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Meaning of One, Part One: Stone and Fire | ||||||
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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: 548305; Chapter Total: 26881 Awards: View Trophy Room |
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The day after the final Quidditch game of the season was a Sunday, and the pace of life at Hogwarts regained some measure of normality. Ginny was excused from the mandatory Sunday breakfast and spent the day with Harry in the hospital wing. The Gryffindor victory party the previous evening had gone long into the night, but Ginny had stayed only long enough to be polite and appreciative of her house-mates’ gratitude. Given the opportunity, she had been more than happy to avoid the crowded common room in favour of spending time with Harry. After breakfast, Ron and Hermione arrived at the hospital wing. They reported that Gryffindor Tower was crowded and noisy again now that even the older students were finished with their exams. The morning passed quickly, and after Ron and Hermione left for lunch, Madam Pomfrey changed Harry’s bandages as Ginny and Harry read a spellbook. Madam Pomfrey reported that Harry’s healing was progressing well and that he might be released from the hospital wing some time in the next day or two. This made Harry a bit more dedicated to ensuring his own speedy recovery, but he still became restless after several hours of wakefulness. For this reason, Pomfrey gave him another half-dose of Dreamless Sleep potion for the afternoon. Not long after Ron and Hermione had left and Harry had fallen asleep, the Headmaster entered the room with Professor McGonagall close behind. The screens around Harry and Ginny’s beds had been removed and the beds separated, so Ginny was sitting in a chair between Harry and the door. When the professors arrived, she put aside the spellbook and looked at the adults expectantly. Walking in together like that, you can just bet they have something important to say, Harry commented. These days, that’s rarely good news for us. “Good afternoon, Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley,” Dumbledore began. “May we have a few moments of your time?” The Headmaster’s implacable geniality grated on Ginny’s nerves. Her temper had cooled somewhat in the excitement of the Quidditch victory, but the more time she spent reflecting on their experiences, the more she questioned her trust in the venerable wizard. Nevertheless, there was little question about replying in a proper manner. “Yes, Headmaster,” she said, though she knew that there was no warmth in her voice. Madam Pomfrey emerged from her office, but after noting who the visitors were she went back inside and closed the door. With two waves of his wand, Dumbledore sealed the doors to the ward and conjured one of the plush armchairs he preferred. He raised an eyebrow at McGonagall in question, but the professor shook her head tightly and pulled over one of the room’s existing chairs. When they were both seated and comfortable, Dumbledore cleared his throat. “Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley . . . have you considered your sleeping arrangements for the summer, perhaps?” Harry and Ginny were instantly wary. “We’re going home. Harry’s going to live with me,” Ginny said in the tone her mother used to corral the twins. The choice seemed obvious to them both. They realised that Mrs. Weasley would find the arrangement awkward, but anything they might have to endure at The Burrow would pale in comparison to life on Privet Drive. Dumbledore nodded. “I thought you might have reached that particular conclusion.” “There isn’t any other conclusion,” Ginny said, her expression hardening into a challenging glare. The Headmaster raised his hands. “Please, Miss Weasley, listen to what I have to say. I appreciate that I have given you little cause to heed my counsel recently, but I hope that you will at least listen.” Before responding to Dumbledore, Ginny glanced over at McGonagall, and they took a moment to study their professor’s face. She looks . . . sad. Resigned, maybe? Yeah. But also sort of angry, like when she caught us with Malfoy. McGonagall held their gaze in silence for a moment and then nodded. Ginny took a deep breath and let it out slowly before turning back to the Headmaster. “Very well then, we’ll listen to you.” “Thank you.” Dumbledore stared at the ceiling for a few moments before facing Ginny again. “Do you, perhaps, recall my mentioning that the magic of life and death is very powerful?” Cautiously, Ginny nodded. “Excellent. As I told you, Lily Potter’s voluntary sacrifice created a very powerful force within her son. When I took Harry to live with his aunt and uncle, I harnessed a portion of that power to create a second, very special form of protection, in addition to that which you witnessed the other night. Harry and his aunt share his mother’s blood, and it is that connection to Petunia Dursley which allows this extra protection to work. As long as Harry and his aunt spend a certain amount of time each year inside the house at the same time, then it is impossible for Dark Wizards to enter or even approach number four, Privet Drive. “That makes his aunt’s house a very safe place, indeed, and for that reason I hope you will agree that it is best for you, Mr. Potter, to spend at least part of the summer with your relatives.” Ginny and Harry considered the man’s words for only a fraction of a heartbeat. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to actually live there, Headmaster?” Ginny asked, all but spitting in her ire. “Do you know what those people are like?” “I have met them all, yes,” he replied. “They are not, perhaps, the most genial of people, but . . .” “They don’t let him eat!” Ginny half-shouted, her frustration boiling to the surface. She took a deep breath and tried to speak more calmly. “He’s hungry all the time, and they treat him like a slave. Never mind all of the spiteful and horrible things they say to him. Nothing is worth going back there. Nothing.” “I am sorry to hear that,” Dumbledore said. “I had not realised that they were quite so unpleasant.” I don’t think he ruddy believes me! Ginny said. He’s welcome to try it for himself, then. The Headmaster held up a hand just as Ginny began to retort. “Voldemort is free once again, Miss Weasley, and Mr. Potter has now thwarted him twice. The protection which prevented Voldemort from touching Mr. Potter only applies to Voldemort himself. You know all too well that he has or can find people to aid him in his efforts to return to power. While the protections I created are in place, Privet Drive is completely safe from Voldemort and his followers. Surely you cannot deny the value of that.” Ginny paused. The memory of Quirrell’s flesh dissolving was still fresh in their minds, and the lingering sensations of pain and loss had not yet completely faded. From what the Headmaster said, Harry would be safe from Voldemort’s touch at The Burrow or anywhere else, but he would not be protected from someone like Quirrell. They could not ignore the appeal of a place that was utterly safe, even if that place was also utterly unbearable. “Consider this,” Dumbledore said, interrupting their thoughts. “Anyone with access to public records could determine that Petunia and Vernon Dursley are the legal guardians of Harry Potter, and anyone who cared to could locate the Dursley residence. After Voldemort’s defeat, his followers wreaked havoc upon magical society until they were captured or forced into hiding. They tortured and killed dozens of witches and wizards in that time. Why, then, is Mr. Potter alive at all?” That probably does mean that this ‘protection’ works, Harry admitted grudgingly. I can’t imagine that they wouldn’t have come after me if they could. That’s assuming those bigots knew how to look something up the Muggle way. But is it worth it? Ginny asked. After everything you’ve been through with the Dursleys, can you really imagine going back there? They were quiet for a long moment. No, I can’t. Not if I have any choice at all. Ginny nodded mentally and then shook her head for the Headmaster’s benefit. “It’s just not worth it, Headmaster. He spent ten years hungry, cold, uncomfortable, bullied, and . . . and even worse, a lot of the time. We can’t go back to that. We won’t. There are other ways to keep him safe. There have to be.” The Headmaster sighed deeply as he gazed at Harry’s prone form, and his focus lingered on Harry’s bandages for a few moments. “It is about more than simply being safe during the summer, Miss Weasley,” Dumbledore replied. “Once recharged by Mr. Potter’s presence, the protections remain active for almost a full year. Given your method of transportation, that means that you will both have a safe haven whenever you have need of one. A place where Voldemort and any other Dark Wizards simply cannot follow you.” He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers under his chin. “Now that I think about it, I believe that there are a few other measures we might consider to improve the quality of Mr. Potter’s life with his relatives. Firstly, since the two of you must be together to sleep anyway, I suspect that you will both be spending your nights at The Burrow. I can hardly imagine Molly wanting you, Miss Weasley, to sleep at Privet Drive.” I don’t much like that idea, either, Harry admitted. And it’s okay for you? Ginny retorted. Together, Harry. Remember? I know, Ginny, and you know I do, he said. Together it is. I just meant that I’d rather we both slept at your house. “Since Mr. Potter would be there each evening, I’m sure that he would be well-fed at least once each day,” Dumbledore continued. “Secondly, Miss Weasley, you yourself are the very best mechanism for ensuring that Mr. Potter is treated well. You will know instantly if anything untoward should occur. You could, if necessary, inform your parents of the problem, and they could take appropriate action.” Ginny and Harry pondered that new suggestion for a moment, attempting to determine how it would change the situation at Privet Drive. “Suppose we agree to live with those horrid people for a part of the summer. We’d really rather not, but if we did, just what would we tell my parents?” Ginny asked. “I’m sure they’re expecting us both to be at home all summer.” The Headmaster nodded. “A reasonable question, Miss Weasley. We will simply tell them the truth. There are wizards and witches in the world who are still loyal to Voldemort, even if they believe that he is dead. It is, and always has been, important to protect Mr. Potter from those people, and the Dursleys’ residence provides that protection during the summer.” “They’ll want to know why it has to be the Dursleys’,” she said as calmly as she could manage, still hoping to find some firm reason that staying in Surrey would not be feasible. “And I shall explain the wards.” Ginny reached up and took Harry’s limp hand as they considered their options. You’d be safer, she said at last, as her thoughts settled into one pattern. Yeah, maybe we’d both be safer. Any time we needed to, we could go to Privet Drive and not have to worry about Voldemort. And we’d still be home at night . . . Do you think your parents would accept the excuse and not ask why that protection can’t be moved? Harry wondered. Or why something just as strong couldn’t be made at The Burrow? Do we accept that something as strong can’t be made there? Ginny shrugged. They trust Dumbledore, so they probably would believe it. Maybe we could get something almost as strong at The Burrow, but how would we be sure it was working? We know the Dursleys’ is safe. How long would it take to make the wards there work for another year? Dunno. She looked up at the Headmaster. “How would we tell if the protections were working properly? How long would it take to renew them?” she asked. “How many days would he have to spend in that awful house?” The old wizard stroked his beard thoughtfully. “I cannot say exactly, Miss Weasley, because Mr. Potter has always spent the vast majority of his time there in the past. I would guess that it might take as few as six weeks or as many as eight. I would, of course, notify you at The Burrow as soon as the process is complete.” “And then he could be at home all the time?” “Yes. Once the wards are renewed, he would not have to spend any time at Privet Drive.” So, until shortly after your birthday, we’d spend nights at home and days with the Dursleys. In exchange, we get the protection for a year. You wouldn’t have to be at Privet Drive, Ginny, Harry said. I don’t mean that I want to keep you away, he added before she could object. I just mean that it wouldn’t do any good. All I’d be doing is waiting in my room and working around the house. If you were there, that’s still all we could do, and my relatives would be even worse to both of us. If I stay at The Burrow, though, she said with a tinge of sadness, I can do all the usual things, and we can have at least some fun. Right. Aside from trimming the grass, anyway. I still want to go swimming, even if it’s only you in the water. Ginny glanced up at the professors, but they seemed content to wait while she and Harry considered the matter. She closed her eyes and gave their conversation her full attention. You could eat before bed each night, she suggested. I could keep dinner warm for you until you got there. I’d have to eat breakfast with the Dursleys, though. There’s no way they’ll let me out of making their breakfast for them. They will if I tell them to, Ginny said with a frown. It’s not worth it, Gin. Making breakfast isn’t hard. I’m usually awake at that hour anyway, and I sort of enjoy it, sometimes. What if they shove you into that awful cupboard again? You could tell your dad. He’d definitely do something about it, and you could just leave. She glared at him mentally. If anything like that happens, you will leave. Right away. Never mind what Dad or anyone else does. You leave when I want you to, right? You come to wherever I am. Right. He was finally beginning to accept that taking care of her meant letting her take care of him. After another moment, Ginny sighed. I think we just convinced ourselves. Yeah. I don’t like it, but it could be a lot worse, and . . . She knew exactly what he was hesitant to put into words. And you’re not sure how much time you want to spend around my mother, anyway. I’m sorry. Don’t be. She made that mess, not you. Ginny opened her eyes and faced Dumbledore. “Okay, Headmaster, we’ll try it for now, but we’re not sure it will work. He’ll stay at Privet Drive during the day, and we’ll sleep at home at night. However, if they’re awful to him in any way, no matter how small, we will decide when to get away from them. We’ll tell Dad about it and let him handle it, but Harry’s not staying there while we wait for you or anyone else to decide whether or not we should go. It will be our decision.” Dumbledore gave Ginny a slight smile and nodded. “Agreed, Miss Weasley.” Ginny thought the man had spoken far too casually, and her temper flared again. “I will make sure he’s treated properly. He’s been mistreated for too long, and nobody cared or even noticed. That stopped nine months ago. We’ll let you or Dad or whoever try to make them behave, but if that doesn’t work, we’re not going to just put up with it. If things even come close to how they were last summer, then we’ll leave and never go back. I think we all know exactly whose fault that would be.” The Headmaster’s smile faded, but he nodded again. “I will ask your parents to meet with us after the end-of-year feast on Thursday,” he said. “I’m sure that we can make the situation perfectly clear to them, and I’m equally sure that your father will be willing to play his part. Is that acceptable to you both?” It’s as acceptable as it’s going to get, I suppose, Harry said. Ginny nodded. “Very well. I thank you for thinking carefully about my suggestion, and I do hope that our arrangements will proceed without any mishap.” He paused and cocked his head to one side. “Speaking of mishaps, I do hope that you will both remember that neither of you may do any magic at Privet Drive. Your method of transportation will not cause problems, but almost anything else you might do will be noticed by the Ministry. Keep your wands nearby, as always, but be very careful not to use them, even in anger.” The Headmaster’s words unexpectedly raised a question that Harry and Ginny had previously been too distracted to consider. “Headmaster,” Ginny asked, before he could leave, “how did you know that Harry’s wand has a phoenix-feather core?” “Quite simple, Miss Weasley,” he said. “The feather in Harry’s wand was donated by Fawkes. As a courtesy, Mr. Ollivander informed me when it chose its wielder.” Harry and Ginny made the connection instantly. “Then you know what happened to the other feather?” she asked. Dumbledore sighed briefly. “Yes, sadly, I do. I cannot imagine what led those two wands to choose so differently, but I am quite confident that Fawkes is far more pleased with the second than the first.” He rose to his feet and Banished the armchair he had conjured. “With that, I will bid you good day. If you should have any questions, do not hesitate to find me. I look forward to seeing you up and about soon, Mr. Potter.” Ginny nodded politely, and then the Headmaster turned, unsealed the doors, and left the room. McGonagall, however, had not moved from her chair, and Ginny looked back at her in unspoken question. After a moment of silence, the professor asked in a quiet voice, “Do you understand the value of the protection the Headmaster designed?” “Yes,” Ginny said, nodding. “But I’m not sure you understand what we really have to go through to get it. We’re not happy about this at all.” “I don’t blame you for that,” McGonagall said, “but I have every confidence in your ability to ensure Harry’s health. You’ve done a marvellous job since his injury last week.” “Harry won’t be getting any more injuries like that one, Professor,” Ginny said, her face tightening. McGonagall looked confused for a moment, but then she nodded. “I see. I had wondered about that. Are you both . . . that is . . .” “We learned something, Professor. Both of us. We’ll be okay.” The older woman smiled. “I am very glad to hear it. I do hope that you are able to relax this summer. You’ve both earned it.” “Thanks, Professor,” Ginny said. “I will be on my way, then,” McGonagall said as she stood and moved her chair back to its place. “I hope that you will both find the time to visit my office once more before you leave.” “We’d like that,” Ginny said. “Maybe on Wednesday, at the usual time? Harry should be out of here by then, if not earlier.” “I shall look forward to it.” McGonagall crossed to the door and spoke over her shoulder. “Have a pleasant afternoon, Ginny and Harry.” “You, too, Professor,” Ginny called as the older woman left the room. The following day, shortly before noon, Madam Pomfrey removed the dressing from Harry’s back and inspected his injury. Ginny sat far enough away from the bed that she could not see the damage, but she thought that the lack of discolouration of the previous day’s bandages was a good sign. At the matron’s instruction, Harry sat up facing Ginny and the infirmary doors. Slowly and carefully, he performed a series of movements with his arms and shoulders. Madam Pomfrey watched his back carefully and occasionally swept her wand across his healing flesh. When he was finished, the mediwitch straightened. “Well, Mr. Potter, you seem to have avoided any undue strain on your back, so I think we can forego the Petrification and allow you to return to your dormitory. You will still wear bandages for another day or two, and you must avoid strenuous movements, but you should be able to function normally.” Harry grinned in relief while Ginny looked up at the matron. “You mean it, Madam Pomfrey?” she asked, wide-eyed and hopeful. “He’s really going to be okay?” “Yes, Miss Weasley. He will heal perfectly, and in fact he is well on his way to that point already.” “May I . . .” Ginny swallowed heavily, almost disbelieving that their efforts had really been successful. “May we see?” “Of course.” Harry sat still, and Ginny gingerly crossed the room and walked behind him. When she saw his back for the first time, they both gave deep sighs of relief. The skin of his lower back was pink and oddly textured, but it was unblemished and healthy. Slowly, Ginny reached out and ran her fingertips down the length of his spine. When her touch moved from the undamaged flesh of his upper back to the new skin below, they felt that the pink skin was much more sensitive, but her caress did not hurt in the least. Harry carefully shifted himself off of the bed and stood up. For the first time in days, he was able to put his arms above his head and arch his back, stretching his entire body in the way it desperately wanted to be stretched. As he moved, he felt no pain and only the slightest bit of stiffness. As Harry lowered his arms, Ginny ran around the bed and flung herself into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his ribcage and resting her chin on his shoulder. Harry gratefully put his arms around her shoulders and stroked her long tresses with one hand. They realised that, more than anything, they had missed the ability to be near each other without restraint or worry. Oh, thank goodness. Thank you, Ginny, he said. He hesitated for a moment and then pressed his lips against her hair. I’d have messed it all up without you helping. Ginny glowed with pleasure in their minds, and Harry knew just how much his simple gesture meant to her. He was slightly dismayed to realise that he had never before offered her such affection without her prompting. Ginny tightened her grip on him in return. When they finally pulled apart, Madam Pomfrey spoke softly from the other side of the bed. “You will need to visit me each day at this time until the dressings can be removed permanently. Other than that, you are free to go once I replace the bandages.” Ginny backed away, and Harry lay back down to allow the matron to work. As she began applying a new poultice and fresh bandages, Ginny sat in her chair and could not keep from smiling. Unable to sit still, she jumped to her feet. “Madam Pomfrey, have you got clothes for him yet?” Without looking up from her work, the matron replied. “No, Miss Weasley. It will only take a moment for . . .” “I’ll get them!” A moment later, Ginny landed safely inside Harry’s bed. After a quick check to ensure that none of the other boys were in the room, she moved to Harry’s wardrobe. She pulled out a pair of jeans, a fresh pair of socks, and underwear. She contemplated his shirts, but other than his uniform shirts and his Weasley jumper, none of them suited her mood. Your shirts are absolute rubbish. I’ve seen Dudley, and I still can’t believe he’s that big. Harry shrugged mentally. They’re all I’ve got. We’ll be fixing that at some point soon, I hope. For now . . . After a moment’s consideration, Ginny transported herself to her own bed. Digging around in her trunk, she located an old red Gryffindor Quidditch t-shirt that Charlie had given her years ago. Then she went back to Harry’s room and added it to the pile. What happened to your trainers? she wondered, not seeing them in their usual place. “Madam Pomfrey, were my shoes okay when I got here?” Harry asked. “Yes, Mr. Potter. They, your socks, and another . . . item . . . were the only things undamaged by the fire. I will return them to you before you leave.” That means she found the Invisibility Cloak, Ginny said as she gathered Harry’s clothes into her arms. “Thank you.” At least it wasn’t burned. Ginny reappeared in the hospital wing and put the clothes on the table next to Harry’s bed. They waited as patiently as they could while Madam Pomfrey finished, and then Harry went into the lavatory to get dressed. A few moments later, he was fully clothed for the first time in days. Charlie’s old shirt was too large for him, but it fit much better than any of Dudley’s clothes, and Ginny thought that the colour suited him. Madam Pomfrey handed him his trainers and a small paper bag containing his socks and Cloak. She gave him a tight smile as he put on his shoes. “I am glad to see you recovering well, Mr. Potter. May I offer you and Miss Weasley one more luncheon, or would you prefer to go to the Great Hall?” I think I’d rather be around the rest of the House for a while before facing the entire school. That’s fine with me. “We’d like to eat here, Madam Pomfrey, if it’s no trouble,” he said. “Not at all. Have a seat, and lunch will be along shortly.” They sat together in the chairs near the entrance, holding hands and enjoying a contented silence. A few minutes later, Pomfrey returned from her office with two lunch trays. After eating, they waited until Ron and Hermione came by for their afternoon visit. When their two friends entered the room, Ginny saw alarm flash across Hermione’s face before the older girl spotted them sitting nearby. “Harry!” Hermione rushed over to them. “You’re out of bed!” “Yeah,” he replied, rising to his feet. “Madam Pomfrey says I’m free to go, provided I come back and visit every day.” She smiled broadly. “That’s wonderful!” Hermione stepped towards him and half-raised her arms, but then she stopped and looked past Harry at Ginny. Understanding her friend’s question, Ginny nodded her permission. Hermione hugged Harry quickly, keeping her arms above his injury but squeezing him tightly enough to threaten his air supply. When she released him, Harry faked a bout of mild choking. “It’s good to see you, too, Hermione.” The brunette grinned somewhat abashedly, and then Ron stepped around her to shake Harry’s hand. “’Bout time, Harry. What took you so long?” He shrugged. “What can I say? Ginny liked the food.” “Oh, sure, blame it on me,” Ginny said with a grin. “You just didn’t want to have to start doing things for yourself again.” “You two are incorrigible! You know that, right?” Hermione asked. “Absolutely,” Ginny cheerfully replied. Harry went to the door of Pomfrey’s office and knocked. A moment later, the door opened and the matron stepped into the room. “We’ll be going now, Madam Pomfrey,” Harry said. “I’ll come back tomorrow before lunch. Thank you for all of your help.” “You’re most welcome, Mr. Potter. Remember . . . no strenuous physical activity. For you, that includes flying.” “I’ll remember,” Harry said. Pomfrey raised an eyebrow at him and turned to Ginny. “Miss Weasley?” Ginny smiled. “He’s learned his lesson, Madam.” “Excellent. Run along, then, all of you. I sincerely hope that I don’t see any of you here next year unless you’re just saying hello.” The four students exited the hospital wing, but before they left the corridor, Harry stopped and turned to Ron and Hermione. “Do you want to go outside with us for a bit? I feel as though I haven’t seen the sun in ages.” Hermione furrowed her brow. “But you have, right?” she asked in a whisper. “Well, yeah,” he said, remembering Ginny’s Quidditch practice and match. “But it doesn’t seem quite the same.” “Fine by me,” Ron said, and Hermione nodded her agreement. “Great. Let me just put these in my trunk first,” Harry said, hefting the bag in his hand. He ducked back into the hospital wing and then transported up to his bed. He left the brown bag on his pillow and reappeared in the infirmary a moment later. Madam Pomfrey was standing in her office door, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. “Sorry, Madam Pomfrey,” Harry said. “I just wanted to take my things back to my room.” The matron nodded. “Do not become lazy, Mr. Potter. Walking is very good for you.” “Yes, Madam,” he said before stepping back into the corridor. The four of them walked down to the entrance hall and out onto the grounds. They located a secluded tree that was not already in use by other students and dropped to the grass beneath its branches. “How long until you can fly again, Harry?” Ron asked. “Dunno. Madam Pomfrey seemed to think the bandages would be off before we leave for the holidays, so maybe then.” The red-haired boy nodded. “That’s good. Plenty of time for Quidditch this summer, even after Mum’s done with us.” “Yeah, Ron, about that . . .” Haltingly, and with many questions from Hermione, they told their friends about the previous day’s conversation with Dumbledore and the need for Harry to spend part of the summer with the Dursleys. When they had finished, Ron shook his head. “Rotten luck, Harry, but at least you can come to our house later on. And Ginny can play Quidditch for you.” Ginny grinned and then turned to Hermione. “Maybe you could come to visit, too, Hermione. I know Mum and Dad wouldn’t mind. They really seemed to like you.” “That would be nice,” Hermione said, “but I’ll have to ask my parents. They’ve really not met any wizards other than the Headmaster. If nothing else, I’m sure that we can meet up in Diagon Alley before the start of term.” The four first years spent the afternoon relaxing on the grounds, sharing their plans for the holidays and speculating about the next year of school. Harry and Ginny sat side-by-side, and as they talked, Harry idly toyed with the end of Ginny’s long ponytail, making their good mood even better. After a short lull in the conversation, Hermione turned to face Ginny directly, and her face seemed to twitch with suppressed excitement. “Ginny, can I ask you a question?” “Err . . . sure, Hermione.” “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to yet, but . . .” “Just ask, Hermione,” Harry said. “If we don’t want to answer, we won’t.” “Right. Ginny, you said last week that Ron was using more magic to move the blanket, and that’s what he felt, rather than feeling the weight of the blanket directly.” Hermione stared at Ginny until the younger girl nodded. “What did you mean? How did you know that?” “Oh, that,” Ginny said. “Sorry, Hermione. We’d have told you that anytime you wanted, really. Err . . . well, after the Malfoy incident, Professor McGonagall took us aside and showed us what can happen if we get really angry.” Ginny paused to determine the best way to explain what they had learned. “Basically, there’re three types of spells, and with our, err . . . our problem, we have to know which ones not to cast.” Hermione nodded quickly, never moving her eyes from Ginny’s face. She’s a great friend, but she’s still pretty scary sometimes, Harry said. Agreeing silently, Ginny continued. “Some spells, like Lumos, always work the same no matter how much power you use. Everyone gets the same amount of light, so that’s the first type of spell. Then there are things like the Levitation Charm, which uses more power for heavier things, or to move them faster, or to make them go further away, but it still just makes things float around, no matter how much power you have. That’s the second type. Right?” She paused to make sure that Hermione was following her, but the older girl simply nodded impatiently and gestured for her to continue. “Then the third type of spells are the ones like the Bluebell Flames. The more power you have, the bigger the result. Those are the ones we can’t use right now, because we’re not sure what they might do. So, anyway, when you use a lot of power for one of the last two types of spells, you can feel it in your body, and that’s what Ron was feeling.” Hermione nodded. “I see, so . . .” She trailed off, her eyes darting about aimlessly as her brain worked. With a quick, sudden motion, she whipped out her wand. She picked up a scrap of dried tree bark from the ground next to her and whispered an incantation, Transfiguring it into a small piece of parchment. Then she dropped her wand unceremoniously into her lap, pulled a Muggle pen out of one of her pockets, and began scribbling on the parchment. “Nice spell, Hermione,” Harry said. She looked up briefly and flashed him a grin. “Thanks. It won’t last long, but it will be long enough to get back to the Tower and copy the notes properly.” Half an hour before dinner, they returned to Gryffindor Tower so that Hermione could copy her notes onto parchment. As they climbed the stairs, other students stared at Ginny and especially Harry before ducking their heads to whisper to their classmates. One older Gryffindor spotted them as he came from the other direction and then spun around to sprint back up the stairs. I suppose it was pointless to hope that they wouldn’t do that sort of thing anymore, Harry said. Probably. It would’ve been nice, though. When they entered the tower, hand in hand, half of the House seemed to be waiting for them in the common room. A loud cheer went up, and then the students all rushed to greet them. Everyone whose name Harry and Ginny knew wanted to shake his hand. Alicia and Angelina hugged them both, though they were all careful not to touch Harry’s lower back. Ginny saw Hermione skirt the edges of the room and climb the girls’ staircase, ignored by the other students. Harry and Ginny, attempting to find some breathing room in the throng, backed towards a wall. The other students crowded around them and began asking questions all at once, until finally the twins stepped in front of them, waving their arms. Fred whistled shrilly as George yelled. “Hey, you lot! McGonagall said not to ask them questions, remember? So pipe down.” The other students settled somewhat, but Ginny could not resist answering one of the last questions she had heard. “No, I didn’t eat a giant Flobberworm. Yuck!” The group laughed, and their voices started to rise again with comments and questions. Percy pushed his way through the crowd and stood with his back to Harry and Ginny, in front of the twins. “That’s enough! We’re all pleased to have Mr. Potter back, I’m sure, but we all have other things to do. Everyone clear off.” The milling students began to disperse, and when the room was relatively calm again, Percy turned around to face them. “Harry, it is indeed good to see you. Professor McGonagall implied that you did something quite suited to our House, so I would not wish to see you suffer for that.” “Err . . . thanks, Percy.” The older boy gave a sharp nod and walked across the room to a table littered with books and pamphlets. Moments later, he was completely absorbed in his reading. Hi, Percy. How are you? So lovely to see you again! Ginny said. Remember me? Your only sister? I think you’re not enjoying the moment properly. All things considered, I’d much prefer it if he ignored me. Too right. Hermione returned from her errand, and Ginny scanned the room. “Do you mind heading to dinner a bit early?” “Fine by me,” Ron said. “It’s far too stuffy in here, anyway.” Harry and Ginny were confident that her brother was not referring to the quality of the air in the tower. The next two days provided a short but peaceful holiday for Harry, Ginny, and their friends. On Tuesday, before noon, Harry and Ginny visited the hospital wing for Madam Pomfrey to check Harry’s back. She reported that the wound was still healing quite well, but because he would be away from Hogwarts for the summer, she wanted him to remain bandaged for another day. That afternoon, using a school broom, Ron joined a pickup Quidditch match with other first years. Ginny initially wanted to play also, but Katie told her that members of the House teams traditionally did not join the pickup games. Once she thought about it, Ginny agreed that it seemed only fair to give everyone else a chance to play. So while Ron was on the pitch, Harry, Ginny, and Hermione sat in the stands watching and passing time. On Wednesday, Madam Pomfrey finally removed Harry’s bandages permanently, revealing healthy and mostly normal-looking skin beneath. That afternoon, Harry and Ginny had their last meeting with McGonagall. Rather than focusing on academics of any kind, the professor offered them tea, and they spent a pleasant hour in conversation about Quidditch and both sets of their parents. Harry was thrilled to hear about some of his father’s antics as a first year, and Ginny knew that someday she would have reason to use a few of the stories she had heard about her mother. At the end of their tea, McGonagall produced the Nimbus out of her cupboard. “I trust that you will take care of this,” she said, handing it to Ginny. “It is, of course, for both of you to use, but I suspect that it would merely gather dust in Harry’s direct possession.” “We’ll take good care of it,” Ginny said. They went to the door but paused with Harry’s hand on the heavy latch. “Professor?” “Yes, Harry?” “Do you . . . err . . . do you happen to know my middle name?” he asked, thinking of all the stories she had told them about his parents. “I know it starts with a ‘J’ because of my Hogwarts letter, but . . .” McGonagall’s face softened more than they would have thought possible at the beginning of the year. “James,” she said quietly. “Your middle name is James. Your father was so proud.” Smiles spread across their faces. Harry James Potter, Ginny said. It fits you. “Thank you, Professor,” Harry said. She nodded slowly. “You’re welcome, Harry.” Late that afternoon, the four first years visited Hagrid as they had promised. Somehow, they found themselves listening to his plans to someday attempt to breed his own magical creatures. Harry suggested a giant Flobberworm in jest, but Hagrid seemed to take the notion quite seriously. Exam results were announced on Thursday morning. As expected, Hermione was top of their year in everything, but Ginny achieved a surprisingly close second in Transfiguration, and Harry’s mark was only fractionally lower than Ginny’s. They did well in Defence and Charms, and they passed their other subjects with decent marks. Much to his chagrin, Ron placed within the top third of the first years overall, and he very reluctantly thanked Hermione for her help in revision. Neville did not share his marks with Harry or Ginny, but Hermione later told them that he had the second-highest mark in Herbology, which had made up for his disappointing Potions mark in his own eyes. Harry and Ginny spent most of that afternoon gathering their belongings and packing their trunks with all but the most essential items. Harry did not want any of the Dursleys to discover his photo album or the Invisibility Cloak, so he passed them to Ginny to be kept at The Burrow. When they were finished, they climbed up to the Owlery. As soon as they entered, Hedwig flew down from one of the highest perches and landed gently on Harry’s shoulder. Ginny reached up to scratch the snowy owl’s crest while Harry petted the soft feathers of her neck. “Hedwig,” he said. “I’m going to be spending a lot of time with my relatives this summer, and I’m not sure they’d like it if you were there.” She fluffed her feathers indignantly. “I know you don’t care what they think, but it wouldn’t be very nice for you, and I’d have almost no letters for you to carry.” “Would you mind coming to stay with me for the summer, Hedwig?” Ginny asked. “There will be lots of mice near my house for you to catch. And our owl is very old, so you could carry some post if you wanted.” “I’ll be there every night,” Harry said. “So we can see each other often. What do you say? Would you like to stay with Ginny?” Hedwig looked down at him with unblinking yellow eyes and then cocked her head abruptly to one side. After a moment, she hopped daintily from Harry’s shoulder to Ginny’s and nipped affectionately at the girl’s ear. “Thanks, Hedwig,” Harry said. “I really think you’ll like it there. Meet us outside the castle tomorrow when it’s time to go, okay?” Harry held up a finger, and Hedwig rubbed her head against it. Then, with a strong flap of her wings, she launched herself back into the rafters of the Owlery. At six o’clock, Harry and Ginny entered the Great Hall with Hermione and Ron close behind. The hall was decorated with green Slytherin banners in honour of their winning the House Cup. The four Gryffindors sat down and waited for the feast to begin. “Malfoy looks like he won all of those points single-handedly,” Ron said with a dark scowl. “He might as well have,” Harry said. “Snape was handing them out like sweets at a fair.” Neville entered the hall, and Ginny watched as he walked up the table towards them. Without a word, the quiet boy dropped into his usual seat next to Ginny, and then he immediately turned towards the high table with an expression of close attention. “Hi, Neville,” Ginny said carefully. “Hullo,” he replied without looking at them. I wish he’d forgive me already, Ginny said with a sigh, but I can’t blame him, really. He’ll come around, Ginny. Harry patted her hand in reassurance. At that moment, Dumbledore entered the hall from the side door near the high table. He was the last to arrive, and when he reached his chair he raised his arms. The hubbub in the room fell to near-silence. "Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were. You have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts. "Now, as I understand it, the House Cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus. In fourth place, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two points. In third, Ravenclaw, with three hundred and seventy-six. Gryffindor, thanks to their recent Quidditch victory, has four hundred and twelve points, and Slytherin is in first place with four hundred and seventy-two." A low, rumbling sort of cheer rose from the Slytherin table as the students there all began stomping their feet in rhythm. “Yes, indeed, very well done, Slytherin,” Dumbledore said, motioning for quiet again. “However, recent events must be taken into account.” His words were far more effective than any gesture, and the hall became utterly silent as the students held their breaths in anticipation. Ginny looked over her shoulder and saw Malfoy become paler than he usually was. “I have a few last-minute points to distribute,” Dumbledore announced. “Let’s see . . . “Ah, yes. First, to Mr. Ronald Weasley, for stunning conviction and the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor House ten points.” The other Gryffindors’ applause was subdued, as though they were not yet prepared to be hopeful, but Ron blushed profusely as Hermione patted his shoulder and Ginny and Harry grinned at him. “Next, to Miss Hermione Granger. For the use of cool logic in the face of mortal peril and for a thoroughly astounding display of intellect all around, I award Gryffindor House ten points.” The applause was louder this time. Hermione coloured delicately and ducked her head as many of the Ravenclaws stood and peered across the hall at her. Fred and George leaned towards the centre of the table and gave her the thumbs up. Ginny leaned forward, grinning happily, and whispered, “Too right!” From further up the table, Ginny and Harry heard someone say, “ . . . two more. There’s got to be two more!” “Third, to Miss Ginny Weasley. For contributions to her House and its members that hardly require explanation, I award Gryffindor twenty points.” This time, the cheers of their housemates were nearly deafening, and calls of “Good show, Ginny!” and “Well done!” floated to them from both ends of the table. Distantly, Ginny heard Percy loudly proclaiming, “My younger siblings, you know. Following in their brother’s footsteps!” Ponce, she said, though she too was blushing happily. I don’t think Dumbledore was talking about Quidditch, you know, Harry said. He reached under the table and squeezed her hand gently in congratulations and gratitude. Unconsciously, he entwined his fingers with hers and left their hands resting on her knee. You just wait, Ginny said, smiling and looking up at the head table expectantly. “And, fourth, to Mr. Harry Potter,” Dumbledore said. The Gryffindors went silent once again, and the other houses matched their expectant looks. “For a dedication to the cause of goodness that cannot be denied, regardless of the form it takes, and for an unprecedented display of courage, I award Gryffindor House twenty points.” And if you ever do it again, I’ll never forgive you, Ginny said, but she grinned and leaned against Harry briefly anyway as the rest of the House raised a new cheer. “We’re tied,” Hermione said in wonder. “He wouldn’t . . . would he?” Mutters ran the length of the table as other students reached the same conclusion. Dumbledore raised his hands again, but this time it took almost a minute for the hall to quieten again. “Courage is, indeed, a hallmark of Gryffindor House. There are many kinds of courage, however, and they do not all necessarily involve adventures and obstacles. It takes just as much courage to stand up for what you believe is right, in a calm and rational manner, even when opposed by greater numbers and equally strong convictions. Therefore, I award twenty points to Gryffindor on behalf of Mr. Neville Longbottom.” The Great Hall erupted in shouts and cheers. The Gryffindors were loudest, by far, but the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs also rejoiced loudly at Slytherin’s defeat. Harry turned carefully in his seat to see Draco Malfoy slam his fist into the table. The blond boy then shook his hand in pain even as he sneered at the rest of the students. Ginny released Harry’s hand, leaned over, and hugged Neville around his shoulders. “Well done, Neville,” she said, trying to say more than she could put into words. Her sentiments were echoed in loud voices by the rest of the house. Neville blinked at his house-mates, and then he turned and gave Ginny a shy smile. Harry reached behind her to clap Neville on the shoulder as she released him. Dumbledore’s voice thundered over the din in the hall. “I believe that a change in decoration is in order!” He clapped once, and the green of the Slytherin banners faded to crimson. Golden lions leapt onto the surface of each banner from the side, forcing the silver snakes to vacate the fabric. The lions then reared and gave voice to a chorus of very realistic roars, which were echoed by the Gryffindors below. Harry and Ginny looked up at the high table and spotted McGonagall, who was smiling in their direction. As they watched, she nodded and mouthed, “Thank you.” The two students grinned, and then Harry shifted his gaze to Professor Snape. The sallow man was staring in their direction with his face locked into a malignant glare. Yep, he hates me. It’s official. I think now he hates us. You mean ‘us’, you and me, or ‘us’, Gryffindors? Both. But especially you and me. “Congratulations, Gryffindor!” Dumbledore shouted, drawing attention back to himself. “And now, let us commence our consumption!” He clapped again, and food appeared along the centres of each long table. Harry and Ginny helped themselves to almost everything in sight. They ate and laughed and celebrated for over an hour, rejoicing in the newfound goodwill and camaraderie of their house-mates. For once, Neville received just as much attention as Ginny and Harry did, and he smiled even as he ducked his head modestly. At last, students began drifting out of the Great Hall in groups. As they had at the beginning of the year, Harry and Ginny stayed at their seats and waited for everyone else to leave, already speculating about how long the upcoming conversation with her parents might take. When no other students were left, Hermione and Ron flashed them encouraging smiles and went back towards Gryffindor Tower. Harry and Ginny stood up and waited as Dumbledore and McGonagall walked down from the high table. Then the four of them began the journey to the Headmaster’s office. As they walked, Ginny and Harry had time to think about what had happened in the Great Hall, and at last Ginny tugged gently on the Headmaster’s sleeve. He looked down at her with a raised eyebrow as the small group came to a halt. “I just wanted . . .” Ginny stopped, trying to frame her thoughts. She knew that the Headmaster was, indeed, responsible for many wrongs, but she had to admit that he had just done something that was clearly right. She sighed and tried again. “I wanted to say thank you, Headmaster. For Neville. I know you didn’t really do it for us, but . . . thanks anyway.” The characteristic twinkle returned to the Headmaster’s eyes, and Harry and Ginny realised that they had not seen it since their encounter with Quirrell. “You’re most welcome, Miss Weasley,” he said. “I always appreciate the opportunity to recognise exceptional performance in whatever form it may take.” Ginny rolled her eyes, fighting a small grin. “You could have just said the first part, Headmaster.” The Headmaster stroked his beard thoughtfully and then winked. “I suppose I could have, yes, but where would be the fun in that?” They continued on their way, and in a few minutes they walked through the door of the Headmaster’s office. As before, Ginny’s parents were sitting in two of the armchairs facing the large desk. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley rose to their feet as Harry and Ginny entered the room. After a moment’s hesitation, Molly stepped forward and hugged Ginny, and her embrace quickly tightened into a familiar, breathless grasp. Arthur patted Ginny’s back and then stepped forward to shake Harry’s hand. “Hello, Harry. It’s great to see you up and about. How’s the back?” he asked. “Much better, Mr. Weasley, thank you,” Harry said. Ginny pulled away from her mother and moved to her father, who picked her up and hugged her tightly. “Hello, Firefly,” he said softly into her ear. “It’s wonderful to see you.” “Hi, Daddy.” Even though their ordeal was almost a week behind them and she had seen her father since then, she still took a special sort of comfort from his embrace. Arthur put her back on the ground and grinned at her. “What’s this I heard about the last Quidditch game? Someone at work claimed that my little daughter was the heroine of the hour!” Ginny felt her cheeks heat even as she smiled. “Well, I don’t really know about that, but I did get to play Seeker.” Her smile broadened in spite of her best efforts. “I caught the Snitch, and we won the game. Gryffindor won the Cup.” “Sounds like a heroine to me!” Mr. Weasley said. “I hope Harry wasn’t too jealous.” “Ginny was just spectacular,” Harry said, grinning. “We had loads of fun.” “Well, I’m glad to hear that,” her father replied. “It’s wonderful that Ginny got to play, but I’m sure we all wish that you’d been able to, Harry. You’ll both have to tell us all about the game.” “Shall we sit down?” Dumbledore asked. He stood next to McGonagall by the door, forgotten in the impromptu family reunion. “Of course, of course,” Mrs. Weasley said. She and Arthur went back to their chairs. With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore widened one of the remaining chairs, and Ginny and Harry sat in it together. McGonagall sat next to them and turned slightly to watch everyone else in the room. Dumbledore cleared his throat. “I’ve asked you all here to discuss Mr. Potter and Miss Weasley’s living arrangements for the summer.” Mr. Weasley’s face tightened in a way that reminded Harry eerily of the man’s daughter. “I honestly don’t see what there is to discuss, Albus,” he said in a very neutral tone. “Harry is more than welcome to stay with us. In fact, I would go so far as to say it’s rather necessary.” The Headmaster nodded. “It is, indeed, necessary that the two of them spend their nights together, and I agree that The Burrow is the best place for that. There are, however, other factors to consider.” “Oh? What factors might those be?” Mr. Weasley asked, one eyebrow raised. “The year’s events have taught us a lot about your daughter’s special relationship to another student,” Dumbledore said, leaning forward slightly. “It has been, as I’m sure you will agree, both eventful and educational. With all of that going on, however, we may have lost sight of exactly who that student is. “He is not just any boy, Arthur. He is Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, if he will forgive my use of that designation. You know as well as I do what that means.” Mr. Weasley was quiet for a moment, and Ginny could see the tension forming in his hands and face. “You’re thinking of Frank and Alice,” he said at last in a controlled voice. “Among many others, yes.” “Arthur, what . . . ?” Mrs. Weasley wrung her hands in agitation. Mr. Weasley closed his eyes and sighed heavily. “There may be people out there who still want to kill him, Molly,” he said in a low voice. Then his eyes snapped open, and his expression became determined. Harry was once again reminded forcefully of Ginny. “How do we prevent that?” Mr. Weasley asked bluntly. “There is a special form of protection around the Dursleys’ house, and it is tied to Mr. Potter and his aunt,” Dumbledore said. “As long as he spends a certain amount of time there with her each summer, the house and its immediate surroundings will remain impregnable to any Dark Wizards or creatures for the entire year.” “So you want us to send them both to live with those people?” Arthur asked in a clipped tone. Mrs. Weasley stiffened at the idea and opened her mouth to protest, but Dumbledore held up a calming hand. “That is not the only answer,” he said. “Mr. Potter does need to spend a certain amount of time there, yes, but we are not limited by the constraints of normal transportation. I propose that Mr. Potter and Miss Weasley sleep at The Burrow. Each morning, he can transport himself to Privet Drive and spend the day there. Given sufficient time, that will be enough to recharge the protections.” “Are you certain Harry will be safer there than at The Burrow?” Mrs. Weasley inquired. “Surely we can put up wards there to keep him safe.” “I’m afraid not, Molly,” Dumbledore said. “The protection at Privet Drive cannot be re-created elsewhere, and it is the strongest barrier in existence. Wards at The Burrow could be broken. We will, of course, do what we can to safeguard your home, but we must not let the protection at Privet Drive lapse.” “What about Ginny?” Mrs. Weasley asked. “Will the protection apply to her as well as Harry?” “Of course,” Dumbledore said. “That is a long-term benefit of the wards at Privet Drive. If, at any time, either of the children is in danger, they can both go there and be completely safe. In fact, anyone in your family could go there if needed.” Mr. Weasley leaned back in his chair and stared at his feet, obviously in deep thought. After a few moments, he looked up again. “Those people are not fit to raise children, Albus. How can we send him there, even part-time, knowing that?” “The very same point your daughter made, although you have stated it much more succinctly,” the Headmaster said with a hint of sadness on his face. “Miss Weasley?” “Nothing can happen to Harry without me knowing about it, Dad,” Ginny said. “The instant the Dursleys try to do anything awful, Harry will leave them and come home. We hope that you or Mum would be willing to go and straighten out his relatives if that happens.” “So you’re not going to confront them yourselves?” “No, Daddy,” Ginny said. “He’s just going to leave. We don’t want to hurt them or get in trouble with the Ministry.” He nodded. “And you’re going to tell us what happened and let us ensure that it doesn’t happen again?” “If you don’t mind, Daddy, we’d rather do it that way.” “Of course I don’t mind, Firefly,” Mr. Weasley said. “What kind of person would I be if I did?” “You’d be just like them, Mr. Weasley,” Harry said. The older man’s gaze shifted to Harry, and he nodded grimly. “Just so, Harry.” He turned back to Dumbledore. “Alright, Albus, it sounds as though that’s how it’s going to work. Are you going to use your authority to back me up, if necessary, to avoid trouble with the Ministry?” “I am,” Dumbledore said. “Provided that I am at least consulted, I can legally and fairly instruct that certain actions are taken on my behalf as Head of the Wizengamot. If more direct intervention is required of me, I will, of course, be happy to become involved.” Mr. Weasley looked at Ginny and Harry. “How do the two of you feel about this?” Ginny shrugged. “It won’t be much fun, but it won’t last all summer.” Ginny laced her fingers tightly with Harry’s and met his eyes before turning to face her father. “And some things are more important than fun.” With a sad smile, Mr. Weasley reached between their chairs and tucked a lock of Ginny’s hair behind her ear. “Oh, Ginny. I wish you had not yet learned that lesson.” He shifted his gaze to Harry. “What about you?” “I can manage, Mr. Weasley,” Harry said. “If they try anything I can’t -” “- or shouldn’t -” Ginny interjected. “- handle, I just won’t be there anymore.” “Very well,” Mr. Weasley said. “It seems that this arrangement is acceptable to everyone. How long will it take, Albus?” “It is difficult to estimate, but I suspect that the protections will be renewed within six to eight weeks.” “Alright, then,” Arthur said. “Harry, we’ll look forward to having you around full-time just as soon as possible. In the meantime, I know that Ginny will make sure that nothing happens to you.” Professor McGonagall, who had been silent thus far, said, “Molly, I trust that you will see that Harry eats well? His relatives are not known for their generosity.” Mrs. Weasley gave Professor McGonagall a withering look and then sniffed indignantly. “He’ll be too fat to fly, if he wants to be.” At least she understands that much, Ginny said. And even I have to admit that she’s an amazing cook. “If there is nothing else,” Dumbledore said, “I will let you return to your home. The Hogwarts Express, as I believe you’ve been told, will arrive at King’s Cross tomorrow at four thirty.” Mr. Weasley nodded. “Will your relatives be there to pick you up, Harry?” he asked. “I suppose so,” Harry answered, “but I haven’t spoken to them since September.” “They will be there,” McGonagall said. “I received confirmation recently.” “Excellent,” Mr. Weasley said. “Perhaps that will be an opportunity to stop this problem before it starts.” I can’t wait to see that, Ginny said. Don’t tell the twins, Harry added. They’d sell tickets. The Weasley parents chatted with everyone for a few more minutes, and then they said their goodbyes and went back to The Burrow via Floo. Once they had left, Harry and Ginny excused themselves and returned to Gryffindor Tower. The next morning, after a chaotic breakfast, Harry and Ginny packed their toiletries and levitated their trunks down to the entrance hall. Hermione had gone ahead, and Ron had promised that he would catch up as soon as he had finished packing. After leaving their trunks just inside the doors with the rest, Harry and Ginny emerged into the sunlight and walked down the steps to the castle lawn. Turning to the castle wall a few yards away, they found the door to the subterranean passage open, so they walked down the dimly-lit ramp into the underground harbour. Hagrid greeted them as they arrived, and Hermione waved at them from one of the small boats. They climbed into it with her, placing the Nimbus and Hedwig’s cage on the bottom of the boat between the two benches. As the rest of the boats filled and the students settled, Ron came barrelling down the passageway and clambered into the boat. “Honestly, Ron, could you have been any later at all?” Hermione asked as she gripped the side of the small craft. Ron dropped onto the bench next to her. “Probably, yeah. Want me to try?” She rolled her eyes and looked pointedly out towards the lake. Hagrid ordered the boats to move, and they drifted silently over the water. As soon as they were outside, Hedwig flew down from the castle wall and hopped into her cage. Ginny latched it carefully and gave the snowy owl a treat from her pocket. “Is it okay for you to get owls, Hermione?” Ginny asked. She had not considered any other possibility before, but they knew that some Muggle homes would have difficulty receiving owl post. “I think so,” Hermione said after some thought, “provided that you can teach Hedwig to only arrive after dark.” Ginny watched as Hedwig raised her head and stared directly at Hermione. Even from the side, they could see the accusation in the owl’s eyes. After a few long moments, in which Hedwig did not blink, Hermione shook her head and looked away. “Alright, fine, that won’t be a problem. Harry, Hedwig is frighteningly clever.” Harry shrugged. “Provided you remember that, it’s not so frightening. The same is true for some other clever people we know.” After a short, relatively smooth ride, the boats stopped near Hogsmeade station. The four friends climbed up the hill, claimed their trunks, and found an empty compartment on the Hogwarts Express. After a short wait for the older students to arrive from the castle and stow their belongings, the train pulled out of the station. Ginny sighed mentally. I guess Neville decided to sit somewhere else. Harry put his arm across her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze. We’ll try again next year, Ginny. Tiny steps, right? She leaned her head against him for a moment and then nodded. Tiny steps. Less than an hour later, the door to their compartment was flung open, interrupting their light conversation. Fred and George leapt into the space between the seats and struck dramatic poses, back to back, with their wands out as if they were about to duel someone. Harry and Ginny had started when the door opened, but they relaxed when they saw the twins. As the two brothers continued to pose in the middle of the compartment, they became puzzled. A glance at Ron and Hermione showed that their friends were equally confused. After a moment of silence, Ron successfully summarised their feelings. “What the hell?” he asked. Fred and George deflated visibly, dropping their arms and roughly stuffing their wands back into their pockets. They assumed identical expressions of disappointment and frustration. “Not this time, Fred,” George said. “Chin up, old bean,” Fred replied. “Perhaps another day.” “Another day for what?” Ginny asked cautiously. “Well,” George said, “all kinds of interesting things seem to happen to the four of you, but always when we’re not around.” Fred nodded. “We’ve decided that if we keep showing up at random moments, ready for action, then eventually we’ll probably arrive right in the middle of things.” “We can save the day,” George said in what he probably thought was a heroic voice. “No challenge too great, no Firstie too small,” Fred continued, bracing his hands on his hips. “The Weasley Brothers Abridged are up for the task!” Ginny rolled her eyes. “Hermione, would you mind hexing them for us, please? If we do it, it’ll make a huge mess, and I’m sure you must have found a handy hex or two in your books.” Hermione grinned. “I did find a really interesting spell called The Curse of the Camel Fleas, but I’ve not yet had a chance to try it.” “Hey, yeah, do that one, would you?” Harry asked eagerly. The twins, though they did not seem to be aware of it, had taken a half-step back towards the compartment door. The bushy-haired witch turned her gaze to Fred and George, and her eyes brightened. “Perhaps another day.” The twins’ slightly nervous expressions shifted to their usual grins, and Fred bowed extravagantly at Hermione. “We look forward to it, Miss Granger.” “Speaking of which,” George said, “I hope you lot weren’t looking forward to a visit from young Master Malfoy. We saw him heading this way in the corridor, but he seemed to change his mind.” “Might’ve had something to do with that severe case of chafing he mysteriously developed.” “Can’t imagine where he got that.” “Pity,” Ginny said. “But I suppose we’ll survive without seeing him.” Ron snorted. “Yeah, real hardship, that.” “We’ll leave you all to your suffering, then,” Fred said. The twins left the compartment, but their voices floated back to Harry and Ginny from the corridor. “Do you suppose she meant camel-sized fleas?” “Or a camel’s worth of fleas?” Around noon, when the trolley came by, Harry bought a large selection of snacks for them all to share. Not long after that, there was a quiet knock on the door to their compartment. Harry looked up from the chess game he had just started with Ron, and Ginny interrupted her conversation with Hermione. Together, they saw Neville standing on the other side of the door. Hermione rose from her seat and opened the door. “You don’t have to knock, Neville. Come in and sit down.” When Hermione sat back down, Harry and Ginny were able to see Neville’s face clearly. His eyes darted around the compartment, never resting on any one person, and his hands were pushed deep into the pockets of his trousers. “Ahh . . . no, thanks,” Neville said. “I just . . . err . . . I wanted to say, you know, have a good summer.” “Thank you, Neville,” Ginny said with an encouraging smile. “Do you have plans for your holiday?” Neville’s eyes darted up to hers for a moment and then dropped to the floor as he shrugged. “Nothing too interesting.” “’Nothing’ sounds like a pretty good holiday plan to me,” Ron said, still studying the chessboard in front of him. “Are you sure you don’t want to sit down, Neville?” Harry asked. “We’ve got some leftover things from the trolley.” Neville looked at Harry with a slightly more open expression. “Thanks, Harry, but . . . maybe next time?” Harry nodded. “Any time you like.” “Well, I’ll see you all next term, then,” Neville said, his eyes flicking to Ginny again. Then, with a half-hearted wave, he turned and left the compartment. “Bye, Neville!” Ginny called after him, her words echoed quickly by the other students. When the sound of his footsteps had faded away, Ginny shook her head. “I shouldn’t have hexed him.” “What’s done is done,” Hermione said sagely, “and you never know what might have happened if you hadn’t.” “I know,” Ginny said, “but I still wish things could be different now.” “Just give him some time.” The rest of the ride passed uneventfully. After a while, the four friends began to talk and laugh just as they had before Neville’s visit. Harry and Ginny got the feeling that all of them were trying their hardest to enjoy every last moment of the ride before they had to be separated, in one way or another, for the summer. All too soon, the train entered King’s Cross Station. They sat in their compartment, watching other students exit the train. As they passed in the corridor, other Gryffindors shouted farewells to Harry or Ginny. Ron snorted jovially. “My sister, the celebrity.” “It’s Harry’s fault,” Ginny protested. “Well, yeah,” Ron said. “But everyone knows he’s famous.” “Not for long, I promise you,” Harry said. “The minute I go through the barrier, I’ll be ‘that Potter boy’ again. At best.” “Don’t let them get you down, Harry,” Hermione said. “Not likely, with Ginny around,” he said, smiling as he dropped his arm over Ginny’s shoulders. She smiled warmly up at him. Smooth, Harry. True, Ginny. When most of the students had left the train and the platform had become a bit less chaotic, Harry and Ginny led their friends off of the train. The Weasley family was readily identifiable in the crowd, and Mr. and Mrs. Granger were once again standing off to one side. “Hermione, can we introduce your parents to mine?” Ginny asked. “It might make things easier later on.” Hermione nodded and led them all towards her parents. “Hello, Hermione,” Mr. Granger said as he hugged his daughter. “Are you travelling with a pack now?” “No, Dad, stop being silly. You remember my friends,” Hermione said as she moved to hug her mother. “I thought you might like to meet Ginny’s and Ron’s parents.” “We’d be delighted,” Mrs. Granger said. Hermione led the entire group over to the Weasleys. When they came to a stop, Ginny stepped in front of everyone else. Her parents were already looking at her curiously. “Mum, Dad, you remember Hermione. These are her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Granger.” Arthur stepped forward and stretched a hand out to Mr. Granger. “I’m Arthur Weasley,” he said. “This is my wife, Molly, and our sons, Percy, Fred, and George. It looks like you’ve already met Ron and Ginny.” “Pleased to meet you,” Mr. Granger said. “I’m Jason, and this is Helen.” Mrs. Weasley looked almost ecstatic as she shook hands with Helen Granger. “Our children have said so many wonderful things about your daughter,” she said. “Likewise,” Helen said. “To hear Hermione tell it, your children are some sort of saints. Though I suppose Harry isn’t yours.” “He might as well be,” Arthur said. “We’re quite proud of them all.” “We thought that Hermione might be able to visit later this summer, Dad,” Ginny said. “I’m sure we can at least discuss the possibility,” Mr. Weasley said, glancing at Mr. Granger. The dark-haired man nodded. “Perhaps we can all meet for lunch at some point to talk about it.” “The kids can write letters, and we’ll work something out that way at first,” Arthur scratched his chin. “Too bad I don’t have one of those fellytones. Have you received owl post before?” “Ahh . . . just the once, actually,” Mrs. Granger said. Ginny lifted Hedwig’s cage in her arms and turned to the Grangers. “Mr. and Mrs. Granger, this is Hedwig. She’ll carry our mail for us. All you have to do is tie a letter to her leg and tell her who you want it to go to.” Harry pulled the package of owl treats out of Ginny’s pocket and handed it to Hermione, who tucked it away in her bag. “Oh, well . . .” Helen hesitated and then spoke in an indulgent voice. “Hello, Hedwig. It’s nice to meet you.” “Trust me, Mother,” Hermione muttered. “Hedwig can understand you perfectly.” Mrs. Granger straightened abruptly and looked to Molly, who nodded with a gentle smile. “Well, that’s not the biggest surprise I’ve received,” Mrs. Granger said. “I’m happy that you’ve agreed to help us with the post, Hedwig.” Hedwig, to everyone’s surprise, nodded. “Alright, then,” Jason said, blinking rapidly. “Hermione, we’d best be on our way. We’ve a long way to go.” Hermione nodded and stepped forward to hug Ginny. Then she moved to Harry and squeezed him a bit more tightly. “Good luck, Harry,” she whispered. She moved towards Ron, but the red-haired boy held out his hand, so Hermione stopped and shook it with a wry smile. “Write to me soon!” she said as she walked away with her parents. “We will, Hermione, don’t worry!” Ginny said, waving after their friend. A moment later, Hermione pulled her parents through the barrier, and they were gone. “Harry,” Mr. Weasley said, “let’s go find those relatives of yours. Ginny, will you stay with your mother for this part? I’d rather they didn’t know anything about you so that they won’t suspect anything.” “Alright, Dad. But you’ll make sure those people understand, right?” “Absolutely, Firefly.” Knowing that they would not see each other again before Harry had to leave, Harry and Ginny stepped into a brief, close embrace. We can do this, right? Ginny asked. Sure we can, Harry said, summoning his confidence. After a whole year with Snape, Uncle Vernon’s no worse than a fat fly at a picnic. A really ugly one, maybe. Ginny gave Harry a final squeeze, and then they reluctantly let each other go. Looking around, Ginny saw that her brothers were all pointedly looking in other directions. Her mother was staring at her with a conflicted expression, but her father wore an odd sort of smile. Mr. Weasley put a hand on Harry’s shoulder and guided him towards the barrier, and Ginny closed her eyes to pay attention to what was going to happen. A moment later, she felt a hand on her own shoulder, and she looked up to find Fred there to help her stay upright. She smiled briefly at him and then closed her eyes again. Just before they reached the barrier, Harry stopped. Pulling his wand out of his pocket, he bent over and tucked it securely into his sock so that it was completely hidden by his oversized trousers. Good thinking, Ginny said. They’d probably try to take it away from you. Mr. Weasley nodded his approval and then started forward again. When they pushed through the barrier, Harry immediately spotted the Dursleys waiting further down the corridor. The three Muggles were doing their very best to look nonchalant and calm, but for the most part they looked out-of-place and nervous. Harry nodded towards them, and he and Mr. Weasley started walking in their direction. “Ironic, isn’t it?” Mr. Weasley whispered. “If they weren’t so disagreeable, someone might have shown them how to get through to the platform. Since they can’t, they have to stand out here looking lost. I’m sure they hate that, and it’s their own fault.” “Oh, they hate it alright,” Harry said, fighting a grin. “They really hate it.” Arthur stepped in front of Harry and his trunk and approached his uncle directly. “Vernon Dursley? I’m Arthur Weasley,” he said, extending his hand. Uncle Vernon looked down at Mr. Weasley’s hand as though it were leprous, and then his eyes ran across the other man’s clothes. Scowling fiercely, he snorted. “What do you and your type want?” Stupid man, Ginny said. Dad only gives people one chance to be polite. “I see,” Mr. Weasley said. “I’ll be blunt, then. Harry here is good friends with several of my children, and that makes me responsible for him in a lot of ways. I’ve heard that he’s been mistreated at your home in the past, and I’m here to tell you that, as of this moment, such things will no longer occur.” Vernon spluttered, his face purpling rapidly, as Petunia sniffed disdainfully and Dudley sneered at Harry. “I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Vernon finally said loudly. “That boy gets just what is proper for him, the same as any boy would!” “That boy is a far better person than he has any right to be, considering that he was raised by you and yours.” Arthur stepped closer to Vernon and loomed over the shorter man. “You listen to me, Dursley. There is more to our type than you will ever understand. I will know what is happening to Harry at every moment he is in your care. The instant he is unfairly dealt with in even the slightest way, I will be at your door.” Vernon glanced furtively around, clearly ensuring that they were not being overheard by any of several people who were glancing their way. “If you’re so bloody well worried about him,” Vernon’s face was red and spittle flecked his jowls as he half-shouted, “then you take him. We don’t want him! We’ve never wanted him!” “That isn’t possible yet, and you know it,” Mr. Weasley said, glancing at Petunia’s pale face. “The moment it is, you can be sure that he will be removed from your care.” Vernon’s eyes narrowed. “Right, then you stay away from my house,” he growled. “You and all the other freaks. One is more than enough for me!” It had been a long time since Harry had heard that word, but it still affected him. He now knew precisely why Vernon and Dudley were starting to sweat. “Be careful, Dursley,” Arthur said in a harsh whisper, blindly reaching out and patting Harry’s shoulder comfortingly. “If you poke a dog long enough, it will bite you, and this dog has very, very big teeth.” Vernon held the taller man’s gaze for only a moment before looking away. His eyes darted around the station for a moment, and then he cleared his throat loudly. “We’ll be going, then,” he said. “It was so interesting to meet you, Mr. Dursley,” Arthur said. “I do hope that we will see each other again soon.” His glare clearly showed the falseness of his last statement. “Come along, boy,” Vernon said. “We’re wasting time standing about.” Mr. Weasley turned back to Harry and leaned down to speak in a quiet voice. “You’re in the best of hands, Harry, and I don’t mean theirs.” I love you, too, Daddy. Harry nodded. “I know.” Arthur put a gentle hand on Harry’s shoulder for a moment, and then he straightened and nodded. Harry pushed his trolley forward, and as soon as he moved, the Dursleys set off at what they considered to be a brisk pace. They did not look back, but Harry supposed that the rattling wheels of the trolley told them that he was following. When Harry was out of sight of the barrier, Ginny led the rest of her family out into the station and took her father’s hand. “Thanks, Daddy. I don’t think it will work, but nobody can say you didn’t try.” Mr. Weasley looked down at her fondly. “If it doesn’t work, Firefly, we’ll make it work.” He sighed. “I hate behaving that way, but I’m afraid it’s the only way to get through to people like him.” He shook his head and then glanced around at the rest of his family. “Let’s walk slowly, now, and take in the sights. We don’t want to get to the car park until they’ve left it.” Mrs. Weasley looped her arm through her husband’s, and the Weasleys meandered around the station. Ginny directed them to things that were more normal to look at, even though her father genuinely did want to inspect a turnstile. Outside, Harry pushed his trolley across the car park until he reached Vernon’s gleaming sedan. Vernon lifted Harry’s trunk into the boot with a glare and a deep grunt. Good thing we didn’t leave everything in there, Harry said. It would have been fun to watch, though. Next year, you can keep all of our spellbooks and the new rock collection I’ll have. The Dursleys climbed into the car, and Harry got into the back seat with Dudley. Even in the large sedan, the huge boy’s bulk spilled over onto Harry’s side of the seat, and Harry could smell the mixture of sweat and greasy food that was unique to Dudley Dursley. Vernon pulled out onto the highway, and Ginny signalled to her family that they could leave. They left the building and all piled into the Anglia, with Ginny once again sitting in the front seat with her parents. Harry and the Dursleys drove to Surrey in tense silence, aside from Vernon’s sullen muttering and occasional swearing at other drivers. At one point, Harry caught the man watching him in the rear view mirror, after which he clearly said, “Some school. Nine months of ‘education,’ and he’s still so moronic he just stares out the window.” After an hour, they pulled into the drive of number four, Privet Drive. Vernon lifted Harry’s trunk out of the boot and left it on the concrete. “Hurry up, boy,” he said as he crossed to the door of the house. “The neighbours don’t need to see you lazing about out here.” Harry rolled his eyes and dragged his trunk towards the door. As soon as he had it inside, Vernon locked the door and moved to block Harry’s path into the rest of the house. “Open it up, boy.” Vernon stabbed a fat finger at Harry’s trunk. “You’ll not be needing anything but clothes while you’re here.” Ginny stiffened but then relaxed as they considered the prospect. It doesn’t matter, I suppose, she said. All of the important things are in my trunk. Harry lifted the lid of his trunk and began pulling out his clothes and piling them on the floor. Vernon spotted the red shirt Ginny had given him and snatched it up in his fist, causing Harry to bristle. “What’s this? Doors and ditches? What sort of rubbish is this?” “It’s just an old shirt,” Harry said, trying to conceal his concern. “Someone gave it to me because it was too old and ragged for them.” I love that shirt, Ginny said. Me, too, but I’m not about to tell him that. He’d bin it. Vernon threw the shirt back into the trunk. “Leave it in there, then. I don’t want to see it.” Harry nodded and sighed mentally. I’ll get it back later and keep it at your house, he said. They were very glad that he had thought to hide his wand before leaving the platform. When Harry had removed all of his clothes from the trunk, other than his uniforms and robes, Vernon slammed the lid closed. He dragged the trunk to the cupboard under the stairs, shoved it inside, and locked the cupboard door with a heavy padlock. I bet the twins know how to open those, Ginny said. If not, I’m sure they’ll be glad to learn how. It’s just the kind of thing they’d want to be good at. Harry gathered his clothes into his arms and carried them up the stairs to the smallest bedroom. It took him only a few minutes to put them away. He placed his wand beneath the pillow and then sat on the broken mattress, trying to ignore his surroundings. Ginny had been half-listening as the twins and Ron recalled every detail of Gryffindor’s victory over Ravenclaw. When she and Harry started paying active attention, Ron was finally describing her climb in pursuit of the Snitch. “What happened up there, Ginny?” Fred asked. “We saw you go up, and we saw you come down with the Snitch, but we couldn’t tell what you had to do to finally catch it.” “Honestly, nothing, really,” Ginny said, shrugging. “The broom was faster than the Snitch, and I just caught up with it and grabbed it. I’d have been back a few seconds sooner, but the view from up there was amazing. Harry says it was what he imagines flying in an airplane would be like.” “How’s he doing, Ginny?” her father asked. She sighed. “Better than we expected, I suppose. They took away his school things and locked them under the stairs, but other than that they’re just leaving him alone.” The Weasleys continued their long drive and their endless conversation. Half an hour later, Petunia’s voice penetrated Harry’s door. “Get down here and eat your dinner!” Obediently, he went downstairs and took his place at the table. Petunia had made something, and Vernon and Dudley made noises that Harry assumed were appreciative, but he hardly noticed what he ate. After meals at Hogwarts and The Burrow, whatever Petunia was serving was very disappointing. Harry ate his smaller portion dutifully, already looking forward to getting something better later in the evening. When Dudley had finished his fourth helping of pudding, Harry cleared away the dishes and began washing them in the sink. When he finished, he started back up the stairs, but Vernon blocked his ascent with a beefy arm. “You’ll be up at dawn tomorrow to make breakfast, boy, and then your aunt will make sure you’re useful. Never mind what those freaky friends of yours say, you’ll earn your keep in this house.” Harry fumed silently, but he nodded. He and Ginny had known that he would still have to do work around the house. If he calls your family that one more time, though . . . I’d rather think of it as his having a very limited vocabulary. Having nothing else to do, Harry changed into his pyjamas and lay back on the least-uncomfortable edge of the bed. After only a few minutes, Dudley barged into the room with a cruel grin on his face. “How’d you like that stupid school, Potter?” he asked. “Was it fun to meet all the other sad losers and compare how pathetic you all are?” Malfoy would eat him alive, Ginny said. Wow, do you think we could arrange for them to meet? Malfoy might finally be useful. “It’s a school for magic, Dudley,” Harry said. “Go away, or I’ll turn your hair pink.” Dudley paled, and Harry saw him draw a breath to shout down to his parents. “If you say one word to Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon, I’ll turn your skin pink, too. It’d go well with your tail.” Harry raised his hands and waggled his fingers menacingly, and the rotund boy’s mouth snapped shut as his close-set eyes widened. He backed out of the room, both hands covering his backside, watching Harry’s hands carefully. When Dudley had wedged himself through the doorway, he reached out and pulled the door closed behind him. Just after the door clicked shut, Harry distinctly heard the word ‘freak,’ followed by rapid, heavy footsteps away from his door. Harry, you forgot to tell them you can’t do magic during the holidays, Ginny said with a laugh in her voice. Did I? Oops. A while later, the Weasleys arrived at The Burrow. Mr. Weasley levitated Ginny’s trunk up the stairs for her as the boys carried their own. When everyone was settled, they returned to the kitchen, and Mrs. Weasley pulled one of her huge platters of sandwiches out of the refrigerator. Ginny ate two by herself, reassuring them both that even a sandwich from her mother’s kitchen was far superior to whatever Petunia had recently attempted to produce. When she was finished, she waited at the table while the rest of the family ate their dinners, but she placed two more sandwiches on her plate to save them from Ron. Finally, the light in the hallway outside Harry’s door vanished, and he pulled out his wand and tucked it into the pocket of his pyjamas. Ginny smiled and pulled the chair next to her away from the table, and a moment later Harry was sitting in it. Welcome home, Harry. “Hiya, Harry,” Fred said. “Long time no see,” George added. “Tuck in,” Mr. Weasley encouraged him. Ginny pushed her plate towards him, and he ate the two sandwiches in short order, washing them down with cool pumpkin juice. “Would you like any more, Harry?” Mrs. Weasley offered politely. “No thanks, Mrs. Weasley,” he said. “They’re excellent, but I would actually like to be able to fly this autumn.” She smiled slightly and crossed the kitchen to begin her routine of cleaning. Did you see that, Harry? Ginny asked. Mum smiled at you! Yeah, she did, he said. That’s a start, right? Definitely. After another half hour of conversation, Ginny yawned. “We’re going to bed,” she said. “Goodnight, everyone.” The rest of the family wished them both a good night as they climbed the stairs to Ginny’s room. Hedwig hooted at Harry in greeting from her perch atop the wardrobe. While Ginny went to the lavatory to prepare for bed, Harry paused to stroke the snowy owl’s crest. Then he set the alarm on his wristwatch and lay down. When she returned, Ginny pulled her Hogwarts towel from her trunk and held it out to him. “Brunesempra,” Harry said dutifully, pointing his wand at the towel. With Bun-bun in hand, Ginny curled up next to Harry and slid her arm under his pyjama top. Handy spell, that, she said. All sorts of uses. They lay quietly for a few minutes, listening to the sounds of the nearby wood as they mixed with the muted voices of the Weasleys drifting up from below. Harry took a deep breath and released it in a long, slow sigh. After only a few hours in his relatives’ house, The Burrow was a welcome refuge. It’s going to be a long summer. I’ll be with you all the time, Ginny said. I know. That’s the only thing that’ll make it bearable. Ginny smiled against his stomach and squeezed him gently with her arm. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Harry reached down and stroked her hair with his palm. Me either. The repetitive caress on Ginny’s hair relaxed them both, and Harry’s hand slowed as they approached sleep. I love you, you know, Harry, Ginny whispered into their minds. I love you, too, Ginevra. A/N: This marks the end of Part One: The Philosopher’s Stone. Look for Part Two sometime in the near future. If you’d like to receive a notification when the first chapter is posted, remember to set an “Author favourite”. In my system, winning a Quidditch match earns the house fifty house points. Winning the Quidditch Cup earns the house an extra fifty points. So Gryffindor’s victory in the final match of the season earned them one hundred points (fifty for the game and fifty for the cup), and their entire Quidditch season earned them two hundred points (fifty for each of three games plus fifty for the cup). As best as I can determine, this fits canon, because Percy mentions that Harry earned Gryffindor fifty points at one of the matches. I have deliberately moved the end-of-year feast and the train ride from their apparent dates in canon. The long gap in the Lexicon’s timeline doesn’t seem to make much sense, and it doesn’t match well with the events from the other books. So I adjusted everything to eliminate the incongruity. I must, at this point, offer extended thanks to the people who help to make this story possible. Moshpit, more than anyone else, contributes his time as a pre-beta, ensuring that what I say matches what I want to say. Jonathan Avery is invaluable as a ‘real’ beta, and his dedication to quality writing (his or others’) is unmatched. Treecat and regdc have both done their parts as brit-pickers, and Parakletos has answered a question or two here and there, also. The inestimable Chreechree proofreads the story and helps me with some of the bits I’m less confident about. Sherylyn does formatting and canon nit-picking work to keep the polish level high. I would also like to thank several of my ‘real-life’ acquaintances who have put up with my asking odd questions. Foremost among those is my wife, who does a thoroughly wonderful job of putting up with me in general. Thank you, all of you, for your help as I pursue this diversion of mine. If anyone would like a complete PDF version of Part One, please email me or PM me with your email address, and I'll be happy to send it to you. |
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