a loud whisper. “That’s right.”

Bill got to his feet and looked down at the two children huddled together on the bed. “Look, I’m sorry, again, about everything.” Pausing to run his hand through his hair and pace a bit, Bill turned back to them. “I didn’t understand, and I know you have to understand something before trying to change it.” He sighed. “Or deciding to just leave it well enough alone.”

He stuffed his hands into his pockets before looking out of the window. After a moment, he turned back and tried to get his expression under control, but discomfort was still evident on his face. “Look, if you two need . . . well, help, or you have questions, or … or anything, you let me know, okay? I admit, it will take time to accept all this, but I’ll do my very best to help you, even so. It’s the least I can do.”

Ginny nodded slowly from within Harry’s arms. “Thanks, Bill,” Harry said quietly. He could feel Ginny’s fervent hope that Bill would be as good as his word. She wanted to have her favourite brother back again someday.

“You two get some sleep. You’ve earned it.” He turned to leave and then paused with the door half-open. “Uh, Ginny?” He paused until she turned her head to meet his eyes. “I’ll try to write to you a bit, at Hogwarts, alright?”

Surprise coursed through the young pair on the bed. “That’d be great, Bill,” Ginny said as her hope blossomed a little more.

Her brother nodded and left, closing the door softly behind him after one last glance at Harry and Ginny.

Ginny climbed slowly out of Harry’s lap and settled onto the bed next to him as they found their sleeping position again. That’s more like my Bill. That person from Christmas isn’t really him at all.

Harry thought carefully for a moment. I think . . . I think I can see where he was coming from that day, though. If I thought someone were hurting you, or . . . or using you to hurt someone else, I might react like he did. I mean, that is what I did, right? The only difference was that I knew for sure what would and wouldn’t hurt you, and he was just guessing.

Ginny smiled affectionately. You’re getting awfully good at figuring these things out, Harry.

I think you help me, even if you don’t know it.

We help each other, then,
she insisted, wriggling into a more comfortable position and letting both of their minds finally drift towards a restful oblivion.

The morning of New Year’s Eve found Harry, Ginny, and Charlie in the paddock again. Harry and Ginny were happy to make progress according to Charlie’s suggestions, though they were not always sure why he wanted them to do things in a particular order.

“This time, let’s try doing laps around the edges,” Charlie suggested. “That way, there’ll be times when one of you is flying straight while the other is turning. You can go the same speed, just start at different times. Does that sound alright?”

“Sure,” Ginny said. “Would you mind riding with Harry today? If we switch back and forth, we can both learn to do it both ways.”

He nodded. “Fine with me. Alright with you, Harry?” Before Harry could answer, Charlie shook his head. “Never mind. She wouldn’t have said anything if it wasn’t alright with you. Come on, then.”

They mounted the two brooms, and Ginny took off a few seconds before Charlie and Harry. They flew in long, slow laps around the paddock, with Charlie flying for Harry whenever the students were forced to focus only on Ginny’s senses to keep her aloft.

After over an hour, they had reached a point where Harry could stay in control of the broom most of the time. Charlie still took over regularly, but those periods were now shorter and further apart. After one such period, when Harry had just taken over again and their senses were as distinct as they would ever be, Ginny glanced up to find her mother standing motionless at the kitchen window, watching the three fliers.

From that time until around eleven o’clock, Mrs. Weasley was visible at the window, and Ginny watched her whenever she was flying towards the house. Her mother’s expression was unreadable at first, but as the morning progressed, her face became sadder and sadder. By ten thirty, Ginny thought her mother might be crying.

I guess we knew they’d keep staring, Harry said as Charlie steered the broom.

It’s got a bit better, at least. And . . . well, staring is a lot better than some of the things Mum’s done.

Your Dad said she just needs time. So we should just let her stare?

I suppose so.
Ginny’s mental sigh was enough for the both of them.

At noon, Charlie put away the brooms and led the small group back into the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley had spent the last hour making a hearty lunch of roasted chicken and vegetables. She was very quiet during the meal, but Ginny thought that her mother was paying attention as the rest of the family, including Percy, talked comfortably about the upcoming year of school or work. In spite of the casual conversation, Harry could not help but notice that Percy never talked to them or even glanced in their direction.

When everyone had finished eating, Molly rose from the table. “Time to clean up. Ginny and Harry, would you please help me with the dishes in the kitchen?”

They were surprised by the request, but they nodded their agreement and gathered the plates from the table. As they carried them across the kitchen, Mr. Weasley stood up and spoke merrily. “Come on out to the shed, boys. I want to show you the airplane that I built.” A few of the Weasley brothers looked confused, but they all put on their cloaks and followed their father out of the house without question after glancing back towards the kitchen.

Mrs. Weasley started the cleaning charm on the sink, causing the dishes to hover one by one over half of the sink to be scrubbed and then to move to the other side to be rinsed. Finally, they set themselves on a wooden rack, where a periodic drying charm left them ready to be put away.

Harry and Ginny’s job was to stack the dirty dishes at one end of the sink for the charm to pick up and then to put the clean dishes where they belonged in the cabinets. The entire process did not take very long, even with ten people’s dishes to wash and dry, but the time dragged in the awkward silence of the kitchen.

When the last plate was properly put away, Mrs. Weasley cancelled the cleaning charm. As the children turned to leave the kitchen, Ginny’s mother spoke softly.

“Would you stay for a moment?” she asked. They nodded uncertainly, and Mrs. Weasley sat in one of the chairs at the kitchen table. “Sit down, please.”

Harry and Ginny took their usual seats on the other side of the table, facing Molly directly, but out of arm’s reach.

“I wanted to talk to . . . to the two of you, so that I could . . . apologise,” she said, keeping her eyes fixed on her hands as she wrung them together on the table in front of her. “It’s unacceptable to hurt a child,” she whispered. “If I heard of anyone else . . . doing that, I would call them all sorts of horrible names.”

She paused to absently trace the grain of the table with one finger. “But it wasn’t anyone else. It was me.” She folded her hands back into her lap. “I hurt a child.”

She dragged her eyes up to look at Harry, but she could not hold his gaze, and every few seconds her eyes darted away before returning to his. “Arthur told me you . . . sprained your ankle, Harry, and had some . . . some bruises. You got those when you hit . . .” she trailed off and took a deep breath. “I did that to you, didn’t I?”

Harry nodded slightly, unsure of what else he could say.

“I am so sorry, Harry. So terribly, terribly sorry. What I did to you is . . . unforgivable. I won’t ask you to say it’s okay, because I’m not sure it ever will be. But . . . but I hope you can believe me when I say that . . . that I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have hurt you.”

Mrs. Weasley finally met Harry’s gaze and held it. Tears rolled silently down her cheeks, and Harry could not help noticing that her eyes were the same bright, warm brown as Ginny’s. “I promise you this, Harry,” she said. “I will never, ever do anything to deliberately hurt you again. I can’t say that I am … that I will be happy about . . . everything, but I won’t hurt you. I swear that I will do everything I can to make sure that you will always be safe in my care.”

Harry looked at her for a long moment and then nodded once. “Alright.”

“Alright,” Mrs. Weasley echoed, nodding her head jerkily.

“Mum,” Ginny said hesitantly, “I’m sorry I . . .”

“I know, dear,” Molly interrupted. “But you’ve nothing to be sorry about. You were trying to protect someone you . . . someone you really care about.” She reached up to brush the scars on her nose with one calloused finger. “You did a good job of it, too.”

Heaving a great sigh, Molly looked at her daughter and managed to hold her gaze steadily. “I can hardly object to your doing that, Ginny. Not if I want to sleep at night. So, let’s just . . . let’s try to make sure you never have to do it again, alright? You won’t have to protect Harry from me anymore. I promise you that.”

“I hope the scars go away, Mum,” Ginny whispered, her own tears falling into her lap.


Molly shook her head. “Madame Pomfrey says they’ll fade, and eventually maybe we won’t notice them. But they’ll always be there in some way. I think . . . I think perhaps it’s better like that.” She summoned a weak, watery smile. “They don’t bother me.”

Ginny knew her mother was lying, either to them or to herself, but she nodded anyway.

Molly turned back towards Harry, and Ginny thought that her mother was gathering her courage as she straightened in her chair. “If there’s anything I can do, Harry . . . any way I can make it up to you, please just tell me. I know that nothing I can do can really make it better, but I’ll do what I can.”

Harry did not need time to think about his answer, and he spoke before Ginny could follow his thoughts completely. “I want you to hug Ginny,” he said in an authoritative voice as he leaned forward. “I want you to hug her the way you used to, and I want you to mean it the way you used to.”

Mrs. Weasley sobbed, and fresh tears poured from her eyes as she blinked rapidly. “I can do that, Harry. I can do that, if Ginny wants me to.”

Ginny’s gratitude and sheer emotion flooded him as she leapt from her chair and rounded the table. Before Mrs. Weasley could stand, Ginny flung herself into her mother’s lap. She wrapped her arms around Molly’s neck and buried her face in the older woman’s dress, even as Mrs. Weasley’s arms came up and cradled Ginny tightly to her body.

“Oh, Ginny,” she whispered over both of their tears. “I just wanted you to be safe. I want you to always be safe and happy and healthy. I couldn’t bear it if you weren’t. I just couldn’t.”

She means it, Harry, Ginny’s voice soared through his mind. She really means it.

Harry smiled at her, though she could not actually see him. Quietly, he crossed to the stairs and climbed up to Ginny’s room, leaving her with her mother.

You don’t have to go.

I know,
he said. But . . . maybe it’ll be good for you both, just for a few minutes.

I’d rather have both of you.

We’ll try, Ginny, for your sake. But it’s just not that way right now.


Mrs. Weasley pulled away from Ginny and noticed Harry’s absence. “Where did he go?” she asked nervously.

“He’s upstairs, Mum.”

“Does he . . . does he know how sorry I am?”

Ginny nodded. “Yes, Mum.”

“That’s good, then. Tell him . . .” Molly trailed off, her expression searching. At last, she sighed. “Tell him I said thank you.”

Ginny spoke as Harry thought the same words. “He says ‘you’re welcome, Mrs. Weasley.’ ”

Mrs. Weasley picked Ginny up out of her lap and set her back on her feet. After brushing Ginny’s tears away with a gentle thumb, Molly smiled weakly at her daughter. “You two run along back outside. You were getting much better at flying this morning.”

“Okay, Mum.”

“Don’t wear yourselves out too much, though,” her mother cautioned. “It’s New Year’s Eve, so we’ll all be staying up late tonight.”

“We won’t,” Ginny promised, and then she ran to the back door and picked up her cloak. As she swung it over her shoulders, Harry transported himself to her left and put on his own cloak.

Well? Ginny asked as they opened the door and walked outside.

Harry nodded. Yes, you’re right. She’s trying. I think your dad was right about those little steps.

It’s better than no steps at all.


Harry sighed as he closed the door behind them. I know it is, even if I wish the steps were bigger. I suppose we all have to take steps, or else we can’t go anywhere. I’ll give her another chance, alright?

You’re already doing that, Harry, and you know how much it means to me. I know you’ll keep doing your very best, and I really think it will work out eventually.


Together, they went back into the garden for a few more hours of practise.

After dinner, the entire family gathered in the living room. Bill and Charlie would be leaving on New Year’s Day so that they could return to work the following day. Everyone knew that this night would be the last time they all got to spend time together for quite a while.

Mrs. Weasley turned on the wireless, and Celestina Warbeck’s voice drifted across the room. The Weasleys talked amiably, conversations starting and shifting between everyone in the room. For the most part, Harry and Ginny sat on the floor and let the boisterous family’s chatter flow around them. Ginny loved this part of New Year’s Eve, and Harry had to admit that it was pleasant, sitting in front of the fire and listening to a room full of happy people.

There were plates of biscuits on the table, and Mr. Weasley had brought in several large bottles of pumpkin juice from the shed. Harry and Ginny started to doze in the warmth near the hearth, lying on their sides, facing each other, and holding hands on the floor between them. The conversations around them faded to a buzz in the background.

Thoughts of the last week swirled through their mind in their comfort, accompanied by select images and sounds that stood out in their memory. As they remembered their conversation with Mr. Weasley from the previous day, their focus on his explanations gradually sharpened. New thoughts formed without words, connecting things they had said and heard.

Finally, Ginny spoke in a soft voice. Harry, you know I can’t imagine caring about anyone more than I care about you. I don’t . . . I don’t think it would work. I mean, how could I? No one will ever understand me better than you do.

Yes, I understand that too,
he said.

And you feel . . .

You know I do, Ginny. You’re . . . I think you’re everything anyone could ever be for me.

Do you think anyone could ever make us happier than we are with each other?
she asked.

Never. If everyone would just let us be, I think we’d be as happy as anyone could be.

Ginny thought for a moment, and eddies of her musings spilled into Harry’s relaxed mind. We love each other, then, don’t we?

Harry opened his eyes lazily and looked at her with some consternation. You figured that out for us months ago, Ginny.

I know, but . . . it’s . . . different somehow. I think . . .
Ginny hesitated, but then she realised the futility of hiding anything from him. She opened her eyes to let them both share seeing one another. I think that someday we’ll get married, Harry. Like Mum and Dad.

Harry was silent as they considered the new idea of being together in that way. Well, we don’t have to do anything about it right now, do we?

No,
she agreed. That’s all years and years in the future.

It’ll happen when it happens, then.
Harry closed his eyes and went back to drifting peacefully in the warmth of the fire.

When the wireless announced midnight, Ginny watched as her mother and father embraced and kissed each other affectionately for a long moment. Before the chimes of the hall clock faded, she leaned over and kissed Harry softly on the cheek. He smiled shyly and then, for the first time, turned his head to kiss her cheek in return, never bothering to open his eyes.

As they turned back to face each other and bask in the fire’s heat, Ginny closed her eyes to avoid the looks she was sure that her family would be giving them. For the first few seconds of the New Year, the Weasley family was completely silent.

Harry vaguely recalled an earlier conversation, and it nagged at his consciousness for a moment, preventing him from finding sleep.

Ginevra?

Yes, Harry?

Where am I going to get a white horse?



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