Everyone was now looking at him expectantly, and Harry felt his face grow warm. After a moment, Dumbledore cleared his throat and looked at him, then at Ginny, who promptly elbowed Harry in the ribs.

"Erm... OH! Ah, yes, I guess I do have an announcement. Professor Dumbledore has kindly informed me that the beautiful and talented Miss Weasley will not be taking Sixth year Potions this term."

Molly frowned a bit, while Ginny blushed at the compliment.

"Instead," continued Harry, grinning as he did so, "She will be advanced to Seventh year Potions, with the goal of getting an early NEWT..."

"Oh, Ginny, that's wonderful!" cried Hermione, running around the table to give Ginny a hug. Mrs. Weasley joined her a moment later.

Fred and George returned to the kitchen at that moment. "What's going on?" asked Fred.

"Yeah, let us in on it, too," said George.

"Oh, it's nothing much," said Ginny, grinning fiercely. "Just the news that I'm skipping sixth year Potions for advanced study."

For a moment, both Fred and George appeared to be imitating goldfish.

"Oh," she added, "I've also been named Sixth Year Prefect..."

Both her brothers' mouths dropped open again.

"...and I just learned my OWL results," she continued. "I only got -- fourteen."

The twins sat down on the floor in shock, and Mrs. Weasley screeched in delight.

"Not only that, but Harry and Hermione are prefects for the Seventh Years, and Ron has been named Head Boy."

"Well," said Dumbledore, chuckling at the twins' reaction, "That should be all the good news, so Tonks and I will be off, then. Have a safe holiday, everyone.

"Goodbye, everyone," chimed in Tonks.

"And I must be on my way as well," said Remus, pushing back from the table. "Thank you for the breakfast, Molly. Happy Birthday, Harry."

"‘Bye, Professor, ‘Bye Tonks, ‘Bye Professor Lupin..." a chorus of farewells rang out.  

Moments later the three guests had disapparated, and the conversation continued around the table.

"Fourteen OWLs?"

"Our baby sister got fourteen OWLs?" Fred and George did not seem to be able to assimilate the news.

"And ickle Ronniekins is Head Boy? Tell me where we went wrong, George."

"I don't know, Fred. We tried and we tried to teach them better, but just look at what they've gone and done."

"That's enough out of you two hooligans. You had best be on your way to that silly business of yours. You do not want to disappoint all the shoppers in Diagon Alley," scolded Mrs. Weasley.

"Right, mum. We will go. It is just that Ginny got FOURTEEN OWLs! And Ron is HEAD BOY!" The twins shook their heads, then grinned at each other. Walking around the table, they paused to ruffle Ron's hair, then hugged Ginny.

"Congratulations, little sister!"

"Yeah, what Fred said. We're very proud of you!"

Ginny smiled, and gave them each a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, big brothers."

They each gave her a final hug, rubbed Ron's head again, and disapparated.

Charlie stood up. "I've got to go into the Ministry office for a while, too, but I'll be back for the party tonight." His kissed his mother on the cheek, gave Ginny a hug, and paused just behind Ron to wet a finger in his mouth, then stick it in his younger brother's ear.

"Hey! Geroff, you big git!"

"Bye, all," called Charlie as he Disapparated with a crack.

"Oh, I just can't wait to tell Arthur. Will you four be all right if I leave for a bit?"

"Mum," said Ginny, "We're not little children anymore. We'll be fine. You go tell Daddy the news."

"All right, all right--now you four behave while I'm gone. Why don't you all try Harry's new game?" she said as she removed her apron, smoothed down her housedress, and took a pinch of Floo Powder from the flowerpot off the mantelpiece.

"Sure, mum, we'll do that," said Ron.

Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips and shook her head, but stepped into the fireplace, threw down the Floo Powder, and stated clearly, "The Ministry of Magic!" In a burst of green flame, she was gone.

The two girls looked at each other and broke out in giggles, while Ron and Harry just shook their heads. Ginny sat back down next to Harry, taking his hand and squeezing it, and Hermione seated herself next to Ron.

"So, Ronald Weasley, mister shy and flighty--Are you going to get your priorities straight? Do I get a proper welcome?" asked Hermione.

Ron's ears turned pink, but he leaned over and kissed his bushy-haired girlfriend very properly--right up to the moment he leaned just a bit too far and fell out of his chair.

Hermione laughed. "Well, I see I still have some effect on you. I was a bit worried I might have forgotten how to do that..."

Ron clambered to his feet, set the chair upright again and sat down, "Slim chance of that," he replied. "So what do we need to know to play this game?"

"The rules are right there inside the lid, Ron. Just tap the parchment and say ‘Rules for Four'."

Ron did as he was told, and watched the small print rearrange itself on the parchment. "Uhm, Hermione?"

"What, Ron?"

"These rules aren't in English."

"What?"

"Well, they are -sort of- but they don't make any sense. Just listen... ‘To be playing most ancient pastime Mah-Jhong with players four requires stacking of plates forming wall square beginning before play. To make teams two of two is simple decision with dealer to movement clockwise...'...See what I mean?"

"Tha-that's not right. I know I cast the translation spell properly..." Hermione dove for her trunk, opening it in haste and digging through the contents to retrieve a book. "It's right here on page 91."

Ginny took the book and started reading. "...Fur of a vole, powdered onyx...," she mumbled to herself, "...and you did pronounce this as ‘persevisis tautonia', right?"

"Of course I did!"

Ginny turned the page and read a bit more. "And you used your wand in the pattern of the language?"

"Yes..."

"English language or Chinese language?"

"English, of course."

Ginny giggled and pointed to a passage in the book. "That's the problem--the charm means the pattern of the original language! The pattern should have been from the top right to the bottom, not top left across. You got a literal translation!"

"Oh... How did I miss that?" Hermione blushed.

"Well, it isn't real clear on the meaning, so it may have confused you--I can see how you could have made that mistake."

"So we don't know how to play it, after all?" asked Ron

"Well, I learned how, so I can tell you," said Hermione.

"So how is it played?" asked Ron.

"Well, it is a bit complicated at first, and there are several ways to play it, but once you learn the rules it is a wonderful game."

"How many can play?"

"Let's clear the table and clean up, first. Then we can try it," said Harry, putting action to his words. Five minutes later, the dishes had been magically washed and dried, the table wiped down and Hermione was setting up the tiles.

***

The game had been a bit complicated at first, but Harry had finally caught on to the strategies, and was ahead by two triplets and a double when Mrs. Weasley returned.

"Having fun, Harry?"

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley."

"I see you're ahead this game--you might want to play that three bamboo next turn."

"Mum, that's not fair," piped up Ron. "I haven't had any help, and I've been low player for the last three games!"

"It doesn't matter, Ron," said Ginny as she placed a quartet, two triplets and a wild tile on her scoring rack. "I've won this game, anyway. And that makes you..." she paused to calculate everyone's score, "...low man for the fourth game."

Harry grinned at his best friend. "Don't take it too hard, Ron. You've beaten me about a thousand times at Wizard Chess."

"Yes, Ron," smiled Hermione, "You can always rest on your past laurels..."

Even Ron managed a laugh at that before Mrs. Weasley told them to clear out of the kitchen so she could prepare the next meal. The tiles were carefully packed away in their case, the case relocked, and Hermione's trunk and Harry's presents levitated up the stairs to their respective rooms.

"Ron, I'd like to go into town and phone my parents, if you don't mind. They'll want to hear the good news, and I did promise I would let them know as soon as I heard anything."

"Whatever you want, Hermione.  I'll walk with you and keep you company."

"Thank you, Ron.'

Harry said, "I'm going to stay here and read a bit."

Ginny spoke up, a mischievous glint in her eye, "And I'm staying here to distract him."

"Ginny!" Ron sounded shocked. "What would mum say?"

"Pooh! She already knows what a scarlet woman I am with Harry." Unfortunately, she could not keep a straight face at the sight of Ron's expression, and broke out laughing.

Ron's ears reddened. "Well, just don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"And just what is it that you wouldn't do, Mr. Weasley?" Hermione purred at him.

Ron's ears turned a darker shade of red as he changed the subject. "We'd better get going or we won't be back in time for lunch," and he took Hermione's hand and led her down the stairs.

Ginny stood close to Harry. "What say we take a walk, too? We can go down by the river--I'll bring a blanket, and you can read to me there."

Harry grinned. "Sure--just let me get my book."

The two met up in the kitchen just as the Owl Post arrived with that day's copy of the Late Edition Daily Prophet. Harry dropped five Knuts into the owl's change bag, while Mrs. Weasley paused from her meal preparations to open the paper and look at the headlines.

"Oh dear God, no!" she gasped.

"What is it, mum?" Ginny tried to peek over her mother's shoulder.

The headline was printed in red letters two inches tall --

"DEATH EATERS

IN AMERICA

KILL HUNDREDS"

A/N-- Recognize a few lines from SS/PS? One is when Ron says what Hermione said to him on the Hogwarts Express way back in First Year. I just wanted him to have a chance to finally say it back to Hermione.  But then, I still wanted Hermione to "one-up" him…, so she quotes Ron' comment to Harry, from a few moments later.

Why Mah-Jhong? Well, to me it feels like a game the adult wizarding community would enjoy--I just can't see Gobstones or Exploding Snap holding much appeal for anyone over fifteen years of age. The Mah Jhong rules were quoted directly from the instruction sheet that accompanied the set I purchased--makes me wish there were a real translation charm...Rdehwyll

Chapter Three

Ministry of Magic Officials announced that in a mass attack late yesterday afternoon, Death Eaters overran and destroyed the Ohio Institute for Magical Education and Research (OIMER) outside the city of Mansfield, Ohio, USA.  Casualties could be in excess of 500. The possibility of survivors trapped in the rubble does exist, though rescue efforts have been hampered by magical traps left in place by the Death Eaters that have added to the list of casualties.

Chief Director of the American Aurors Bureau, Robertus Waldbauer, issued the following statement early this morning: "It is with great sorrow that I must report that it is unlikely that many survivors will be found in the rubble of OIMER. Rescue efforts are being hampered by numerous delayed-action curses and hexes, and nearly all those deceased thus far uncovered show definite signs of Unforgivable Curse use. Given the heinous nature of this act of terrorism, I have been authorized to offer to the Witches and Wizards of the world a reward of 25,000 Galleons for information leading to the apprehension and imprisonment of He Who Must Not Be Named and any or all of his minions. Furthermore, the Magical Armed Forces of the United States have been mobilized in response, and will be monitoring all Floo Network Activity, Portkey use, and unlicensed Apparation activity in the hopes that these terrorists make a fatal mistake and reveal themselves. You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters, take note ... This is a declaration of war against you and your activities."

One survivor of the attack, Miss Katherine VanHerst, 17, though badly injured, was able to give Aurors arriving at the scene positive indication that this act of terrorism was led by You-Know-Who. Miss VanHerst, a Junior (The equivalent of a sixth-year student) at the Institute, stated that the attack came without warning. "One moment, classes were going on as usual, and the next thing I knew, a group of masked black-robed invaders were pouring into the classroom, throwing curses at everyone. I did hear one of the robed men refer to another as "Lord' just before I blacked out."

It is suspected that the attack was staged in order to loot the Institute's Research Facilities, where Doctor Robespierre Farmwood recently announced the discovery of a new potion mixture that seemed to halt the natural ageing process. No trace of Dr. Farmwood or any of his lab assistants has been found, though the lab itself suffered little to no exterior damage. All equipment within was broken and smashed, and several files of notes and documentation are missing, suggesting the possibility that this attack was made to cover a kidnapping.

The Daily Prophet story told it all--Lord Voldemort and his Death Eater followers months of inactivity were at an end.

"How terrible -- all those innocent people..." Mrs. Weasley's voice sounded strained, and Harry could see tears forming at the corners of her eyes. Ginny clasped her hands around her mother's waist, her eyes glistening as well.

"Voldemort went to America to attack the school where Dr. Farmwood was working, so he must believe the doctor's work could be useful. Extending his life has been at the root of everything Voldemort does," raged Harry. 

"First he went after the Philosopher's stone, and then he used my blood and a Dark Magic spell to be reborn. Now, he and his Death Eaters have wantonly killed so many, just to take a prisoner who has discovered a way to delay the aging process.  He has to be stopped!" Harry slammed his fist on the table as he felt anger welling up inside himself as he spoke.

He sat down at the table and covered his eyes with his hands. The room was silent except for the soft rustle of newspaper pages being turned.

"Farmwood... Why does that name sound so familiar?" asked Ginny of no one in particular.

"It does, doesn't it?" Mrs. Weasley carefully folded the newspaper as she spoke. "Now that you mention it, I know I've heard it somewhere before, too."

"Something at Hogwarts... " Ginny paused, thinking hard.

"Professor Farmwood! He taught Potions at Hogwarts while Arthur and I were there! He retired to do research after my second year!"

"Yes, that's it! His name was on the Emeritus Plaque. You know, Harry, that bronze plaque over the main entrance doors as you exit?"

Harry shook his head. "I guess I've never paid that much attention to it."

"I've paid attention.  I wound up reading it just about every time I waited for you to get out of Potions to take me to dinner in the Great Hall last year," Ginny smiled faintly. "When I wasn't studying for my OWLs, anyway."

"Well, if it is him, let's hope that he can resist the Imperius charm -- and doesn't want to help Voldemort," Harry muttered.

***

The Daily Prophet had little to add over the next few days, merely reporting on the dead and injured from the Death Eater attack. Harry found himself angry and lost in thought increasingly often as the days passed, and many times would be silent and aloof. As it turned out, the death toll from the attack was higher than first estimated, and for each new name added to the list, Harry grieved. He felt responsible, somehow, just because he had been used by Voldemort and his Death Eaters to restore the Dark Lord to life.  That began to wear on Ginny, who felt somewhat left out of Harry's life.  Her attempts to start or carry on a conversation were sometimes met with a look of such infinite sadness that she felt as if she was intruding, and Harry often seemed distracted and out of touch with the everyday things going on around him.

Finally, Ginny took matters into her own hands. She and Harry were sitting at the riverbank when she once more noticed the faraway expression in his eyes, and tried to regain his attention.

"Harry? Harry?" she paused for a moment. "Harry!"

Harry started in surprise, then focused on the red-haired young beauty who had called him out of his reverie. "What?"

"Have you heard anything I've said to you in the last ten minutes?"

"Erm... Sorry, no. I was just thinking --"

"No, you were worrying.  Worrying about that stupid prophecy, and Voldemort, and whatever it is you think you have to do."

"But Ginny --"

"No buts! I know you have cause to worry; We all do, as long as Voldemort is out there.  But you can't take it all on your own shoulders -- you'll collapse from the weight of that responsibility," huffed Ginny.

"But the prophecy --"

"Hang the prophecy!" she shouted. "You want a prophecy? I will give you one! Harry Potter will not face Voldemort alone!"

"Ginny, how can you say that?" yelled Harry.

"Because it's true.  Moreover, I do not have to be a seer to know it. If you were thinking at all, you would know it too.  You will have Dumbledore, all of the Order, Ron, Hermione, and most everyone from Hogwarts to back you up!  And you'll have me!" she declared.

"Ginny, no, you can't --" he began.

"Yes I can! Harry, can't you get it through that thick skull of yours that you will never have to face Voldemort alone? You don't have to! Understand?" she screamed at him.

"But I can't let him hurt you -- you, or anyone else,"

"Damn it, Harry! If he wants to hurt someone, you will not be able to stop him! It's not your responsibility!" Ginny's eyes filled with tears that ran down her face.

Harry gathered her into his arms and tried to hold her as she tried to pull away. Ginny sobbed with frustration, her face red with anger.

"Damn it, Harry, let go!" she struggled in his arms. Finally, her emotions made her break down completely as he held her tight and tried to comfort her, as her tears soaked the front of his shirt.

"Ginny, please -- don't cry. I'm sorry, I... I know what you are trying to say. But that doesn't mean I won't worry.  As long as he's out there, I'll worry -- worry that maybe I've put you, or Ron, or Hermione, or any of your family or our friends in danger, just by being around you." Harry's voice was tight with emotion, and his hand was gently rubbing her back as he spoke.  "I know I can't do everything, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to try. I have to -- you mean too much to me not to."

She sniffed, wiping her eyes, but stayed in Harry's embrace. "I-- I know that.  But knowing it doesn't really help when you shut me out.  Harry, I know you will have to face Voldemort someday, but that doesn't mean I want it to happen any sooner than it has to. Every time you push me away because you're afraid for me, I know you don't really mean it.  But it still hurts."

"Ginny, I'm sorry --"

"Harry Potter, I love you! I want us to have a life together -- I want to spend the rest of my life with you, I want us to get married, I want us to have children –"

Harry stiffened slightly at Ginny's speech, then smiled faintly.  "-- I want us to live to a ripe old age in a world without Voldemort and his followers," Ginny continued. "I know that isn't going to happen unless Voldemort is gone, and I know that stupid prophecy says it's either you or him. But let us have whatever time we can have together.  Please, Harry? Please?" She wrapped her arms around him and held tight.

Harry tightened his own embrace, holding her close, and kissed the top of her head.  He took a deep breath, then blew it out. Whispering into her ear, he said, "Yes."

***

Security all over the wizarding community had been doubled, then redoubled.  Warding Spells were placed nearly everywhere, the Ministry of Magic had announced that all Floo Network activity would be monitored, special Apparation points for arrivals and departures were now in place and everyone found, at some point during their day, the watchful eyes of the Aurors sweeping over them.  Diagon Alley seemed all but deserted when Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Harry stepped through the magical opening in the wall behind the Leaky Cauldron. They had used the Floo Network to come to London, and were now required to check in at the Auror Station that had been placed at the gateway between the Muggle world and Diagon Alley.

"Names, please?" asked the Auror on duty, a middle-aged man with the stance that cried ‘Military man'. His salt-and-pepper hair was cut short, and he wore the insignia of a Major on his collar. He smiled reassuringly as he placed a quick-quotes quill on the parchment on his clipboard.

"Molly Weasley, with son and daughter, Ronald and Ginevra. Also Hermione Granger, and Harry Potter. We're here to get them their supplies for Hogwarts."

"The Aurors thank you for your cooperation, ma'am.  We hope you understand why the Ministry of Magic deems this necessary."

"Not a problem, Mr. --" she paused momentarily to read his nametag, "--Elderwort.  We know it is for our own safety. We're glad you're here."

"Thank you, ma'am. Enjoy your shopping trip."

The first stop was Gringots, where Harry needed to make a withdrawal, and Hermione needed to change Muggle money for Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts.  Harry noticed that there were many more guards than had been usual in the past, including one at every teller's post. The goblin at the counter they went to was backed up by a grim-looking wizard who held his wand at the ready as he watched, his eyes darting to look in every direction.

After Gringots, the next stop was Flourish and Blotts for the texts required at Hogwarts.  Hermione had hers in hand within two minutes of entering the shop, and was now perusing a selection of other titles that she stated were, "Rather interesting." Ron and Mrs. Weasley were sorting through the used books, while Ginny stayed with Harry, her hand in his as they walked up and down the aisles.

Harry found himself pulled to a sudden stop as Ginny paused to look at a stack of books.

"What's caught your interest, Ginny?"

"Look at this, Harry. The Hogwarts Edition of the One Volume Encyclopaedia of Spells, Potions, Charms, Transfigurations, and Divination." She had picked up a volume and was paging through it even as she spoke. "Maybe this could help you study for your NEWTs. It seems to have everything in it that we've learned since we started at Hogwarts."

"Everything?"

"Well," Ginny paused as she flipped to the end of the book, "There seems to be everything I've studied, but --"

"But what?"

"There are an awful lot of blank pages here at the end."

"Blank pages?" Harry leaned over Ginny's shoulder to look at the book. "Where?"

"Right here's where they start," she pointed.

"Erm, Ginny?"

"What, Harry?"

"Have you had your eyes checked recently?"

"What?  Why do you ask that?"

"Because I can see a lot of writing on that page you say is blank."

"A lot of -- Where?  The page is perfectly blank, Harry.  Maybe you need a new pair of glasses."

Hermione giggled behind them, "I bought that last year. It does have writing beyond where you find it, Ginny.  You just cannot see it yet. Look at the title page."

Ginny leafed to the front of the book. There, she read:

The Hogwarts Edition of

The One Volume Encyclopaedia

of Spells, Potions, Charms,

Transfigurations and Divination

The entire curriculum of

The Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

in a Single Volume

A Note to the Purchaser:

This volume is enchanted to display only those courses already taken by the Hogwarts or Other School Student to prevent the Exploration of Magic beyond the readers assured ability

"The rest of the pages become visible only after you've taken the course it refers to," explained Hermione. "That's why my copy doesn't show many of the things taught in Divination, and you can't see anything beyond what you've already studied. You can't use it to study ahead, but it is a great help in revising what you've already learned."

"So if it's obviously a review of what you've already learned, does your copy have extra pages? Extra chapters? How many volumes are you up to now?" grinned Ron, teasing Hermione as he joined the threesome.

Hermione ignored him. "You really should get a copy, Harry. It will be very useful this coming term."

"Erm..." Harry paused, looking back and forth between Hermione and the book in Ginny's hands.  "If you recommend it -- Yes, I'll get a copy." He picked a volume off the display and added it to the books already in his hands.

After another quarter-hour spent choosing copies of the required texts and books of interest, the entire group went on to visit Madame Malkins, where both Hermione and Ginny were to be fitted with new dress robes. Hermione chose a deep royal blue coloured gown that moulded to her figure and made Ron's eyes bug out and his ears turn red when she modelled it for him, while Ginny preferred a somewhat looser cut in dark emerald green that seemed demure enough until she turned around and showed that the back of the dress was very low-cut.  Harry turned a bit pink at that sight, and found himself imagining what it would feel like to be dancing with Ginny and have his hands on that bare skin.

"I take it that you approve of my choice, Harry?" smiled Ginny.

Harry tried several times before finding his voice. "Erm... uhh... I mean -- You look wonderful, Ginny."

"Are you sure that's the dress robe you want, Ginny dear? Aren't you afraid it's a bit... immodest?" asked Mrs. Weasley who was also a bit pink in the face.

Ginny smiled at her mother. "Well, there was one other that caught my eye. Should I go try it on before I decide?"

"That might be best, dear."

Ginny returned to the dressing room while Madame Malkin oversaw the fitting of Hermione's gown. When she returned a few minutes later, Harry's mouth dropped open, Ron gave an almost inaudible squeak, Hermione said in a very quiet voice, "Oh, Ginny!" and Mrs. Weasley  almost shouted, "Ginevra Molly Weasley! The very idea!"

The pale cream-coloured dress robe she wore hugged Ginny's figure in such a manner that it seemed she had been poured into it, the deep V-neck exposing a very great deal of fair freckled skin, cleavage, and her navel while the slit sides of the skirt exposed shapely freckled legs to the upper thigh with every step.

"You don't like it, mother? It is a bit more expensive than we can really afford, but I think it's rather fetching."

"Ginevra Weasley, the Hogwarts teaching staff wouldn't let you in if you appeared in that dress, I'd be mortified, and your father would disown you!"

"Oh, then perhaps I'd better take the other one? It is much less expensive, and I know it would be acceptable."

"Yes, yes, get the other one -- it's much more preferable," answered Mrs. Weasley

"Well, if you say so..." she replied, and headed back to the dressing room.

Harry caught the small smile and wink she gave to Hermione as she turned away, and almost grinned himself. He had the sneaking suspicion that it really was the green robes that Ginny preferred, and that she had chosen the other merely as a means of getting approval for her first choice. "I'd best remember she does that," he thought to himself.

***

The final purchases of the day were new brass cauldrons for the teens, followed by a brief stop at the Auror Station to get out of Diagon Alley, then a stop at the Leaky Cauldron for some refreshments.  Harry purchased Butterbeers for everyone, and they sat down to enjoy them at a table to the back of the pub. The small talk swiftly turned to the coming year at Hogwarts, and the upcoming NEWTs.  Mrs. Weasley explained the manner in which she had taken her NEWTs at Hogwarts twenty-odd years before, pointing out that while there was a great deal of memorization, the hardest portions were those requiring solutions to posed problems that required research and were not part of the Hogwarts Curriculum.

Harry was enjoying the conversation when his gaze wandered to the front door as it opened and a tall, thin and somewhat stooped Wizard entered the pub carrying a carpetbag valise and an armful of books and bound papers. Thick bifocal glasses perched on the mans eagle beak of a nose, hair of silvery white grew at the temples, while darker hair receded from the forehead, and laugh lines creased the corners of  mismatched eyes, one a pale watery green, the other a  blue so deep it appeared almost purple. His dark grey robes, while of good quality, nonetheless had stains and burn marks that marred the front.

The wizard walked swiftly to the bar, speaking to Tom the bartender in hushed but urgent tones. Harry caught the words, "...Hogwarts teacher..." and "...Dumbledore..." before the man turned and hurried to the fireplace and tossed a pinch of Floo Powder into the flames. A flash of green flame flared up, the wizard stepped into the fire, cried out "Hogwarts!" and was gone.

"I think that was our new Potions Master at Hogwarts," said Harry as he turned back to the table.

"Where?" asked Ron, turning his head so swiftly that Harry could hear the popping of neck vertebrae and ligaments.

"He just left by the Floo Network."

"And you didn't point him out sooner?" Ron whined.

"He was in a bit of a hurry. I didn't really have a chance..."

"What did he look like?  Was he anything like Snape?" asked Ginny.

"I can't say -- he looked a bit older than Professor McGonagall, but he hurried in and out again so fast I couldn't get a real good look at him.  He talked to Tom for a minute or two, and I heard him say something about Dumbledore and a Hogwarts teacher," explained Harry.

Ron looked across the room and called out, "Oi, Tom! Who was that bloke that just left by Floo?"

Tom paused from wiping the top of the bar, and looked up. "What, you mean th' teacher from Hogwarts?"

"Yeah -- Who is he?"

"Why, that'd be Professor Far--" Tom paused for the briefest of moments, "--Professor Farthinwald -- 'e taught there some years back, and Dumbledore 'as asked 'im to come back.  'E'll be teaching Potions."

Chapter Four

"Did it seem like Tom was hiding something?" asked Hermione after the four teenagers had returned home.  They were lazing about by the bank of the river along the edge of The Burrow's grounds, enjoying the last few hours of sunshine.

"He did seem a bit evasive about Professor Farthinwald. Did you notice how he sort of stumbled over the name?" replied Ginny.

"Tom also said he'd taught at Hogwarts before," added Ron.

"Harry, would you recognize him if you saw his picture?" Hermione asked, the look that usually meant hours of research in the library on her face as she opened her book bag and pulled out a large volume.

"I think so. Do you think there's a picture of him in there?" Harry asked in return, gesturing to the battered copy of Hogwarts: A History that Hermione was now leafing through.

"If he taught at Hogwarts, there will be," she replied, not looking up from the book.

Minutes passed as Hermione continued to scan the pages, sometimes flipping back to a previously looked-at page, then jumping ahead to the page where a reference made it seem possible she would find the information she sought. As she searched, her lips tightened in frustration, until finally she said, "Here!"

"You found him?"

"No -- but there's a complete listing of all the teachers past and present, and each one has a picture.  Here, Harry, see if you can spot him."

Harry took the tome and began to run his finger down the page. He flipped to the next page, then the next, continuing to search for the face of the new Potions Master. It seemed that the pictures and information were listed in Chronological order, making the search more difficult, but Harry kept at it.  Nearly a half-hour later, after several interruptions to add to the conversation around him, he stopped, his finger marking a page, and looked up.  "I've found him."

The others crowded closer to look, and Harry pointed. The Wizard in the photograph was obviously younger than the man he had seen in The Leaky Cauldron, but other than darker hair and fewer wrinkles, he had not changed much. The two mismatched eyes, pale green and dark purple-blue, stared out of the photograph as the potions instructor scratched his head. Harry's finger slid down the page to the short paragraph that accompanied the photo.

"His name isn't Farthinwald.  It's Robespierre Farmwood," said Harry.

"The doctor from the States that The Daily Prophet said was kidnapped?" asked Ginny.

"It appears they're one and the same," frowned Harry. All went silent for a moment as each looked at the three others, a single question burning at their minds – "Why?"

***

Once more, the members of the Order of the Phoenix had gathered at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place in secret to plot strategy.  Their numbers had grown over the past year as the Ministry of Magic had recognized them officially, though their existence as a counterespionage unit was still a Priority One Government Secret. Aurors from throughout the wizarding world now found their way to the hidden house and had succeeded in removing most of the taint and artefacts left there by the Black Family, save for the single portrait of Mrs. Black, Sirius' mother, which defied all attempts at removal.  Judicious use of silencing spells, however, had seriously diminished the outbursts of the raging portrait, which now could only mouth obscenities and shake her fists at whoever wandered too close.

One major difference this year was that Harry was now in the thick of things, taking part in strategy sessions, voicing opinions that were listened to and making suggestions that were adopted, as a full-fledged member of the Order, alongside Remus, Tonks, Mad-Eye Moody, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill Weasley and Dumbledore, as well as all the others. Fred and George were there as well, along with Ron and Hermione.  Even Ginny sat in on some of the sessions, though she seldom offered any input or made comments. He found it somewhat disturbing that so many of the Order's newer members seemed to defer to his judgment, but Dumbledore had explained it quite well.

"They're just as scared of what might happen as you are, Harry, and they want someone to lead them.  You've faced Voldemort and his Death Eaters and survived more times than anyone else, so by experience alone you've become their primus inter pares leader," the Hogwarts Headmaster had said. "Take it as a complement to their faith in you -- they believe you'll make all the difference in the war to come and that belief is a very powerful weapon for our side."

This, however, was the final night before Harry and his friends would travel to Hogwarts to start the school year and prepare for the NEWTs, most of which were scheduled for the final month of classes. Harry found himself wandering alone through the house, disinterestedly poking into corners, behind doors, and into unused rooms, his preparations for his final year at Hogwarts finished early.

He finally wound up in the attic. A single window, grimy with dust and cobwebs, allowed light from the streetlamps outside to dimly illuminate the space, which ran the entire length of the house. A number of boxes, some old furniture covered with sheets and a large trunk was pushed off to one side, leaving most of the space clear. Harry had been staring out the window, watching the Muggle traffic pass by, their headlights and taillights creating diamond and ruby sparkles as they reflected off the cobwebs, when he heard the creak of a footstep on the stairway down to the third floor. Turning, he saw the light of a lantern move up the attic stairwell, held by Ginny, who paused near the top of the stairs. 

"Harry, are you up here?" she called out, though not loudly.

"Over here by the window, Ginny," he replied.

Ginny made her way across the open expanse of the attic floor toward him, then extinguished the lantern. "I wanted to talk with you before we leave for Hogwarts tomorrow," she said in a low voice, almost a conspiratorial whisper.

"About what?"

"About... us," Ginny seemed unusually serious as she answered.

"What about us?" he asked in puzzlement.

"Harry, do you ever think about what you might do after Voldemort is defeated?"

"He's not defeated yet, Ginny."

"I know -- but that isn't what I asked. What do you see yourself doing with the rest of your life, if -- when he's gone?" She looked up into his eyes, waiting for an answer.

"I -- I've thought about it. Quite a bit, in fact." He took a deep breath before continuing.  "I know I'm going to be an Auror, and that there will still be Death Eaters to ferret out, even after he's defeated. I want to try to set things right in this world, and keep any evil like Voldemort from ever happening again. I want to... want to..." he paused, his mouth suddenly dry. The light from outside the window spilled across the two of them, illuminating her face as she waited for his answer. Her eyes shone unnaturally bright and Harry thought he saw her lower lip tremble a bit.  "I want to spend the rest of my life with you." He folded his arms around her, and drew her close, kissing her on the forehead.

She responded by burying her face in his chest and hugging him closer. "I want that, too," came a muffled reply. She tilted her face upwards, then stood on tiptoe to brush her lips against his. "I want it more than anything else in the world.  That's why we need to talk." Ginny pulled away slightly.

"Harry, I --" she said at the same moment he said, "Ginny, will--" 

They both smiled. "You go first," they said in unison, and then broke out in laughter. Harry then took the opportunity to bend down and kiss her gently, silencing the laughter. When they pulled apart moments later, he whispered, "You first, Ginny."

"All right. Harry, do you remember what I asked you a couple of weeks back?  The day I got mad at you for trying to do everything by yourself?" Her demeanor showed how serious she was being.

Harry smiled wryly. "Yes, I think so."

"You remember that I asked you to give us whatever time we could have together?" she continued.

She was quivering with emotion, so focused on him that he felt compelled to answer. "Yes?" Harry wondered where Ginny was going with this conversation.

"Harry, will you... will you marry me?"

Harry momentarily felt his knees tremble and his stomach give an odd lurch. His heart seemed to race and grow larger, and a feeling of warm contentment suffused his entire being. Enfolding Ginny in a hug, he held her close. "Ginny," he replied, his voice thick with emotion, "I... I want to say yes, but --"

She looked up at him with no-nonsense eyes that showed her heritage had most definitely come down the line of Mrs. Weasley, "No buts, Harry.  Yes or no -- Will you marry me?"

Harry's mind was racing. There, in the semi-darkness of the attic, he held her tightly, hardly daring to breathe as he tried to organize his thoughts. After a long moment, he loosened his embrace with one hand, which snaked down to his pocket and pulled out his wand. 

Ginny swallowed hard, her throat tightened and she began to shake with anxiety and fear. Was he going to reject her plea? What would she do if he did?

"Accio Carborundus Immortalis," he whispered, far too softly to be heard, putting a particular image to the forefront of his mind. Moments later, a small box whizzed up the stairwell and into his hand.

Harry released her and turned toward the window momentarily, a smile on his lips, hiding the box that was in his hand from her view.  Swiftly he opened it and removed the contents, slipped the now empty box into a pocket, then turned back to her, his face now a frozen mask.

"Ginny, you're asking for an answer to a question that has -- that will take time to think about.  I don't want to rush into anything we aren't ready for -- I want both of us to be sure we are prepared for that step," Harry was shaking ever so slightly as he spoke. "Let me ask you this -- if our positions were reversed, if it were you who was fated to either kill or be killed by Voldemort, and I asked you that same question, what would your answer be?"

Ginny started to answer, then paused, thinking.  After several moments, she looked into his eyes once more. "I don't know, Harry. I -- I've never thought about it that way before. With that uncertainty looming in the future, I guess I'd have some reservations, too." Her eyes welled up with sudden tears.

"Do you now understand now why I worry so much?" he asked. "It isn't just facing Voldemort; It's facing the possibility that I wouldn't be able to be there for you if I were to lose. I never want to hurt you that way.  Ever!" His eyes shut for a moment as he took a deep breath. "Now let me ask you another question."

"O-Okay," she sniffed.

He stepped back and took her left hand in his. "Ginevra Weasley, I love you. I love you more than anything else in this life, and someday I want to be able to give you everything you've asked for -- time together, marriage, a family, everything."

"Someday…" she repeated softly, suddenly sure he was going to reject her.

"Answer this question for me, and then I'll answer yours," said Harry. "Are you really willing to take the chance that I might not survive, that I might leave you a widow at a very young age if we were to marry?"

Ginny hesitated only the briefest of moments before answering. "I -- I -- I want us to be together, no matter what," she sobbed. "I want to hold you in my arms at night in bed, I want to wake up at your side in the morning, and I want to do that every day for the rest of our lives, no matter if it's only a single day or a thousand years." Tears were now streaming down her face, her lower lip quivering as she waited for the negative confirmation.

"Ginny, it's a decision I came to months ago.  I want those very same things," his eyes bored into hers with intensity.  "So I'll gladly say yes, but only on one condition," Harry sounded more serious at that moment than he had ever sounded in the time she had known him.

"C-condition?" she asked, a sudden ray of hope lighting her eyes.

"A very important condition, a crucial condition." Harry dropped to one knee. "Will you say yes to this question?  Will you do me the very great honour of becoming my wife?" He held out his hand, and a glittering sparkle danced in the streetlight through the window, revealing that he held a gold ring adorned by a many-faceted diamond.

Ginny stepped back, a look of surprise on her face that very swiftly turned to joy. "Yes, Harry, yes!" she cried, wrapping her arms around him, knocking him to the floor and kissing him repeatedly. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, YES!"

Harry slipped the diamond ring onto the ring finger of Ginny's left hand, and then took time to draw her into a loving embrace and kiss her passionately.

Minutes later they broke apart, laughing, their clothes covered with dust from the floor. Harry climbed to his feet and looked deeply into Ginny's eyes, glittering pools of warmth and love, as he helped her to stand up. "I bought that ring months ago, but I was going to wait to ask you until after I finished with my NEWTs next year.  I have already asked your parent's permission to ask you, and got their blessing, but you rather beat me to the punch. I'm glad you did." He kissed her again.

"Harry, I love you.  When should we have the wedding? I mean, I want to get married soon, but not right away.  I still have two years of school, you still have another year before you can start Auror training, and --"

"... It's not that critical yet," he interrupted.  "I agree, we're going to have to wait a while. I want to have a position and an income before we marry, and I want you to be able to finish school. Voldemort's still out there, but I'm taking your ‘prophecy' to heart -- I really believe I won't have to do it all alone anymore," He smiled gently. "I think we should just enjoy our engagement for now, and make plans for the wedding at a later date, perhaps after we've finished school. Okay?"

"Whatever you decide, Mr. Potter." Ginny smiled and reached up to kiss him again.

"No, Ginny -- Whatever WE decide."  He closed the gap between them and held her close as their lips met.  When they broke apart for air, he smiled at her. "Mrs. Ginevra Potter -- that has a nice sound to it."

"It has a wonderful sound to it, Harry.  Harry and Ginny Potter!  Ginny and Harry Potter! Mr. and Mrs. Harry Potter!" She broke off into giggles that swiftly turned to uproarious laughter shared by the two of them.

"Oi, what's all that racket up there?" came a voice from the stairwell, and a pair of red-haired freckle-faced heads popped into view.

 "Harry? Ginny? What are you doing up here in the dark?" asked one.

"And why are your clothes all mussed and dusty?" asked the other.

"Why -- Harry Potter! What the bloody hell are you doing with our sister?" yelled Fred and George simultaneously, outrage darkening their features as they clenched their fists.

From the floors below came the sound of running feet and urgent voices, and moments later, Fred and George were pushed up into the attic proper by the press of people behind them. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were at the forefront, followed closely by Ron and Bill, with Remus, Hermione, Tonks, Mad-Eye and the rest of the members of the Order of the Phoenix who were present bringing up the rear.

"Ginevra Weasley! What do you think you're doing?" railed Mrs. Weasley. "And Harry! What is the meaning of this?  What's going on up here?"

"We were kissing, mum. That's what a newly engaged couple do," said Ginny calmly.

"Kissing? With your clothes all mussed up and –" Molly Weasley stopped in mid-tirade, her eyes widening. "Did you say engaged?"

Ginny held out her left hand, displaying the ring on her finger, smiling as she did so.

"Erm, Harry?" said Mr. Weasley, a slight frown on his face. "I thought we had agreed that you would wait until --"

"I asked him first, Daddy. I couldn't wait any longer," interrupted Ginny.

"Ginny --"

"We're not running out and getting married tonight, Daddy," she continued in a calm and reasonable voice. "We're probably going to wait until both of us are out of school. We just wanted to know that it will eventually happen, a promise to each other for the future."

"But --"

"Mr. Weasley, you knew I was going to ask Ginny to marry me," said Harry, interrupting this time. "I truly had intended to wait until the end of the school year, but plans don't always go off as we might wish. When she asked me, I just knew it was the right time."

Arthur Weasley still held on to a calm demeanour, but his face was getting redder with each passing moment. "All right, Harry, but --"

"That's enough, Arthur. What's done is done," said Mrs. Weasley. "It happened a bit sooner than we expected, that's all. Harry, Ginny -- I know you love each other, and I believe you are both sensible enough to wait until the time is right.  Arthur and I are happy to give you our blessing. Isn't that right, Arthur?"

Mr. Weasley looked sharply at his wife, and then shifted his gaze to his daughter and Harry. "Well, I still think it's too soon --" he started before Molly elbowed him in the ribs, "-- Oof! -- But as Molly said, what is done is done.

"Harry, you know I want what's best for the two of you," he continued after a short pause. "You've been like part of the family for years, anyway, so this isn't going to change things a great deal -- it's only going to make it official. " He held out his hand. "Welcome to the family, son! Just promise me you'll take care of my little girl."

Harry grinned as he shook Mr. Weasley's hand. "I'll do my best not to disappoint you, sir."

"Hmmmmmm -- All right. But don't call me sir -- it sounds too formal.  Just call me Dad."

"If that's what you want, si – Dad," Harry smiled.

"That's much better," grinned Mr. Weasley. "So let's go downstairs and celebrate this occasion properly. Bill, Ron, Fred, George, everyone -- clear out of the way.  Let Harry and Ginny have a few moments alone.  Move on, everyone -- they'll be down in a few minutes."

Ginny ran to her father and hugged him. "Thank you, Daddy!" she whispered into his ear, and kissed him on the cheek before turning and hugging her mother. "Thank you, Mum."

Yes, dear. Congratulations. But I still have one question," her eyes twinkled even as her face became a mask showing distrust, "-- how did your clothes get so mussed and dusty just kissing?"

***

The celebration lasted much longer than Harry had expected, as everyone in the house was both excited and wanting to hear how it had happened. He left the explanations to Ginny, who now seemed to glow with an inner beauty that complemented the love that was so plain on her face whenever she looked at him, and contented himself with standing at her side and saying "Thank You" to all the congratulations they received. Finally, Mrs. Weasley broke things up by telling everyone that Harry and Ginny still had to pack for the trip to Hogwarts in the morning and sent them up to their rooms.

"I don't really have that much left to pack," murmured Ginny, her hand in his as they climbed the stairway. "Just my dress robes and books. Give me five minutes to finish with those, then I'll come and say goodnight, Harry." She gave him a swift peck on the cheek and scurried down the hallway to her room.

Harry paused to watch her go, a grin on his face, and then headed in the opposite direction to the room he was sharing with Ron. The room was dark when he got there, with only the light from the streetlamps outside shining through the window. As he stepped into the room and reached for his wand to light the lamp, the door slammed shut, and his arms were gripped from behind. He was roughly thrown onto the bed as the lamp was lit, revealing the four Weasley brothers, Bill, Fred, George, and Ron, surrounding him, their faces contorted with anger. He swallowed nervously before saying, "What's the big ide--"

"Shut up, Potter," said Bill, his voice pitched menacingly. "We'll ask the questions."

"Yeah," said the twins in tandem.

"I thought you were my friend, Harry. How could you do this?" asked Ron.

"I thought --" said Harry before he was interrupted.

"No, you didn't think. We're not stupid, Harry," said George.

"We know what you were doing with Ginny in the attic. Now we want an explanation," said Fred, grinding his fist into the palm of his other hand.

Harry looked from brother to brother, not knowing what to think or say. He had assumed that since they had been so congratulatory at the celebration that they were accepting of his status as their sister's fiancé.

"I - I only asked Ginny to marry me after she asked me," he started to explain.

"Not that, you stupid git," said Ron.

"Yeah," said the twins.

"We want to know why you didn't tell US you were going to ask her? How could you keep that a secret? We could have planned something special for the two of you!" said Bill as he loomed over the younger man.

"Yeah, like a quiet dinner with candlelight and violins in a fancy restaurant." This came from Fred, who was shaking his head.

"Or a day out in the country beside a waterfall with a picnic," added George.

"Not some dusty old attic -- Where's your sense of romance, Harry? That's our little sister, and we only want the best for her," grumbled Ron, clenching his fists.

"You'll just have to make it up to her somehow," added Bill, "so we came up with this list of suggestions." He handed Harry a roll of parchment. "We do hope you'll take this as brotherly advice... advice that REALLY shouldn't be ignored."

"Yeah!" said the twins in unison.

"You WILL do something better for her, won't you Harry?" asked Ron. "We really don't want you going to the altar in a body cast..."

The grin on Ron's face told Harry that he was probably joking, but he decided that he did not really want to take a chance that he was not.  After all, there were four of them -- six, with Charlie and Percy -- and only the one of him. "Erm, sure. I wouldn't want to disappoint you-- her in any way."

"Good," all four of them said in unison. "Remember that." and with that final warning, Bill and the twins trooped out of the room, the twins humming Mendelssohn's "Wedding March" as they went.

Ron looked at him for a moment, a silly grin on his face before he started to speak. "Hope we didn't scare you too badly. We were just a little disappointed in your choice of locale for something as important as asking Ginny to marry you. Not to mention that you didn't see fit to share something as important as that with your best friend," he grumbled at this last sentence, and Harry was not quite sure whether he was serious.

"Ron, it wasn't by choice -- the time was just right for both of us. I had planned to wait until I had finished my NEWTs at Hogwarts, and then take her to Brighton Beach to pop the question," explained Harry. "There's a great little restaurant there that specializes in Italian cuisine, and it's probably the most romantic place I know. Every table sits in an alcove with curtains, so you have privacy, the only light is candlelight, the food is great, and they have a violinist who can be hired to play romantic music outside the curtain." 

"It's that good?" asked Ron.

"Definitely. She'll love it, I promise."

***

Ginny took less than five minutes to finish her packing, and felt like she was floating the whole time.

"Well, you certainly look happy, Ginny." Hermione had come upstairs to finish her own packing. "Was it romantic?"

"Oh, yes. He got down on his knee and was quite formal about the whole thing. And that he had the ring waiting when he asked me -- it was WONDERFUL!"

"Show me again," Hermione said, and waited for Ginny to extend her hand. The lamp flame flickered as she did so, making the diamond sparkle in its setting.

"You're so lucky!" Hermione sighed. "Sometimes I wonder if Ron is ever going to pop the question. I almost think I'll have to ask him to get him to think about it."

"Well, my brother has always been a bit thick, but I wouldn't worry too much. I believe he's got a nudge in that direction tonight." Ginny laughed. "That is, if he was paying any attention at all to Harry."

Hermione laughed too. "Maybe if I set off some fireworks..." she said jokingly.

"You might try that. I'm going to go say goodnight to Harry -- Want to come along and do the same for Ron?"

"Why not?  Hit him while the notion of marriage is still at hand!" she laughed.

The two young women giggled softly as they walked out the bedroom door and down the hall, just as Bill, Fred and George exited Ron and Harry's room.

"Hi, sis -- Congratulations," said Bill, picking her up in a hug and twirling around, then planting a kiss on her cheek before setting her down.

"Thank you, Bill."

"What he said," piped up the twins as they each kissed a cheek at the same time.

The three brothers headed on down the hall to the stairway, and Ginny was sure she heard the twins humming wedding music as they descended.

"What was that all about?" asked Hermione. "Think they were giving Harry a hard time?"

"Probably -- you know how Fred and George are, and Bill wouldn't hesitate to jump in, either," giggled Ginny.

As they approached the door, they heard Harry and Ron speaking, and paused to listen.

"...take her to Brighton Beach to pop the question. There is a great little muggle restaurant there that specializes in Italian cuisine, and it is probably the most romantic place I know. Every table sits in a curtained alcove so you have privacy, the only light is candlelight, the food is great, and they have a violinist who can be hired to play romantic music outside the curtain."

"It's that good?" asked Ron.

"Definitely. She'll love it, I promise."

Ginny grasped Hermione's arm and pulled her back toward their bedroom. "Did you hear that?" she whispered as they retreated.

"Yes. And it sounded like --"

"Ron was asking Harry about where to ‘pop the question'! " Ginny was almost jumping up and down with excitement. "I think my big brother has taken the hint!"

"Are you sure? Maybe we misunderstood --"

"No, no, that has to be it! He's going to take you out to dinner and ask you to marry him!"

"Do you really think so?"

"What else could it be? Oh, Hermione, just think about it -- maybe we could have a double wedding!"

"Oh, yes! With red roses --"

"And an orchestra at the reception --" continued Ginny.

"All our friends invited --" Hermione clapped her hands excitedly.

"In the gardens, with champagne --" Plans were being generated with every sentence exchanged.

"It will be so romantic," they finished together, hugging each other.

"But we can't let Ron know we know," said Ginny. "He has to think it's going to be a surprise."

"I agree -- besides, it's going to be so much fun!" Hermione was just as excited as Ginny. "I wonder when he plans to ask me?"

"It can't be too far away -- I think he'll ask you at Christmas, when you'll have a chance to go to Brighton together."

"That's got to be it. Oh, Ginny, isn't it wonderful? We're both going to get married!"

"Yes! Just think about it -- Mrs. Hermione Weasley and Mrs. Ginevra Potter!"

"Hermione Granger-Weasley, please! I still intend to have a career."

"Of course. But I'd better get down there and say goodnight, or Harry will think I've forgotten all about him."

"I can't go yet -- I won't be able to keep a straight face.  You go ahead, and tell Ron I'll be along to say goodnight as soon as I finish packing."

***

"I was beginning to worry about you," said Harry as he met Ginny in the hallway, his smile broadening as their eyes met. "You said you would be back here in five minutes, not fifteen."

"Sorry, Harry," said Ginny, falling into his embrace, then reaching up to brush her lips against his. "I thought of a few other things -- things I might need, I mean -- and took time to pack them away."

"All right," laughed Harry. He bent down slightly to steal another kiss, only to have Ginny wrap her arms around his neck and prolong the encounter.

"I love you, Harry Potter," she whispered as they finally broke apart.

"And I love you, Ginny Weasley," came Harry's reply. He pulled back slightly to look into her eyes, then slowly leaned forward again, this time to gently kiss her forehead.

"I'm so happy we're engaged, Harry. It's what I've always dreamed of." Ginny laid her head on his shoulder and held him closer.

"You're not disappointed that I asked you in a dingy, dusty attic instead of someplace a little more romantic, are you, Ginny?"

"It WAS romantic, Harry. More romantic than I could imagine. You could have asked me when we were--were--" she paused, "were in a pigsty, and it would have been romantic."

"In a pigsty?" Harry quirked an eyebrow.

"Well -- maybe not in a pigsty. I meant it would be romantic just because you asked."

"You asked first, remember?" Harry laughed.

"But you already had the ring, so you thought of it first. That's romantic by my definition," Ginny turned her head and kissed Harry on the ear.

"Hey, that tickles," he protested, pulling away slightly.

"Oh, it does, does it?" Ginny laughed.

"Oh yes. See?" Harry pulled her close and kissed her ear. It was Ginny's turn to pull away slightly, as a wonderful shiver flowed down her spine.

"I can think of something better to kiss," she murmured, lifting herself on tiptoe toward his face.

"I think I can too," replied Harry, closing the distance between their lips. A long moment passed as a feeling of pure bliss infused them both.

It was Ginny who pulled away first, a smile lighting her face as she did so.  "Hmmmmmm -- I wonder..." she spoke softly.

"You wonder what?" asked Harry, smiling.

"Well, with the two of us getting engaged - I wonder if Ron's ever going to ask Hermione to marry him?"

"When the time is right, I'm sure he will. The time was right for us tonight."

"Yes it was," she smiled. They closed together for another kiss, and then Ginny pulled away once more. "Good-night, Harry. I love you."

I love you, too, Ginny. Good-night." He released her reluctantly and watched her walk away down the hall. She paused as she started to enter the room she was sharing with Hermione, blew him a kiss, and was gone, the door closing quietly.

***

Ginny leaned back against the closed door, a smile on her face, and sighed contentedly. "All right, I've confirmed it. My brother is going to ask you to marry him, Hermione."

"You're sure?"

"Harry as much as told me when I asked him if he thought Ron would ever ask you. His exact words were, 'When the time is right, I'm sure he will.' "

The two young women spent most of the rest of the night talking, making wedding plans and giggling. Ron never did get his goodnight kiss.

Chapter Five

"Ginny, wake up! It's time for breakfast!"

Hermione's voice split her cloud of sleep, and Ginny groaned softly. "Already? Let me sleep five more minutes, please?" She rolled over, pulling the blanket over her head.

"Ginny, you have to get up! We go to Hogwarts today, in just two hours and seventeen minutes!" came Hermione's voice again, and the blanket was pulled away. "We have to be ready when our Portkey goes off!"

One eye cracked open slightly, and Ginny let out a soft moan. "I didn't get enough sleep."

"That's our own fault. We stayed up way too late last night. I'm tired --" Hermione paused to yawn, "-- too."

Ginny sat up and rubbed her eyes, then stopped, slowly lowering her hands and staring at her ring finger. The diamond sparkled in the sunbeam through the window, and a smile spread across her face. "Think Harry and Ron are up yet?"

"I don't know. I haven't heard them, so they might still be asleep."

"If they are, why don't we go wake them?" Mischief sparkled in her eyes as she climbed out of bed and wrapped her dressing gown around herself. "Let's go play 'Sleeping Beauty'."

"Ginny! You don't mean --"

"Oh, yes I do. They will have to get used to it soon, anyway, so a little practice will be just the thing to keep our men happy! Besides, I bet Ron was disappointed you didn't say goodnight to him. Kissing him awake might make up for that!"

"Well... All right. It might be fun to see their expressions."

The two young women crept quietly out of the room and down the hall. The sounds and smells of breakfast being prepared were wafting up the stairway as they passed, and they paused as voices downstairs became audible. "...Yes, normally they would travel to Hogwarts by way of the Hogwarts Express, but due to the heightened security worldwide, the Ministry of Magic has decreed that all students would arrive by Portkey. The train is too big of a risk, too many variables the Ministry cannot control that could cause problems between London and Hogsmeade. That's why it was safer to distribute Portkeys to each student -- they'll arrive at the gates to Hogwarts and be safe on the grounds almost immediately," Mr. Weasley's voice came from below.

"Perhaps so," replied Mrs. Weasley, "but it's a shame that so honoured a tradition has to be set aside."

"Traditions be hanged -- It's safety that matters! Constant Vigilance, I say!" Mad-Eye Moody's voice rumbled.

The two young women hurried on down the hall, and both gave a start and suffered a sudden moment of anxiety when the door to Ron and Harry's room squeaked loudly as they opened it. The two young men were still asleep, Ron snoring as he lay on his back. Harry had tangled himself in his blankets during the night.

Ginny held a finger to her lips and tiptoed to Harry's bedside. Hermione stepped carefully around Ron's bed and then held up three fingers. Ginny nodded at the signal and copied it. The two counted down in unison, then each bent over the sleeping form before them and brushed their lips softly with a kiss. Ron responded by slapping at the air, as if to brush away an insect, while Harry merely smiled in his sleep.

Both girls stifled giggles and then by unspoken agreement repeated the process. This time, Harry reacted by rolling to the side and pulling his legs up, tangling the covers further. Ron once more slapped at the air.

The two exchanged knowing looks and Ginny pointed to Harry's ear. Hermione nodded, a smile of wicked intent on her face. Three, two, one; each bent over and kissed their respective victims right on the inner fold of the ear, flicking them with their tongues and making little sucking noises. Both Ron and Harry started awake with a shout of surprise, cringing away from the unexpected dampness and noise, while the two girls broke into hearty laughter.

"Bloody hell, Hermione," cried Ron, rubbing furiously at his ear, "Why did you do that?" while Harry stared in surprise at Ginny, then broke into laughter himself.

"Time to get up, sleepyhead," giggled Ginny, bending over her fiancé and kissing him.

"Oh, I'm awake now," replied Harry, pulling Ginny down atop him on the bed with a hug, returning the kiss and adding something to it.

Meanwhile, Hermione had sat down on the bed, twisting slightly as she bent at the waist and quieted Ron with a passionate kiss of her own. Several moments of quiet passed, the exchange of kisses growing in passion until --

"Ginevra Weasley! Ronald Weasley! Hermione Granger! Harry Potter! What do you four think you're doing?"

All four of the teens started in surprise. Hermione tried to stand up, but slid off the bed instead, landing with a loud thump, while Ginny rolled herself off Harry, and also fell to the floor. Harry tried to stand quickly on the opposite side of the narrow bed, but the tangled blankets fouled the attempt, making him lose his balance and sprawl sideways onto the bed. Only Ron saw the source of the loud shout, and responded with a cry of his own.

"Mum!"

Molly Weasley stood in the bedroom doorway, hands balled into fists on her hips, her arms akimbo and her face red with both embarrassment and anger. "Please tell me I am not seeing what I think I'm seeing! How long have these shenanigans been going on? What do you have to say for yourselves? I cannot believe you are doing this! How could you? I did not raise my children to behave in this manner! And you Hermione Granger and Harry Potter -- I am sorely disappointed in the both of you!"

"Mum --"

"Acting like this! I cannot believe my eyes! Wallowing in bed like profligates and harlots!"

"Mum --"

"Dear heavens above, please tell me the four of you at least had the sense to use protective spells and potio --"

"Mum!" Ginny out-shouted her mother, causing Molly to pause in mid-tirade long enough for her to say, "We were only kissing!"

"Kissing? Is that what you call it? Rolling around in your nightclothes and--" Molly's shouts cut off suddenly, causing the room to become silent, though she continued to mouth words for a few seconds more, apparently the recipient of a silencing spell.

From behind her came a voice that seemed calm in comparison, "Will someone please tell me what's going on here?"

Both Ginny and Hermione had regained their feet and both tried to explain at the same time that Ron started to deny any knowledge of what had happened other than being woken. The ensuing babble made no sense whatsoever to any listener and a commanding voice shouted, "Quiet!"

By this time, Harry had unwound the sheet and blanket from where he had tangled in it and stood up, while Mrs. Weasley had turned and glared at the person just outside the door. There stood Mr. Weasley, his wand in hand and doing a fair bit of glaring himself.

"Harry, why don't you tell me why my wife is so upset," he commanded.

Harry started to answer, but was cut off by Ginny's raised voice. "It's my fault, Daddy . Ron and Harry were asleep and I convinced Hermione that we should wake them up with kisses. Mum came in, caught us in mid-kiss and jumped to the wrong conclusion."

"Hermione, is that what happened?" asked Mr. Weasley.

Hermione was flushed red with embarrassment and answered with a nod of her head. Arthur shifted his gaze to his son.

"That's what woke me up, Dad. I -- erm..." his ears flushed a deep red, "I, uhm, kind of returned the favour."

"Me, too, sir. It really wasn't all Ginny's fault -- she wouldn't have let things get very far..." Harry trailed off, realizing just how what he had said might sound as Mr. Weasley quirked an eyebrow and turned his gaze directly toward him.

"I see," he replied and then looked at his wife. She was quite red in the face with anger, but he shook his head and it appeared she started to calm down. "Finito Incantatum!"

"Arthur, what are you going to do? How do we punish such behaviour?" Mrs. Weasley was no longer shouting, but the anger in her voice and her demeanour definitely signified trouble in the not too distant future.

He turned his gaze to the four teens. "Hermione, Ginevra, will you please return to your room and get dressed. I'll speak to you in a few minutes." The two girls acquiesced silently and edged past Mrs. Weasley to disappear down the hallway. "Ronald, Harry -- I am not pleased with your behaviour this morning. I fear there is not sufficient time for me to speak to you properly before you leave for Hogwarts, but you will not get out of listening to what I have to say. I will be arranging to visit you both at Hogwarts as soon as possible. In the meantime, I want you to think about what happened today, and to consider just what we think might have occurred --" he fixed his gaze on Harry, "-- if Molly hadn't come in when she did. Now get dressed and get down to breakfast."

His voice had been calm, but intense as he spoke. Coupled with the hardened stare he used as he looked at them, it was more than effective. Ron and Harry both were pulling clothing out of their trunks before he had turned and led his wife away.

Ron was finished dressing first, but only by seconds. As he and Harry were heading down the stairway, they could hear Mr. Weasley's voice speaking in the same calm manner to the girls.

"Ron, are we in serious trouble?"

"You could say that," Ron replied softly. "I think I'd prefer to do a month of detentions with Snape. When Dad speaks in that tone of voice, we all know it's best to stay out of his sight for at least a week."

"Oh..." Harry swallowed hard.

Ron and Harry were silent at the breakfast table, and when Ginny and Hermione joined them a few minutes later, the silence only deepened. The four even avoided looking at each other. After they had cleared away the remains of breakfast and washed the dishes, they returned to their respective rooms, finished any last minute packing, levitated their trunks downstairs, and sat silent in the kitchen until it was time to use their Portkey. The only sounds were the purring of Crookshanks and an occasional chirp from Hedwig.

***

Harry felt the familiar jerk behind his stomach as the Portkey activated and in no time at all, found himself and the others at the front gates to Hogwarts.

"Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Weasley have arrived," a voice intoned.

Harry looked behind himself for the source and was surprised to find it was Madame Pomfrey who had spoken, apparently helping the centaur Divination professor Firenze, who was checking off names on a list.

"Move along, everyone, get onto the grounds quickly. There are still more students to come. Your personal effects will be taken to your rooms for you."

The four students hurried between the open gates just as a loud crack announced the next arrival. "Miss Brown has arrived," came Madame Pomfrey's voice from behind them.

For some reason, the sight of Hogwarts did not cheer Harry quite as much as it had in the past. Perhaps it was because he knew this would be his final year at the ancient school, and that, added to the dread of Mr. Weasleys' visit, put him in a melancholy mood. He started in surprise when someone grasped his hand.

"I'm sorry I got everyone into trouble this morning," said Ginny, her eyes bright with sorrowful tears. "I just wanted to surprise you."

"It wasn't entirely your fault. I pulled you onto the bed, and that is what caused your mother to think -erm, what she did. I didn't help matters much when I answered your father, either," Harry squeezed her hand gently and smiled. "And it was a nice way to wake up."

"Gryffindors to me, please," called out Professor McGonagall. She was standing with several of their classmates gathered together in a small crowd on the lawn.

The few first-year students who had arrived were being herded toward Hagrid, who towered above them, his wild beard and hair only partially hiding the great smile he wore. Harry waved, and Hagrid waved back. He could be heard calling out, "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! Step lively now!"

Shortly, they had joined the crowd of Gryffindors, said hello to friends within the house, and sorted themselves into groups of the appropriate years. Professor McGonagall asked for quiet.

"Welcome back to Hogwarts. Due to the need for scheduling arrivals by Portkey, the students from both Ravenclaw and Gryffindor are here well ahead of the normal arrival time, as are about half of the first-year students. That means some adjustments have had to be made. The Feast and Sorting will be held tonight as usual, but since it is just before noon and the students from the other two houses are scheduled for arrival later in the day, you should now go to your rooms, unpack those things you will need, then meet in the Great Hall for a boxed luncheon. The password into the Gryffindor Common Room at this time is 'Knickerbocker'. Thereafter, you are free to roam the grounds, remembering that the forest is still forbidden to all students. Your class schedules have been posted in the common room. Any questions?"

A third year student -- one whose name Harry could not immediately remember -- raised his hand. "Will there be Quidditch this year?"

"That question has not yet been settled. An announcement should be forthcoming, perhaps tonight at Feast. Any other questions?"

There were none. "In that case, I suggest you all go get settled in. Prefects, I wish to see you in the Transfiguration classroom at four. I will see the rest of you tonight at the feast.

"The crowd of Gryffindors began to break up, most heading towards the castle, but a few loitered about, speaking to friends not seen for the past two months. Harry said hello to Dean Thomas and Neville Longbottom, then looked around, trying to spot Ginny, who had seemingly disappeared. Ron and Hermione were walking away, holding hands as they went and talking softly. Harry began to wonder if Ginny had already left, when a pair of hands covered his eyes. "Guess who!"

Knowing with certainty that the hands and voice belonged to Ginny, Harry played dumb. "Seamus?" he asked.

"No, you silly."

"Neville?"

"No!"

"Hmmmmmm... If you're not Seamus or Neville, then you must be --"

"You had better get it right, Harry," Ginny's voice giggled.

"No. It couldn't be. Cho Chang?" grinned Harry, swiftly turning around and wrapping his arms around Ginny.

"Wrong again. No prize for you," laughed Ginny.

"Oh, there was a prize? I wonder what it would have been?" Harry mock-pouted

."Only one of these," replied Ginny, pulling him down and kissing him.

"Just my luck," said Harry after she had pulled away. "I never seem to win anything of importance. Perhaps I might have another chance?"

"We'll see about that," Ginny laughed teasingly. "I don't know about you, but I'm starting to get hungry. Let's go eat that lunch we've been promised."

"All right," answered Harry, releasing her from the hug and taking her hand. They both started toward the castle, and were climbing the steps to the front doors when Argus Filch, the Hogwarts caretaker and someone who was not immediately identifiable due to the hooded robes he wore came hurrying out, a number of square white boxes and a picnic hamper floating along behind them.

"Move out of the way, you two," grumbled Filch. "We have to take the first-years their noon meals."

Harry and Ginny stepped aside, letting the duo and the boxes pass. Ginny watched them continue down the steps and across the lawn, and then turned to Harry. "That was Professor Farmwood, wasn't it?"

"I think so. But we‘ve got to remember to call him Professor Farthinwald. There has to be a good reason he is hiding his identity. I think Professor Dumbledore has brought him here to hide from Voldemort. At least, that's the theory I've come to."

"That makes sense," agreed Ginny. They resumed their climb and in less than a minute were in Hogwarts Entry Hall. Ginny pulled Harry to a stop, pointed back, and up above the entrance. "There -- that's the Emeritus Plaque I told you about. Everyone who has taught anything here at Hogwarts and left is listed. Even that horrible Umbrage woman."

"So I see. There's Remus' name," he said as his eyes picked out the familiar name. "And look, there's Quirenius Quirrell, Gilderoy Lockhart, Barty Crouch and Mackenzie O'Filisteer's names, too," listing each of the Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers from the past few years. Looking further up the plaque, he found Dr. Farmwood's name as well, along with many names, some of which were familiar and others he did not recognize. One name in particular caught his eye, well up towards the top of the plaque. "Professor Magnus Potter? I wonder if he's one of my ancestors? I will have to remember to look that up in Hogwarts: A History. I never thought to check the instructors list for relatives."

"There's Gwyniffyr Weasley, too," said Ginny, pointing. "She was a nine-times-great aunt of Daddy's -- ten-times-great for my brothers, and me too, I guess. She taught Care of Magical Creatures here from 1667 to 1701."

Scanning the long list of names on the plaque, Harry found several more familiar surnames -- Figg, Finnegan, Patil, Crabbe, Chang, Diggory, Black -- even a Mandrake Malfoy. "I guess he was probably Head of Slytherin House while he was here," mused Harry.

"Let's go eat lunch, Harry, " said Ginny, pulling him by the arm. "You can come back here later if you want to read all the names, but right now I'm hungry -- and I want to show off my engagement ring!"

As they entered the Great Hall, they found that most of the students had already finished their lunches and left, or were in the process of doing so. Only Ron and Hermione, leaning close to each other, oblivious to the few younger students seated and talking at the far end of the table, were still eating. 'Eating', however, probably wasn't the proper term so much as 'sitting in place and ignoring the food and while they stared dreamily into each other's eyes.'

The Hufflepuff and Slytherin tables were devoid of anyone, and only five or six Ravenclaws remained. Ginny nudged Harry to gain his attention, and whispered, "Want to see Ron jump?" as her eyes sparkled mischievously.

"How are you going to make that happen?"

"Watch and see, Mr. Potter, watch and see." Ginny slipped over to circle around the Hufflepuff table and come up behind Ron. When she was almost to the table, she shouted in a voice that sounded very much like her mother's, "Ronald Weasley! What do you think you're doing?"

Ron reacted with a sudden start, jumped up, and started turning around. "We weren't doing anything, Mum, We were just --" he said before he could see who had yelled, his ears and face turning scarlet. Everyone still in the room had turned to see who had raised her voice, and were now laughing at Ron's discomfiture. When he saw who had really shouted, he started to climb over the bench calling out , "Ginevra Weasley, I'm going to kill you!" Only Hermione's grabbing his wrist stopped him from carrying through with his threat, even though her face was red with embarrassment too.

"Ron, you know you don't mean that. So what if she embarrassed us? Put it aside for now --We've got the whole term to get... revenge," she said, emphasizing the final word and glaring icily at Ginny.

Ginny, in response, turned a bit pale and hurried back to Harry's side. "I suddenly don't feel like eating inside. Would you like to take our lunches and have a picnic?"

"Ginny, don't worry about Ron. You know he'll calm down soon, and everything will be fine again."

"It isn't Ron I'm worried about," she responded.

"Oh..." said Harry, realizing what she meant and glancing back to where Hermione sat glaring toward them. "Y'know, I think a picnic is a great idea." He stepped over to the table, picked up the two remaining boxed lunches and trailed Ginny back out the doors and outside.

The rest of the afternoon passed pleasantly enough, though at first Ginny was a bit jumpy, looking over her shoulder at every little sound. They had situated themselves close to the Quidditch pitch, which gave them a view of the Gates where the rest of the students were arriving, but was far enough away so they would not be disturbed. Harry had disposed of the remains of their picnic with a Deletrius spell, and the young couple had lain back on a blanket Ginny had conjured and watched the clouds drift by.

Ginny's head had rested on Harry's arm, between the elbow and shoulder, and she had fallen asleep as the afternoon progressed. Not wanting to disturb her, he spent the time gazing lovingly at his red-haired fiancée, watching the clouds and birds pass overhead, and imagining what it would be like to be married. When Ginny shifted in her sleep, she rolled toward him, laid her arm across his chest, and then snuggled closer. In that position, Harry lost his view of her face, but her warm breath on his neck and the closeness was just as comforting. It was near sunset when she awoke.

"I fell asleep, didn't I?" she asked Harry, moving closer and laying her head on his chest.

"Yes, you did," Harry smiled back.

"You make a very comfortable pillow. Thank you for not waking me -- I really needed to have a nap."

"Why is that?"

"I didn't get much sleep last night. Hermione and I were talking about --" She paused for a moment, "--about wedding plans."

"Already?"

"Of course! There are some things that just have to be ironed out long before the wedding," she said, raising up on one arm, and leaning over him. She smiled and dropped down to plant a brief kiss on his lips. "We had better get back to the tower and change into our robes. It will be time for the Sorting and Feast soon."

Harry climbed to his feet, then offered a hand to help Ginny get up. As they strolled toward the castle, Ginny placed her arm across his back, and encouraged him to put his arm in position across her shoulders. "I just want to be close to you as much as possible," she informed him.

As they climbed the stairs to the portrait of the fat lady in the pink dress that hid the entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room, Ginny let go of Harry and hurried a few steps upward, then turned to face him. She indicated he should stand on the step below where she waited. "I just want to try something. Come closer, Harry." Harry moved to the spot just in front of her, watching Ginny's eyes sparkle with mischief. By standing on the higher step, her face was level with his. Wrapping her arms around Harry's neck, she leaned forward a bit and kissed him. "I thought so," she said after relaxing the hold that she had on him. "Kissing you this way is much more comfortable. I don't have to strain upwards at all."

"And I don't have to lean over," smiled Harry. "Of course, a single successful experiment doesn't mean any repetition will be successful. We should keep testing your hypothesis to see if it holds true." He leaned forward this time, placing his hands on Ginny's waist and pulling her slightly towards him. His kiss lingered a bit longer, and when he finally broke away, he declared, "The second experiment seems to have been successful as well. I believe we should test this theory a hundred -- No, a thousand times more -- to get an accurate statistical sampling."

Ginny giggled and pulled away. "Those experiments can wait until later, Mr. Potter. Right now, we have to go change into our robes." She turned and hurried to the top of the stairs. Harry followed, and after giving the password, they both climbed through the hole into the Common Room. "Meet me back here in five minutes, and we'll go down to the Feast together," said Ginny, hurrying to the stairs that led upward to the female dormitories.

"Right," answered Harry, running up the opposite stairway and into the familiar circular dorm room with the five beds. He met Dean Thomas as he entered. "Hello Dean."

Dean's answer was brief, as he seemed more interested in getting his robes straightened and out the door. "Hi, Harry. I'm -- uhm -- in a hurry. We'll talk later. -- Bye." With that, Dean left at a run.

Harry chuckled to himself, for he had seen Dean chatting up Hannah Abbott earlier, and had a fair idea of what was so important. Hurrying to his bed, he flung open his chest, and dug out his school robes. Luckily, he had the sufficient foresight to pin his prefects badge in place on the topmost robe when he packed, and so was able to reach the common room before Ginny. While he waited, he took the opportunity to scan the lesson schedules.

Throughout the week, he found, his first lesson of the morning was dedicated to learning a basic knowledge of every doctrine he had not previously studied -- Arithmancy, Ancient Runes and Muggle Studies -- followed by Transfiguration. Next was a double lesson, either in Potions or in History of Magic depending on the day. Following lunch, Care of Magical Creatures alternated days with a block of time called Independent Studies. Monday through Thursday's last two lessons were Herbology and Defence Against the Dark Arts. Friday afternoons were still free to allow for studying and recreational activities. Harry sighed. "Well, at least I won't have to face Snape until the end of the day."

"Harry? Could you come help me please?" Ginny's voice sounded from the stairway.

"What is it? " he replied, in motion at her call. Ginny was dressed in her school robes, her Prefects Badge in place just above the swell of her left breast. She had taken time to pull her hair back into a ponytail, the orange-red locks cascading down her back, and stood waiting on the first step of the stairs. "Is something wrong?" asked Harry as he hurried toward her.

"No, not wrong. Just stand there please." She pointed to a spot on the floor directly in front of her.

"Ginny, what are you--" His question was cut off suddenly as Ginny grasped him around the neck and pulled him into a long kiss. "Well, that was experiment number three. Another successful test of the 'Ginevra Weasley Elevated Osculation Exercise'," she said as she finally pulled away. "Now come on, we have to hurry. We have to be in place before the first-years are sorted."

Ginny grasped his hand and led him out through the common room, out the hole in the wall, and down the staircase. They entered the Great Hall and hurried to the Gryffindor table, sliding into their seats just as the door to the waiting room opened, and Professor McGonagall led the band of nervous and worried-looking first-years to stand in the accustomed place to wait for their sorting. There were far fewer first-years than in the past, Harry noted, and found that faintly troubling.

"Where were you two?" hissed Hermione from across the table. "You both missed the prefects' orientation -- if it wasn't for the fact that classes haven't started yet, you would have cost us about 50 house points! Professor McGonagall was furious!"

"Sorry," said Ginny, "It's my fault -- I fell asleep and Harry didn't want to wake me."

"You fell asleep? Just what were you and Harry doing that tired you out that much?" asked Ron, looking decidedly unhappy with his sister and best friend.

"Nothing that should concern you, Ronald Weasley," sniffed Ginny, turning away from the conversation and focusing her attention on the Sorting Ceremony.

As the stool and Sorting Hat were brought in and placed in front of the first-years, Harry took a moment to look around the Great Hall. The Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables seemed to have the normal complement of students seated around them, but the Slytherin table was quite different. It was very sparsely populated, with perhaps a quarter of the usual number of students in place. Jordan Rivers, a fourth-year student, seated next to Harry, saw him staring at the depopulated table, leaned over and whispered, "Most of them just didn't show up at the gates. Looks like only the ones who treated others halfway decently are left."

Just then, the Sorting Hat began to sing, and everyone's attention was drawn to it.

You are gathered here together, at the opening term Feast

And soon you will be dining on fine viands and meats

But ere that happens one and all the first years I will test

And place them one by one, you see, in the House that suits them best.

Perhaps you'll find a home within the House of Hufflepuff

Where the steadfast all reside, toil and justice is oft' enough

Or possibly in learning where live those bright with wit

and if I find you fit the bill, with Ravenclaw you'll sit

House Slytherin calls to its fold those of lineage ancient

Where wealth and cunning matter most, power comes to those who're patient

The bravest, all with iron will, to Gryffindor will go

and with loyalty and fair play they'll march to meet the foe

Now heed my words and listen all from the houses four

For not long now, it does appear, all wizardom shall be at war

Light against the Darkness, I know not who shall win

Spells will be cast, and curses laid until the very end

Listen and you now shall learn how to this strife avoid

and I fear that heed you not, all shall be destroyed.

Quarrel not now 'mongst yourselves, instead seek all to share

And grow to know each other, and together now prepare

For strife and war are coming soon, and if alone you fight

I fear that then will darkness win, and overcome the light

So sit you down and put me on, and soon you will know that

Within which house you shall reside, for I'm the Sorting Hat.

Professor McGonagall began to read off names, and with each one called, a first year boy or girl went to sit on the stool and have the hat placed on their head. "Abelard, James!" was called first, and the sorting hat responded almost before it touched his head, calling out "Ravenclaw". Other names --Bane, Bindlestiff, Deniale and Duresse -- were called forth and sorted as the gathering of first-years slowly dwindled.

Harry joined in the applause for Barry Finefrocke, Nathan Grabbi, Anastasia Solaris and Alicia Houzemann as they were sorted into Gryffindor, but really was not paying attention to any of the others until "Vertocular, Anna May," was called to be sorted. She was the smallest of the first years, with auburn hair and deep blue eyes, looking much younger than the rest as she stepped forward quickly and seated herself. The sorting hat was placed on her head, but remained silent for several minutes. Whispers began to be heard all about the Great Hall as the wait lengthened. Anna May began to look quite distressed, and tears were beginning to form in her eyes when, after nearly ten minutes, the hat finally spoke. "Truly the hardest decision I have ever had to make. However, a decision is called for, so -- Gryffindor!"

After that, it was somewhat anticlimactic when the last three first-years, Erasmus Swamploo, Timothy Justice and Jennifer Zoarasterus, were quickly sorted into the various houses. When every new child was seated with their housemates, the feast appeared in an instant, and everyone did their best to devour all the food from their table. Everyone except Ginny -- Professor McGonagall came down from the staff table halfway through the meal, whispered something to her, then led her out of the Great Hall.

At the end of the feast, when everyone was stuffed to capacity, Professor Dumbledore stood, motioned for silence, cleared his throat, and began to speak. "Hogwarts Students, welcome one and all. I have a few brief announcements. First Year Students -- and a few individuals from the returning students as well -- should note that the Dark Forest on Hogwarts Grounds is strictly forbidden, particularly so this year as certain precautions are in place that could prove quite --painful."

"Our Caretaker, Mr. Argus Filch, has asked me to remind you that the Charms and Wards about the castle proper are there for the detection of intruders, and students who trigger them as a prank will be given a severe punishment. There is also a list of prohibited items posted in each house common room, and any such item found in the possession of a student will accrue that student both detentions and a loss of house points. Also, he wishes to remind one and all that no magic should be used between lessons in the corridors."

"You may have been informed that Professor Snape will be the instructor for the Defence Against the Dark Arts classes, rather than Potions Master this coming year. That position will be filled by Doctor Farthinwald for the time being."

"Finally, I am happy to announce that inter-house Quidditch matches will once again take place this year--" A roar of cheering and applause interrupted Dumbledore, to which he replied by smiling and nodding his head, then holding his hand up for silence. When everyone had quieted, he continued, "--Unless, of course, the probability of a dangerous incursion to the Hogwarts grounds force us to deem otherwise. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch."

After that, Dumbledore led the students in the school song (allowing, as usual, everyone to pick which tune to sing it to), then dismissed the students to go to bed. Ginny and Professor McGonagall had not yet returned, so Hermione and Harry led the first years along the way to the Gryffindor Common Room, following the same path that they had been led seven years before.

When they reached the corridor where the painted guardian of Gryffindor House hung, resplendent in her pink silk dress and smiling at the young newcomers, Hermione stopped and said, "Knickerbocker" even before the portrait could ask for the password. Looking a bit put out, the painting swung forward, revealing the round hole in the wall.

The two prefects watched everyone climb through the opening except Anna May, who had inexplicably vanished. "Oh dear, I hope we didn't lose her along the way. You had best get the others to their rooms, while I look for her," gasped Hermione when she realized the little girl was missing.

"Yes, Hermione. I'll come help look as soon as I can," Harry swiftly climbed into the opening as the seventh-year female prefect started back towards the way she had come.

"That won't be necessary, Miss Granger," called out the voice of the portrait of the fat lady, "Miss Vertocular has just been asking me some questions. She's quite safe." The painting swung halfway back into place, revealing the auburn-haired youngster standing to one side of the corridor.

"I'm sorry if I 'pset you, Miss. I just needed to know Madam Phister's name," said Anna May. "It wouldn't be p'lite if I didn't 'knowledge her."

"Madam Phister?" asked Hermione.

"That would be me, Miss Granger." The portrait closed fully so the painting was facing them. "I am quite pleased with this dear little girl. Do you realize that she is the first Hogwarts student to inquire my identity in nearly one hundred eighty years, rather than referring to me with that horrid descriptive?"

Hermione blushed. "Oh my -- we haven't, have we? I do apologize, Madam Phister."

"That's quite all right, Miss Granger. One gets used to it after the first fifty years or so. Now why don't you take Miss Vertocular to her room? It appears she is very tired," smiled the portrait. Hermione glanced at the first year girl, who was covering her mouth to hide the enormous yawn she was experiencing.

"Yes, Madam. I'll do that."

"Thank you, my dear. Good-night, Anna May. Pleasant dreams!" The portrait swung forward to allow the pair access to the common room.

"Good-night, Madam Phister," the younger girl replied as she climbed through the opening.

Hermione followed Anna May into the Gryffindor Common Room, where the other two first year girls were seated in front of the fireplace. Seeing Hermione arrive, both stood up quickly. "Mr. Potter asked us to wait here for you while he took the boys to their room," said Alicia.

"As well he should," replied Hermione, smiling. "Boys aren't allowed up the stairs to the girls' dormitory. I do apologize for making you wait. I'll take you all to your room now." She led them from the Common Room and up the spiral staircase to the first-year's door.

"Miss Granger?" Anna May tugged on Hermione's robes to get her attention as the other two girls picked out their beds. "I've never gone to bed by m'self b'fore. Could you tuck me in like my Mummy does?"

Hermione smiled, "Aren't you just a bit too old for that?"

"I'm only seven."

The older girl blinked in surprise. "Only seven? "

"The Board of Gov'ners made a 'ception for me to start Hogwarts early. They 'sisted I needed the training, 'specially after I turned the headmaster at my p'imary into an orange billy goat."

"You transfigured him?"

"I didn't mean to, really I didn't. It just happened," Anna May sniffed as a tear began to trickle down her face. "When the 'mproper Use of Magic office found out how old I was, everybody got real 'xcited, an' all these wizards and witches from the Min'stry kept coming to our flat an' asking me questions and asking me to do magic even though I'm not s'posed to 'cause I'm too young. That's when the Min'stry talked to the Board of Gov'ners about Hogwarts. Mummy didn't want me to come here yet, but Perfesher Dumbledore came and talked to her and said stuff that unvinced her."

Just then, Ginny and the rest of the female Gryffindor students came clattering up the spiral stairs on the way to their rooms. When she saw Hermione and the new first-year, Ginny left the others and came over to where they were standing. "Hello, you must be Anna May. It is very nice to meet you. I have heard a lot about you from Professor McGonagall. I'm Ginny Weasley" smiled Ginny to the youngster."

"Hello, Miss Whizzly. It's very nice to meet you, too," replied Anna May, giving a little curtsey.

"Hermione, Professor McGonagall gave me this to give to you," explained Ginny, and passed the elder prefect a folded piece of parchment. Hermione opened it up and read:

"Miss Granger --

As Miss Anna May Vertocular has been sorted into Gryffindor, I request that you as Senior Prefect keep a close watch over her. She is here several years early, and being so young may need some assistance as the term progresses. Some allowances must be made, some help given to ensure she is able to both arrive safely at her lessons and complete her studies in a timely manner, and I believe that you and Miss Weasley are the two prefects best suited for that position. If you will come to my office after everyone is settled in, I will explain Anna Mays' circumstances more fully.

Thank You.

Minerva McGonagall"

"Professor McGonagall told me all about Anna May, and suggested I help you, since she tells me most of our classes won't overlap," explained Ginny. Turning to the little girl, she said, "Why don't you go get into your nightclothes, Anna May. Would you like me to tuck you in, too?"

"Thank you, Miss Whizzly," replied the little girl, who promptly went to her trunk, pulling it into place to claim the furthest bed in the room. Opening her trunk, she took out a nightdress and dressing gown.

"I'm surprised Professor McGonagall didn't ask me along tonight when she came and got you," mentioned Hermione. "It would have been more efficient to tell us both at once,"

"I'm sure she had her reasons," replied Ginny, a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she watched Anna May ready herself for bed. "Why don't you meet me in the common room when you're done and we'll map out a schedule to help Anna May get to and from her lessons?"

"All right," said Hermione, "I'll be back here as soon as I can." With that, she headed back down the spiral staircase to the common room.

Ginny went into the first-year dormitory, only to find that the other two first years, Alicia and Anastasia, were helping Anna May into the big four-poster bed. "She's too little to get up on the bed by herself," explained Anastasia, "so Alicia and I are helping. It's like we'll have a little sister here at Hogwarts."

"Thank you, girls. I am happy to see that you all will be good friends. Now go get in bed yourselves."

"Yes'm," the two replied. "Good Night, Anna May!"

"Good night, an' thank you for the help," the youngest Gryffindor replied

As the two older first years climbed into their respective beds, Ginny helped Anna May slide under the sheet and blanket and tucked her in. "Is everything all right, now?" she asked.

"Yes, Miss Whizzly. Erm... Would you tell me a story, please? Mummy always tells me one every night to help me go to sleep." Bright blue eyes pleaded to her.

"Well -- All right. Do you have a favourite story?"

"Snow White and Rose Red and the Bear Prince!" smiled the little girl.

"Very well. Once upon a time, long ago and far away..." whispered Ginny.

***

By the time Ginny had reached the part of the tale where the two sisters used their scissors to free the nasty dwarf from having his beard stuck in the cleft of the tree, Anna May was sound asleep, a faint smile on her lips. The sixth-year prefect left her side, crossed the dormitory, extinguished the lights and exited out the door, closing it softly behind her. She found Hermione just coming back from seeing Professor McGonagall as she entered the common room and took a seat near the schedule posted on the wall.

"Everything all right?" asked Hermione.

"Yes -- she's sound asleep. She asked me to tell her a story to get to sleep, then nodded off right in the middle," laughed Ginny. "Isn't that adorable?"

"Yes," smiled Hermione. "I've looked over the schedules with Professor McGonagall," she continued, "and it appears that Anna May's morning lessons start with double History of Magic or double Potions, depending on the day. You have Transfiguration as your first every day, but I'm alternating Arithmancy and Charms. Can you get her to her lessons every morning and still be able to make it to your own on time?"

"Only if the second floor stair to the west corridor doesn't decide to move before I get there, but I'm sure Professor McGonagall will allow me some leeway for that," answered Ginny. She studied the schedule on the wall. "We both have double Potions on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, just after she finishes with Professor Binns, with her next lesson double Herbology. Tuesdays and Thursdays she has double Transfiguration. I have both Defence Against the Dark Arts and Care of Magical Creatures alternating days after Arithmancy and History of Magic, so getting her to Herbology is out of the question for me."

Hermione frowned slightly. "Double History of Magic when we don't have Potions. We may have to find someone else to get her to Herbology, but I can take care of it on Tuesdays and Thursdays -- Transfiguration is just down the corridor from History of Magic." She scribbled notes on a sheet of parchment.

"At least we won't have to worry about getting her to lunch in the Great Hall, there's more than enough time for me to pick her up from Herbology," Ginny smiled wryly. "What are her afternoons like?"

"A little simpler for us -- we all have free time on Friday afternoons," replied Hermione. "She has Charms and Care of Magical Creatures first thing after lunch, and Defence Against the Dark Arts all week," Hermione sighed, "and Madame Hooch for Practical Broom Riding, Care, and Maintenance as her last lesson every afternoon. Of course, she has Astronomy at midnight every Wednesday, but that's no problem at all -- We'll take turns getting her there."

"I have Herbology and Charms on alternating days. What do you have?"

"Care of Magical Creatures and Independent Studies. I'll have enough time to take care of getting her to both her lessons if we leave lunch a bit early. Then I have..." she paused as she studied the lessons chart, "Herbology followed by Defence Against the Dark Arts. You end your days with Ancient Runes followed by Muggle Studies."

"Defence against the Dark Arts is only one stairway down from Ancient Runes, so I can pick her up from Charms -- That's Mondays and Wednesdays, right? "asked Ginny.

"Yes," replied Hermione, as she scribbled down the information. "That leaves us with the problems of getting her from Care of Magical Creatures to Defence against the Dark Arts on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and from there to Madame Hooch every afternoon, plus getting her to Herbology on from History of Magic on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays."

"Perhaps we could ask Hagrid to help her from his lessons to Defence Against the Dark Arts?" Ginny inquired.

"We'll have to ask him, but I'm certain he would agree to that," Hermione answered as she jotted down the suggestion.

"I believe I know of a shortcut that would allow me to take her to the Broom Practice from Defence Lessons and still get to Muggle Studies in plenty of time," volunteered Ginny, "so now all we have to do is find someone to get her from History of Magic to Herbology those three days."

As they spoke, the Gryffindor House Ghost, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington (Better known, to his chagrin, as Nearly Headless Nick) sailed through the wall. "Good Evening, Ladies," he bowed to them, "Might I ask what keeps you awake at this late hour?"

"Good Evening, Sir Nicholas," replied Hermione. "We have a new first-year who is only seven years old and Professor McGonagall has asked us to help her along to and from lessons and such."

"Ah, yes -- That would be Miss Vertocular, I believe?"

"That's correct, Sir Nicholas," answered Ginny. "We can help her get to most of her lessons, but our schedules are preventing us from escorting her from History of Magic to Herbology at the end of second session three days a week."

"Is that all? May I offer a suggestion, my dear ladies? I would gladly be willing to escort the young lady at that time, if she does not object." The ghostly figure was beaming a smile as he spoke.

"That would help, Sir Nicholas, as long as you don't frighten her. She is only seven," answered Hermione.

"Perhaps you could introduce us to each other beforehand, say-- in the Great Hall at your breakfast before classes? Then she would have no reason to be frightened."

"I think that might work, Sir Nicholas," said Ginny. "Shall we say half past eight?"

"Splendid! I shall meet you in the Great Hall at the appointed hour!" and with that he bowed deeply, flourishing his ghostly hat, and sailed on through the room and through the opposite wall.

Chapter Six

Harry and Ron came rushing down the stairs and into the common room as Sir Nicholas disappeared through the wall.

"Sorry I took so long. It took forever to get the little buggers sorted out -- Peeves emptied every one of their trunks into a pile in the middle of the room, and was turning the beds upside down when we got there. Did you find her?" asked Harry. "I've brought Ron along to help."

"She's safe in bed and already asleep," replied Ginny, moving to one side of the huge armchair and motioning for him to sit next to her.

"Bloody first years -- We weren't like that, were we, Harry? Seems like they get smaller and wilder every year," complained Ron. "And I still have to go check the corridors for stragglers out after hours.

Hermione smiled smugly. "When I was Head Girl, I just did what I was supposed to -- That Head Boy Medallion on your chest will give you quite a bit of authority if you use it properly."

"Erm... Do you think you could come along with me? Just to show me the ropes?" Ron's ears flamed red.

"Why Mr. Weasley -- are you trying to get a Prefect in trouble the first night here?" Hermione asked slyly as she stood and walked over to him. "What possible excuse could I give for being out after hours if someone spotted us?"

"Oh... well, you would be with me, so I could explain --"

"Be sure to check the broom cupboards, big brother!" teased Ginny. "You never know who you might find hiding in one."

Ron turned nearly as red as his hair; he and Hermione had used a broom cupboard to do a bit of snogging the previous year. Peeves the Poltergeist had caught them at it, chased them into the staff room and announced to everyone just what he had caught them doing. That had earned them both a week in detention and cost Gryffindor thirty house points.

Hermione just looked at her coolly. "That's twice today, not counting the fiasco this morning at The Burrow. Care to add to your total?" There was no menace to her voice, but Ginny felt a cold finger of dread run down her spine.

"Erm... No, sorry. I was just teasing a bit," the red-haired girl replied, "and I am very sorry about getting everyone in trouble with Mum and Dad."

Surprisingly, it was Ron who broke the silence that followed. "Ginny, it wasn't all your fault. I sure didn't help things much, and I knew mum would go all bonkers if she even thought Hermione and I were..erm," he blushed again and continued, "compromising our purity."

Both Ginny and Harry tried hard to keep from snickering, but Hermione had turned on Ron in a high dudgeon. "Excuse me? Why would she think we would be doing anything like that?" asked Hermione, now glaring at Ron.

"Erm... Uh, well --It's just that she -- she found my copy. Of the letter. The one I wrote to you last year."

"You keep copies of the letters you send her?" Harry asked incredulously.

"The letter...? ...Oh!" Hermione blushed scarlet as she remembered the awkwardly worded and very easily misinterpreted letters she had received. It had absolutely infuriated her at the time. She knew now, of course, that his choice of words had not been innuendo, but then...

Harry looked at Ron, looked at Hermione, then back again. "I really don't think I want to know about this," he said, shaking his head.

"Erm... Right. I guess I had better get going..." Ron turned and started toward the Portrait Hole.

"Wait, Ron. I'll go with you," Hermione had seemingly forgiven him and followed.

When the two had closed the portrait behind them, Harry and Ginny reclined back in the overstuffed armchair they shared. Harry reached behind and around Ginny with one arm, letting her settle into place with her head on his arm.

"Harry?"

"Yes, Ginny?"

"After we're married -- how many children do you want?"

"What?" Harry was caught off-guard by the question.

"It's just that... Tonight, when I was with Anna May, tucking her in and telling her a story, it just felt... right, somehow." She snuggled a little closer. "I know it sounds silly, but in spite of everything I've ever planned to do -- have a career as a magical researcher in the Department of Mysteries or do important work with the Ministry like Daddy -- it felt like what was missing from my life plans. It made me want to be a mother too, and take care of our children... Am I making any sense?" She turned toward him, looking up from her resting place, her fingers beginning to trace random patterns across his chest.

"Erm... Children?" Harry felt heat rise to his face. "I--I really haven't thought that far ahead. How many would you want?"

"At least two," she smiled. "A boy and a girl." Her fingers had found a gap between the buttons of his shirt, and she had started to caress bare flesh.

Harry held Ginny close, tightening the arm already wrapped around her, his other hand coming up to take hold of her wandering fingers, bringing them up to his mouth so he could gently kiss her fingertips. She responded by scooting up and placing her head on his shoulder, and lightly touched her lips to his neck.

Harry found he was at war with himself. As much as he wanted Ginny nearby, to be able to feel her presence and feel her touch, another more logical portion of his mind kept whispering at the back of his head that if he -- or she -- let things go too far they would reach a point that they could not come back from.

"Ginny?"

"What, Harry?"

"You know how much I love you -- that I want to be able to always make you happy, don't you?"

"Of course I do," she replied. "You make me happy just by wanting us to be close to each other." She moved a little closer, and nibbled at the base of his ear.

He responded by pulling her in front of him, and craned his neck to bring his mouth closer to hers, encouraging her to kiss him. She responded almost immediately, her lips pressing his, her mouth opening just enough to let the tip of her tongue slide along his bottom lip.Harry did not want the moment to end, but his nobler instincts made him pull away. "It's late," he whispered. "We had better head up to our dorms."

"Oh... can't we stay here just a few more minutes?"

"I -- I don't trust myself. We're in enough trouble with your parents already, and I'm afraid that if we stay here, something is going to happen."

"Something?" Ginny purred. "Like what?" She pulled her fingers free of his hand, and traced a line down his chest.

"Like -- like -- " He shivered in response. " Like something that would--"

"Something like this?" Ginny twisted and rolled at the same time, ending up straddling Harry's lap and on her knees, facing him. She leaned forward, tipping his face up with her hands, and started to kiss him.

"Ginny Weasley! What do you think you're doing?"

Ginny started with shock and surprise. Looming over the back of the chair was her mother, face red with anger.

"Mum! What--" she exclaimed, trying to stand, only her robes had twisted under her knees. The red-haired teen toppled backwards out of the chair, sprawling on the floor, her own face blushing scarlet. As she struggled to reach a sitting position, laughter rang out, and the image of Mrs. Weasley faded to transparency and was gone. In its place stood Hermione, her wand out and laughing. Off to one side, Ron continued to laugh, tears leaking from his eyes as he watched the gamut of emotions crossing Ginny's face.

Harry, a bit red-faced himself, helped Ginny to her feet as Hermione sauntered to Ron's side. "Not quite so funny now, is it?" the older girl laughed.

Ginny glared at her brother and friend as they continued to chuckle, but slowly allowed a smile to creep across her face. "All right, I deserved that. I'm sorry I embarrassed you today."

"You know you nearly gave me a heart-attack, don't you?" asked Harry, smiling now himself. "Where did you learn that spell, Hermione?"

"I found it in this year's Standard Book of Spells. It's just an illusion, and I haven't quite got the knack of being able to make it move yet."

"Well, you certainly did it well enough to scare me," chuckled Harry. "How did you get the voice?"

"That was me," Ron spoke up. "Ginny's not the only one who can imitate our parents."

"So..." Hermione said slyly, "Just what were our two prefects doing when we walked in?"

"Erm..." Harry felt heat rising to his face.

"We were just about to rip our clothes off and have wildly passionate sex on the hearthrug," Ginny interrupted, "but I see we aren't going to be able to do that now, so I'm taking Harry down to the Great Hall. We'll use one of the tables there..."

Harry gave a start of shock and blushed a deep crimson at that comment, as did both Ron and Hermione. They turned their gaze towards him, questioning with their eyes.

"Harry, you and Ginny haven't..." Ron swallowed hard, his own face matching his hair "...have you?"

"No! I mean--that is--I--Ginny--You--I--We..." Harry's voice sounded a bit strangled, his mind whirling uneasily, wondering at one moment if she was serious, and uncertain what to say or do the next. What was Ginny thinking?

"Well, what do you think we've done, Ron?" said Ginny. "After all, Harry and I have been together for over a year, and now we're engaged, so excuse us if we want to be together in some privacy!" With that, she took hold of Harry's hand and began to pull him toward the Portrait hole.

"Ginny!" Hermione's voice shook, shock and disbelief were etched on her features. "You don't mean --you and Harry...? You haven't really --"

Ginny stopped and turned to face her brother and friend. "What can I say? Harry and I love each other. If we couldn't express ourselves physically to each other, I would never be able to say -- Gotcha!"

With that, she stood on tiptoe, quickly kissed Harry on the cheek, said "Good-night, love," and raced out of the common room and up the girls' stairway. Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at each other in disbelief, then towards the stairway as Ginny's footsteps faded away.

"Why, that little -- she -- I'll have to --," Ron sputtered, then fell silent for a moment before beginning to laugh. Hermione and Harry joined in as the humour of the situation brought tears to their eyes and left them gasping for breath.

***

Dean, Seamus, and Neville were all asleep as Ron and Harry crept quietly into the room and to their respective beds. They swiftly undressed and put on their pyjamas, and slid under the sheets. For several minutes the only sound to be heard was the quiet, regular breathing of the sleepers.

"Harry?" whispered Ron. "You still awake?"

"Yes."

"You and Ginny... the two of you -- She was only joking tonight, right?"

"Ron, what kind of question is that? You know how your sister is, and I thought you knew me better than that." Harry sounded frustrated.

"Yeah ... it's just that -- Well, she's the only sister I've got. I guess I'm just feeling -- protective."

Harry sighed deeply. "All right, I can accept that. I feel that way about Hermione. I love Hermione like a sister, but I love Ginny as the woman with whom I want to spend the rest of my life. I want nothing more than to always be able to make her feel safe and happy." He paused for a moment. "I hope you feel the same way about Hermione."

There was a long silence before Ron answered. "I guess I do."

"Good."

Both of the young men rolled over and tried to fall asleep, only to find that their minds kept racing from one thought to the next. One thought of a young lady whose nose always seemed to be in a book, and whose presence had always made him giddy and nervous; the other groaned silently as he remembered the sensations the touches and kisses of a certain red-haired and freckled young woman had caused only a short while earlier. Both lay silent but awake well into the night...

***

"Miss Granger? Who did you say we were going to meet?"

"I'm going to introduce you to Sir Nicholas at breakfast, Anna May. He's a friend who will be helping Ginny and I make sure you get to all your classes today. A special kind of friend." Hermione led the youngest student to ever attend Hogwarts down the stairway to the Great Hall.

"What's so special about Sir Nickles?"

"That's Sir Nicholas, Anna May. He has been here at Hogwarts for a very long time, and he isn't quite like our other friends, or you, or me."

A puzzled frown fixed itself on the seven-year-olds face. "So if he's not like us... How is he diff'rent?"

"Do you remember what I told you about Professor Binns, the History of Magic instructor, being special?"

"That he was a ghost? Yes."

"Well, so is Sir Nicholas," she said as they entered the Great Hall and headed toward the Gryffindor Table.

"Oh... Do you think he might like to meet Lady Desiree?"

"Lady Desiree? Who's she?" blinked Hermione.

"She's the ghost in our flat. She's special, too. She and I have tea parties sometimes on rainy days. Oh, look! There's Miss Whizzly and the Head Boy! Do you think they kinda look alike?"

Ginny was about halfway down the table, seated facing the far wall and talking quietly to Harry and Ron as they ate breakfast.

"They look alike because the Head Boy is Ginny's older brother. His name is Ron."

"I thought so," Anna May replied, quite seriously. "Who is the man with the glasses and messy hair? He was leading us up to the tower last night, wasn't he?"

"Yes, Anna May, he was. His name is Harry. Harry Potter."

"Oh... Mum said I would see him here. She says he's special. Is he a ghost, too?"

Hermione smothered a giggle. "No, Anna May, Harry is definitely NOT a ghost. Harry is special because -- well, because of something that happened a long time before you were even born."

By this time, they had reached the place where the others were sitting. "Good morning, Miss Whizzly," said the little girl, sitting down next to her as she spoke. "Good, morning, Mr. Whizzly and Mr. Potter. I'm here to be 'troduced to Sir Nickles. Where is he?"

"Sir Nicholas isn't here yet. Ron, Harry, this is Anna May Vertocular. She's a very special little girl," introduced Hermione.

Anna May turned to Hermione, a look of dismay on her face. "I'm not special. I'm still alive. Sir Nickles is special, like Lady Desiree and Perfesher Binns."

Just then, Sir Nicholas arrived, floating along just above the floor. "Good morning, everyone."

"Good morning, Sir Nicholas," emphasized Hermione. "May I introduce Anna May Vertocular? Anna May, this is Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, the Gryffindor House Ghost."

Anna May stood up and gave a small curtsey. "I'm very pleased to meet you, Sir Nickles."

"As am I you, Miss Vertocular," replied the ghost, returning the curtsey with a deep bow and sweep of his ghostly hat. "What a delightful child!" he murmured aside to Ron and Harry.

"Miss Granger told me you were special, Sir Nickles." smiled the little girl. "Would you like to meet Lady Desiree? She's the ghost at our flat in London. She's special, too."

The four older Hogwarts students witnessed something that very few people have ever seen -- Sir Nicholas, a ghost whose normal coloration was pearly-white and slightly transparent, darkened as if he were blushing.

"Ahem... How -- very charming! I do believe that at some time in the future, if it can be arranged, I would very much like to make the Lady Desiree's acquaintance, my dear young lady. I do complement you on your exquisite manners. Such protocol is often sadly missing here at Hogwarts," commented Sir Nicholas. "However, I am here now to offer you my services as an escort for later this day, as you traverse the corridors from your lessons in History of Magic to your lessons in Herbology."

"Thank you, Sir Nickles. I would 'preciate your comp'ny," replied Anna May, curtseying again. "Hogwarts is so big; I think I would get losted if special friends didn't show me the way."

"How absolutely marvellous! What a wonderful young lady! Miss Anna May --You do not object if I use the familiar, as a friend?" inquired Sir Nicholas.

"Of course not, Sir Nickles. 'Friends are the treashers of a life well spent' ", Lady Desiree always says."

"Smashing! Miss Anna May, I shall await your exit from Professor Binns' classroom at the appropriate hour so that I may guard and guide you to the care of Professor Sprout. Until then, m'lady, a most pleasant day to you." The ghost gave an elaborate bow, (to which Anna May curtsied once more) drifted backwards (almost colliding with a fourth-year boy from Ravenclaw) and then glided swiftly out the Great Hall's double doors, chuckling to himself, "What an extraordinary child. And to think she called me special... Sir Nickles! How wonderfully charming!"

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny turned as one to stare in open-mouthed wonder at Anna May, who merely smiled, sat back down and asked for some breakfast porridge and milk.

"Damn!" said Ron. "She wrapped him right around her little finger!"

He immediately winced in pain as Hermione kicked his shin, shook her head, and murmured, "Watch your language!"

"Sir Nicholas was right, you know. It wouldn't hurt if we all started practicing some of Anna May's manners," said Ginny thoughtfully. Her gaze shifted to Harry. "You too, Harry. Every girl wants her suitor to treat her like a queen."

"I think I'd best remember that," Harry murmured to himself.

"Anna May?" asked Hermione, "Wherever did you learn deportment like that?"

"Lady Desiree says, 'Any young lady who isn't p'lite, isn't really a lady.' That is why she comes to my tea parties -- to help me learn manners and 'portment to be a real lady. May I have a mufflin, please?"

***

When Ron and Harry attended the Basic Missed Information Lessons (A short introduction to those classes not previously taken so that every student had at least a minimal knowledge of the curricula) they learned that the NEWTs for the three areas of study that they would be taking (Arithmancy, Study of Ancient Runes and Muggle Studies) would consist of an oral exam to show they had at least a basic understanding of the subjects and a written test of certain facts pertaining to each of the disciplines.

"That doesn't sound too bad," said Ron in a relieved voice after class. "I was expecting something along the lines of having to decipher a hundred pages of runes about Muggles and Arithmancy."

While Ron and Harry were in Basic Missed Information Hermione was learning the details of her Arithmancy NEWT. For perhaps the first time at Hogwarts she felt that she might not have studied hard enough. Upon learning that the NEWT would include two entire terms of Predictive Computation, spent deriving the Greater and Lesser Numeraics in relation to their quantitive whole, half, thirds, quarters, fifths and sixths when portrayed in each of the major and minor Hesperadic equations, followed by a review of Numerological Display and Magical Calculus as a two-day written test, even Hermione joined in her year-mates collective groan.

Transfiguration proved to be no easier for any of the seventh-year students. Professor McGonagall revealed that the NEWT for her class would consist of rapid-fire multiple transfigurations of a random number and kind of animal, vegetable and mineral subjects (not less than 50 nor more than 100), ending with a self-transfiguration challenge to be revealed only at the time of testing.

Ron and Harry did not meet up with Ginny again until Potions, where she made sure to sit next to her fiancé and hold his hand. The new Potions Master had his back to the students when they arrived, putting away an assortment of glass vials and crystal jars, each one meticulously labelled with both a name and a description of the contents, in the supplies cupboard. The dungeon room seemed both brighter and cheerier than in years past, its walls, ceiling and floor having been scoured free of the alchemical detritus of previous centuries, though a thin pall of deep purple smoke lingered at the ceiling. On the granite-topped table at the front of the classroom, a cauldron continued to smoulder lightly, apparently the source of the purple cloud overhead. When he finally turned back and walked to the front of the classroom, Harry was once more made very aware of the instructor's two differently coloured eyes, particularly since they focused on him almost immediately.

"Good Morning," he began. " I apologize for the colourful residue floating about -- I was attempting to recreate a formula from my private researches, and was distracted by the questions one of the students from the previous class was posing. A very good practical demonstration of why concentration is so vital to the proper method of potion creation," the Potions Master smiled faintly as he spoke.

"I am Doctor Farthinwald, your Potions Instructor for the immediate future. I request that when any of you pose a question to me, please be certain that I am not involved in experimentation," he smiled again. "Much safer that way for all of us, yes."

"Let me begin by outlining the curriculum for this coming year," he announced while picking up a sheet of parchment. After scanning it quickly, he began to read aloud. "You will first be concocting and distilling concentrated syrup of Piscator Ocularum, Puffskein Urine and Kneazle Fur dissolved in a mixture of acidic Streeler slime and Aqua Rosara created from the night-blooming variety of the Rosa Victorinox. This will be a rather lengthy process, but quite manageable for students of your ability. The complete process is well detailed in the textbook you were requested to acquire for this class."

"That will be followed by extracting and refining six ounces each of the three alchemically different adhesive substances found in acromantula webbing. That process is also well detailed in your texts." He looked up from the parchment for a moment. "As Acromantula are deemed one of the most dangerous magical creatures to be found, it is fortunate that Reubeus Hagrid, the Care of Magical Creatures instructor and Hogwarts Keeper of the Keys and Grounds, has been able to acquire a supply of said webbing for our needs." Doctor Farthinwald seemed almost preoccupied with giving details, much to Hermione's delight.

Ron, who had turned a bit pale at the mention of the acromantula, whispered across the worktable to Harry, "No need to ask where Hagrid found that stuff, right Harry?"

"Mr. Weasley! Please pay attention," called out the Doctor. "This information will be vital to your successful completion of the NEWT for Potions. Five points from Gryffindor for your inattention!"

"To continue, your third project will require a fair amount of research on your part, for you will be given a selection of plant and animal materials which you must identify, categorize, and prepare for long-term storage. Those three tasks will be sufficient to take us to the final term, when you will then determine which of those materials you must use in conjunction with your previous work projects to create several potions, which you will then concoct. Any questions?"

Ginny's hand was in the air, along with Hermione's and about half the students in the class.

"Yes, Miss Weasley?"

"May we work together and share information as we complete the various projects, sir?" Ginny asked.

"Yes, you may. However, I want a complete breakdown of which students work together and who in that partnership has determined what, why, when and how in the process if you do so. Five points to Gryffindor for asking an intelligent question! Miss Abbott, your question?"

"Doctor Farthinwald, must we acquire the necessary ingredients for the distillation process of the tincture through self-collection, or will we be able to purchase them?"

"An excellent point. Five points to Hufflepuff! I shall award an extra credit bonus of five percent of your final grade to those students who collect the materials on their own. Miss Granger, your query?" Doctor Farthinwald was speeding through the the answers he was giving, delighted that the students wanted to learn.

"May I ask if the components that we must identify create more than one potion mixture when combined with the rest of the ingredients in different amounts or order?"

Doctor Farthinwald smiled broadly. "Thank you, Miss Granger, you have identified the one bit of information that will either assure success or failure with your assigned work; The fact is that fifteen different potion mixtures are capable of being created from the ingredients you will be working with. It will be up to you to do sufficient research to discover what they are." An audible groan came from several students as the new Potions instructor scanned the room. "That, ladies and gentlemen, is why it is called a 'Nastily Excruciating Wizarding Test'. Ten points to Gryffindor!"

A few more questions were asked and answered before Doctor Farthinwald gave over the rest of the class time to the students to study the necessary chapters and instructions to begin their first project. As pages turned and quills scratched softly on parchment, the Potions Master cleared up the remains of the failed experiment, then sat at his worktable with a sheaf of parchment sheets making notes.

Harry looked up from his own research to find the instructor looking directly at him, a slight frown on his face, then watched him quickly scribble something, crumple the sheet of parchment and toss it onto the tabletop. Whether by accident or purposefully, it rolled off the teacher's worktable and came to rest beneath the one where he sat, right by his left foot. A slight nod from the doctor seemed to indicate that Harry was supposed to pick it up, though when he began to bend over, Farthinwald shook his head slightly and mouthed silently, "Not yet."

Harry was burning with curiosity about the message on the floor by the time class was over. To have a reason to bend over he 'accidentally' knocked his quill and a textbook to the floor. When he stooped down to retrieve his possessions, the crumpled ball of parchment was surreptitiously picked up along with the quill and quickly transferred to a pocket. It was then that the Potions Master stood up, straightened the parchment sheets on the worktable, and cleared his throat.

"Students," he announced, "as we have only a few minutes of lesson time left, I have a few instructions for all future lessons.

"First, starting with the next time we meet, I'm requiring that you, your clothing and all equipment to be used be magically cleaned and sterilized before you enter this chamber. This is to keep any foreign particles and dust to the absolute minimum. A reminder will be posted on this room's door, along with instructions on how to accomplish this necessity."

"Second, from this time on, we will meet for all instructional lessons in the Great Hall -- This chamber is to be used only for the seventh-years hands-on practicum. The other-year's lessons will be held elsewhere." Doctor Farthinwald paused to scratch the side of his nose before continuing.

"Third, I remind you to record in your project notes every step of the project, along with the date and time each step is both begun and completed. Failure to do this will negatively affect the result of your Potions NEWT."

"Fourth, I shall allow access to this chamber to monitor the distillation process you will be performing outside of regularly scheduled lesson times, but you must see me first to obtain both permission and the necessary password to enter every time you wish to do so," He peered myopically around the class before continuing. "I will be available in my office from four pm to half past five Monday through Thursdays, as well as being available at the regularly scheduled lessons."

"Finally, both a bit of good news and bad news," he smiled sardonically. "The good news is that should you manage to complete your project at any time before the summer holidays begin, you will be excused from attending the remaining class sessions." A murmur of excitement swept through the classroom before he continued. "The bad news is that should you not complete your project before the scheduled end of classes, ten percent of your final NEWT score will be deducted for every step left undone. Ladies and gentlemen, I wish each and every one of you the best of luck. You'll need it. You are dismissed."

Harry held back a bit from the rest of the students going out the door, taking the opportunity to  surreptitiously remove and quickly uncrumple the parchment to look at what was written.

HP

After evening meal

My office

Alone

Tempus Fugit

RF

Author's Note: Ever have one of those moments in writing where everything you want to relate in your story just comes together perfectly? Well, it sure did not happen with chapters five and six! Between trying to cut down on wordiness and minutiae at the suggestion of my wonderful BETA reader/editor/all-round Wonderful Person (with Boldly Capitalized WP) Kalarien (Who groans at my puns), the sudden realization that lesson schedules as I had originally written them just did not work, and a frantic search for what I remembered as a short story (but was in actuality an outtake from Imogen's wonderful Alpha and Omega, which can be found at Elenard.com that inspired me to use an adapted reference to it in this chapter -- it's the mention about the copy of Ron's letter to Hermione that Molly found -- that forced me to rewrite these chapters three times -- each time about an hour AFTER I had sent the previous version to Kalarien. You can imagine the furious e-mailing I had to do to keep her from BETAing the wrong stuff. (Sigh...) But she was understanding and (virtually) held my hand as she helped me through the whole process while flinging frozen seafood in my direction, so in lieu of adopting her as my granddaughter (just to keep it in the family), I'm dedicating both chapters to her. Thank You, Solveig

Chapter Seven

"Harry? What's that?" asked Ron.

Harry quickly crumpled the sheet of parchment again. "Erm...I spilled some ink on my notes, and I was just trying to see if they were salvageable. They're not, so I'll have to borrow Ginny's notes to copy."

"You'll have to wait a bit -- she took off at a run out of here. It's time for lunch, and I am famished. Why don't you meet her in the Great Hall?" suggested Ron.

"Uh -- Yeah, I'll do that," agreed Harry as he closed his book bag and followed Ron out of the room. He hated lying to his friend, but Doctor Farthinwald / Farmwood had been so secretive about arranging the meeting, he felt sure that it was necessary.

By the time they made it to the Great Hall for lunch, it could be noted that almost every seventh-year student seemed to have a look of panic on their faces. Conversations seemed muted, and every now and then Harry thought he could hear someone crying.

"Thirty feet?" someone exclaimed as they passed by, "He expects us to write a thirty foot essay?" Ron shuddered upon hearing that, causing Hermione to respond, "Honestly, Ron, that shouldn't be too difficult, we've got all of the school year to do it in, and if we just schedule some time every day to work on it, we can have it done by Christmas holiday!"

"Along with learning as much as we can about Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, and Muggles, practicing transfiguring everything into everything else and distilling ingredients for Potions -- not to mention whatever they'll have us doing in Charms, Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology and Defence Against the Dark Arts," Ron moaned. "I'd say we ought to be ready no later than Easter Holiday... five years from now."

"What will be ready five years from now?" asked Ginny as she and Anna May arrived and sat down with the others.

"They're just complaining about the requirements for our NEWTs," answered Hermione. "Though I will admit that there are a few that make me a bit nervous."

"Maybe you should drink some fresh sleeproot tea, Miss Granger. Miss Desiree says that's what she would do when she was nervous," Anna May chimed into the conversation as she filled her plate.

"Thank you, Anna May -- I think that is some very good advice," replied Hermione. "I'm glad to see you're paying attention to what you're told."

"You're welcome. I like Perfesher McGonagall's lessons. She can change into a moggie! I want to do that, too. But I hafta make a matchstick turn into a needle first, she says," Anna May seemed excited about her first day of classes. "Perfesher McGonagall doesn't smile much at all, does she?"

"Professor McGonagall does smile sometimes, Anna May," said Ginny as she buttered a slice of bread. "All you have to do is be sure you've studied what she tells you to, and answer her questions."

"I'll try," replied the young girl. "Doctor Far'nwald made his cauldron make purple smoke today, but he didn't seem happy about it. He said the 'spearmint wasn't a success, but he didn't want me to stop asking questions 'cause that's the way to learn." She looked at Hermione, a slight frown on her face. "I'm s'posed to ask questions, right?"

"Yes, Anna May. Especially if you don't understand something."

"Why did Doctor Far'nwald say the 'spearmint wasn't a success? Isn't the 'spearmint a plant? That's what mummy said it was."

Harry smiled. "Anna May, I think you're having some trouble with words you don't quite understand. Doctor Farthinwald and your mother were using two different words that sound alike but mean two different things," he explained patiently.

"That's right, Anna May," chimed in Hermione. "Experiment means that you try to do something to learn, while spearmint, the kind your mother was talking about, is a plant that's used to make teas, candies, and flavourings."

"Oh," replied Anna May, a look of intense concentration on her face. "I didn't say the words right, then. Es-spearmint means to try something, and spearmint is the plant. Is that right, Miss Granger?"

Harry chuckled. "Close enough," he interrupted, drawing a glare from Hermione..

"Thank You, Mr. Potter."

"Why don't you just call me Harry, Anna May? That's what my friends call me. Mr. Potter just sounds too stuffy and formal."

"If you say so, Mr. Harry," she nodded. "Does that mean that we're friends, too?"

"Yes, Anna May," Harry replied with a smile, "We are definitely friends!"

"I think that's a very good idea, Anna May," said Ginny, "and because we are all your friends, I think you use our first names, too. My brother's name is Ron, I'm Ginny, and that's Hermione," she indicated each person as she spoke of them.

"Mr. Ron, Miss Ginny, and Miss Her -- Herm -- Herminey," repeated Anna May.

Ron snorted a laugh, which made Anna May look troubled.

"Did I do something wrong, Miss Ginny?" she asked as Ron winced from the impact of Hermione kicking him in the shin.

"No, Anna May, you didn't do anything wrong. My big git of a brother just thought of something funny. Isn't that right, Ron?" she asked as she fixed him with a baleful glare.

"Erm -- Yeah. Something funny," he replied, rubbing his shin. "Would you like a blackberry tart, Anna May?" He picked up the basket of warm pastries to pass along.

"Thank you, Mr. Ron." She plucked one from the basket and took a bite. "These are good," she said after she had swallowed and took another bite of tart. As she chewed, she kept looking from Ginny to Harry.

"Is something the matter?" asked Ginny.

"You like Mr. Harry a lot, don't you, Miss Ginny?" she asked. "You smile more when you see him."

Ginny blushed. "Yes, Anna May. I do like Harry a lot. In fact, we're engaged."

"I thought so. That's what the ring you wear means." The child smiled.

"That's right."

"And you're going to get married and have babies," said the little girl matter-of-factly, "two of them." At her comment, Ginny blushed again and Harry found himself coughing as he choked on a sip of pumpkin juice. "I like babies. I think they're cute."

"Erm -- Yes, babies are cute, but I won't be having any very soon," explained Ginny. "Harry and I won't be getting married until we've left school, and I imagine it will be some time after that before any babies come along."

Anna May looked confused. "No?" she asked.

"No, Anna May."

"But I saw --" The child stopped suddenly, turning pale with a look of fear on her features.

"Anna May? What is it?" asked Hermione.

"I - I see him now. I don't like him," she spoke in a near whisper. "He's a bad man..."

At that moment, Harry gave a cry of pain and clapped his hands to his forehead. His vision darkened as searing bolt after searing bolt of agony struck him. Between his fingers, the others could see that his scar had turned a livid red, and seemed to be pulsing like a heartbeat.

"You dare to tell me you've lost him? When? Where?" Anger suffused his entire being as the young man groveled before him.

"He - he must have hidden his wand. Both of the guards were stunned and we've only now found out he is missing, great Lord," came a plaintive reply. "It appears he took the Time-Turner, as well."

"Fool! He must be found! Your incompetence sickens me, Malfoy -- Had I the time to spare, I would teach you to follow my instructions exactly, you and your stupid friends both."

"P - please, Lord, give me another chance. I know we can locate him."

"Another chance?" A hollow laughter filled the chamber. "You expect another chance?"

"Please, Lord -- I-I know I don't deserve one, but I swear we can recapture him."

"You swear, do you? How do you swear? On pain of death, perhaps?" He was actually enjoying dangling this hope, knowing full well that he meant to snatch it from his servant's grasp.

"Anything, Lord! I swear on whatever you ask of me!"

"Then perhaps I will be lenient this one time," he drawled, "But not too lenient -- Crucio!!"

He watched, his mood changing to utter contempt as Malfoy screamed in agony, his limbs twisting grotesquely, his joints moving in directions they were not designed for. He laughed, softly at first, then louder as the pain Malfoy suffered lasted longer and longer. Finally, he ended the curse, leaving Malfoy sobbing on the floor.

"Cease that infernal racket, boy. You get your second chance -- but know this; If you fail me again, you will know such pain as to beg for that you have just received. Now get out of my sight, and don't let me see you again until you've recaptured him!"

"Harry! Please, answer me!"

Ginny was sobbing as she cradled his head in her lap. Ron and Hermione were surrounding him as he lay on the floor, and others were drawing closer as the pain in his head slowly ebbed away. Something warm and sticky was on his face and hands, and he felt nauseated and sore all over. His scar throbbed with every beat of his heart, burning with pain that lessened with each passing moment. Somewhere out of his sight, someone was crying hysterically.

"Make room, get out of the way," came a voice, and Madame Pomfrey was leaning over him. "Take them both to the hospital wing, they're in shock and she's panicking. Keep pressure on that wound! And don't let him sit up! Keep a tight hold on her, wrap her in a blanket if you have to, and keep her warm. Don't let her struggle."

Then came the darkness, and he knew no more...

***

"...was a snake-man, with a big snake, and he hurted him! He was screaming and the snake-man was laughing..."

***

"...rest now. We won't let him hurt you, you'll be safe here..."

***

"...Mr. Harry be all right? Please tell me, I hafta know. Please, I saw..."

***

It was dark as he slowly became aware. He was lying down, in a bed, as voices pitched too low to be understood could be heard some distance away. His head throbbed, and as he tried to sit up, dizziness and nausea overtook him, forcing him to lie still. He could not see anything and his mind felt foggy and unfocused.

"Harry? Are you awake?" came Ginny's voice as a pressure he had been unaware of increased on his hand -- her fingers, holding his.

"Drin' -- " his throat was parched and forming words difficult, but somehow Ginny knew what he wanted.

"Here, sip slowly," came her voice as a glass was held to his lips. The cool water in his mouth felt wonderful as he took a small amount and swallowed. A second sip seemed to revive him and a third seemed to sate his thirst while at the same time he realized a certain lack.

"Ginny?" Harry's voice shook, "I can't see --"

"Shh, quiet, love. You have a bandage covering your eyes, that's all. Madame Pomfrey says you'll be fine by morning, but you should rest," her voice betrayed that she had been crying.

"It was him, I saw what he did -- I have to tell Dumbledore. His Death Eaters are out there... They're looking for --"

"Harry, he knows. We all do," her voice cut him off. "You've been unconscious most of the afternoon, but --" she stopped suddenly. Somewhere close by, someone was crying. "You need to calm down now and rest. You've lost a lot of blood."

"Blood?"

"Your scar broke open when -- when it happened," his fiancée explained, her voice quivering as she did so, "and there was blood everywhere. I-I have never been so scared. I thought we were going to lose you. You still look so pale..." This final sentence ended in a sob of misery.

"Ginny, love," he whispered, pulling her closer and wrapping his arms around her by touch as she cried, "I'm not going anywhere. You said yourself that Madame Pomfrey said I'll be fine by morning." He held her in silence until she stopped shaking with every breath.

"Miss Weasley, Mr. Potter needs to rest," came the voice of Madame Pomfrey, "and so, it appears, do you. Go back to your dormitory and get a good night's sleep. Mr. Potter will still be here in the morning."

He felt Ginny pull away, and light kisses touch his cheek. "I'll be back early in the morning," she whispered, and was gone.

"Mr. Potter, you need to drink this, it will help speed your recovery." The mouth of a bottle touched his lips, and a thick liquid tasting of sour lemon and pepper with a hint of ginger flowed into his mouth. He swallowed reflexively, and felt a tingle like an electric shock permeate his body, followed by a sense of warmth. He relaxed and the arms of Morpheus took him...

***

"Harry, wake up, please," came a familiar voice.

"Professor Dumbledore?" drawn to consciousness by the sound, he asked.

"Yes, Harry. You gave us a bit of a fright, you know. I understand that it was Voldemort?" The Headmaster's hand rested on his shoulder, giving comfort.

"Yes. He was upset because -- someone -- got away. He was raging at-at Draco. Malfoy. He cursed him, used the Cruciatus Curse."

"I take it that you know who got away, don't you, Harry? You and your friends have known for some time, if I'm not mistaken."

"Doctor Farthinwald -- only that isn't his real name." Harry whispered.

"All too true. Doctor Farmwood managed to escape his captors by stealing a time-turner, used it to go back to the evening before Voldemort and his Death Eaters attacked the Institute in the States, and took all his research notes so the Dark Lord would not be able to get them. He hid, traveling at night, using Muggle methods of transport until he thought it might be safe. Then he came to see me. He needs to keep a low profile as he completes his experimental alchemic trials, and I thought that a guise as the new Potions Master at Hogwarts would enable him best to do so." Dumbledore paused in his tale, and took a deep breath. "He knows that Voldemort and his minions can't be allowed to possess the secret behind his potion, but it is imperative that he finish his work."

"But why tell me? Wouldn't it be better if I didn't know?" asked Harry.

"Unfortunately, Harry, everyone knows," Dumbledore sighed again. "Apparently our youngest Gryffindor somehow managed to 'see' what was happening, linking minds with you at the time Voldemort was enraged, and described the entire incident, using your knowledge of Doctor Farmwood's identity to explain what she was seeing. It put her into hysterics and shock."

"Anna May? Is she all right?"

"She's a badly frightened little girl, but other than that, she will be fine. Poppy is taking good care of her. I do believe, though, that she needs to be reassured that you are all right. She's been asking about you ever since she got here." Dumbledore explained. "I fear that her abilities are developing much faster than she can learn to control them. That could prove quite troublesome."

"I don't understand, Professor. Isn't it just like when I was younger, and things occurred that I couldn't explain or control?" asked Harry.

"Not quite, Harry. You see, it is quite possible that Anna May may be the most powerful natural-talent witch that the wizarding world has seen since the time of the four founders," the Headmaster paused before continuing. "In her short life, she has managed to unconsciously master the abilities to Transfigure others, cast charms and spells well beyond the levels of her contemporaries and accurately Scry events from the past, as they are happening and somewhat into the future. Harry, she may well be the next powerful True Seer, and that could put her in a great deal of danger from Voldemort."

"He would use her, wouldn't he?" Harry questioned, although he knew the answer all too well.

"At every turn. If she were coerced into using her talents and revealing the plans made by the Ministry or the Order, Voldemort would have the upper hand. That is why she is here and why the Order is going to take steps to protect her as best we can."

"What can I do to help?" Harry was determined to do whatever he could to see that what Dumbledore feared would not come to pass.

"Reassure her, help her to see that everyone here at Hogwarts wants to help defeat Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Befriend her, encourage your friends to do the same. Protect her, if necessary," Dumbledore sighed. "I fear that Anna May, Doctor Farmwood and yourself are all key players in the battles to come. I can't foresee why or what will come to pass, but I have a gut instinct that tells me if we lose any one of you, Voldemort will triumph in the end."

"I, unfortunately, agree," said a new voice.

"Doctor Farmwood," acknowledged Dumbledore.

"Good morning, Headmaster, Harry," the Potions Master replied. "I fear I'm getting too old for all this cloak and dagger nonsense, Dumbledore. I'm nothing more than an old researcher who only wants to be left alone to do my work."

"I know, old friend, but for now it is necessary. You didn't get the chance to speak with Harry as we planned, so I've asked you here to inform him of what it is we are hoping to do."

"What it is we are planning to do," Doctor Farmwood changed the wording, laughing bitterly. "We intend to take on the most powerful evil this world has known in recent history, along with his followers, with only a handful of witches and wizards, an old alchemist, a teenage boy and a child. I still say it's pure foolishness, Dumbledore. Not only that, it is purely criminal to endanger an innocent in this way. The child isn't even of age to properly be trained."

"I agree -- and if I could see another way, I wouldn't hesitate to hide her away someplace safe until she is of age, along with Harry and his friends." Dumbledore sounded quite tired.

"Professor Dumbledore, Doctor Farmwood," Harry interjected, suddenly angry, "Are you suggesting that Anna May be allowed to face Voldemort?"

"No, Harry. However, it is necessary that she be protected, and if possible, make use of her talents. No one wants to put her into danger, quite the opposite." Dumbledore explained.

"Harry," Doctor Farmwood sighed, "It is quite one thing to choose to put oneself in danger, and quite another to put an innocent into peril. However, as the Headmaster says, there may not be an option. Myself, I will gladly do whatever is necessary to see Voldemort defeated. I will agree that, should you choose to do so, you can do whatever you deem necessary in this war. I still have reservations about using the child, but doing so may yet prove vital. It is my fervent hope that it will not come to that, but if it does, I will do everything in my power to see her protected. I know Dumbledore will do the same, and I hope that you will as well." The Potions Master sighed again. "I know that Dumbledore has done everything he thought prudent to protect you as you grew up, and is still working to find a solution to this threat that will not involve you or your friends. I can not see him doing any less for Anna May."

Harry pondered this in silence, his thoughts racing as he tried to think of some solution, any solution that would deny Voldemort access to any sort of advantage.

"Professor Dumbledore, you said it was possible that Anna May could be the next True Seer, right?" he finally broke the silence with the question.

"Yes, Harry."

"That doesn't mean that it will necessarily be true, right?"

"Yes, there is that possibility as well," Dumbledore agreed.

"So, if it turns out that she won't be the next True Seer, Voldemort shouldn't have any interest in her, right?"

"That's a mighty big if, Harry," Doctor Farmwood interjected.

"That isn't what matters, don't you see? It only matters if Voldemort thinks she would be of use. If we somehow convince him that she is unimportant, she'll be safer than if he's actively looking for her, right?" Harry was not sure he was expressing his thought well, but he continued to try.

"I believe I understand what you're saying, Harry," answered Dumbledore, "and the idea does have some merit. The only question is, how do we do it? It isn't as if we can walk up to the Dark Lord and tell him."

"No, but we can leak false information to his Death Eaters. That is where my 'connection' to Voldemort is useful -- I know their identities, and they can be used. Crabbe and Goyle aren't attending Hogwarts this year, but we know where to find them, and they have direct access to a known Death Eater -- Draco Malfoy."

***

Hermione and Ginny, after briefly visiting with Harry, had brought Anna May to her dormitory room with strict instructions from Madame Pomfrey that she be made to rest and not be left alone. There was no problem with staying with her, as both girls had been excused from that day's lessons and were alternating with each other so they could keep an eye on the youngest Gryffindor. Getting Anna May to rest, however, was not as simple as it might seem.

"Please. Miss Ginny, I hafta know if he's going to be all right. I saw what happened to him, and Mr. Harry wouldn't wake up. The snake-man did something to him, I know he did," the little girl was almost crying with worry as she begged to know.

"Anna May, Harry is going to be fine, Madame Pomfrey said so. I know seeing Harry collapse frightened you -- It frightened me, too, but Harry's a fighter, and he wouldn't let something like a little cut on his head keep him down," Ginny tried to calm the young girl. "Now Madame Pomfrey wants you to rest, so you have to stay in bed and try to calm down. You don't want her to come down here and make you drink one of those yucky sleep potions, do you?"

Anna May sniffed, her eyes bright with tears. "N-No. But I saw what happened -- really, I did -- and I s-saw the other things, too, and he's going to hurt Mr. Harry! He made the buildings fall down, and h-he's going to do it again and again and hurt lots of people! Please, I have see Mr. Harry to know if he can make it not happen! He's the only one who can!"

"all right, Anna May," the sixth-year prefect acknowledged, "I'll make sure you get to see Harry, but you have to promise me you'll try to rest until then. All right?"

"A-all right. I p-promise..." The little girl lay back down in the bed, and curled up as Ginny tucked the blankets around her. "You will bring him, won't you? It's 'portant. More 'portant than anything," she grabbed Ginny's hand, " 'cause of you, and the babies, and what the snake-man will do to the Headmaster and Mr. Ron and Miss Herminey and the others if Mr. Harry doesn't come see me... It's real 'portant I see him."

"Shush, rest now -- I promise you'll get to see Harry," Ginny's mind was awhirl as she tried to make sense of what Anna May was saying. The babies? The snake-man? Could she mean...? How could she know? Questions about everything flew at a rapid pace in her mind.

By the time Hermione returned from her self-imposed task of collecting the day's assignments for the two of them, Anna May had fallen into a fitful doze. "She was adamant about seeing Harry," explained Ginny as she related the conversation between Anna May and herself to the Seventh-Year Prefect. "I don't know what to think -- she said so many things that she couldn't possibly know, yet everything she says seems to fit. Do you think it might be true, that she might be seeing the future, be a Seer?"

"I don't know, Ginny. In Arithmancy, we've discussed the mathematical possibilities for how a True Seer can accurately predict the future, or at least a future, since even the very accurate seers of the past have been wrong at times." Hermione looked thoughtful as she related what she had learned. "It's a matter of probabilities, with chance being an unknown but inescapable factor.

"Professor Vector believes in a current theory that describes it like traveling upstream along a river. There are places when tributaries, both large and small, join the main river and at each one, you must decide whether to go one way or the other as you head upstream. The main river is the most likely one you will follow, but everything can change should you decide to follow a tributary instead. Those choices are called probability cusps, and while everyone makes some choices as the future unfolds, there are some probability cusps that have a stronger bearing on the future than others do, because they affect more people. Those are called affective events. But chance plays a role at points called equal probability cusps -- those are the places where a conscious choice can't be made because affective events are unaffected by choice -- there's an equally random probability for both branches to happen."

Ginny frowned as she tried to understand the explanation. "So when a seer makes an accurate prediction, it's because the probability is the most likely to occur, and it does?"

"Not necessarily -- it's because they can somehow select from all the possible futures the one future that does happen." Hermione shook her head, "That's why the explanation is just a theory; We don't know for certain how a seer does what a seer does."

"So if Anna May is a True Seer, then what she 'sees' will happen?" asked Ginny.

Hermione looked thoughtful. "Yes -- but we have to take into account the fact that she is young and untrained, and may not be 'seeing' the correct future, or perhaps several possible futures. That could be why she sometimes says two different things -- why she said Harry could make it 'not happen'."

The door to the dormitory room opened, and Lavender Brown looked in. "Ginny? Harry is downstairs in the common room and is asking for you."

"I'll be right there. Thank you, Lavender," she replied. "Hermione, when Anna May wakes up, would you bring her down to the common room? I promised that she would get to see Harry."

"Yes -- Oh, would you please give Harry this? I got his assignments as well as yours, Anna May's and mine," she handed Ginny two sheets of parchment.

"Erm... Yes, thanks," agreed Ginny, smiling inwardly -- Trust Hermione to be sure everyone got his or her homework! She exited the dormitory and scurried down the stairs to the common room, where she found Harry pacing in front of the fireplace.

"Hello again, love," Ginny kissed her fiancé, "I'm glad to see you out of the hospital wing."

"Yeah, but I'm supposed to miss lessons and rest all day," Harry embraced her and returned the kiss. "Professor Dumbledore and Doctor Farmwood came to see me, and we've come up with a plan that we hope will keep Anna May safe from Voldemort. I'm going to need your help, though -- we need to send posts to Crabbe and Goyle and make them believe that some misleading information is both real and important enough to pass on to Draco Malfoy. Hopefully, he'll then report it to Voldemort."

"Why do you need my help?"

"Because I think that Crabbe and Goyle will respond better if the information comes from a girl."

"Wait a minute -- You want me to write to Crabbe and Goyle? Do you think that's wise?" Ginny sounded skeptical.

"Erm...No, not you -- One of the Slytherin girls. Maybe Pansy Parkinson?"

"But she's not here this term! And she surely wouldn't want to help you trick Draco," Ginny pointed out.

"It doesn't matter if she wants to help or not -- you're going to write the letter and pretend to be Pansy." Harry sounded frustrated. "You'll write it so it sounds like it comes from a girl."

"Oh?" Ginny lifted an eyebrow. "Just how does a letter from a girl sound?"

"It's -- I don't know -- the phrasing, the way they use words..."

"I see... Just how many letters have you got from other girls to know this?" Ginny was secretly amused, but kept a straight face as she baited Harry.

Harry flushed red at Ginny's implication and stammered, "I -- no -- I haven't... Just you, Ginny."

"Good answer, Harry. Let's keep it that way," she replied and reached up to kiss him again. "Of course I'll help you, silly. What information do you want me to pass along?"

Harry stared at her in bewilderment, shaking his head and smiling before replying. "Sometimes, Ginny, you are just a little too much for me to understand -- but I wouldn't have it any other way. You are definitely related to Fred and George!"

The next hour was spent writing and revising the letters to Crabbe and Goyle as they sat at one of tables, wording them in such a way as to make them believe that the letters came from their female year-mate. They were just about finished with the final draft when Hermione and Anna May came into the common room.

"Hello, Mr. Harry. I'm glad you're okay," the first-year piped up when she saw him, then became very serious. "I saw the snake-man when he hurted that man and I saw what he's going to do to everyone. You can't let him, Mr. Harry -- He's a bad man." Her gaze shifted to Ginny. "Miss Ginny and her babies and a lot of people will get hurted if you don't stop him."

Harry felt his mouth go dry at the thought of Ginny being hurt, and lurched mentally as the rest of her statement sunk in. Her babies? Surely, she did not mean...

"Miss Ginny? You hafta put the funny mark on those letters, or they won't b'lieve you." Anna May blurted out. The sudden change of topic was unsettling, and it was Hermione who asked for an explanation first.

"Anna May? What are you talking about when you say 'funny mark'?"

"The funny mark you can't see unless you say the bad word. It looks like this..." She drew a small wand from the pocket of her robes, and started to trace an odd symbol in the air with magic.



"...I think it's called a sijjy -- siggly -- sizzle?" The seven-year old grappled with the word as she tried to explain.

"A sigil, Anna May," corrected Hermione. "A magical mark to identify something as real. You said it could not be seen unless you say a word? What word?"

"The bad word -- V-voldymork."

"Do you mean 'Voldemort', Anna May?" Harry asked.

"Yes, that's it, Mr. Harry. Voldymork!"

Chapter Eight

Adding the sigil to the letters was a simple task, thanks to Hermione's knowledge of Ancient Runes and ability at Charms. It was also her idea to enchant the letters with the perfume scent that Pansy Parkinson habitually wore, a particularly over-sweet floral.

"It will add verisimilitude to the deception," she had explained.

Anna May immediately asked, "What's Verzimitoot to the 'ception' mean?"

Hermione explained the term to the girl, who looked thoughtful for a moment. "V-Verzimitoot to the 'ception' uses a lot of too big words. Wouldn't it be eaz'er to just say 'seem true'?" the seven year old asked. "I bet more people would unnerstand that, Miss Herminey."

Both Harry and Ginny suppressed a laugh as Hermione's mouth dropped open. When she turned to them for support, the effort became too much and Harry could only begin coughing to hide his laughter.

He coughed twice. "Erm... Well. I guess I'd," he coughed again, "better get these out by school owl. The sooner that Crabbe and Goyle get and read them, the sooner Malfoy will tell 'Voldymork' the information we want him to have," Harry commented, giving Ginny a quick kiss on the cheek before heading out the portrait hole to the Owlery, his face red with effort.

"Anna May, how did you know about the sigil?" asked Ginny, changing the subject quickly.

"Sometimes I just know things all at once. I don't know why. I think it's kinda like 'memb'ring something b'fore it happens," Anna May tried to explain. "Sometimes I 'member stuff a long time b'fore, and sometimes I 'member things that don't happen at all. And I get ideas, too."

"Ideas?" asked Ginny

"Once, I stopped my friend Delilah from chasing the ball into the street, 'cause I had an idea something bad would happen, and when I did, a big Muggle truck runned over the ball." Anna May frowned at the memory

"Do you think things like that often?" asked Hermione.

Anna May shook her head. "No, just sometimes. Like yesterday, when the snake-man hurted the man and Mr. Harry."

"Have you been able to 'remember ahead' for long?"

"I don't know. Mummy said she thought I was just 'buhzervant and listened when the people from the min'stry asked her that question," Anna May replied. "Miss Herminey, what does 'buhzervant mean?"

"‘Observant' means that you pay attention to what is going on around you, Anna May," explained Hermione. "Like yesterday, when you told Ginny she liked Harry, and you knew that because she smiles more around him. You were being observant when you noticed that."

"Speaking of that," Ginny interjected, "you've said several things about my -- my having babies. You said I would have two. Is that because you 'remembered it ahead'?"

Anna May frowned. "I don't know, Miss Ginny. I think so -- I saw you carrying two babies b'fore the bad snake-man -- b'fore he..." she trailed off in mid-sentence, tears beginning to well up in her eyes.

"Anna May? You don't have to talk about it if it upsets you," Ginny comforted the little girl, taking and holding her in a hug.

"That's right. You're supposed to be resting, anyway," Hermione added.

"I'm not sleepy, Miss Herminey. Can I just sit in a chair, and have Miss Ginny tell me a story?"

"How about if we help you with your lesson assignments first, and then Ginny will tell you a story?" Hermione asked.

The little girl smiled. "I think that would be good. Mummy said I should always do my best and try to learn as much as I can and ask for help if I don't unnerstand something." Anna May paused, a sudden look of concentration plastering itself across her small visage. "Miss Herminey? I don't think I should do Potions up here. Doctor Far'nwald told us that we should only try es-spearmints when he's there to su-soup-permise us -- Am I s'posed to still call him Doctor Far'nwald? It's not his name."

"I don't know, Anna May. I think you should wait until the next time you have a lesson with him and ask him yourself." Hermione answered. "I also think that not doing Potions up here is a very good idea."

"May I start with Trans -- trams -- tramsfiggershins?"

"That's transfigurations, Anna May," Hermione corrected.

"That's a hard word to 'member," Anna May frowned, "Trans-figg-yer-a-shunz? Is that better?"

"Much better," laughed Ginny. "What are you supposed to do?"

"I think I unnerstand how to make the matchstick into a needle now. Perfesher McGonagall told me I had to learn to do that b'fore I can make myself into a moggie like her."

"Yes, you've told us, Anna May," replied Hermione, a look of quiet frustration on her visage. The little girl seemed unaware that there would need to be a great deal more training before she could transfigure herself into anything, let alone a living creature.

"All right," Hermione said as she crossed the common room to the fireplace. Taking a matchstick from the holder on the mantel, she returned to the table where Ginny and Anna May sat. "Here's a matchstick. Do you remember what Professor McGonagall told you to do?"

"Yes, Miss Herminey." Anna May pulled her tiny wand from the pocket of her robes, and pointed it at the matchstick, her face showing determination. In less than thirty seconds, the wooden matchstick had lengthened, become pointy at one end and a hole formed through the other, as it suddenly turned silvery. There on the table was a sewing needle.

"That was... excellent, Anna May," Hermione exclaimed, both in surprise and a tiny twinge of jealousy. "All I could do on my first day was get it looking silvery and pointy, and -- and I was four years older than you are."

The first-year student smiled broadly as she slipped her tiny wand back into her robes. "I thought I could, Miss Herminey." Anna May stood up from the table and danced excitedly (for there was no other way to describe it) to the centre of the common room. There, she closed her eyes and the look of concentration and determination once more appeared on her features. "Wee Moggie..." she whispered.

"Anna May, no! You could hurt yourself--" Ginny and Hermione bounded out of their chairs and raced toward the little girl, then stopped in mid-stride, shocked by what they were seeing. It took less than a second for the tiny girl to shrink and change form, becoming a calico kitten that mewed at them before arching its back, hissing excitedly and scurrying under the nearest sofa.

***

As Harry descended the steps from the Owlery, having sent the posts to Crabbe and Goyle, he heard the sound of urgent voices and quickly moving feet in the corridor below. Pausing to look over the banister, he saw Hermione dash past, with Professor McGonagall following her quickly down the hallway towards the Gryffindor Common Room.

"...don't know how she did it, Professor, it took us both by surprise."

"I don't see how it would be possible without a specialized knowledge that takes years to learn. I was nearly twenty-five before I accomplished it, and then only because I spent five years researching how it could be done..."

The voices faded away, and Harry picked up his pace to follow, wondering what had happened. As he approached the portrait that hid the entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room, he noted that the fat lady was wringing her hands as if she were worrying, and kept looking to the area of the portrait behind her. He cleared his throat to attract her attention.

"Oh, Mr. Potter, I didn't see you. Password, please?"

"Knickerbocker -- but what's going on?"

"You'd best get inside quickly; there seems to have been an incident with one of the first-years," she replied. "Professor McGonagall and Miss Granger both seemed rather worried and upset when they arrived."

The painting swung aside, opening the hole in the wall, through which Harry quickly climbed. Once in the common room proper, he saw Professor McGonagall, Hermione and Ginny down on hands and knees, peering under one of the overstuffed sofas, trying to reach something. Crookshanks was disappearing under the far end of the same sofa, and moments later hissing and spitting could be heard emanating from underneath.

"Oh, be careful with her, Crookshanks," Hermione called. "Bring her out gently."

The oversized yellow cat's head emerged from the darkness with what looked like a small ball of noisily insistent, writhing black, white and orange fur held firmly in his mouth, and deposited it into Professor McGonagall's waiting hands. The Transfiguration instructor spoke softly to -- whatever it was -- in calm, soothing tone of voice as Hermione and Ginny helped her to her feet. She then walked to the nearest table and placed the wailing, wriggling bundle on its broad surface.

"Hush now, I know you're frightened, and if you just hold still, I'll be able to help you," the Transfiguration instructor said gently.

The ball of fluff then mewed piteously, and Harry realized it was a kitten. He wondered for a moment which of the first-years had brought it to Hogwarts before Professor McGonagall took her wand from the pocket of her robes, pointed it firmly at the small cat and intoned, "Finito Incantatum Esse Quam Videri!"

Harry's mouth dropped open in awe as the kitten swiftly became a small, crying and frightened little girl sitting on the tabletop. Ginny immediately had Anna May in her arms, comforting her as her sobs degenerated into hiccups, while Professor McGonagall sat primly on the edge of the nearest chair and spoke quietly with Hermione, her face alternating between disapproving and stern one moment and briefly smiling the next.

"Ginny, what's going on?" he asked.

"Anna May was practicing her Transfigurations and somehow managed to transfigure herself into a kitten," his fiancée replied as she held the sobbing little girl. "We think the experience frightened her so badly that she panicked, ran and hid. We've spent the last ten minutes trying to get her to come out from under the sofa."

"Is she all right?"

"I don't know. She's still upset, and hasn't said anything coherent yet, but as soon as she calms down enough, Professor McGonagall will check to see if she has injured herself magically." Ginny continued to hold and soothe the child as she spoke.

Anna May had wrapped her arms around the sixth-year prefect's neck, holding Ginny tightly as if she never wanted to let go. She hiccupped twice between sobs, then turned to look at Harry, tears streaking her face and her hair in wild disarray.

"M-M-M-Mr. H-Harry, M-Miss Ginny, I don't w-want to," she paused to hiccup, "be a m-m-moggie never again!"

"There, there, Anna May," soothed Ginny. "You won't have to Transfigure yourself if you don't want to."

"That is quite correct, Miss Vertocular," said Professor McGonagall, who had risen to her feet and come up behind Ginny and the girl. "I suggest that you not do that again before you have had the proper instruction and training. I told you and the others yesterday that anyone messing about in my class would leave and not be back." The Transfiguration Instructor's voice held an edge that indicated she was definitely not pleased with what had happened. "Luckily for you, you were not in my class when this occurred. Now hold still a moment, and let me check to see if everything is all right." She pointed her wand, and a silvery mist emerged and surrounded the little girl.

"It appears that you somehow managed the Transfiguration without harm, thank Merlin. I am still taking twenty points from Gryffindor for your unauthorised use of Transfiguratory Magic, and you will serve the next three evenings in detention with me in my classroom."

The little girl looked as if she would burst into tears anew, hiccupped and hugged Ginny even tighter.

"Miss Weasley, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall addressed the two female prefects, "I realize that the circumstances were beyond your control, and I applaud your quick thinking and common sense in coming to me in this emergency. I therefore award the female sixth-and-seventh-year Gryffindor prefects fifteen points each." The Head of the House smiled briefly as she said this. "Miss Vertocular, Miss Granger tells me that prior to this incident, you were able to transform a matchstick into a needle, as I had asked you to practice. Will you please demonstrate to me how you achieved this?"

Anna May gulped down a sob as she nodded her head, then loosened her hold on Ginny and slid herself down to the floor. "M-Miss Ginny, will you please," she hiccupped, "g-get me a m-matchstick? I d-don't think," she hiccupped again, "I can reach them on the ma'tel." Harry pulled a clean handkerchief from his pocket and helped the little girl blow her nose as Ginny complied with the request.

"Here you are, Anna May. Do you still have your wand?"

"T-Thank you, Miss Ginny. Yes, I ," she paused to hiccup, "still have it," she sniffed as she drew the tiny wand from her pocket and displayed it.

"You're welcome, Anna May," replied Ginny. Professor McGonagall allowed a brief smile to grace her lips at this exchange of niceties.

Anna May placed the matchstick atop the table where she had been transmuted to human form, pointed her wand at it and concentrated. The change from wood to metal was much faster this time, less than fifteen seconds.

Professor McGonagall plucked the needle from the table and examined it closely, nodding her head at the result. "Thank you, Miss Vertocular, that was excellent," she said as another small smile quirked the corners of her mouth. "I believe that accomplishment should be rewarded. Five points to Gryffindor for your quick success." She turned her gaze to the child as she said this, and Anna May smiled faintly at the praise.

"And as long as I am rewarding successful accomplishments," continued the stern-faced witch, " I award Gryffindor twenty-five points for your highly dangerous and forbidden achievement in Transfiguring yourself successfully into a kitten and sheer dumb luck," she strongly emphasized the negative terms, glancing briefly at Harry. "Now please promise me you will never, never try that again until I, or another qualified Transfiguration instructor, have fully informed, instructed and trained you in the process and give you permission!"

Anna May hiccupped once more before replying. "Yes, I promise, Perfesher McGonagall. I won't never ever do that again!" she nodded and shook her head in unison with her sentiments as she replied.

"Very well. I shall expect you in my classroom this evening at the hour of six pm sharp for your detention. Good day." The elder witch turned and walked away, but not before Harry saw her smile, shake her head, and say softly, "An Animagi at her age -- How ever did she do it?"

***

"Bloody hell, Harry, do you know what we have to do for our NEWT in Defence Against the Dark Arts?" Ron complained loudly as he collapsed into one of the overstuffed chairs in the common room at the end of the day.

Harry looked up from the book he was reading, and shook his head at his best friend.

"Snape's requiring a hands-on Practicum demonstrating our knowledge of all the defensive spells and their negating counterparts, all the offensive spells and curses except for the three unforgivables, and all possible wardings, including one called Collinwoods' Undeadly Biter!" he continued. "I'd never even heard of the Undeadly Biter! Snape said that if I did not know what it was by this time, he certainly was not going to hand me the answer, and then took ten points from Gryffindor just because I asked! Bloody Git!"

"So he's just as horrible as he was in Potions?" Hermione asked.

"That's just it -- he's... different, somehow. He seems obsessed with determining how much and what we have learned, and for once, he is not showing any favouritism -- Every House was hit for points today. He even took 50 points from Slytherin during the lesson because Millicent Bulstrode managed to Stupefy herself. It was almost as if he was a totally different person," Ron shook his head in disbelief.

"What do we have to do for our NEWTs in the rest of our lessons?" asked Harry.

Ron dug out a sheet of parchment from his book bag. "The Herbology NEWT will consist of three hands-on practicums over the course of the year -- Planting and Care of Beneficial Foreign Plant Species, Grafting and Cultivation of Magical Hybrids, and Specialized Magical Harvesting Techniques -- along with a written essay dealing with the advantages and disadvantages of use of the nineteen different currently available magical fertilizers for seven uniquely different species of magical plants," he read aloud, then sighed.

"As for Care of Magical Creatures, you'll never guess what Hagrid has planned for us this year," Ron continued. "We're each being assigned a portion of the Hogwarts grounds to inventory all the various magical creatures inhabiting it, and then we have to find a way to increase the population of at least two of them! Who in their right mind would want to increase the population of garden gnomes?"

"Someone who's found Horclumps and Jarveys in their plot?" suggested Harry.

Ron glared at his friend for a moment, then shook his head.

"What about History of Magic?" asked Harry.

"Professor Binns assigned that thirty-foot essay we heard about yesterday, on the subject of what social, political and financial effects on the wizarding world were caused by the multiple Goblin Wars and Giant Rebellions in the past ten centuries, along with a three-day test of our knowledge of Magical History from the time of Merlin Ambrosius to the present day."

"Ouch! That will take quite a bit of research… Hermione, any chance we can borrow your History of Magic notes?" asked Harry hopefully.

"You should have been taking them yourselves, you know, instead of sleeping through the class," Hermione sniffed from where her sheets of parchment were spread out on the table.

"Oh, come on, Hermione, what's it going to hurt if we read your notes to write that bloody essay?" Ron cajoled, bending over to give Hermione a quick kiss on the cheek. "It's not as if you're writing it for us -- we still do that part."

"Ronald Weasley! You are supposed to be an example to the other students as Head Boy! What is it going to say to the lower years if you have someone else do all your work for you? That it's all right to just slide by because you have a friend who will let you borrow their notes?" Hermione was building up to a full head of steam on one of her favourite topics. "Are you going to make me sorry for recommending you to Professor Dumbledore? It's not as if you haven't a brain -- you are as smart and as intelligent as any other student here at Hogwarts. You just refuse to apply yourself!"

Ron's mouth dropped open. "You think I'm smart and intelligent?

Hermione paused briefly before answering. "Yes, I do. If you enjoy something, you always do well at it. Take Wizard Chess for example -- it takes an ability to think several moves ahead in order to consistently win, and you've been doing that since before you ever got to Hogwarts. That alone shows you're intelligent. And as for smart, that's just the ability to think on your feet and arrive at a suitable answer. That's why you are as good as you are at Quidditch! Now if you would just apply yourself to your schoolwork and lessons with that same enthusiasm, you would be getting top marks all the time!"

"But --" Ron had backed away several steps as Hermione stood to face him.

"Ron, it's even in your heritage to do well! Your parents are accomplished and respected, your brothers have all done well for themselves. Even Fred and George have shown how clever they are, though they might have directed their energies to something other than pranks and jokes. Look at Ginny! She has moved ahead a year because she did so well at Potions. You could be like that if only you would try!" Hermione's rant gave way to her frustration with her boyfriend's attitude toward school in general, and tears started to form in her eyes -- she had raised her voice enough that others in the common room were staring. "I want you to be successful at whatever you decide to do -- but bloody hell, Ron, it's time to decide to do something!" Hermione emphasized the sentiment by poking her forefinger into his chest.

Ron stared at his girlfriend, wonder evident on his face. Then his expression hardened. "Hermione, I - I never knew you felt that way. I know I haven't always tried my hardest at lessons, but - but I will from now on. Just wait, you'll see. I'll -- I'll get top marks this year, just as good as yours!" Ron turned away, picked up his book bag and started for the exit from the common room.

"Just where do you think you're going?" asked Hermione, following him.

"To the library. If I can't borrow your notes, I have a lot of reading to do," Ron replied as he continued to walk away.

"But -" Hermione paused. "Just wait a minute! I'll get my books and go with you."

"Why would you want to do that?" Ron grumbled.

"Because if you are serious about what you said, and are going to do research, I'm coming along to help," She replied. "I won't let you copy my notes, but I will help you with the research. Sound fair to you?"

Ron slowly smiled. "All right, Hermione. I'll wait."

As Hermione gathered her parchment sheets and rushed up the stairs to the girls dormitories, Harry cocked his head and looked at his best friend. "That didn't sound like the Ron Weasley I know," he commented. "What are you planning to do?"

Ron grinned sheepishly. "Just what I said I would. I guess Hermione finally got through to me, telling me she thinks I'm smart and intelligent. Now I have to do whatever I can so she keeps thinking of me that way, and if it includes hours of research at the library," he sighed, "then that's what I'll have to do."

"Uh-huh… So, Ron, when you're done, can I borrow your notes?" Harry deadpanned, and chuckled quietly as Ron's ears turned red.

***

Lessons the next day were given over to study and research, with every lesson period a daze of scribbled notes, shuffled parchments, book leaves being studied and flipped, and a barrage of questions to the instructors. Seventh-year students set up the apparatus to begin the distillery process for their Potions NEWT, practiced transformations for their Transfiguration NEWT and began preparing seedlings for their Herbology NEWT. They frantically revised the previous six years materials, and to see one without their nose in a book meant they were either writing, eating or sleeping. By the end of the first week, lessons had fallen into a rhythm of run to the classroom, study ahead, revise, experiment and then do it all again for the next lesson.

Hermione spent a great deal of time in the library with Ron, drilling him on the various historical facts and helping him with research for the other lessons. Harry and Ginny seldom were able to spend time together except at meals and in Potions, or if they studied together in the common room. Harry was busy trying to get a good start on the tasks set for the NEWTs, and Ginny found herself spending more and more time in the evenings with Anna May. It came as something of a relief when Friday arrived and they all had the afternoon free.

"Quidditch tryouts next week, Harry, Ginny. You'll be at practice today, won't you?" Ron reminded them at lunch. "Can't win without our Seeker and best Chaser!"

"You're the captain, Ron. Just say when, and we'll be there," answered Harry.

"I've reserved the pitch for half past 3:00. Try not to be late -- we have to find ourselves a pair of beaters and two new chasers, and I've convinced Madame Hooch to allow those Gryffindors who'll be trying out next week to come to practice. That'll give us some idea of the capabilities they have, and make tryouts next week go a bit smoother."

"Good idea. Ginny and I are going to go see Doctor Farmwood and get permission to check on our Potions distillation process after lunch, but we'll be at the pitch when we're needed."

"I'll be in the library with Hermione. You wouldn't remember if it was the Goblin Rebellion of 1348 or the one in 1834 that caused the depression of twenty percent of the worth of Galleons, would you?" Ron asked. "I know we covered it in lessons, but I keep getting the dates mixed up."

"1834, Ron. The Goblin Rebellion of 1348 was the one that led to the Goblin/Giant Alliance of 1350 that caused the unseating of Andriusian the Addlepated from the Wizangamot," Ginny responded.

"Thanks, Ginny. I'll see the two of you later. Half past 3:00, remember!" and with that Ron was on his way out of the Great Hall.

Anna May had been sitting silent through the meal, a rather serious look on her face as she chewed on a pumpkin butter and gooseberry jam sandwich. "Is Mr. Ron all right?" she asked. "He seemed kinda ‘stracted, and he didn't finish his punkin juice or his razzberry trifle."

"He has a lot on his mind right now, Anna May. He's trying to study hard to bring up his marks, he's the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, he's got responsibilities as Head Boy -- and Hermione keeps him a little distracted, too," Harry replied.

"Oh. Why does Miss Herminey ‘stract him? Doesn't she like him?"

Ginny giggled. "Oh yes, Hermione likes Ron very much. It's because they like each other so much that Ron gets distracted."

Anna May nodded and took another bite of her sandwich. "I think Mr. Ron and Miss Herminey are gonna be happy together, even if she does get mad at him."

"Hermione's mad at Ron? I didn't notice anything that would indicate that," Ginny questioned.

"Not now, Miss Ginny. She gets mad at Mr. Ron at Chris'mas ‘cause he isn't gonna get her what she e'specs," She took another bite, and washed it down with some pumpkin juice. "But it'll all be all right by Val'ntines Day. She‘ll be real happy then."

Harry noticed that Ginny was studying Anna May with a puzzled expression on her face, but when she shook her head and went back to eating, he just passed it off as something he didn't really need to know or worry about.

***

In spite of being so much younger than the rest of the first year students, Anna May seemed to make friends with her year mates quickly. By the start of the second week, Alicia and Anastasia felt that it was their enjoyable duty to help Anna May with her studies, and had taken on the chore of making sure she got to the various lessons they shared. Sir Nicholas was still accompanying her from History of Magic to Herbology three times a week, much to Anna May's delight. When the Grey Lady, the Fat Friar and several other Hogwarts ghosts began to tag along, it seemed she had won over their approval for her manners as well. Indeed, by the end of the week it was not unusual to find Anna May studying history in the library under the direct tutelage of Professor Binns, or being helped to practice Charms by the Fat Friar.

Perhaps the greatest thing she achieved, in the estimation of the ghostly contingent, was Friday morning of the second week, when she somehow managed to make both a silencing charm and a levitation charm stick to Peeves the Poltergeist, after he popped out of a suit of armour to scream loudly in the passing students' ears. It was apparent from the expression on his face that whatever it was that was causing him to float silently and uncontrollably all the way to the top floor of the castle, it was not something he was enjoying

"Oh, I say, well done, Anna May, well done! I must say it's a definite improvement to have someone other than the Bloody Baron be able to take that scoundrel down a notch or two!" the Grey Lady was heard to say.

"Thank you, M'lady Grey. He tried to scare me yesterday, so I used the charms Perfesher Flitwick taught us to stop him. He's not a very nice ghost, is he?" asked Anna May.

"He is not a ghost at all. He's only a Poltergeist, Anna May," the female ghost sniffed.

"Does that mean he's not special?" Anna May looked a bit confused.

"There is absolutely nothing special about Peeves, my dear. He is just an annoyance!"

Anna May pondered this in silence until she and the several ghosts had arrived at the Greenhouse for Herbology lessons. "Thank you for ‘scorting me, Sir Nickles, M'lady Grey, Friar William, Lord Cosworthy and Miss Lemmonn," she gave them a short curtsey. "Will I see you again after History of Magic on Monday?"

"It will be our pleasure to be waiting for you, Anna May," responded Sir Nicholas, and the rest joined in a chorus of goodbyes before they wafted their way back to the castle.

The young girl watched them glide away before turning and entering the large greenhouse. Just inside the door, Alicia and Anastasia were waiting for their yearmate, looking just a tiny bit put out.

"Honestly, Anna May, do they have to come along every time?" Alicia complained. "Don't you find it just a little creepy to spend so much time with the ghosts? One of them brushed up against me, and it felt like I'd been drenched with ice water," she shivered at the thought.

"I know, they make me shivery sometimes, too, but it wouldn't be p'lite to ask them to stop ‘scorting me, ‘cause Miss Herminey and Miss Ginny went to an awful lot of trouble to get Sir Nickles to help me. Besides, I promised Sir Nickles and the others that I would ‘troduce them to Lady Desiree, and --" Anna May stopped suddenly in mid-speech, her eyes growing round with fear. "W-We gotta leave the g-greenhouse now!" she stuttered, grabbing her two friends by the arm and pulling them back toward the doorway.

"Why? What's the matter?" Anastasia tried to look behind her, thinking Anna may had seen something.

The seven-year old pulled harder, and made the two older girls stumble through the doorway at the same time a splintery crash sounded from inside. A second and third followed closely thereafter, accompanied by a creaking and groaning as the glass roof of the structure sagged inward and shattered on the floor and tables inside.

"Quick! Go get Madame Pomfry! Someone's hurted!" The small girl was trembling as she cried orders to the older students. "Hurry!" Screams and cries could be heard issuing from within the collapsed structure as the youngest Gryffindor pulled her tiny wand from the pocket of her robe and pointed it.

"Structura Leviosa!" she cried.

The entire structure quivered momentarily, and the fallen roof slowly rose upward. Moments later, several students stumbled out the doorway in panic, some cut and bleeding, followed by Professor Sprout, who was carrying one child, drenched in blood, in her arms.

Anna May was trembling violently by this time, but kept her wand pointed at the collapsed greenhouse until she was certain no one else would appear. She could hear the sound of running feet behind her as her world slowly grew dark, and she fell to the ground. The last thing she heard before the blackness took her was the sound of breaking glass.

***

" 'T'was Bundimuns, Professor Dumbledore, sir -- A huge infestation, from th' look o' things. Hid themselves right well ‘neath the dirt and plant cuttings. I've took th' liberty o' contactin' th' Department for th' Reg'lation an' Control o' Magical Creatures t' come an' scour th' remains clean of th' filthy pests, an‘ t‘ inspec‘ th‘ rest o‘ th‘ buildings," Hagrid explained. "Can't understan' how they di'n't get noticed -- th' stench was somethin' fearful." It was just before lunch, and the half-giant and the Hogwarts Headmaster stood outside the pile of rotted beams, broken glass and crumbling glazing that had been greenhouse number one.

"We were extremely fortunate that more students were not hurt, Hagrid. Had it not been for our young Miss Vertocular, it could have been much worse." Professor Dumbledore sighed.

"That were some right spectacular magic work th' wee one did," agreed the Hogwarts Groundskeeper. "Is she goin' t' be all right?"

"Poppy says all she needs is rest -- she overextended herself, drew too deeply on her personal reserves. A few restorative potions and she should be just fine. I fear the child may be at risk, though. Her year-mates have been spreading the story of how she knew the greenhouse would collapse, and I fear that the tale may find its way to the wrong ears." The Headmaster shook his head, removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes as if he had a headache. "As for the other students, most of the injuries were minor -- cuts, scrapes, and bruises -- but young Master Grabbi will be spending some time in the hospital wing as Poppy heals those severed tendons. Still, better a badly injured arm than a death -- that shard of glass could have been fatal had it fallen a few inches further in one direction. Madame Sprout was quite shaken and disturbed by this event."

"Professor Dumbledore!" came a shout. Ginny Weasley ran up to the Headmaster and Hagrid, breathing hard from the exertion. "What happened? Where's Anna May?"

"Calm yourself, Miss Weasley. Miss Vertocular is fine -- she'll need a night in the hospital wing, but beyond that, Madame Pomfrey has things well in hand.Hagrid tells me that the greenhouse was infested with Bundimuns, which caused it to collapse." The headmaster frowned slightly. "Tell me, Miss Weasley -- Had you noticed a rather powerful stench in Greenhouse Number One of late? I know you are out here several times a week."

"No, I can't say I have, Professor Dumbledore. In fact, the lesson day before yesterday was set aside so we could do a thourough cleaning -- Washed all the windows, swept up the loose cuttings, repotted a few of the mundane plants -- that sort of thing."

"How odd…" Dumbledore muttered.

"Beggin' your pardon, Professor Dumbledore, sir, but them there Bundimuns woulda had t' be in there for weeks t' cause that sort o' damage. I can't see how anyone could o' missed ‘em. There's something' a bit fishy ‘bout all this, if y' don't mind my sayin' so."

"I must agree, Hagrid. Miss Weasley, I suggest you go to the hospital wing and check on your charge, perhaps bring her something from the kitchens. I'll be cancelling all the Herbology lessons for the time being, so if you would also have your brother announce that in the Great Hall during the noon meal, I would be most grateful."

"Yes, Professor." The red-haired young woman turned away and started for the castle.

Dumbledore watched her as she ran back to the entrance, then turned to survey the wreckage once more. "Most disturbing, Hagrid, most disturbing…"

***

When Ron made the announcement about the cancellation of the Herbology classes, it was only a matter of moments before Hermione and Harry pulled him along to rush to the hospital wing, following Ginny as she ran up the stairs. By the time the trio had reached the doors to the infirmary, Ginny was already in the room and at Anna May's bedside. The child was still, dark circles under her closed eyes, her skin pallor grey and ashen as the sixth-year prefect held her hand.

"Now, now, let the child rest -- She's fair exhausted herself," said Madame Pomfrey as she came around the curtain that separated Anna May's bed from the next one. "She'll be fine in a day or so."

"Ah, Madame Pomfrey, there you are." Professor Snape walked in, ignoring the foursome gathered around the bed. "I was wondering if I might have a word with you -- I seem to be experiencing some rather severe headaches of late, and I haven't had time to mix up any restorative potion. May I have some of yours?"

"Of course, Severus, just come with me." She paused only long enough to tell the Gryffindor's to keep their visit short, then led the Dark Arts instructor away to her office.

"Hullo, Miss Ginny," came a soft and tired voice. Anna May had awakened, but seemed to be struggling to stay awake. "Did you see Nathan? He got hurted ‘cause he couldn't get out of the way. Is he going to be all right?" Her eyes were not their usual bright blue, but had turned a bluish grey beneath her sagging eyelids."

"Yes, he'll be fine. Madame Pomfrey is taking very good care of him."

"I think he's gonna be here for more'n a coupla days -- I heard Madame Pomfrey say his tenders got severed, and they're harder to heal than bones or muskles."

Hermione looked as if she wanted to correct the child's pronunciation, but Ron gently grasped her hand and shook his head before she could say anything. "Let her be, Hermione," he whispered. "It isn't important right now."

"I had an idea that the glass house was gonna fall down, so I pulled Anastasia and Alicia out th' door an' told them to go get Madame Pomfrey. Did I really make the building float? I can‘t --" she yawned deeply, "-- 'member. I think… I dreamed it," her eyes slid shut, and she was asleep.

Madame Pomfrey returned, a vial of thick liquid in hand. "Has she woken up yet?"

"Just for a minute or two, Madame Pomfrey, then she fell asleep again," Ginny told the Mediwitch.

"Better a natural sleep than a potion-induced one -- she'll gain strength faster that way. But she really should have some restorative next time she awakens." She pursed her lips and shook her head. "All right then, let her sleep. Go on, shoo -- I promise I'll take good care of her." She ushered the foursome out of the ward.

Ron and Hermione headed for the stairs, talking together in low tones. Ginny stood looking back into the ward, concern and worry plainly marked on her features. "She looked so -- so -- worn out. What did she do? How could it have happened?"

Harry took her hand in his, trying to comfort her. "The rumour I heard at lunch said she knew the greenhouse was going to collapse, and when it did, she levitated everything until everyone else was out. "

"How could that be possible? She's so young..."

Harry stood silent as his thoughts raced. He had already enlisted her aid in trying to feed Voldemort erroneous information, but hadn't told her all the reasons for doing so. Should he share the confidence Dumbledore had revealed?

She squeezed his hand, and he moved closer to her, embracing her in a comforting manner, letting her lean against his chest. His fingers felt the smooth edge of the ring she wore, and he knew what he had to do.

"Ginny, let's go find someplace quiet. I have something important to tell you..."

Chapter Nine

Harry and Ginny were alone together in the Room of Requirement as Harry explained the circumstances that surrounded Anna May.

“Are you sure about that?” Ginny asked when Harry had revealed what he knew. “Professor McGonagall said she was gifted, but she never told us anything like that.”

“That’s what Professor Dumbledore said, Ginny. I can’t say how accurate his estimation is, but I’ve never known him to be anything less than truthful. If he tells me that Anna May is the most powerful natural talent witch in the last millennium, I’m going to believe him. That was the whole reason I asked you to help me with those letters to Crabbe and Goyle.” Harry sat back in the armchair and watched his fiancée’s reactions.

"You told me you were trying to pass on false information, but I never suspected it was to protect Anna May," the redhead replied. "You don't think that - that he would hurt her, do you? I mean, she wouldn't be any use to him if she was d-dead, right?"

Harry paused briefly before answering. "Probably not," he said slowly. "At least, not right away -- but he would use her, control her for his own purposes."

"Harry, we can't let that happen! Anna May is too little to have to face that!" Ginny jumped to her feet, suddenly on the verge of tears. "Something -- I don't know what or how I know this -- something just tells me she-she's special. Not just because of what she is -- it-it's deeper than that. Call it a-a feeling -- she's special because of who she is!"

"Ginny --” Harry stood up and embraced the woman he loved, trying to comfort her. "I agree that she's special, but I think the reason you feel that way is because you've become emotionally attached to her. After all, you go up to tuck her in and tell her a story every night, you go to Herbology to pick her up for lunch, you make sure she gets to bed early and wakes up in time for Astronomy every Wednesday night... It’s like you're mothering her."

Ginny looked up at him, shock and anger showing plainly in her eyes. "So what if I am? She needs someone to look after her!" the redhead pushed away.

"No, you don't understand --"

"I understand plenty, Harry Potter!" she glared at him. "I understand that you're jealous of the time I spend with her! Oh, yes, the great Harry Potter feels threatened by a little girl!"

"You're wrong," Harry replied in a softer and more reasonable tone, "I think it's great that you care about her that way."

"You -- what?" Ginny paused, her train of thought derailed by Harry's statement.

"I said, I think it's great that you care for her. If you show this much care for a friend, I think you'll be a wonderful mother when we have children of our own.”

“Oh -- Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry!” Ginny seemed to deflate, tears springing to her eyes, as Harry once more embraced her, comforting her. “I-I said some awful things just now. I-I’m sorry for even thinking that. I should have known better.”

“Hush, don’t cry, Ginny,” Harry whispered to her. “It’s all right. I know you didn’t really mean it. You were upset, that’s all.”

The light in the room dimmed for a moment, and when it regained its brightness, the two comfortable chairs they had been sitting in were replaced by a single loveseat.

“Harry, you didn’t have to do that.” Ginny hugged him.

“Erm, I -- I didn’t do anything, Ginny. I thought you did that.” Harry stared at the loveseat in surprise, then looked to his fiancée.

“Oh… Then I suppose that the room did it because it thought we required it.” Ginny pulled Harry to the piece of furniture and sat down, urging Harry to sit next to her. “I can’t say I disagree with its assessment.” She murmured as she snuggled closer to him.

Harry’s face coloured momentarily, but the embarrassment passed and he relaxed quickly when Ginny pulled his face toward hers, brushing his lips with her own. Almost without realizing it, he found the two of them reclining to one side, his arms around her waist, his hands pulling her closer and the kiss growing deeper. Both were breathing harder when they finally pulled apart. Ginny relaxed into his arms, her head on his shoulder, and gave a small sigh of contentment.

“Do you have any idea how wonderful I think you are?” the petite redhead murmured as she slowly rubbed her open hand across his chest in lazy circles.

“Now, or ten minutes ago?” Harry quipped, earning a playful bite on his earlobe.

“Be nice,” mock-scolded Ginny as her fingertips encountered a button and deftly threaded it one-handed through the buttonhole, opening a gap in the shirt he wore. “It was a rhetorical question meant as a complement.”

“Oh, I see,” replied Harry. “Ginny, I’ve been thinking…”

“Uhm-huh -- About what?” her fingers slid into the gap and began to caress him.

“About our plans for the future. About us,” Harry felt a shiver go down his spine as Ginny nuzzled his neck.

“We finish school, you become an Auror, we get married and have children, and stay together for the rest of our lives,” Ginny whispered. “Are those the plans you had in mind?”

“Sort of…” he paused as Ginny kissed him again. When she released him, he continued, “But with a few minor changes. What do you think of finishing this year of school and then getting married? Say, the last day of term?”

“What?” Ginny bolted upright, staring at him.”

“I asked if you would like to get married the last day of term,” Harry sat up and took her hand, looking into her eyes.

“I --,” she began to answer, dropped her gaze to the engagement ring on her finger, looked into Harry’s eyes once more. “No, Harry.”

“No?”

“I want us to get married, but on my birthday -- this year. I’ve checked, and it falls on a Hogsmeade weekend. Let’s get married then.”

“B-but, I thought you said you needed time to make plans and arrangements? Where would we have it? The Great Hall? Somehow I don’t think we’ll be able to do that. And what would your parents say?”

“No, silly,” smiled Ginny, “While a big wedding with all our friends and relatives would be nice, I think I’d rather it be just a few close friends sharing it with us. Ron can be the best man, Hermione will be my maid of honour, and I’m sure there’s a qualified witch or wizard to perform the ceremony somewhere in Hogsmeade. As for my parents,“ she frowned for a moment, “it will be easier to ask for forgiveness than it will to get permission. Let’s elope.”

***

The weeks passed quickly. The greenhouse was magically repaired and renewed, the bundimuns destroyed, and Herbology classes began again. The Potions dungeon was constantly filled with the soft hiss and rumble of boiling liquid and the gentle sound of dripping as the distillation process continued. The Library was filled with seventh-year students studying and revising, its shelves all but denuded of reference texts on all subjects. Out on the grounds, students could be seen inspecting plots for signs of magical creatures and taking care of the ones they had already found, practising Transfiguration on all sorts of objects, themselves and each other, or practising the defensive and offensive spells necessary for Defence Against the Dark Arts. Anna May had recovered swiftly, before the weekend was over, and had been working hard at her lessons as well.

Through it all, Harry toiled, taking time to research, take notes, study, practise, revise and write in all of his classes, practising with his teammates for the first Quidditch Match of the season whenever Ron could book the pitch, and still found or made time to spend with Ginny. Sleep seemed to be in short supply all the time, and many times he would fall into bed well after midnight, only to be shortly wakened by the alarm spell he had set to alert him when the sun rose.

He and Ginny continued to make plans for their elopement, revealing them only to Ron and Hermione. As Ginny and Harry had expected, both were initially opposed to such a deception, Hermione stating that Ginny needed to finish school before marriage, and Ron upset that his little sister was even contemplating the idea. It only took about a week of quiet discussion (marked by an occasional outburst of emotion from Ron) to convince their friends that they knew what they were doing and were committed to seeing their plan through to its conclusion. Hermione grudgingly agreed to take part, but only after Ginny assured her that she would be finishing school, while Ron (After a private discussion with his sister where she promised to jinx him into spitting slugs, being bald, and unable to speak in anything but a soprano voice the rest of his life if he didn’t agree to take part) finally accepted the circumstances as inevitable.

The foursome made plans, discussed logistics, and searched for required information to see the elopement succeed, but all that activity was interrupted on a Friday afternoon when the senior Mr. Weasley arrived at Hogwarts to deliver his promised lecture to the foursome. He was sitting in the Gryffindor Common Room when the four teens returned after lunch, along with a grim-faced Professor McGonagall.

“I understand that the five of you have some business to discuss,” the Head of Gryffindor House remarked,” so I have allowed Mr. Weasley use of my office so that we may carry on in private.”

“’Carrying on’ is what got us into trouble in the first place,” whispered Hermione to Ginny, who now looked rather pale.

“If you would follow me, I’ll escort you there now,” and with that, Professor McGonagall led the way out the Common Room opening, down the hallway, up several flights of stairs and through a corridor to her office.

“Thank you, Professor,” Mr. Weasley said after ushering the foursome inside.

“You are welcome, Arthur. Pardon my curiosity, but this ‘business’ wouldn’t be the same ‘business’ that your father came here to talk to you and Molly about during your seventh year, would it?”

Mr. Weasley flushed almost as red as his hair before he managed an answer. “Erm, I must admit that it is.”

“I see,” she replied, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Then I’ll leave you to your discussion, Arthur. I see no need for me to be present again.”

Mr Weasley flushed a bit darker as the Professor left, then turned to the four teenagers. “Take a seat -- this will take a while,” he told them as he removed a handkerchief from an inner pocket of his robes and wiped his brow. He sat down facing the four, and studied them all for a moment.

“Ronald, Ginevra -- You do know how upset your mother was that morning, don’t you?”

“Yes,” they replied in unison.

“But we really weren’t doing anything wrong, Daddy,” Ginny explained.

“I realized that when it happened, Ginevra. It was a misunderstanding. I’m quite sure that you were truthful when you explained it then. But you know how your mother reacts when something of this nature occurs.” He wiped his brow again. “She always fears the worst, and her reactions -- well, let’s just say that they’re a trifle overdramatic.

“Hermione, Harry -- it probably wouldn’t be my place to tell you what you should do, except for the fact that my children are involved. I’ve spoken with your parents, Hermione --” he said.

Hermione was the one who turned pale this time.

“ -- and reassured them that it was no more than a harmless but inappropriate display of affection between yourself and my son. They were quite understanding, and even gave me some Muggle toothbrushes for my collection of artifacts.

“You, on the other hand, Harry, have become a part of my household, and will be a greater part of it when you and Ginny wed, so I feel it is my duty to explain some things and set some boundaries that I insist you follow.”

Harry blushed a deep pink, as did Ginny, both feeling a bit guilty due to what they were planning.

“I shan’t interfere with appropriate displays of affection between yourselves, because I know that such things as kissing and hugging are a normal part of the relationship process. I will ask that all four of you keep such displays to a minimum while at the Burrow, particularly around Molly. I realize that this will become a hardship as your relationships become, erm, advanced, but for the time being, until she becomes a bit more accustomed to the fact that Ronald and Ginevra are becoming adults, it will be for the best.”

The handkerchief mopped his brow once more. “Now, I fear, comes the most difficult part of this conversation, but I must ask -- Has either relationship, erm -- how do I put this? -- gone beyond hugging and kissing?”

All four teens blushed, and none of them wanted to be the first to answer. The silence grew.

“I see,” sighed Mr. Weasley, wiping the back of his neck with the handkerchief. “As that is the case, are you at the point where protective spells and potions --”

“Daddy!” burst out Ginny, her face flaming. “No!”

Hermione, her face almost as red as the Weasley’s hair, shook her head, as did both Ron and Harry.

“Good,” Mr Weasley sighed again, this time in relief. “I’m quite happy to hear that.”

He paused, looking at each of them in turn. “While you’ve assured me, I must know -- Are you aware that such items are available to you, should you ever decide to, erm, participate in the activity?” Mr Weasley had flushed almost as red as the four teens as he asked the question, and all four teens were wishing that the floor would open up and swallow them, each having procured copies of one or a bottle of the other and hidden them safely away with their belongings, ‘just in case‘.

“I’m guessing, from the look on your faces, that the answer is yes. I’m unsure whether I’m upset or relieved to know this.” He stood and began to pace back and forth, then stared, first at Ron, then at Ginny before sighing deeply and sitting back down. “I guess I should follow through on my promise to Molly and ‘rake you over the coals’, as she put it.” He reached into an inner pocket and brought out a bundle of white cardboard rectangles, pausing to read each one before speaking.

“Ronald, I’m hoping that your mother -- and I -- have instilled enough of our values within you that you do nothing that would possibly cause harm or result in, uhm, ‘unwanted circumstances’ with Hermione. I’m also hoping that you are adult enough to accept self-imposed limitations, and keep them.”

“Hermione, I believe you to be a bright and intelligent young woman, one who knows the value of a good education. I know that Ronald and yourself have an affection for each other, but I would like to be reassured that you are able to limit both yourself and Ron to appropriate encounters with each other.” He looked up and mopped his forehead again. “I also want you to know,” he continued, “that we would welcome you into our family, should your, erm… relationship with my son continue. ”

“Ginevra, you are our only daughter, and the youngest in our family. You have always been special to us, as most daughters are to their parents. It’s for that reason that we are having a hard time letting go and convincing ourselves that you will someday soon be an adult, with an adult’s responsibilities.” He looked up from the card he had been reading from. “I know, up here,” he continued, tapping his temple with a forefinger, “that you and Harry love each other, and have committed a promise to each other, but here,” he tapped his chest, “in my heart, I know that you will always be my little girl, and I feel a fierce need to protect you as long as I can. I only want the best for you, and that’s reason enough for me and your mother to worry that you may do something foolish and ruin your life.”

Turning to Harry, he said, “Harry, I’ve always welcomed you to The Burrow, and believe that my daughter has made a good decision to spend the rest of her life with you. But I want you to remember that you are not yet married, and I wish you to act appropriately with Ginny until such time as you are husband and wife. Just remember, you’ve already promised me that you would take care of her, and that I’ll always be watching to be sure you do. Try not to disappoint me.”

“That being said,” Mr. Weasley tucked his handkerchief back into his pocket, “I’ll leave you to reflect on what Molly -- I talked about and asked today.“

All four teens nodded in unison, speech seeming difficult for all of them.

“Professor McGonagall tells me that you’ll have a Hogsmeade Weekend on your birthday, Ginny. Why don’t I see if I can procure permission for the four of you to come to the Burrow that weekend, so we can celebrate as a family?”

Ginny had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach at her father’s words, and looked briefly at Harry, who looked rather sick. Ron and Hermione, aware of what the couple had planned to do, also looked a bit peaked. “Erm, I don’t know, Daddy, what with all the studying Ron and Hermione and Harry have to do for their NEWTs -- I don’t, uhm, want to be the cause of hi--them doing poorly because I --we, erm, distracted hi--them.”

“Nonsense -- I remember what seventh-year was like, and by the time the first Hogsmead weekend rolled around, everyone was more than anxious to get away from studying for a while. Clears the mind, makes room for more knowledge to soak in later. Wait here while I go arrange it.”

With that, Arthur Weasley was out the office door, leaving Ginny and Harry staring forlornly at each other. Ron and Hermione commiserated with them, and even though all four felt relieved that the conversation had been so brief, all were at least somewhat disappointed that their plans would now have to be put aside.

***

“Miss Ginny, could I ask you somefin’?” Anna May inquired as she slid under the sheets and blanket to be tucked in.

“Of course, Anna May. What is it?”

“Are you an’ Mr. Harry mad at each other? You’ve been kinda sad all week, an’ he’s been kinda grouchy, an’ what I ‘member ahead has changed -- I don’t see the babies anymore.”

Ginny felt as if a hammer blow hit her heart when Anna May asked the question and told her what she observed. It took a moment for her to gather her thoughts and phrase an answer. “No, Anna May, Harry and I aren’t mad at each other. We’re just disappointed that -- that something we were planning on doing will have to be postponed.”

Anna May nodded her head, a serious expression showing she was thinking very hard. “You were gonna get married, weren’t you, an’ somefin’ happened to change that --that’s why you’re kinda sad. That’s why I don’t see the babies when I ‘member ahead, ‘cause you an’ Mr. Harry don’t get married.”

“Yes,” Ginny said quietly, her thoughts awhirl as she realized what Anna May was revealing. “Harry and I were going to get married sooner than we had originally planned, but that won’t happen now.” And because we don’t get married, I don’t get pregnant, so there aren’t any babies anymore, she thought to herself, and a tear trickled down her cheek. Sometimes, knowing too much about the future that could have been is a bad thing.

“But you’re gonna get married someday, right? Inna garden, with lotsa people an’ flowers an’ a big cake an’ music an’ dancing an’ everyone’s gonna be real happy ‘cause Mr. Harry loves you so much,” Anna May smiled at her, and reached up to wipe away the tear, “so you don’t hafta be sad anymore, Miss Ginny -- It’s gonna happen.”

Ginny returned the smile, and bent over to give the little girl a hug. “Thank you, Anna May,”she whispered to her, “That’s just what I needed to hear.”

“You’re welcome, Miss Ginny.” Anna May returned the hug, and gave Ginny a kiss on the cheek. “Can you tell me the story ‘bout the King of the Fishes, the fisherman and his greedy wife tonight? I think it’s kinda ‘portant.”

“Important? How?”

“I’m not sure, but I got an idea that it is,” she smiled.

“All right, Anna May. Once upon a time…”

***

“Potter! Keep your arm up when you cast that spell! You must be ready for anything to follow, your opponent could easily shake off the effects and counterattack. Now do it again, and this time do it properly!” Professor Snape snapped at him.

Harry began again, steeling himself against the illusory opponent provided as a target for the spells. He flicked his wand in a feint, then followed quickly with the actual spell. The illusory target flew backwards, slamming into the wall and sliding to the floor, where it changed from the appearance of a hooded and masked Death Eater to the vaguely man-shaped dummy filled with sawdust and sand.

“Much better, Potter -- but keep practicing. There’s still quite a bit of room for improvement.” With that, he stepped to the next student in line and began explaining what he wished her to do.

As much as Harry hated to admit it, Snape was a very good teacher, and the change in position to Professor of Defense against the Dark Arts from Potions Master seemed to have dulled the sharpness of his tongue. Snape still seemed to single out Harry whenever he needed to demonstrate the effects of a new spell, but in some ways Harry began to appreciate the opportunities, particularly when the greasy-haired instructor told him to try and defend himself. More than once, so far, he had been able to do so, completely blocking the effects of the spell, and in one instance turning it back on Snape and cutting the class short due to the rather painful side effects delivered to the Professor. It was something of a wonder that no detentions were handed out, or points taken from Gryffindor because of it, with Snape uncharacteristically awarding Harry five points for doing so well before dismissing the class and hobbling to the Hospital Wing.

As Harry levitated the dummy back into position and reactivated the illusion for the next student, he felt a sudden painful throb at his scar. It was over quickly, but a flash of shared sight showed -- a large building being shaken to pieces as the ground heaved beneath it, and a high-pitched, insane laughter echoed as…

“No…” he uttered aloud, drawing attention to himself.

“Potter, what have you done? You’re bleeding,” Snape walked quickly toward him, snatching up one of the towels used for mopping up the less pleasant effects of some of the spells and pressing it firmly to Harry’s forehead. “Get yourself up to see Madame Pomfrey and get this taken care of at once.” The Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor seemed to wince momentarily, closing his eyes and touching two fingers to his right temple. “H-hurry along, Potter. Don’t dawdle.”

“Yes, Professor,” Harry replied, and left the room, only to have a second burst of pain hit him as he started to climb the staircase. Harry staggered, falling to his knees, as --

“Again,” he said, pointing at the structure next to the fallen building, “That one!”

The mass of black-robed figures pointed their wands, and the ground began to shake uncontrollably, causing the building to sway and crack, windows to shatter and stone and brick to crumble and fall as it collapsed upon itself. Screams of terror could be heard in the distance, and smoke began to pour from the pile of rubble. The street was suddenly filled with a mob of people, running to distance themselves from the swath of destruction.

“Yes, that’s it. Run, run in panic and hide, and hope you’ve run far enough and hidden well enough that you won’t be found. Run away! Run away! Know that Lord Voldemort is here to rule!” he screamed at the fleeing figures, and then began to laugh, a chilling echo seeming to magnify and grow with every snort of satisfaction.

“Now that one,” he pointed again, and the rumble and roar of destruction could be heard in the distance…

Footsteps echoed through the stairwell as a large group of people headed toward him, the first stopping suddenly. A short scream rolled down the corridor.

“Look at all the blood!”

“Is he - is he dead?”

“Someone get the Professor!”

“No, you go run and get Madame Pomfrey. We’ve got to help him.”

“Should we move him?”

“Someone check to see if there’s a heartbeat!”

Rushing footsteps clattered past him up the stairway as someone placed a hand on his neck at the Carotid, feeling for a pulse.

“Students, move back! Make some room!” came a familiar voice. “Mobilicorpus!”

Harry felt himself rise into the air, and opened one eye. Professor Flitwick was floating him up the stairway, his feet not quite touching the ground. “No,” he mumbled, “I’ve got-- got to tell Dumbledore. It -- it’s Voldemort…”

The diminutive Professor of Charms emitted a squeak at Harry’s use of the Dark Lord’s name, and hurried up the stairs even faster. At the landing of the Hospital wing, Madame Pomfrey was waiting, a potion in hand.

“Thank you, Professor, I’ll take him from here,” and with a wave of her wand, Harry found himself lying in a bed. “All right then, Mr. Potter, I see that you’re awake. Can you drink this?” She put a bottle to his lips, and the greasy, foul-tasting syrup of a restorative potion flooded over his tongue. He swallowed, almost gagging at the taste and smell, but moments later felt much better.

“I have to see the Headmaster! He has to know!” he blurted out, trying to get to his feet, only to be pushed back down by the Mediwitch.

“There’ll be plenty of time for that later, Mr. Potter. Right now, I’m going to clean and bandage that cut and see if I can’t get it to heal quickly with a spell. Now hold still.” It was a matter of moments before the wound had been washed and the bandage applied. Madame Pomfrey pointed her wand and intoned, “Reparo Epidermi, ” and the pain of the cut immediately lessened. “One more thing, and I’ll let you go on your way.”

“What?”

She reached over and picked up the bottle of restorative potion. “You need to finish drinking this.”

“You’d think someone could figure out a way to make it taste better,” Harry commented as he lifted the bottle to his lips, “and get rid of that awful smell.”

“So I’ve been told many times, Mr. Potter. But look at it this way -- you’ll drink it faster to avoid tasting and smelling it,” Madame Pomfrey allowed a small smile to cross her face as Harry swallowed convulsively, “and you’ll appreciate the rest of the cure more because of it.” She handed Harry a large chunk of chocolate. “Eat up, young man, eat up.”

***

Professor Dumbledore was sitting at his desk when Harry arrived, and waved him in to take a seat. “I know that look, Harry -- You’re bringing me more bad news. Voldemort again, I presume?”

“Yes, Professor. He and his Death Eaters were attacking a town, destroying the buildings with some sort of mass attack that mimics the effects of an earthquake.”

“Ah, yes -- the Strata Disruptari spell. I’m surprised he’s been able to find enough competent witches and wizards to be able to use that particular spell, but now that we know he can, we’ll take the appropriate steps to neutralize the effects. You wouldn’t happen to know which town he was attacking, would you, Harry?”

“I’m sorry, Professor, there was so much going on, people running and screaming as the buildings fell…” Harry bowed his head.

“No matter, Harry, I’m sure we’ll learn of the place soon enough,” Dumbledore sighed. “You know, my boy, I do believe I’m beginning to feel my age. I dare say that I’ve not felt so tired in a very long time.” The Headmaster removed his half-moon spectacles and rubbed the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes as he did so. “Would you be so kind as to brew a pot of tea, Harry? I feel the need for a pick-me-up. The teapot’s on the second shelf, over there to the left, and the tea -- Where did I leave the tea? Oh, yes, top shelf, beneath the Sorting Hat.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry replied, rising and going to collect the required items. The teapot was full to the brim with hot water, so it was merely a matter of measuring the tea into the tea ball and allowing it to brew. “Where shall I find your teacup, Professor?”

“I already have it, Harry,” pointing to a blue and white china cup sitting on a silver platter , along with a pot of cream, a sliced lemon and a pot of honey that was floating toward the Headmaster’s desk. “Would you care for a cup as well?”

“Thank you, no, sir.” Harry was bewildered by Dumbledore’s seeming disreguard for the damage Voldemort was inflicting. “Should I inform the Ministry, sir?”

“I’m quite certain they have their own tea, Harry. Besides, I expect that --”

The was a knock on Dumbledore’s office door.

“-- that’s them now. Would you let them in, please, Harry? Thank you.”

Harry walked swiftly to the door and opened it, allowing the three figures waiting there to enter.

“Dumbledore! We’ve got a full-blown emergency on our hands,” called out the first figure through the door. “The Dark Lord’s attacked the town of Nettlesby-on-the-Thames and is killing Muggles left and right! I’ve sent all the Aurors I can spare, but I need the members of your blasted Order as well! Can you get in touch with them and get them there as soon as possible?”

“And a pleasant good day to you as well, Cornelius -- beg pardon, Minister Fudge. Of course I can aid your Aurors through the efforts of the Order. That’s why you recognized them as a legitimate branch of the Ministry.” Dumbledore stood and crossed the room to the fireplace, where a pinch of green powder tossed into the flames turned them green as well. “Remus Lupin, are you there?”

Moments later, a head appeared in the flames. “Yes, Albus? What is it?” asked Remus.

“Voldemort’s shown his hand -- the town of Nettlesby-on-the-Thames. The Ministry requests the full cooperation of the Order. Muster the troops and hurry along, that’s a good chap. It appears he‘s using the Strata Disruptari -- I suggest that you counter it with a combined reenforcement spell.”

“Yes, sir!” replied the head, which vanished immediately.

“There you are, Minister,” announced Dumbledore as the flames returned to their normal colouration, “the Order is at your disposal.”

“Harrumph -- Yes, of course. Thank you, Albus. Westly, make a note of that if you would.”

Harry couldn’t keep a smirk from his face as Percy Weasley answered, “Yes, Minister,” and flush red at the mispronunciation of his surname, a daily occurrence for more than two years. It irked the disinherited young man no end that the Minister and most of the others at the Minister’s office still couldn’t remember his name, but would greet his estranged father properly and with respect at all times.

The third member of the contingent was a rather nondescript witch, one whose appeareance was so average that had there been more than three in the group, no one would notice that she was even present. She nodded to Harry, and winked as one lock of her mousy brown hair quickly turned bright pink, then back to the other coloration.

“Tonks?” Harry mouthed in surprise.

The witch nodded, and winked again. By this time, both Fudge and Percy were in earnest conversation with Dumbledore and therefore ignoring both Harry and Tonks.

“Wotcher, Harry, how goes the studying? Learned what you have to do to get your NEWTs yet?” she whispered.

“Erm, just fine, and yes. What are you doing with Minister Fudge?”

“You might say I’m something of a spy. After all that trouble back in your Fifth year, Dumbledore thought it prudent for someone to be stationed close to him. I was elected ‘cause I can make myself look like this -- sorta disgustin’ ain’t it? Loopy girl I’ve replaced has no fashion sense whatsoever. Makes my skin crawl to go out looking’ like this. Makes me real happy when there’s a weekend, or Holiday, or a day I can call off sick and look a bit normal.”

Harry suppressed a smile at that last comment. “But how did you --? “

“How did I get a position in the Minister’s office? Toldja -- I’ve replaced someone. Other than havin’ to look like this all the time, the only thing worse is that redheaded git over there tryin’ to chat me up all the time.” Tonks shook her head in disgust. ”That one’s a right toady -- almost as bad as that frog-faced Umbridge. ‘Yes, Minister, no, Minister, wouldja like a cuppa tea, Minister?’ all day long. You’d think someone as bright as that wanker would have a clue he’s headed for a bad end.”

“Percy? I thought he was going out with Penelope Clearwater.” Harry remarked.

“ ‘Was’ is the operative word there, Harry. She’s dumped him and took up with a better class of husband material, if you know what I mean. Found herself a fella what works for the Department of Mysteries, name of Lionel Featherby. From the chatter ‘round the office, looks like she’s well on her way to the altar.”

Minister Fudge, Percy, and Dumbledore were saying goodbye.

“Time for me to be mousy little Miss Wanda Gumpwort, Assistant Aide again,” sighed Tonks. “Good thing she’s clumsier than I am. You take care, Harry, and keep studyin’. Can’t have you in the Order if you don’t make good marks,” Tonks winked again.

“We’re leaving now, Miss Gumpwort,” announced Percy.

“Yessir, Mr. Whistler,” replied Tonks, eliciting another pained look from Percy as she followed him and the Minister out of the office, closing the door behind her.

Dumbledore was sipping from the blue and white teacup, and had added a small bowl of Muggle lemon drops to the desktop. “I see you’ve met ‘Miss Gumpwort‘, Harry,” smiled the Headmaster.

“Yes, Professor,” replied Harry, smiling in return. “From what she was saying, I got the impression her heart’s not quite in keeping up that guise.”

“I imagine she would prefer a bit of color. I understand that the real Miss Gumpwort seems to have adopted some brighter plumage herself while she enjoys an extended holiday in the Caribbean. I’m just happy that Tonks has been able to fit in at the Ministry so well,” The Headmaster took another sip of tea before continuing. “Harry, if you’re feeling up to it, would you do me a small favour? Would you run down to Hagrid’s hut and ask him to come to my office?”

“Certainly, Professor,” Harry answered, and started for the door.

“Oh, and one more thing. Would you ask him if he has any more of that rock treacle he makes? I’d much prefer to offer that to young Mr. Weasley when he accompanies Minister Fudge to my office.”

Chapter Ten

The first scheduled Quidditch Match of the season was a bitter disappointment to all true Quidditch fans. Owing to the reduced house attendance, Slytherin House had been unable to field a competent roster. With the need to replace two Chasers, two Beaters, the Keeper and the Seeker (all of who had either left school or were among the no-shows at the start of term), the remaining player had done her best in sieving through those who had hopes of making the team, but was severely hampered by the finalists inexperience.

Their new Keeper was a Third-Year girl, who had a tendency to fly wide when trying to block the Quaffle; The two new Beaters were Second-Years, a boy and a girl who, though they were quite capable, both had a tendency to misjudge the angle at which they struck the Bludgers, more often than not causing their own team mates to have to dodge away; One of the two new Chasers was a Fifth-year boy who was actually quite good, but was unfortunately hit in the back of the head by a misdirected Bludger only a few minutes into the match, and spent the remainder of the match trying to tell Madame Pomfrey how many fingers she was holding up; The other, a second-year girl, was just overmatched by the quality of play by the Gryffindor team, though she did score Slytherin’s one and only goal, and managed to steal the Quaffle away from her opponents a total of eight times.

As for the new Slytherin Seeker, a skinny little ferret-faced Third-year boy, his style of play, while exuberant, seemed to have no order or meaning. He would first fly high and fast down the pitch, then return on a zigzag course that would occasionally place him in the path of the two Slytherin Chasers who remained, and then skim the pitch surface and rocket back up to the normal Seeker altitude.

But by far, the most disappointing action of the match was when the Slytherin Seeker actually caught the Golden Snitch, which flew directly to him, but at a time when his team was trailing Gryffindor 310 points to 10, ending the match with Gryffindor the winner.

Of the Slytherin team, however, it must be said that their adherence to the rules was complete and above board, with not a single penalty being called the entire match. Even more surprising was the Slytherin team’s new Captain’s actions in landing her broom, walking over to Ron and offering her sincere congratulations for a match well-played. “I’ve never heard the like, Harry,” Ron was to say as they headed back to the castle, “Imagine Slytherins being sportsmanlike and civil the same day. Miracles do occur. It‘s bloody amazing!”

***

October, Halloween, Gryffindor’s Quidditch match against Hufflepuff (Which Gryffindor won handily) and the first two Hogsmeade weekends were now a memory. In spite of the heavy workload as they prepared for their NEWTs, even the Seventh-Year students could feel there was an air of excitement at Hogwarts as the Winter Holidays approached. The announcement that the Yule Ball was to be held on the eve before the Christmas Holiday began had added some excitement for those students who had been lucky enough to develop relationships, while instilling in those who hadn’t a quivering knot of trepidation in their stomachs. Harry, for one, was anxiously awaiting the morning’s owl post, as the Christmas present for Ginny he had ordered was supposed to arrive. Not finding everything he wanted in Hogsmeade, he had sent off for a number of catalogues, searching through each one diligently as they arrived to find what he thought would be the perfect gift for his fiancée. He had entrusted Fred and George to go into muggle London and pick it up for him, with the caveat that if they did anything to it, he would inform both Ginny and their mother as to who had been responsible and could not be held liable for what they might do in retaliation.

When the flock of owls descended on Hogwarts, there were five working in tandem to deliver the box that Harry was expecting, a large, flat carton wrapped in a pale green tissue, with a bright green ribbon holding it shut. A note was stuck to the exterior, which read, when Harry opened it:

Harry --

Are you sure this is what you wanted for Ginny? Even George and I think it might be a bit extreme, and as for telling Mum about it -- well, let’s just say that Ginny had best keep it a secret, if you know what we mean. Otherwise, we hope Ginny likes it, and that she won’t hex you too badly if she doesn’t.

Fred

Harry smiled to himself, and took the parcel back to the dorm room he shared with Ron and the others, where he took from his trunk the new cloak he had bought at Gladrags, and paused to admire it. It bore a silvery-white fur collar, the rest being the same dark green as the dress robes Ginny had picked out for the upcoming ball, as were the additional gloves in the pockets. Laying the cloak out on his bed, he turned his attention to the package, carefully unwrapping it and examining the contents.

Layered inside several layers of tissue paper was the part of his gift that made Harry feel a bit warm around the collar. The nightgown, made from a gauzy material, was white, but so finely woven as to be almost transparent, as were the accompanying knickers, and the mental image of Ginny actually wearing them brought about a slightly uncomfortable tightness in the area of his groin. He sighed deeply, then began wrapping the gifts in holiday paper as neatly as he could, adding a brief note tucked inside the package and a label indicating who it was for. He planned to present it to Ginny the morning of the Yule Ball.

When he descended to the Common Room, Ron and Hermione were sitting in a corner, deep in discussion about something. As Hermione was holding an open book, Harry assumed she was quizzing Ron as they revised whatever subject the book was about, particularly as Ron looked quite frustrated whenever Hermione shook her head.

Ginny was seated in front of the fireplace, Anna May next to her, and when she spotted Harry , she smiled broadly and called out, ”Harry, come here! We have something to show you!”

“Good morning, love,” he murmured as he greeted Ginny, kissing her on the cheek. “Good morning, Anna May.”

“Good morning, Mr. Harry. Miss Ginny, do you want me to show him now?”

“Let him sit down first. We don’t want him to fall over when he sees what you can do,” laughed Ginny.

Harry gave them a puzzled smile, and sat down in an armchair. “So what is it you can do, Anna May?”

“Just watch, Harry. She’s gotten quite good at this.”

Anna May scooted back in her armchair, and pulled her wand from the pocket of her robe. With a gesture, Harry’s armchair rose from the floor and began to fly about the room, first circumnavigating the chamber in one direction, then turning and returning along the same path to it’s original position and settling gently to the floor.

“Isn’t that fun, Mr. Harry? I think it’s better than the rolly coaster at the ‘musement park, ‘cause I get to make it do what I want it to,” Anna May was all smiles.

Harry, who had been gripping the arms of the chair convulsively while it whirled and bobbed through the air, looked just a bit green as he replied, “Erm, yes -- but I think I’ll stick to a broom if you don’t mind. It’s a bit easier to hang on to.”

Anna May nodded her head, then looked quizzically at Ginny. “Miss Ginny? Are you gonna open Mr. Harry’s Chrismuss present here or at your house? ‘Cause I think you’d better do it here if you don’t want your mummy to get mad at Mr. Harry. She won’t think it’s ‘propriate. But I think it‘s very nice.”

Ginny looked from Anna May to Harry, who was suddenly looking quite red in the face. “Harry? Just what did you get me for Christmas?”

“It -it’s just some clothes, Ginny. A cloak, and some gloves, and - and a nightgown.”

“A nightgown, Harry? What kind of a nightgown?” Ginny quirked an eyebrow. “No, don’t answer that. I’m not sure I want to know,” She closed her eyes and shook her head, “but I can just imagine what it’s like if Mum’s going to be upset.”

“I thought you’d like it, for something to wear on our, erm -- honeymoon?”

“The thought is sweet, Harry, but I think Anna May’s right about my opening it here. Why don’t you be a good boy and go get it for me now, since I already know what it is?”

Harry nodded glumly, and headed back up the stairs to the boy’s dorms. When he returned with the package a few minutes later, Ginny led him to a secluded alcove where she could open it without revealing to everyone in the Common Room just what it was that Harry had got for her present.

As she untied the ribbon, she smiled rather shyly at Harry, and shook her head. “I know you wanted to surprise me, but I’d rather have you in one piece after the holidays, and if this is anything like I imagi -- Oh, Harry! It’s beautiful!” She held up the cloak to examine it . “This is wonderful, Harry! It matches my dress robes perfectly!”

“I’m glad you like it. The, erm -- nightgown is inside the cloak.”

Ginny unfurled the cloak to reveal the white material, and gasped. “Harry! Oh my! This -- this is something I sincerely don’t want Mum to see! She’d have kittens if she found this!” She quickly folded the cloak over the nightgown and stuffed it back in the package, her cheeks rosy with embarrassment. “It’s a very sweet gift, but you’re right -- it’s definitely something for our honeymoon.” She gave him a swift peck on the cheek. “Thank you, Harry. I know you meant well, but --”

“But it wasn’t entirely appropriate,” Harry sighed. “You’re not too upset with me, are you?”

Ginny giggled. “No, I’m not upset. It’s just that -- well, let’s just say that I’m glad Anna May tipped me off. If I’d opened that in front of Mum, she’d have me locked away from you until I was thirty! Provided she didn’t just hex you into a Flobberworm!” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. “Of course, now you’ll be expecting me to wear that someday soon, won’t you?”

“Erm -- Well, the thought had crossed my mind…” Harry blushed as he admitted to this fact.

“Well then, I guess I just won’t have to disappoint you, will I?” She gave him a quick kiss, pulled away, grabbed the package and ran out of the common room and up the stairs to the girl’s dormitories, leaving Harry both surprised and wondering.

***

“Very nice, but you’ll be wanting to smooth out that collar,” said the mirror as Harry tried to get his hair to lie down, without much success. Harry made the suggested adjustment. “Much better,” commented the mirror. Harry apprised himself one last time, noting that his dress robes would probably soon have to be replaced or refitted. “Try a deep red next time -- the contrast with your eyes will be striking,” prompted the mirror, almost as if it had been reading his mind.

“Thank you. I’ll remember the suggestion,” answered Harry as he departed. Down the spiral staircase to the Gryffindor Common Room he headed, hoping that he would arrive before Ginny. As he entered the circular room, he spotted Ron pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace, obviously waiting for Hermione to put in an appearance. As Ginny’s presence wasn’t in evidence, he assumed that she and Hermione would probably arrive together, so he sat down to wait.

“Bloody hell, Harry, how can you be so calm about this?” Ron asked. “All this waiting’s about to drive me mental!”

“It’s just a formal dance, Ron, don’t get so worked up. You’ve danced with Hermione before,” Harry smiled.

“Well, yeah, but -- You saw those robes she’s going to wear!”

“Yes -- she looked very nice in them.”

“Nice, Harry? She was bloody gorgeous! Everyone’s going to be -- you know -- looking at her!”

“Oh, I don’t know about that -- I think Ginny might make at least a few heads turn in those green robes of hers, don’t you?” Harry couldn’t resist a bit of teasing. “Do you think I ought to take a Beater’s bat with me, just to drive the other fellows away from her?”

“Harry, that’s my sister you’re talking about!” Ron huffed.

“Yes, I know,” grinned Harry. “But at least I got you to stop worrying about Hermione for a minute.”

Ron blinked twice, then grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, you did.”

“Ron, you don’t have anything to worry about. You’ve been practicing dancing with Ginny, haven’t you?”

“You knew we were practicing?” Ron’s ears were beginning to redden.

“Sure -- once Ginny told me,” admitted Harry.

“She told you?”

“Well -- not exactly. She and I were practicing ourselves, and she just happened to mention that it was nice to have a partner who didn’t step on her feet. I knew she wasn’t practicing with Neville, so that left only one other likely candidate; You -- and you just confirmed it.”

Just then, an excited Anna May bounced into the Common Room. “Mr. Harry, Mr. Ron, they’re coming! They’re coming!” she announced jubilantly.

Harry stood up and joined Ron, the two of them waiting at the doorway that led to the stairway to the girl’s dormitories.

Hermione came down the steps first, causing Ron’s jaw to drop open. Harry couldn’t blame him; Ron’s earlier assessment of ’gorgeous’ had been right on the mark. The deep blue of her formal robes seemed to make her fair skin glow, and the simple pearl necklace and earrings were a perfect complement. Her hair had been arranged in an upswept style that was quite becoming, small curls framing her perfectly made-up face. Her eyes seemed larger, with a luminous quality as she assessed her escort for the evening and nodded gracefully in approval.

“You look very handsome tonight, Ron,” she said. “So do you, Harry.”

“Thank you,” Harry said, then gave Ron a nudge.

“I -- I -- erm, yeah, thanks,” Ron stammered, still mesmerized by the vision of beauty before him. “Y-you look… Wow!”

Hermione smiled at Ron’s reaction. “Thank you Ron -- that’s the most articulate complement you’ve ever given me,” she replied, and gave him a quick buss on the cheek.

Ron, a wide grin on his face, offered his arm and led Hermione to the Portrait hole. Harry smiled, watching them exit, then turned back to wait for Ginny. His wait was not long. Anna May had bounded back up the stairs, and he could hear her excitedly telling someone -- he assumed it was Ginny -- how pretty she looked.

Moments later, she glided down the steps and it was Harry’s turn to have his jaw drop open. Simple but elegant, her mane of red hair had been intricately braided, then piled and held in place atop her head by what, at first glance, seemed to be a sparkling green jewel that would light up every few seconds. She wore the cloak he had given her that morning over her dark green robes, the two matching in colour perfectly, the fur collar shining silvery. Her sparkling brown eyes caught and held his, and it was several seconds before he could speak.

“Beautiful -- absolutely beautiful,” he breathed, making Ginny smile and become exponentially more beautiful for doing so.

“Why, thank you, Mr. Potter,” she replied, dipping in a graceful curtsey. “I’m glad you approve.” She pirouetted for her fiancé, and Harry noted that the glittering hair jewel was, in reality, a fairy holding tightly to the braid. Ginny wore tiny earrings that looked amazingly like emeralds and a single green jewel that hung from a fine chain graced the depression at the base of her throat. “I really didn’t have the jewellery to match the dress, so Hermione transfigured a necklace and earrings for me. It was Anna May’s idea to use the fairy for a hair clip, and convinced one to do it for me.”

“You look perfect, love,” Harry said.

“Really, Harry?”

“Yes, really. Is M’lady Weasley ready to attend the ball?” Harry offered his arm.

“Why yes, I am, M‘lord Potter,” giggled Ginny, twining her arm with his.

There was a soft tittering from the stairway, and the affianced couple saw several of the first and second-year girls peeping around the corner and whispering excitedly to each other.

“Good night, girls,” Ginny called out, and the gaggle of Gryffindors girls disappeared, laughing, up the stairway.

***

The evening seemed to rush by as Harry and Ginny danced and murmured endearments to each other, hardly noticing anything but the fact that each felt he or she was with the most beautiful or most handsome partner at the ball. As they whirled around the dance floor, they barely noted when the music stopped, for all they did was pause, looking into each others eyes until it started again. It was only when the small orchestra took a break midway through the evening that they left the dance floor. Ron and Hermione joined them as they wove their way to a secluded table, and both young men left their partners to get refreshments.

“Well, it certainly looked like you two were having fun,” smiled Hermione to Ginny as they sat down together. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Harry look happier -- And you, Ginny -- you just look radiant.”

Ginny’s cheeks coloured prettily. “Thank you, Hermione. You look quite lovely yourself.”

“Ron certainly seems to think so -- he keeps repeating ‘Wow‘, over and over,” giggled Hermione. “And he asked me to come to the Burrow for the last week of the holiday.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Ginny replied. She looked to see if Ron and Harry were on their way back, and spotting them still waiting in the queue, went on in a more confidential tone of voice, “I thought I overheard him asking Harry where he bought my engagement ring last weekend in Hogsmeade, so it looks like he’s getting ready.”

“I know -- I went to get a new quill at Scrivenshafts, and he was looking in the Gladrags window and seemed to be studying the men’s wedding robes on display when I got back.”

“So -- do you think you can look surprised when he asks?” Ginny giggled.

“I think so,” declared Hermione laughingly. “Given his reactions tonight, I think I’ll be surprised if he can string three words together without saying ‘wow‘. Especially since I plan to wear this same gown that evening. You’ll help me with my hair again, won’t you?”

“Of course I will. What kind of a future sister-in-law would I be if I didn’t fuss over the bride-to-be?” Ginny looked up at the queue to check on Ron and Harry’s progress and saw that both the young men were returning, laden with glasses and bottles of butterbeer. “They’re coming -- we’ll talk more after the ball, all right?”

Hermione nodded as the boys arrived at the table, Ron looking just a bit grim.

“Ron? What’s wrong?” asked Hermione. Ron merely shook his head and sat down.

Harry coughed, hiding a smile behind his clenched fingers. “Ron’s just a bit upset with Colin Creevey. He overheard him telling someone that he thought that you and Ron would likely be husband and wife by the end of lessons next term.”

“Colin said that?” Hermione’s cheeks turned rosy.

“Bloody little git should sod off, telling people something like that,” growled Ron as he poured himself a butterbeer. “Then he turned around and flashed that blasted camera of his right in my eyes taking a picture of Harry.”

Hermione had stiffened up when Ron made his comment, losing some of her smile. “You make it sound like he said something terrible,” she replied, her voice a bit brittle.

“Yeah, well -- I know you wouldn’t want to get married before you left school.”

Ginny and Hermione exchanged glances. “I don’t think you should get angry over that, Ron,” said Ginny. “It sounds more like a complement that you and Hermione would want to get together.”

“Yeah, maybe so,” said Ron sullenly, “but I’d prefer that we would be the ones to announce it, if it were true.”

Hermione relaxed, her smile coming back as the orchestra resumed playing.

“Care to dance, M’lady Weasley?” asked Harry, getting up from his chair.

Ron looked up and snorted a laugh, “M’lady? My little sister?”

Ginny fixed an icy stare on her older brother, and Hermione apparently gave him a kick under the table, because he suddenly winced in pain. “Be nice,” ordered the older girl. Even Harry frowned at him a bit.

“Humph!” huffed Ginny in disdain, then turned back to Harry. “I would be delighted, M’lord Potter,” she replied, allowing Harry to pull out her seat and take her hand so she could rise gracefully. With her head held high, she acted the part that Harry had bestowed upon her, and they headed for the dance floor.

“I really wish you would stop doing that,” complained Ron, rubbing his shin.

“When you stop acting like a git, I’ll stop kicking you. I thought that Harry’s gesture was quite sweet -- and then you go and ruin the moment for Ginny by making comments.”

“Well, Sorrr-reee!” retorted Ron sarcastically. “I just did what we’ve done to each other ever since she could talk! She is my little sister, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“So she is -- thank you so much for reminding me!” she answered just as sarcastically. “Perhaps it’s escaped your notice, but she’s all grown up now and engaged to be married! Did you ever stop to think that having a romantic moment with her fiancé is something she might want to enjoy?”

Ron blinked, then turned in his chair to stare at the couple as they slid across the dance floor. Turnin back, it was several moments before he spoke. “I’m sorry, Hermione -- but sometimes I forget that Harry is more than just my best mate that I joke around with. Even after all these months, it still seems a bit weird that he’s going to marry Ginny.”

“What’s so weird about that? I’d think even someone as thick as you can tell that they’re in love. Why shouldn’t they get married?”

Ron pondered her question for a moment before replying. “You’re right -- I’m being a git about it. So my best friend is going to marry my little sister… I should be happy for them. It’s just that… “

“It’s just that what, Ron?”

“When Ginny and I were growing up, we were pretty close. Seemed like it was us against Fred and George when it came to getting in trouble, until Mum figured out that when they accused us, it was so we’d take the blame for what they had actually done. Then when everyone went off to school, and it was just the two of us at home -- you know what The Burrow is like, being secluded and warded. I grew up with Ginny not only as my sister, but as my best friend. We’d tease each other sometimes, but that’s what brothers and sisters do -- we never really meant it.

“Then the year I went off to Hogwarts, and met Harry -- and you -- it’s like things changed all at once. It seemed like the only thing that Ginny could talk about all that next summer was Harry -- and then when the twins and I brought him to The Burrow, she wouldn’t talk to him at all.” Ron laughed at the memory.

“When she came to Hogwarts, and there was all that trouble with the Chamber of Secrets, she quieted down some, but she still had this big obvious crush on Harry, and for some reason we drifted apart, and what used to be fun became an annoyance.

“Of course, I had Harry for a best friend, and you -- until I actually noticed you were a girl --”

“Oh? What did you think I was before then?” huffed Hermione.

“No, I didn’t mean it that way… I mean, when I -- I started having feelings for you, and was mad because I secretly hoped you liked me but you and Krum were -- you know. I got jealous. I spent most of that year being mad at either you or Harry, and Ginny sort of seemed to lose interest in either of us… and just sort of disappeared from my life.

“I was so self-absorbed, it took me more than a year to really notice -- and by then she was going out with all those gits. I don’t know why it had never struck me before that Harry and Ginny would make a good couple until the ride home on the Express that year, y’know. Then all of a sudden they were, and I started feeling like I had lost both of my best friends, and I realized that I missed that closeness Ginny and I had -- that’s when I started to be more ’big-brotherly’ to her and Harry. If it hadn’t been for you…” Ron trailed off into silence.

Hermione reached out and took his hand, squeezing it gently in support. “You weren’t all that bad, Ron -- I thought it was kind of cute. And Ginny told me that she keeps pulling those pranks and teasing you because she still wants some attention from her brother -- any kind of attention, good or bad. I think she misses what the two of you shared growing up just as much as you do.”

“So why didn’t she just come out and say so?”

Hermione looked at him askance. “Why didn’t you?”

Ron looked stunned by her question. He was obviously thinking about it when he turned to watch Ginny and Harry glide by again. “I guess I owe her an apology,” he stated simply, and started to get out of his chair.

“Ron -- don’t go and bother them while they’re enjoying themselves.”

“Erm, well… actually I wasn’t going to. I’ll find time during the holidays to apologize.”

“So why are you getting up?”

Ron grinned sheepishly, then performed a deep bow. “Would M’lady Granger care to share this dance with me?”

Hermione smiled, her eyes twinkling from the candlelight. “I would be delighted to do so, M’lord Weasley.”

Chapter Eleven

Portkeys were issued to the students the next morning at breakfast as they prepared to leave Hogwarts for the Yule Holiday, and a schedule was posted for departure times on the main entry doors. Looking for their names on the list, Ron, Ginny and Harry found that they were set to leave for the Burrow just after eleven that morning.

“That means we’ll be home just in time for lunch,” Ron declared.

“Trust my brother to know when mealtimes are,” snickered Ginny. “Sometimes I think that’s all he ever thinks about.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” smiled Hermione, “He’s been doing a great deal of studying and research this year, and his marks have really improved. He even finished his NEWT essay for Professor Binns just last week -- and he did an additional two feet, too.”

“You’re scheduled for a half past ten departure, Anna May,” Ginny had found the child’s name on the list. “Are you all packed for the holiday?”

“Yes’m, Miss Ginny -- The house elves already tooked my trunk away,” the little girl answered.

“Oh dear -- I’ ve got to run,” exclaimed Hermione, “They’ve got me scheduled to leave in twenty minutes! Anna May, you have a happy Christmas -- I’ll see you again next term.” She gave the little girl a quick hug. “ Ron, Ginny, Harry, I’ll see you on Boxing Day. Happy Christmas!” With that, she hurried away.

“Miss Ginny? Do I have time to go up to my room? I have to get somethin’ I forgot.”

“Yes, Anna May -- but you’ll have to hurry. You’ll need to be at the front gates a few minutes early,” answered the Sixth-year prefect.

“Thank you,” said the little girl, and took off at a run.

“Harry, do you have it?” asked Ginny as the child disappeared up the stairway.

“Right here, love,” he replied, and produced a package wrapped in Christmas Tissue from under his robes. “Do you think she’ll like it?”

“I hope so -- I loved mine when I was her age.”

A few minutes later, a breathless Hermione reappeared, Crookshank’s wicker carry-basket in one hand and a package in the other. “Where’s Anna May? I want to give her her Christmas present before I leave.”

“She just went up to the dormitory to get something,” answered Ron.

“Oh -- and I really do have to run. Would you give it to her for me?”

“Sure thing, Hermione.”

The bushy-haired girl shoved the package into Ron’s hands, threw her free arm around his neck and gave him a quick kiss. “Thank you -- Happy Christmas everyone!” she called out, running out the door and across the lawn toward the main gates.

A few minutes later, Anna May returned to where Ron, Ginny and Harry waited for her, her winter cloak hanging askew due to misbuttoning and four small parcels clutched in her arms. “I f’got to bring these down at breakfast,” she explained, handing one each to the three teenagers. “Perfesher Hagrid helped me make these -- Happy Chrissmuss!” The little girl looked around at the crowd of people. “Has Miss Herminey come down yet? I have one for her, too.”

“Thank you, Anna May,” said Ginny. “I’m afraid you missed Hermione, though. She’s already left.”

“Oh…” the little girl sounded disappointed. “I guess I can give it to her next term…”

“I’ll be seeing her the day after Christmas, Anna May. I’ll be happy to give it to her for you,” Ron spoke up.

Anna May smiled at the gangly redhead. “Thank you, Mr. Ron. That’s very nice of you.”

“Hermione also left this for you,” Ron smiled, holding out Hermione’s package. “Remember, you can’t open it until Christmas Morning. Same for this,” he said, reaching into his robes and pulling out a largish envelope decorated in red and green.

“Thank you!” Anna May beamed as she took the two parcels, handing Ron Hermione’s gift as she did so. “Don’t worry, I’ll ‘member!”

“Harry and I have a gift for you, too, Anna May,” Ginny announced, as Harry pulled the package from behind his fiancée where he had been hiding it from Anna May’s sight, and handed it to the little girl.

“Thank you, Miss Ginny! Thank you, Mr. Harry!” Anna May stooped down to place the three packages on the floor, then stood straight, reaching up to Ginny, Harry and Ron in turn to offer hugs.

“Are you all ready to go now, Anna May?” Ginny asked.

“Yes’m Miss Ginny!”

“Good. I’ll walk with you.”

“Thank you. ‘G’bye, Mr. Ron! G’bye, Mr. Harry! Happy Chrissmuss!” said Anna May as she and Ginny started out the door.

“Happy Christmas to you! We’ll see you next term, Anna May!” said Harry.

“Wait for us at the gate, Ginny -- We’ll meet you there!” called out Ron, waving at the two girls as they descended the steps. Anna May looked back and waved in reply. “So what did you and Ginny get her?” asked Ron as they watched them cross the lawn.

“Ginny picked it out -- It’s a soft doll, bespelled to answer simple yes or no questions.”

“Yeah, Ginny had one of those,” grinned Ron. “She carried it with her everywhere from the Christmas she was six until the summer before I came to Hogwarts.”

Harry grinned at the mental image. “And what did you get for her?”

Ron grinned sheepishly. “A magic picture book, one about Father Christmas.”

Harry chuckled. “Looks like you’ve been spending too much time with Hermione, giving books for presents.”

“Yeah, well -- so she influenced my choice a little. I was going to get her a toy Snitch.”

“Any idea what Hermione got her?”

“A book, what else? ’A Picture Book of Fantastic Beasts.’ “

“She should like that,” smiled Harry. “Next to Transfiguration, that’s her favourite lessons.”

Ron looked at his watch. “Hey, we’d better get a move on -- I still have to get up to the Owlery to let Pig fly home. He hates Porting.”

“Same goes for Hedwig. Better to let them both fly back to the Burrow.”

“Well, let’s go -- it’s still a climb, and we don’t want to miss getting home.” Ron took off at a trot, Harry following a few steps behind.

***

Their Portkey had placed them in the Burrow’s rear yard, right by the snow-covered garden. Mrs. Weasley had been waiting at the kitchen door for their arrival, and bustled out to greet them. “I see you made it safely,” she said, embracing each one in turn. “So tell me, did you enjoy yourselves at the Yule Ball? They had such a nice write-up in the Daily Prophet this morning, and you and Hermione look very happy in the photograph.”

“There was a picture of us?” Ron goggled at his mother.

“Oh yes, quite a nice one, the two of you dancing. Come along, it’s cold out here -- Lunch will be ready in about ten minutes.”

The three Hogwarts students picked up their belongings and followed Mrs. Weasley into the house. The kitchen was warm and cosy, filled with a mouth-watering fragrance. “Just hang up your cloaks and set those things in the front parlour. You can take them to your rooms after we eat,” Mrs. Weasley said as she crossed the room to the stove where a large wooden spoon was stirring a pot on the stovetop.

“I hope you’re hungry,” called out Mrs. Weasley as they followed her instructions. “After so many years of cooking for the Weasley army, I’ve had the hardest time making only enough for your father and me. Arthur keeps complaining about how many times a week we have leftovers.”

“Just the two of you? Aren’t Bill and Charlie and Fred and George still here?” asked Harry as he re-entered the kitchen.

“Fred and George are living above their shop in Diagon Alley now -- they say it’s more convenient than apparating there every day, but I suspect it has more to do with the two girls they have working for them,” Mrs. Weasley explained as she served out helpings of the savoury stew into bowls, “and Bill -- he’s with the Order full-time now, on the Ministry payroll, staying at the headquarters. Charlie’s quite busy at his department at the Ministry -- I take it he and another dragon keeper from the Romanian preserve have been assigned to try to organize and update several years worth of paperwork -- and more often than not doesn’t get home except on an occasional weekend. But everyone‘s promised to be here for Christmas and Boxing Day -- Arthur even added a temporary spare bedroom, so you won‘t all be crowded together.”

The three teens slid into their accustomed places at the kitchen table as Molly placed the bowls of stew in front of them, along with two ham sandwiches apiece, then added a bowl of sour cream, mustard and a pitcher of milk to the table. “Go on, eat up -- I’ll be with you in a moment. I‘ve got dessert in the oven.”

Moments later, Mrs. Weasley had set a pie out to cool and had seated herself at the table. “So tell me all about the Yule Ball at Hogwarts, “ she requested.

“It was wonderful, Mum,” said Ginny, her eyes sparkling at the memory. “Harry and I danced to every song, and the Great Hall was decorated so beautifully -- They had the usual twelve trees, but this years decorations just seemed so special. I really liked the one Professor Flitwick decorated; he placed hundreds of enchanted glass balls that would glow in different colours in time to the music, and charmed the tree so it had snow falling on it all night.”

“Yeah, that was pretty special,” said Ron. “I think Harry and I definitely escorted the two prettiest girls at the ball.”

Ginny paused, her spoon of stew halfway to her mouth, and broke into a broad smile. “Why, thank you, Ron -- that was a wonderful complement. I’ll be sure to tell Hermione you said that!”

“Well, yeah, okay -- but it was just a statement of fact. Don’t you agree, Harry?”

“Oh yes, definitely,” grinned Harry, looking at Ginny as he spoke, watching the youngest Weasley blush at the attention.

“Erm… Ginny? I’m sorry about that wisecrack I made last night when Harry asked you to dance. I wasn’t thinking about what a romantic moment like that might mean to you.”

Ginny’s eyes narrowed. “Did Hermione put you up to that apology?”

“Uhm, yeah, I guess she did, sort of. She pointed out some things that I hadn’t really thought about. I really am sorry, though.”

Ginny smiled at her brother. “Apology accepted. So -- what things did Hermione point out?”

It was Ron’s turn to blush. “She -- ah -- she basically told me to stop being such a thick-headed git and to start treating you less like an annoying little sister and more like the special person that you are.”

“My goodness -- two nice complements in less than five minutes? Are you sure you’re my brother?” laughed Ginny. “Thank you, Ron, that was very nice of you.”

Ron grinned at his sister. “You’re welcome, sis.”

Mrs. Weasley was smiling wistfully at her two children and their exchange. “How about you, Ron -- did you and Hermione enjoy yourselves?”

“Yeah, we did, once we got past what a git I was being to Ginny and Harry.” Ron grinned again. “I even borrowed a page from Harry and started complementing Hermione the same way he was Ginny.”

“Oh?” said Harry. “What did you say to her -- besides ‘Wow‘?”

“I -- erm… I used that bit about her being ‘M’lady’ when I asked her to dance.” Ron blushed again. “You should have seen her, Mum. She looked so beautiful…” His eyes lost their focus as he remembered the way she had looked at him.

“I think my big brother has fallen in love, don’t you?” Ginny whispered to her fiancé.

“It certainly looks that way to me,” Harry whispered back. “He seems to have forgotten he has food in front of him.”

The two teens and Mrs. Weasley finished their meal and left Ron to his daydreaming, smiling as they exited the kitchen.

***

“Harry?” Ron stood in the doorway of what was now ‘Harry‘s Room‘.

“Yeah, Ron?”

“Remember that place you told me about, the restaurant in Brighton?”

“The one I’m supposed to re-propose to Ginny in?”

“That’s the one. Is it very expensive?”

Harry looked at his friend. “Why?”

“Well,” started Ron as he came into the room, “It’s just that I ,erm, I haven’t been able to find a gift for Hermione… and with her coming after Christmas, I was thinking that she might like an, erm, evening out -- instead of the usual box of candy or a book.”

“Sounds like a good idea.”

“Yeah, well… But can I afford it?”

Harry grinned. “I’ll be happy to lend you the money -- but I think I’ve got a better idea. We’ll go out together, the four of us, and kill two birds with one stone. You can have a nice evening with Hermione while I do the same with Ginny, and I can end the evening with the re-proposal and get you and your brothers off my back.”

“Harry, that’s brilliant! But how can we get there? Neither of us has an apparating license, and Ginny won’t be able to get hers for another year.”

“No problem, Ron -- I’ll just Floo into the Ministry in a day or so and get an approved Portkey. There might be a bit of paperwork, but it’s the least I can do for my best mate.”

“Harry, you’re a real lifesaver!” Ron grinned, clapping Harry on the shoulder.

***

“All unpacked, Harry?” Ginny asked from the doorway.

Harry shoved several pairs of socks into the dresser drawer before answering. “Yes, I am now.”

“Good -- Mum wants me to go into town to the grocer and pick up a few items. Want to walk with me?”

Harry smiled at his fiancée. “You have to ask? Just let me get my coat, and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“No, that’s okay. I’ll wait.” Ginny stepped into the room and closed the door behind her.

Harry smiled -- he knew what that glint in Ginny’s eyes meant. Going first to the wardrobe, he pulled on his coat, then stepped over to where Ginny was waiting. “Experiment number five forty-one?” he asked.

Ginny nodded, then stepped out of Harry’s way as he opened the door and strode to the stairway. Taking one step down, he stopped, turned around, and waited. Ginny stood on the top step, her eyes glittering mischievously, and wrapped her arms about Harry’s neck, drawing him into a deep and satisfying kiss.

“Experiment five forty-one successful. Make a note of that, if you would, Mr. Potter,” she said when she finally pulled away, smiling lovingly at Harry.

“Right away, Miss Weasley,” Harry replied, returning the smile. ‘Test five forty-one of the 'Ginevra Weasley Elevated Osculation Exercise' successful. Should I prepare for test five forty-two?”

“Later, Harry -- It’s going to be getting dark soon, and I’d prefer to be back here at the Burrow by then.”

“All right, “ Harry replied, turning around. ”Hop on!”

Ginny climbed onto Harry’s back, letting him piggyback her down the stairs as she tickled his neck with a kiss, dropping to her feet once they had reached the bottom. Together, they exited from the kitchen, taking the drive path to the roadway, walking hand in hand.

“So what are we supposed to get at the grocers?” asked Harry.

“Mum wants some tins of mushroom soup, a bag of rice and a pound of butter,” Ginny replied, stepping around a slowly freezing puddle in the roadway. “She’s given me the muggle money, but I still get confused -- would you pay the grocer?”

“If you want me to, love,” Harry smiled, “but I’ll have to charge you a usage tax.”

“Oh? What kind of usage tax?”

“Just the usual,” Harry grinned. “One kiss for each pound spent.”

“My goodness -- that’s quite the bargain,” laughed Ginny. “And of course you wouldn’t mind a bit if I were to add a tip for good service, would you?”

“Service with a smile, Miss Weasley, and all tips gratefully accepted,” Harry smiled.

Ginny looked back towards the Burrow, noting that it was now out of sight, hidden behind the trees. A glimmer of mischief lit her eyes, and she pulled Harry off the roadway and into the treeline alongside the road. “Good -- Mum can’t see us here, and I want a proper kiss, Harry.” She waited expectantly for Harry to respond.

Enfolding her in an embrace, he lowered his head to facilitate the meeting of their lips, indulging his fiancee in her wish. Ginny responded by wrapping her arms around his neck, prolonging the kiss.

Whoonk! Whoonk! blared a car horn as it drove past, and a voice called out of the window, “Oi, Get a room!”

Both Ginny and Harry started at the sudden noise, then grinned sheepishly at each other. “Not the best place in the world for a private snog, I guess,” laughed Ginny.

“Apparantly not,” grinned Harry. “Guess we’d best be getting those items for your Mum. So where’s this grocers?”

“Not too far, now -- up to the second crossroad and left about a hundred meters.”

The couple walked, hand in hand, Ginny pointing out things that Harry hadn’t noticed before as they approached the village of Ottery-St. Catchpole. Once at the second crossroad (marked with a sign reading ‘Grosnevor Place’), they turned left and, keeping to the roadside to avoid the occasional lorry or other vehicle, were soon at the small place of business they sought, Pecksniff and Sons, Greengrocers.

As they entered, a rather chubby man of indeterminate age, florid of face and with only a fringe of dark blonde hair around his bald pate was stocking soup tins in one of the three aisles that ran the length of the store. Looking up at the sound of the bell attached to the door, he smiled warmly, climbed to his feet, dusted off his knees, and said, “Good Afternoon, Ginny -- How can I be of help?”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Pecksniff. Mum needs a few items, and I’ve brought my fiance along to start learning how to shop for when we get married,” Ginny smiled.

“Oho! So this is the young man whose stolen your heart, is it? Welcome, welcome, most glad to meet you.” He held out a hand, which Harry took and shook, returning the smile.

“Thank you, sir. Nice to meet you, too.”

“John Hobart Pecksniff, at your service.”

“Harry Potter, Mr. Pecksniff.”

The greengrocer did a double take as Harry introduced himself, and his eyes flashed up to where Harry’s scar was just visible behind the hair that hung onto his forehead. “Erm, Potter, you say? Any relation to the Lawrence Potters over in Grambling?”

“I afraid not. The only branch of the Potter family that I’m aware of are some cousins in the States.” Harry had noticed the greengrocer’s reaction to his name, and a faint stirring of unease now bothered him.

Ginny had started along the aisle and was picking out the items they had come for as Mr. Pecksniff winked and whispered, “Not to worry -- How’s Professor Dumbledore these days?”

“You know Dumbledore?” Harry started in surprise.

“Of course -- Left Hogwarts in 1963. Never was much of a wizard -- only ever earned two OWLs -- but I do all right here with the muggles. Dad was a muggle and made sure my brothers and I knew a muggle trade afore he passed on and left the shop to me. So how did you and the Weasley girl meet? Some summer romance? You know, you broke a lot of hopes ‘mongst the lads here in town.”

“Erm, I did?”

“Merlin’s beard, yes! She’s always been one to attract the lad’s attention.” Mr. Pecksniff smiled. “So how’d the two of you get together?”

Harry’s mind raced -- Mr. Pecksniff was a wizard, knew Dumbledore, but didn’t know that the Weasley’s were a family of wizards and witches? That didn’t make sense…

“Erm, she and I met in London.” Strictly speaking, this was the truth -- the first time he had set eyes on Ginny had been at King’s Cross Station when he’d asked Mrs. Weasley how to get onto Platform 9 ¾.

“London, you say? I didn’t know that was where she was going off to school. Well, you could have done worse than our little Miss Weasley. She’s a right fine girl, for a muggle.” Ginny had found everything they had been sent for and was headed for the till counter. “Real pleasure to meet you, Mr. Potter -- I’d best keep busy. Don’t want the Ministry coming down on me by letting a muggle know we exist, you know -- but I guess she’ll find that out soon, anyway, what?”

The greengrocer hurried over to the till to tot up the purchases. “Two pounds thirty pence altogether, Ginny,” he announced.

“Don’t just stand there, Harry -- pay the man!” Ginny giggled. Harry smiled at the petite redhead, and counted out the correct amount. Taking the bag from Ginny, Harry said goodbye to Mr. Pecksniff, and followed Ginny out the door.

They walked back along the way they had come, and once they had turned at the crossroads, Harry asked Ginny, “So why is it that Mr. Pecksniff doesn’t know that you’re a witch?”

“Oh dear -- you didn’t tell him, did you?” Ginny looked at Harry anxiously. Harry shook his head. “Good -- The Obliviaters have had to modify his memory so many times, I’m afraid the poor man might be going mental.”

“Oh?”

“Well, we’re not supposed to let any muggles know about us, are we? Somehow, he manages to find out about twice a year, so an Obliviator from the Ministry comes by and erases those memories for him,” Ginny explained patiently.

“He’s a muggle? But --”

“Shh, Harry,” Ginny nodded toward an old woman heading toward them, pulling a two wheeled basket. “Good Afternoon, Mrs. Smythe,” she smiled.

“Ginevra? Back for the holidays from school are you?” Mrs. Smythe nodded in return.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And who’s this young man?”

“This is my fiancé, Harry Potter.”

“Fiancé? You’re not old enough to get married, are you? It seems like it was just yesterday you were skipping along holding your mother’s hand…”

“It does, doesn’t it?” smiled Ginny. “Seems like the years just fly by. It’s nice to see you again -- How’s Mr. Smythe’s gout? Getting any better?”

“Oh, he has his good days and his bad days -- Though it seems like he’s been doing better of late. You tell your mum hello for me, will you?”

“Yes, I will, Mrs. Smythe. Good day!”

“Good Day, Ginevra.”

Ginny pulled Harry along by his hand. “She’s such a dear old lady -- she always had chocolate biscuits when Mum and I would walk into town past her house when I was younger.”

“Oh… “ Harry’s mind was having trouble wrapping around certain things that had happened in the last ten minutes. “Ginny, about Mr. Pecksniff --”

“Yes?”

“If he’s a muggle, how does he know about Professor Dumbledore and Hogwarts?”

“What?”

“He said he left Hogwarts in 1963, and I think he knew who I was -- He looked right up at my scar when I introduced myself --but he thinks you’re a muggle!”

Ginny stopped dead in her tracks, staring at Harry. “He said that?”

“Yes.”

Ginny looked quite troubled by the news. “And he said he was at Hogwarts?”

Yes.”

“Oh dear… We have to get home and tell Mum and Daddy! I think there’s been a terrible mistake!”

***

“Altogether the Magical Registry’s fault,” said Mr. Weasley. “Since he had done so poorly at OWLs and didn’t go on for any NEWTs, they had first misclassified him as a squib, and then he just stopped doing magic at all to keep it a secret as required by the Muggle Relations Department, so without any trace of magic about, the Registrar took him from the list as deceased. I ‘m somewhat surprised the man was never found out until today -- Complete and total foul-up, that’s what it was. Wouldn’t be surprised if the Ministry offers a ton of Galleons for him to just keep quiet about it. It‘s no wonder, though -- Department Head Crankshaft should have retired years ago. Bit balmy about the records, insists he can keep them all in his head until needed.”

“And Mr. Pecksniff’s such a nice man, too,” added Mrs. Weasley. “Makes me feel just terrible thinking he was just a clever muggle all these years. You don’t think the Obliviate spells have hurt him, do you?”

“Can’t really say -- The Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes will be tied up for weeks on this one, I suspect. Good thing Harry went with Ginny today, though - It might have been years before this was discovered, if at all.” Mr Weasley sipped at his tea. “Harry, are you up for a trip into London? Dumbledore’s called for a meeting of the Order tomorrow evening.”

“Has something happened?”

“No, not this time. More or less just an update to keep everyone informed, I gather.”

“Everyone? Ron, Ginny, and Hermione, too?”

“That was the message -- We’ll be spending the night, then coming back here for the rest of the holiday.”

“Do you think we might be able to stop by Diagon Alley? I still have a bit of last minute shopping to do,” explained Harry.

“Certainly -- we’ll all go in together by Floo in the morning. That way, you can make a day of it.” Mr. Weasley watched his wife head into the living room, then conspired in a whisper, “I’ll have you pick up a parcel for me as well -- haven’t had a chance to get Molly’s present yet.”

“All right,” nodded Harry.

***

“Arthur and Molly Weasley, with son Ron, daughter Ginevra, and Harry Potter,” announced Mr. Weasley to the Auror on duty at the Diagon Alley checkpoint. “Bit of last minute shopping before the holiday. I’ll be using the apparation point to leave for the Ministry of Magic, they will be entering Muggle London.”

“Very good, sir -- Thank you for your cooperation,” replied the Auror, his quill entering the information on the form held by his clipboard in a messy scrawl.

Harry noted that the Auror looked a bit frazzled, particularly since there was a queue of people lined up for entering Diagon Alley. Holiday shopping was in full swing, even this early in the morning. Looking up the street, Harry could see queues of people lined up, waiting for the various shops to open.

“You’ll have a bit of a wait, I’m afraid,” said Mr. Weasley, brushing a spot of ash off his robes. “Shops won’t be opening until nine. I’ve got to run, can’t be late today, I’ll see you lot tonight. ‘Bye, love,” He gave Mrs. Weasley a quick kiss, and was off toward the Apparation point.

Harry smiled -- Mr. Weasley had pulled him aside at the Burrow and given him explicit directions as to what and where he should pick up for him. Of course, he still had to get presents for Ron and Hermione, and was thinking hard about another ‘appropriate’ gift for Ginny. Mrs. Weasley had announced earlier that she was taking Ron with her so she could get him some trousers that wouldn‘t be too short.

“Gringotts for my first stop,” Harry announced. “Would you care to join me?” he asked Ginny.

“Now you two be careful -- I don’t care how well warded and guarded Diagon Alley is, someone could still get in to cause trouble.”

“Yes, Mum, we’ll keep our eyes open,” answered Ginny, taking Harry’s hand. They set off for the great white building that dominated the entire alley. Once they were out of earshot, she asked Harry, “Have you chosen a present for Mum and Daddy yet?”

“No, actually. I had hoped to get some ideas today looking in the shops.”

“Want to go in with me and we’ll get them something together? I think it would be nice if the gift came from both of us, now that we’re engaged.”

“Okay, sounds like a good idea to me,” answered Harry. “Did you have something in mind?”

“Yes -- Errol’s been getting on, and he’s ready to be retired, so I was thinking a new owl would be a good idea.”

“Sounds good. We’ll look at them after I get some money from my vault.” They had walked far enough down the street to see that there was a long queue waiting for the Wizard’s bank to open. “Looks like we’ll have a bit of a wait,” commented Harry.

“I don’t mind, as long as I get to spend time with you,” murmured Ginny, her voice lowered so only he could hear, and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

They stood in line with the rest of the holiday shoppers for several minutes, talking about what each of them had bought or were going to buy for the others on their gift lists, when they heard a sudden shout.

“Miss Ginny! Mr. Harry! Hullo!” A little girl came running up to where the couple were standing, followed by a young woman in her late twenties who was looking just a bit breathless.

“Anna May!” Ginny cried in delight, sweeping the child into a hug. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, Miss Ginny,” Anna May returned the hug.

“Anna May, what did I say about running away from me?” The woman had caught up with the auburn-haired girl.

“I’m sorry, Mummy, but I saw my friends from Hogwarts!” Anna May had released Ginny and turned to face her mother. “Mummy, this is Miss Ginny and Mr. Harry -- they’re the ones I tolja ‘bout. Miss Ginny, Mr Harry, this is my Mummy.”

“Hello, Mrs. Vertocular, It’s so nice to meet you,” said Ginny.

“Hello, Ginny -- Whizzly, is it? I’m sorry if Anna May is disturbing you, but she’s been going on about you ever since she returned home.”

“It’s Weasley, ma’am. Anna May doesn’t always get her pronunciation just right, but she’s improving. And don‘t worry, she isn’t disturbing us one bit -- Anna May is always welcome to speak to me, as far as I‘m concerned.” Ginny smiled at the little girl, who grinned back.

“Mummy, this is Mr. Harry Potter -- he’s the one you told me was special.”

“Oh my -- Mr. Potter, it’s quite the honour to meet you.” Mrs. Vertocular’s eyes had glanced quickly at Harry forehead before she spoke.

“Thank you, ma’am -- and please, call me Harry.” He shook her hand as he spoke.

“Mummy and I are gettin’ presents today for Chrissmuss,” Anna May announced.

“How nice. Are you going to get something special for your Mum?” Ginny asked, stooping down so her eyes were on a level with Anna May’s.

“Yes’m, Miss Ginny -- but I can’t tell you what it is ‘cause it’s a secret,” the child confided.

“Ginny, I want to thank you for taking Anna May under your wing at Hogwarts -- I was very worried that she wouldn’t be happy there.”

“I don’t think you have any reason to worry about that -- everyone at Hogwarts just love her to pieces.”

“No they don’t, Miss Ginny. I’m still all together,” declared Anna May. Harry, Ginny and Mrs. Vertocular all smiled at the child’s comment.

“All right, Anna May -- We’ve bothered these nice people enough for today,” said Mrs. Vertocular. “Ginny, Harry, it was a pleasure meeting you.”

“And it was very nice to meet you, Mrs. Vertocular,” said Ginny.

“Likewise,” said Harry.

“ G’bye, Miss Ginny, Mr. Harry. Happy Chrissmuss!” Anna May took hold of her mother’s hand and was led off down the crowded street.

“That was a nice surprise,” said Ginny taking hold of Harry’s hand once more.

Harry was studying Ginny’s expression with a slight smile on his own lips. “Do you know how much you smile when you see Anna May? You always look so happy to see her.”

“That’s because I am happy to see her. She’s just so adorable!” Ginny murmured.

“I’m beginning to think you’re really looking forward to being a mother,” commented Harry.

Ginny was silent for a long moment before responding. “Yes, I am. But first I want to be Mrs. Potter. That’s the most important thing in the world to me right now -- That, and knowing you’ll always be with me…”

“Ginny, you know --”

“Yes, I know -- There’s no guarantee of that. Just indulge me and let me believe what I want to.”

Harry merely nodded in reply, and gave Ginny’s hand a comforting squeeze. As he did, the queue began to move into the bank, which had opened it’s doors.

Once inside, Harry found a clerk who was free, showed him his vault key, and was led to the doorway that led to the tracks for the carts. The goblin escorting the couple smiled in the grim manner of all goblins as they climbed into the cart and set off at a breakneck pace into the bowels of the earth.

Harry was now familiar with the twists and turns, and paid little attention, preferring to hold onto Ginny as the cart rocketed its way along the rails. When it came to a stop at Harry’s vault, both he and Ginny climbed out, Harry telling their escort that he should be back in about fifteen minutes.

“Not a problem, Mr. Potter -- and if you need one earlier than that, just call out and a cart will show up within minutes.” With that, the goblin and the cart clattered away into the darkness.

“If all the rides to your vault are like that, I don’t think I’ll be accompanying you very often,” stated Ginny, who was looking just a bit pale.

“It isn’t that bad once you get used to it, love,” replied Harry, using his key to open the massive door to his vault. Inside were the stacks of Galleons, Sickles and Knuts left to him by his parents. Off in a corner was a second pile of wizard coins, augmented by several legal looking documents and, oddly enough, a small pile of shattered silvered glass and a rather old looking frame piled in a cigar box-- the small fortune left to him when his Godfather had died.

“Oh my,” gasped Ginny. “I never realized that you were…” Her words trailed off, as if it were difficult to speak.

“Rich? That the word you’re looking for?” asked Harry. “You do realize that I’d happily give it all away if it would bring back my parents and Sirius, don’t you?”

“I’m sure you would,” answered Ginny, biting at her lower lip. “It’s just that -- Harry, there’s enough money here for you to live in comfort for the rest of your life! You wouldn’t have to work at all.”

“Possibly -- but I prefer to make my own way. Somehow, using this money to live an idle life just seems wrong to me.” Harry’s voice echoed in the vault as he filled his pockets. “I think that once we’ve set up housekeeping and I have an income, I’ll probably donate all of it to St. Mungo’s.”

Ginny nodded silently in response, a slight frown marring her features.

“Ginny? Something wrong?” asked Harry.

“No. It’s just that…”

“Just what?”

“Harry, you know that my family doesn‘t have a lot, don’t you? I don’t want you to ever think that my love for you is due to your having money.”

“Ginny, love, I already know that,” smiled Harry. “You’re always telling me not to spend money on you, or give you expensive gifts. The thing is, I enjoy seeing you smile when I give you something that you weren’t expecting.” He gathered her into his arms and kissed her. Ginny responded by wrapping her arms about his neck to extend the length of the kiss.

They finally broke apart when the clatter of an arriving cart sounded through the vault door. “Are you ready, Mr. Potter? Or should I give you a bit more time?” asked the goblin.

“We’re done here,” replied Harry, leading Ginny out of the vault and closing the door. They climbed into the cart and were on their way. Once back at the surface, they started going from shop to shop, looking for the perfect gifts for their friends.

“Books for Hermione, right?” asked Harry.

“Yes, but we have to be sure we get something she doesn’t already have,” answered Ginny as they made their way through the throng of holiday shoppers. “Have an idea for Ron’s gift?”

“Chudley Cannons Quidditch supplies, what else?” grinned Harry.

“And the owl for Mum and Daddy. I thought that Charlie could use some new dragonhide gloves -- the pair he has now is starting to look a bit ragged.” Ginny frowned and chewed at her lip. “That leaves Bill -- he’s always the hardest one to shop for. What do you think he might like?”

“I noticed that the cold seems to bother him -- I think he got used to the heat in Egypt and is having a hard time adjusting back. How about a nice winter cloak?” asked Harry.

“That’s perfect! We’ll get him a dark green one, one with a nice pattern to it.”

“So why don’t we split up to get these things -- You get the books for Hermione, and the cloak for Bill, I’ll get the Quidditch supplies for Ron and the gloves for Charlie, and we’ll meet up at Eyelops to pick out an owl for your parents. Then we’ll have to go get a parcel for your Dad -- it’s his gift for your Mum,” explained Harry.

“All right -- give me about an hour. I’ll have to sort through a lot of books to find any Hermione doesn’t already have.” Ginny replied. She gave Harry a quick kiss and wandered off towards Flourish and Blotts.

Harry watched her go into the shop, then turned and headed for the far end of Diagon Alley and the small shop called Tillaquonk’s Fine Jewelry. Upon entering the shop, he was greeted by the proprietor, Mr. Tillaquonk. “Mr. Potter, so nice to see you again. Did the young lady like the ring?”

Harry smiled. “Yes, very much. She said yes.”

“Splendid! Are you here to choose the wedding bands? I have a very nice assortment at the moment.”

“No, not yet. I want to find a pair of earrings and a necklace for a Christmas gift.”

“Certainly -- did you have something special in mind?” queried the shopkeeper.

“Emeralds. Small ones for the earrings, and the necklace should be like -- this one.” Harry pointed at a necklace on display in a glass case.

“Very good, Mr. Potter. Did you want those in gold or silver settings?”

“Gold, please.” answered Harry, smiling at the thought of how Ginny would like this surprise.

“Very good,” said Mr. Tillaquonk. “Let me see what I have in stock…” With that, he ducked down behind the counter and began opening drawers. When he stood back up, he had a flat case in hand, which he opened to display the contents. “Something like this?”

The necklace and earrings were very similar to the transfigured ones Ginny had worn to the Hogwarts Yule Ball. “Those are perfect,” answered Harry. “I’ll take them.”

The jeweler smiled. “Very good, Mr. Potter. A fine choice -- only eighty-seven Galleons, eleven Sickles, and fourteen knuts.”

Harry dug into his pockets and extracted that amount.

“Would you care to have it gift-wrapped? Only five knuts more.” asked the shopkeeper.

“Yes, thank you -- Red tissue, Gold ribbon please?”

“Right away, sir,” Mr Tillaquonk extracted a wand, tapped the small jewellery case, which floated into the air and hovered as a sheet of tissue came out from behind the counter and wrapped itself around it. A gold ribbon snaked out and wound around the package, tying itself into a fancy, flowerlike bow.

Harry handed the Jeweler the five knuts, took the wrapped package, and slid it into a pocket. “Thank you,” he said.

“Remember to come back when you’re ready for the wedding bands!” called out Mr. Tillaquonk as Harry exited the shop. Harry smiled, nodded and waved goodbye as he stepped out into the street.

He picked up the dragonhide gloves at the potions supply shop, then headed over to Quality Quidditch Supplies to pick out a gift for Ron. After wandering round the shop, he finally decided that an Official Chudley Cannons Broom Care Kit would fill the bill quite nicely, purchased it, and headed off to Eyelops Owl Emporium to meet up with Ginny.

Chapter Twelve

“Ginny! Over here!” Harry waved at his fiancée, trying to attract her attention. Seeing him, Ginny smiled and headed in his direction.

“I got both presents,” she told him. “A copy of ‘Arithmancy for the Extremely Interested’ for Hermione, and a nice warm wool cloak for Bill.”

“Same here -- a Broom Care kit for Ron, and a really nice pair of Dragonhide gloves for Charlie.”

“Thank you, love,” Ginny gave him a quick buss on the cheek. “Without you, I’d be making gifts by hand. This way, we’re able to give everyone nice gifts, and Mum can’t complain that you’re spending too much money.”

Harry smiled, knowing full well he was still going to be chastised when Ginny opened her extra gift, but he wouldn’t mind at all because he would get to see Ginny smile and be happy. “So, given any thought to what type of owl we should get for your parents?”

“I was thinking a larger owl -- one big enough to carry packages,” said Ginny, eyeing the assortment available in the shop. “When Errol was in his prime, he could take boxes of cookies to Charlie at Hogwarts.”

“I take it you want boxes of cookies, too,” laughed Harry. “Can’t say I blame you -- Your Mum does make the best.”

As they wandered through the shop, they spotted several likely candidates, finally settling on a beautiful black and brown specimen. “I think she’ll be perfect,” Ginny said as the owl gently nibbled at her finger. “I think she looks like an Owlivia, don’t you?”

The owl in question fluffed up it’s feathers and hooted angrily. “I don’t think she likes that name,” commented Harry.

“Then how about Alexandrowl?”

This time the owl tried to peck at her fingers in protest.

“Corrinne?”

The owl hooted softly and settled down, seeming to accept the third offering. “Corrinne it is, then,” smiled Ginny. Harry nodded his agreement as well, and went to find Mr. Eyelop to pay for the bird.

***

“Harry? Wake up, Harry!”

Harry stretched and yawned, finally cracking open one eye. Ginny stood by his bedside, a smile on her face.

“What time is it?” asked Harry.

“Time for you to be out of bed, Mr. Sleepyhead Potter. It’s Christmas!” Ginny pulled at his arm, forcing him to sit up on the bedside. “Here’s your dressing gown,” she said, handing him the item, “and your slippers”. She bent down and pushed his toes into the loose-fitting foot warmers.

“All right, all right -- just give me a moment,” yawned Harry as he wiggled his feet into the slippers for a better fit. Reaching over to the nightstand, he retrieved his glasses and put them on, then stood up and wrapped the dressing gown around himself, cinching the belt to hold it closed.

As Ginny led him down the stairs, she whispered, “I rewrapped my new cloak, so Mum can be surprised.”

Harry smiled. “Thanks -- don’t want my future in-laws thinking I forgot to get a gift for my fiancée.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Potter -- but I had a hidden motive behind doing it.” Ginny’s eyes flashed. “Now I can kiss you without Mum getting all upset. She can’t object if I’m merely thanking you for the gift.”

“Unless she decides you’re being a little too thankful,” joked Harry.

“I’ll be as thankful as I want!” declared Ginny. Her tone was snappish, but her smile belied that she was in any way angry. “Oh, by the way,” she continued, stopping on the last step before the landing, “Experiment number 587.”

Harry stepped down to the landing, turning to face his fiancée. Ginny immediately wrapped her arms about his neck, drew him close, and began to kiss him passionately.

“Oh, yes,” breathed Harry when she finally pulled away. “Definitely successful!” He took her hand, and they descended into the parlour.

Mr. And Mrs. Weasley, along with Ron, were waiting, each with a pile of boxes and parcels at their feet. Six more piles waited for their respective recipients, being clearly marked with their names glowing magically in the air above each pile.

“Good Morning, Harry,” said Mr. Weasley. “Happy Christmas!”

“Thanks,” replied Harry, adjusting his glasses. “Happy Christmas, everyone.”

Ginny had made a beeline for her pile of presents and was unwrapping the first by the time Harry sat down. He kept an eye on the red-headed teen, watching to see when she would notice the extra package he had added during the very early hours of the morning.

Mrs. Weasley had picked up the colourful envelope that Ginny had prepared, and was opening it. As she drew out the single sheet of parchment, a slight frown marred her features. When she had unfolded it and read the brief message, she looked up, first at Ginny, who merely smiled, then at Harry, who nodded.

“Arthur, look at this,” she said, handing the envelope and the parchment sheet to her husband.

Mr. Weasley complied, and after a moment, read aloud:

“Though Christmas comes but once a year,

our present for you is now quite near.

Should you arise and but walk a few feet,

your gift will you find, and gladly greet

We sha’n’t say more, but with love from our heart

Our gift to you will keep us from being apart

Happy Christmas from Ginny and Harry”

“Given us a bit of a puzzle, have you?” asked Mr. Weasley. “Well then, come along, Molly. Their gift can’t be too far away.” He rose from where he had been seated, helped Mrs. Weasley to her feet, and the two of them began peering about the room, looking into corners and behind chairs, thinking that Ginny might have hidden the gift there.

“You’re both cold,” called out Ginny, who was now smiling broadly. Taking the hint, her parents began walking about the room together. “A bit warmer… warmer… cooler…”

Slowly, she managed to direct them to the kitchen, where Mrs. Weasley called out, ”Wait a moment, Ginevra -- we’ve got a post!”

Both Ginny and Harry smiled at each other as the sound of an opening window came from the kitchen, followed by the scratch of talons on the tabletop. “Now who would be sending a post on Christmas Day?,” Mrs. Weasley asked aloud.

“One way to find out,” said Mr. Weasley, and the sound of rustling parchment emanated from the kitchen. “Good heavens, Molly -- look at this!”

There were several seconds of silence.

“Corrinne? Oh my, they shouldn’t have!” came Mrs. Weasley’s voice.

Ron was leaning to one side, trying to see into the kitchen. “Just what did you get Mum and Dad, anyway?”

Both Harry and Ginny had risen to their feet. “Come along and find out,” said Ginny as she headed for the kitchen.

When Harry and Ginny came into the kitchen, Corrinne was on the tabletop, preening her feathers. Mrs. Weasley was rereading the second of two parchment notes that the two teens conspired to be delivered by the owl, this one stating the pertinent facts of ownership and Mr. Weasley was smiling broadly, feeding Corrinne owl treats.

“Oh, you two… You shouldn’t have spent so much on us,” complained Mrs. Weasley, though her smile made it clear that the gift was very much appreciated. She hugged both in turn.

“So what did you get Mum and Dad?” asked Ron as he picked up the first parchment from where it had fallen on the floor.

“If you read that note, you might get a clue,” teased Ginny.

Ron frowned, but followed Ginny’s advice. The note read:

Your gift is now delivered, brought to you all by itself

Her name is Corrinne, we took her from the shelf

We hope you find her useful, for she’s given with our love

And so, Happy Christmas! And all blessings from above!

Harry and Ginny

“Huh? I don’t get it,” complained Ron.

Ginny took pity on her older brother. “The owl, Ron. Her name is Corrinne.”

“You got Mum and Dad an owl as a present? That’s bloody brilliant! I wish I had thought of something like that.”

“Well, now you have a whole year to come up with a gift for next Christmas. I’m sure you’ll think of something by then,” teased Ginny, reaching up and mussing Ron’s hair as an affectionate gesture.

“Oh, I do hope Errol won’t be offended. He’s been a very loyal bird over the years,” commented Mrs. Weasley.

“I don’t think it will be a problem, Mum,” Ginny smiled. “Corrinne’s presence may even liven him up a bit -- and I’m sure he’ll enjoy a respite from flying long distances.”

“Perhaps. I guess there’s only one way to find out.” Mrs Weasley went to Errol’s usual perch, and brought the elder owl over to the table. “Errol, this is Corrinne. She’ll be helping you with the posts from now on.”

Everyone was watching for Errol’s reaction. At first, he merely cocked his head to one side and looked at the female owl, then suddenly straightened, puffed up his feathers and hopped from Mrs. Weasley’s arm to the tabletop. Giving Corrinne a final once over, he gave a long hoot, seemed to bow toward the younger owl and waited.

Corrinne responded with a hoot of her own and hopped over to where Errol stood, giving him an owlish caress by cocking her head and rubbing her head against his.

“Looks like they’ve hit it off nicely,” commented Mr. Weasley with a smile. Both owls gave a chirp, and flew together back to Errol’s regular perch.

“Well, that’s it, then. Back to the parlour, everyone -- there are still more presents to open,” urged Mr. Weasley.

And open them they did. Ron was quite happy with his broom care kit, and for once his mother didn’t give him a maroon sweater. Instead, he got a red and golden yellow one, with a Head Boy badge embroidered in place. Hermione had owled him a large box of Fizzing Whizbees, along with a note that, when he read it, made his ears turn red. For some reason he didn’t want to share the note, tucking it into a pocket in his robes instead -- and when he opened the box, lying atop the layer of tissue over the packs of magical candies were two chocolate frog cards, one bearing the mobile likeness of Agrippa, the other a living portrait of Ptolemy.

“How did she know I’ve been looking for these?” Ron was looking rather stunned.

“You don’t think it might be because you’ve mentioned it every time there’s been a Hogsmeade weekend since third year, do you?” Harry smiled at his best friend.

Ginny opened her rewrapped cloak (The nightgown was safely hidden in her trunk, still at Hogwarts) and did a credible bit of acting surprised. Harry received his thank-you kiss, one that lasted just a bit longer than usual, and made Mrs. Weasley clear her throat rather loudly as a warning. Ron’s present to his sister was, of all things, a book.

“Hermione rubbing off on you, big brother?” teased Ginny.

Ron didn’t respond, but instead looked rather smug. Ginny looked a bit puzzled at Ron’s lack of reaction, shook her head and looked at the book.

The book was bound in a bright red cover, but no title was evident. Opening it, Ginny found the frontispiece and read, “The Witches Practical and Explicit Guide to All Matters of Marriage, from the Engagement to the Wedding and Beyond.” As she began to leaf through the volume, Ron’s grin grew wider, and he started to chuckle when Ginny stopped at a page near the back, her face suddenly covered in a blush as she read. Looking up from the page (which she kept marked by inserting a finger between the pages when she closed it) she stared at her brother, then broke into a cheery laugh. “I do believe this will come in quite handy someday. Thank you, Ron -- It was very thoughtful of you,” she smiled, then turned to Harry and winked. “I can hardly wait to try some of the suggestions.”

Ron stopped chuckling immediately and stared in disapproval at his sister, his ears beginning to turn red.

“Something the matter, big brother?”

Ron glanced quickly at his parents, who were involved in unwrapping each other’s gifts, then started to say something but instead stopped. Looking from Ginny to Harry, he suddenly smiled, shook his head and replied, “Nope. Nothing’s the matter at all. I’m glad you like the present. Happy Christmas!”

It was Ginny’s turn to be silent as she looked questioningly at her sibling, then at her fiancé.

Harry merely smiled, then said, “Looks like you have more gifts to open,” he pointed out.

Ginny continued unwrapping the present that she had been distracted from when her parents found their puzzle. “This one’s from Hermione,” she commented, and pulled out a bundle of several rather thick magazines. “These must be Muggle magazines,“ she commented. “Its all about muggle weddings and wedding gowns. They are rather beautiful, though…” Ginny kept looking through one of the magazines, a wistful smile adorning her lips.

Harry couldn’t keep from smiling himself as he watched her. After several moments he turned his attention to Mr. And Mrs. Weasley and the rather bulky package he and Ginny had picked up for Mr. Weasley. Since the package had been prepaid and already wrapped, he found himself rather curious about the contents.

It turned out to be an assortment of objects -- an iron skillet, much smaller than the one she usually used, was the first thing out of the package.

“I thought perhaps it would stop there being so many leftovers,” Mr. Weasley explained, a slight blush to his features.

Next was a rather elaborately decorated wide mouth vase. “Something to replace that cracked flowerpot for the Floo powder.”

The vase was followed in turn by an oven mitt and a prettily wrapped box, perhaps six inches square in all dimensions. Mrs Weasley unwrapped it excitedly, only to find a second box, slightly smaller and also wrapped. Mr Weasley merely smiled at his wife when she looked up at him in puzzlement. Upon opening the second package, she found a third, then a fourth. “Arthur Weasley, is this some sort of practical joke?” she asked.

“Not at all -- keep going,” replied Mr. Weasley, his smile now a rather broad grin.

Mrs. Weasley opened the fourth box to reveal a velvet covered ring box, tied with a silvery bow. “Arthur, you didn’t --?” she was now looking rather excited.

“Open it,” was all Mr. Weasley said.

Molly untied the ribbon, and cracked open the small box. A scrap of parchment, rolled up and tied with a red ribbon, sat where the ring normally would have. With a slight frown and several glances at her husband, she untied the red ribbon and unfurled the tiny parchment roll. As she read whatever was written there, a look of real puzzlement presented itself on her face. “Try on the oven mitt?” she asked incredulously.

Mr. Weasley merely nodded.

Molly did as the parchment told, and suddenly smiled brightly. Withdrawing her hand from the recesses of the padded glove, she held between her fingers a small golden circlet adorned with seven tiny, differently coloured gems.

“Found it in Muggle London,” explained Mr. Weasley. “It’s called a Mother’s Memory Ring. Each of those stones is indicative of the month a child was born in.”

“Arthur, it’s beautiful! But can we afford something like this? It must have been very expensive,” Molly rolled into her usual complaints about the cost of her presents.

“Molly, love -- Don’t worry about it. Just enjoy it!” smiled Mr. Weasley

Harry smiled as well as Mrs. Weasley slid the ring onto her finger and admired the glittering stones, then turned back to see a puzzled expression on Ginny’s face as she found an extra package among her presents. As she untied the gold ribbon and removed the red Christmas Tissue, the puzzlement turned to a slight frown. Upon opening the case revealed by the removal of the paper, she gave a gasp and looked up at Harry, the frown gone and replaced by a joyous smile.

“Harry, you didn’t -- You really shouldn’t have -- Oh my! This is just --” She seemed unable to finish her sentences.

“What is it, dear?” Mrs. Weasley’s attention had been distracted from her ring.

“Mum, look at this!” She displayed the box’s contents to her mother as Harry grinned. “It’s just -- It’s so --”

Molly was now staring at Harry and shaking her head. “You really shouldn’t have done this,” she started.

“Yes, I should,” retorted Harry before the Weasley matriarch could say more. “Ginny deserves everything I can give her. Besides, now she won’t have to have her jewellery transfigured to match her Dress Robes.”

As Harry finished speaking, Ginny jumped up and wrapped her arms about his neck, drawing him into a very excited kiss. “They’re just beautiful,” she whispered after she pulled back, “and they look so elegant.”

“Perhaps,” smiled Harry. “I think they will look nice adorning the most beautiful person in the world.”

His complement earned him another kiss, and this time, Mrs. Weasley didn’t clear her throat.

***

“I can’t believe it’s really happening,” Hermione said to Ginny as they prepared for the evening out.

“You know, neither can I“, laughed Ginny. “I never knew my brother had a romantic bone in his body.”

“Well, apparently he does -- and it’s all just like we thought it would be last August!”

“So how did he bring it up? Did he just blurt it out, or was he subtle about it?” Ginny was curious.

“It was just after I arrived -- he pulled me aside and said I couldn’t open his gift yet, but he had a special surprise for me, then told me about taking me to Brighton for a dinner and an evening out.” Hermione was smiling broadly as she related the tale. “It was almost impossible for me to not let on that I knew what he was going to do.”

“It’s a good thing you didn’t -- knowing Ron, he would have just gone all clumsy and his ears would turn red and then he’d probably botch up the whole proposal,” Ginny half-teased.

“He isn’t that bad,” rejoined Hermione. “He can be quite the gentleman when he wants to.”

“By the way, did you see the Daily Prophet the day after the Yule Ball?” asked Ginny. “There was a very nice write-up about it.”

“No, I’m afraid I missed it -- They had me scheduled to Portkey home earlier than it usually arrived.”

“Don’t worry, I kept our copy. I know you’ll want to see it.” Ginny’s reflection could be seen grinning in the mirror as Hermione touched up her makeup.

“And why is that?”

“Well, it seems that a certain couple’s picture headed the article…” Ginny explained.

“No! Ron and I?”

“Yes! Oh, Hermione, it was just beautiful,” gushed the redhead. “Ron looked really handsome, and you -- to quote my brother -- were ‘Wow!’ “

Hermione coloured at the compliment, smiling shyly. “There,” she said, “Done at last.” She took a quick peek at herself in the mirror as she stood, noting that Ginny had performed magic (quite literally) with her hair, styling it to perfection. “Do I look acceptable?”

“My dear, why would a humble mirror be able to say anything about perfection?” the glass announced.

Ginny smiled. “I don’t think Ron will complain one bit. You look fantastic -- even better than at the Ball.”

“Why, thank you, Miss Weasley,” laughed Hermione. “Are you ready?”

Ginny took a deep breath , blew it out, and said, “As ready as I’ll ever be. It’s funny -- You’re the one who’s going to be asked to get married and I’m the one who has all the pixies in my stomach.”

“Not all of them -- I have a few fluttering around there as well,” giggled Hermione. “Have we kept our escorts waiting long enough?”

“I think so -- they’re probably just as jittery as we are by now. Shall we go?”

“Why yes, I believe we shall.” Both girls giggled, then headed out the door and down the stairs.

Chapter Thirteen

The meal had been delicious, the dessert a confection to rival those found at Honeydukes and they were now drinking glasses of a creamy, foamy concoction called ‘Kappacheenoh’, which had been recommended by their waiter. Ron had not been able to take his eyes off Hermione the entire evening as she sat across from him in the private alcove, thinking how wonderful she looked.

Hermione, on the other hand, was feeling rather fidgety with anticipation, wondering when Ron was going to broach the subject of their romance -- in particular, when he would ask for her hand in marriage.

In the next alcove, Ginny had seemed rather distracted all evening, almost as if she were trying to listen to two conversations at the same time. Harry was now feeling he might have to stand on his head to keep her focused on what he was trying to say. Why had it seemed such a simple thing to do when he and Ginny stood alone in the attic, compared to now when everything seemed perfect all around him?

Ginny was both pleased and frustrated -- her evening with Harry had been quite enjoyable, but the thick curtains that separated their table from Ron and Hermione’s seemed to muffle their conversation as she tried to listen in. Why hasn’t Ron proposed to Hermione yet?

“Ginny? Is something wrong?” Harry’s voice drew her attention.

“Wrong? No, nothing is wrong. It’s been a very pleasant evening.” Had that been the squeak of a chair being pushed back?

“There’s something I’d really like to ask you,” Ginny heard a soft voice say. Had that been Ron? Was this it? “Ginny, you know I love you,” No, that was Harry.

“And I love you, Harry,” she responded almost automatically. Blast these thick curtains, I can’t hear a thing!

“And that more than anything, I want to make you happy,” Harry continued.

“You always make me happy, love,” her response was once more automatic. Merlin’s beard, ask her already, Ron!

“I know you said you didn’t mind…” What was Harry going on about? Without thinking, she tuned him out and placed all her concentration on Ron and Hermione’s conversation. Oh, no -- now they’re just whispering! I can’t make out a single word! “…really felt bad because…” Harry, will you please be quiet? What was that? Did Ron just say something? “…really romantic…” That sounded promising.

“…brought you here to ask you… “ This was it! Or was that Harry?

“…will you do me the very great honour of becoming my wife?”

“Yes!” Ginny’s exclamation sounded quite loud, even to her own ears.

“Well, that response was enthusiastic, at least.”

Ginny paused and took note of her surroundings. “Harry, why are you kneeling on the floor?”

The privacy curtains at the front of the alcove swept open. “Ginny, are you --” Hermione’s words cut off as she surveyed the tableau in front of her, and Ron peeped over her shoulder, a huge grin on his face.

Ginny looked at Harry, still on his knee, a look of wounded surprise on his face, then turned to Hermione, who was blushing quite a bright red.

“Well, Harry? Did she like the surprise?” Ron asked.

Ginny felt her own face colouring in embarrassment.

Hermione turned to Ron. “Ronald Weasley, why did you bring me here tonight?” Her face and demeanour both seemed unnaturally stiff to him.

“I -- That is, it’s for your Christmas present.”

“What is for my Christmas present?”

“I - I just thought that a nice dinner out…” his voice trailed away, and he looked to Harry for support.

“Ron just wanted to give you a special evening, Hermione, just like I wanted Ginny to know how much I care for her. That’s why we brought you both here -- for you and Ron to go out on a romantic dinner, and for me to re-propose to Ginny in a setting better than the first one.” Harry had stood up and was dusting off his knee, avoiding Ginny’s gaze quite purposefully.

“Oh no!” Ginny almost squeaked. “You mean -- that is -- You didn’t bring Hermione here to propose?”

“What?” asked Ron disbelievingly. “Why would I want to do something like that--?”

“But we heard you talking, and…”

“Never mind, Ginny.” Hermione’s voice sounded strained. “It’s obvious we were mistaken… and it seems pretty obvious that I was mistaken about a lot of things.” The last comment was directed at Ron, who could have sworn that the temperature in the room suddenly dropped by twenty degrees.

“Wait just a minute,” Harry asked. “Ginny, why did you think that Ron was going to propose to Hermione?

“Never mind, Harry,” interrupted Hermione. “Ginny, I need to use the ladies’ WC -- Would you please come with me?”

Harry and Ron watched the two girls disappear down a hallway before Ron asked in a rather shaky voice, “Erm, Harry? What do you suppose that was all about?”

“I don’t know for certain, Ron -- but I think you’re in for a lot of trouble.”

***

Hermione seemed to avoid Ron after they returned to the Burrow, claiming she was quite tired and just wanted to go to bed. Even the next day, she was aloof, finally stating that she had forgotten several things at home, and use the Floo network to leave.

“She isn’t coming back, is she?” Harry asked Ginny, who had been biting her lip all morning as she glanced from Ron to Hermione and back again.

“No, I don’t think she is… Oh, Harry I really bollixed everything up, didn’t I?”

“Just a bit -- but Ron did his part, too. Ginny, love, how did you ever get the idea that Ron was going to ask Hermione to get married?” Harry, who actually had a clue, had seemingly sorted things out enough to ask the question.

“It-it was the night you asked me to marry you. Hermione and I were coming to say goodnight, and we heard you and Ron talking about the restaurant as-- as a place to pop the question, so we just assumed that it-it meant that Ron would -- would…” Ginny trailed off as tears began to trickle down her face. Wiping her eyes, she continued, “… and when I did come to say goodnight, you told me that Ron would ask Hermione when the time was right, and that made it seem like everything would fit together… Oh, Harry, I just feel terrible about this. What can I do?”

“I hate to say it, Ginny, but I think the best thing you can do is nothing. It was a misunderstanding, that’s all -- and Ron and Hermione are just going to have to work things out on their own.”

“But that’s just it,” moaned Ginny. “If they should be mad at anybody, it should be me, not each other.”

“Yeah, well,” Harry commiserated, “Ron sort of brought on a lot of it himself, didn’t he? If he had just thought before he spoke up and said ‘Why would I want to do something like that?’, they could have both just laughed it off, couldn’t they?”

“I guess so,” sniffed Ginny. “Oh, why does my brother have to be so bloody thick-headed? Can’t he see that Hermione really loves him?”

“I think he knows that -- and I think he has feelings for Hermione. It was his idea to take her out for the evening as a Christmas gift, after all,” Harry explained.

Just then, Ron came into the kitchen where the two had been sitting, rummaged through the cupboard for a mug and poured himself a cup of tea, ignoring the couple sitting at the table.

“Ron --” Ginny began.

“Don’t talk to me,” he snapped. “Just -- don’t -- say -- anything!” With that, he picked up the mug and went out the kitchen door.

There was a long moment of silence after the door slammed shut, the impact shaking the whole house. “I think,” said Harry, “that you’ve got at least half your wish -- Ron definitely seems to be mad at you.”

***

The last few days of the Holiday were tense, as Ron pointedly ignored Ginny.

Mrs. Weasley, sensing the rift between the two siblings, wisely stayed out of it, leaving brother and sister to sort things out on their own.

Harry, on the other hand, tried several times to get Ron to talk to his sister and patch things up, but Ron stubbornly resisted, eventually turning his anger toward his best friend as well as Ginny. After he had blown up at Harry, he avoided both of them, even to the point of refusing to go to Diagon Alley with the rest of the family to celebrate the New Year.

In spite of the state of war between those that practiced the Dark Arts and followed Voldemort and those who held to a cleaner way of living, the Ministry of Magic had announced that stringent precautions, wards, charms, and magical barriers to protect the populace had been put into place and the start of the new year could be celebrated in safety in Diagon Alley as usual.

Harry, Ginny and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had used the Floo Network to get to London, arriving amidst the hustle and bustle of the Leaky Cauldron’s patrons out for an evening of pleasure. A long queue of wizards and witches wound through a zigzag path set up in the courtyard behind the inn, magic being used to expand it’s dimensions to hold the hundreds of people anxious to join the celebration beyond the Auror’s checkpoint. Finding a table in a far corner, Harry and Ginny sat down, choosing to talk with friends, acquaintances and family instead of standing in line.

“He’s just been acting so -- so childish,” complained Ginny to George and Fred, who had joined the family for the evening’s festivities. “He won’t talk to me, or to Harry, and he spends all day sulking in his room.”

“Sounds like the little git needs to be shook up a bit,” said Fred. “Want me and George to pay him a visit?”

“No -- For now, he and I are going to have to work this out ourselves. I’m just afraid how Hermione is going to react,” replied Ginny, “I think she’s mad at me, too.”

“Mad might be the wrong word,” hedged Harry.

“And what would the right word be?” commented Fred. “Furious?”

“Or infuriated?” added George.

“Maybe she’s enraged?”

“Fuming, fierce, fiery, raging, convulsed, wrathful, stormy, indignant, cross, vexed, exasperated, resentful, irritated, bitter, ferocious, turbulent --”

“Nettled, incensed, piqued, offended, outraged, sullen, irascible, inflamed, annoyed, provoked, galled, chafed, exacerbated --”

“Displeased, riled, affronted, wroth, storming, raving, impassioned, hot under the collar, frothing at the mouth -- feel free to stop us when we get to the right description, Harry,” George paused.

“You two are not helping,” Harry replied through gritted teeth. “I’d say your best course of action would be to give her a couple more days to settle down, then apologize when you’re both back at Hogwarts.” He grasped his love’s hand comfortingly.

“If you say so,” sighed Ginny.

Fred and George soon left, intent on chatting up two girls they had spotted at another table, leaving Harry and Ginny by themselves. Both sat silently, sipping at their butterbeers and watching the crowd slowly trickle out of the pub and into Diagon Alley as midnight approached.

“Want to go watch the celebratory fireworks?” Harry asked.

“I think I’d rather just stay here with you,” Ginny replied. “I really don’t feel like celebrating anything.”

Harry moved his chair closer to Ginny’s and put an arm around her, allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder. “Just give them time, love. Sooner or later they’ll realize that you just made a mistake, and it’s not worth being mad over. You’ll apologize, and they’ll forget the whole thing -- either that or they’ll be able to laugh at the story of their misunderstanding.”

“I don’t know, Harry… It was something special for Hermione when she thought Ron was -- you know…” Ginny sighed and fell silent.

Harry gave her a comforting one-armed hug, and watched the last few stragglers leaving the Leaky Cauldron for the celebration. Soon, they were the only two left besides Tom, the proprietor of the pub, who stood behind the bar polishing the glasses.

Then a shadow fell over the couple. Both looked up to see Hermione standing there, a look of sadness on her face. “Ginny?”

“Oh, Hermione, I’m so sorry about the whole mess,” Ginny blurted out as she stood up and hugged her friend.

“Yes, well…” Hermione seemed at a loss for words, but a few seconds later was returning the hug. “Can I sit down?”

“Of course you can, if you want to… “ Ginny now seemed a bit apprehensive.

The two girls sat down opposite each other and for a long moment neither said anything. Then both said at the same time, “I’m so sorry… “ That broke the tension, and both laughed.

“I’ve been a bit of a fool, being mad at you,” Hermione started. “I was there, I heard the same things you did, and I made the same assumptions. It’s just that… Oh, why was I so stupid to think Ron would ever ask that?”

“It’s not you, Hermione -- It’s my thick-headed git of a brother. If he had a lick of sense, he would have proposed to you months ago.”

“No, it’s my own fault,” Hermione continued. “I just wanted to believe it, so I didn’t ask the right questions. If I had…” Hermione shrugged her shoulders, looking defeated. “But why did he have t-to say w-what h-h-he did?” The bushy-haired prefect broke down and sobbed. “I… I r-really thought h-he l-loved me.”

Ginny was quickly at her friend’s side, hugging and comforting her. “Don’t be this way, Hermione. Even if he is my brother, what he said was just plain unthinking and, truth be told, more than a bit cruel -- makes me want to tell the effing wanker to sod off!”

“Ginny!” The redhead’s use of language had shocked Hermione.

“Well, he deserves it,” Ginny responded.

Harry, by this time, was feeling rather uncomfortable listening to his friend and fiancée trashing his best friend. “Erm, why don’t I go get us some butterbeers?” he asked, rising from his chair.

“That would be nice,” Ginny responded automatically, her attention more on Hermione, who was crying softly.

Harry had not seen his friend this upset since a remark about her not having any friends, uttered by Ron during first year, had driven her to hide, crying, most of the day in a bathroom. Had it not been for Professor Quirrell, possessed by Voldemort, releasing a troll into the castle, from which he and Ron had saved her, they might not have been friends at all. Looking back over the years at Hogwarts, he noted that there were many instances where Hermione had shown a certain affection for Ron. Was his best friend really the thick-headed git that he had been called so many times?

“Evenin’, ‘Arry -- Still ‘angin’ about? Not goin’ to the celebration?” Tom’s remarks broke Harry’s train of thought.

“Erm, no -- Ginny didn’t really feel like celebrating anything tonight, and now our friend Hermione is sort of, erm, upset.”

“Well then, what can I do ta ‘elp ya? “ Tom peered over to where Ginny and Hermione were sitting. Lowering his voice, he asked, “Know I ain’t supposed ta do it, but do ya think a wee bit o’ fire whiskey in some tea is called for?”

Harry looked at the toothless barman, and smiled at his concern. “That might be just what’s called for, Tom. Make it tea for three, but only one with that, um, special addition. I’ll also take three butterbeers for right now.”

Tom quickly brought a tray, three clean glasses and three bottles of butterbeer up from behind the bar. “There ya be, ‘Arry -- On th’ ‘ouse, and I’ll bring th’ tea as soon as it’s steeped.”

“Thanks, Tom.”

“No thanks needed, ‘Arry -- Jus’ th’ fact ya been comin’ in ‘as brought me more customers th’ past seven years than what I ever ‘ad afore. A bit o’ tea an’ a few bottles, ain’t gonna hurt me none.” He gave Harry a big toothless grin and winked, then disappeared through a doorway to make the tea.

Harry took the tray back to the table, opening the bottles and pouring a glass for each one. Hermione had stopped sobbing, but tears were still trickling down her face as he took his seat. “Tom’s bringing some tea -- thought it might help,” he commented.

Ginny smiled slightly, nodded and took a sip of her butterbeer.

“Thank you, Harry,” sniffed Hermione, who then lapsed back into silent weeping.

The three Hogwarts students sat in silence, their only communication being comforting touches, meaningful glances and an occasional point and answering nod. Tom soon came bustling out of the back room, bearing a silver tea service with sugar, cream and a honeypot in matching containers. The tea had already been poured into cups, which he set on the table in front of each person.

“There ya go, missy -- Nothin’ like a spot o’ tea ta ‘elp set things right. Jus’ sit ‘ere as long as ya want -- th’ crowd’ll be comin’ back in soon after th’ midnight fireworks.”

Hermione nodded, a wan smile briefly on her lips.

“Thank you, Tom,” said Ginny, dripping some honey into Hermione’s cup. “You take cream, too, don’t you?” she asked. Hermione nodded. The red-headed girl poured some into the cup, stirred it with a spoon, and handed it to her friend. “Here -- something warm on the inside is a comfort when you’re upset. Drink up.”

Hermione merely nodded and began to sip at the tea. A moment later, she paused and looked critically at her cup, shrugged her shoulders, then went back to sipping the hot beverage. Some time later, she looked up at Ginny, then turned her gaze to Harry. Wiping away a tear with her sleeve, she sat up, and announced, “I know what I have to do now. It will be difficult, but it’s just a matter of time.”

“Hermione?” Ginny was concerned with her friend’s sudden change of demeanour.

“It’s all for the best, I think. He -- he wasn’t what I expected him to be, that’s all. I’ll get over it soon enough.” The girl wiped away another tear, then drained the remains of her tea. Setting the cup down on the tabletop, she pulled a handkerchief from an inner pocket of her robes and blew her nose.

“Hermione, what are you going to do?”

“What I should have done a long time ago. I’ve wasted enough of my life -- from now on, he’ll never be able to hurt me again.” She started to stand up, hiccupped, blinked several times, then unsteadily sat back down.

Ginny looked at Harry, who mouthed the words ‘fire whiskey’ and nodded toward Hermione’s empty cup. His fiancée’s eyes widened in surprise, then smiled gently at her fiancé. Turning her attention back to Hermione, she listened in surprise as the older girl muttered several phrases better suited to a longshoreman’s dock as descriptives of Ron.

“Bloody ******* can go **** himself… I don’t need him, the ******* ****! Just -- just bleeding **** the thick-headed git!” Her eyes closed and her head drooped forward -- she had fallen asleep.

“How much fire whiskey did Tom put in her tea?” Ginny asked Harry.

“Looks like it was a bit too much.” He reached out to keep his friend from tumbling off the chair. “What are we going to do now?”

“Mum and Daddy will be back in just as soon as the fireworks end -- I think this problem someone with a lot more experience should handle.”

“Do you know if she came here with her parents?” Harry asked.

“No, she didn’t say -- I hope not, though. I can just imagine what they might say if we have to tell them their daughter’s drunk and unconscious.”

Just then, the clock in the corner by the fireplace began to toll midnight.

“That’s the start of a new year,” Harry nodded as each tone sounded through the pub.

“…Five… Six…” Ginny counted. She looked at her sleeping friend, then at her fiancé. “Are you going to kiss me to bring in the new year?”

Harry smiled, got out of his chair and came around behind Hermione to bend over and gently brush his lips against Ginny’s. When the twelfth tone sounded, he pulled back a bit and whispered, “Happy New Year, love.”

Ginny smiled, nodded, and looked at her unconscious friend. “I certainly hope so, Harry… I really do hope so…”

***

The celebration in Diagon Alley had gone on until nearly three in the morning, but Mr. And Mrs. Weasley had returned to the Leaky Cauldron to escape the chill after the midnight fireworks. With their help, Hermione had been awakened and returned safely to her parents home. Mr. and Mrs. Granger had been fully informed of the circumstances of their daughter’s inebriation, as well as given some advice as to how to alleviate the worst of the likely after-effects she would probably be experiencing by morning.

For Harry and Ginny, the calamitous start to the new year was aggravated by Ron’s seeming lack of concern about the misfortune his girlfriend had suffered, particularly when he broke out laughing as Ginny related a somewhat edited (and expletive purged) account of the previous night’s events during lunch. Glaring at her brother, she excused herself and disappeared up the stairs to her room. Mrs. Weasley was definitely not smiling, her lips pressed together so much that she forcibly reminded Harry of Professor McGonagall, but said nothing.

Harry, on the other hand, waited to finish the meal, and followed Ron out of the kitchen and up the stairs. “Ron, can I have a word?” he asked.

The youngest Weasley male stopped at the landing, and turned to face him. “You can have two, Harry -- bugger off! “he said vehemently, and continued up the stairs. As Ron disappeared at the second landing, Ginny’s bedroom door cracked open, an arm snaked out to grab Harry’s sleeve, and Harry was pulled into the room. Ginny closed the door behind her, quickly but quietly.

“Harry, we’ve got to do something about this situation,” she said, sitting down on her bed. “You saw how upset Hermione was last night, and to tell the truth, I’m just about ready to jinx my git of a brother -- trouble is, I can’t decide whether to use a Bat-Bogey Hex or the Eternal Baldness Charm.”

“Yeah, I know -- I was thinking of a shrinking charm on certain parts of his anatomy myself,” Harry half-heartedly joked.

“Why, Harry --” Ginny looked at her fiancé with amusement sparkling in her eyes, “I had no idea that you could be so vicious.”

“Yeah -- Mean, nasty, cruel and vicious, that’s me,” Harry continued to joke as he sat down next to Ginny.

Ginny smiled. “I knew there was a reason I find you so attractive,” she replied, leaning over to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “But that’s enough about what we want to do -- what are we going to do?”

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair. “I don’t know. You heard him when I tried to talk to him just now.”

“Trying to talk to him isn’t working -- we’ve got to find a way to make him listen,” Ginny sighed. “I’m thinking we may have to bring out the big guns.”

“The big guns?”

“Yes -- Fred and George.”

“You want to sic the twins on him?” Harry sounded doubtful.

“Have you got a better idea? We’ve got the rest of today, tomorrow, Saturday and Sunday until we return to Hogwarts and I, for one, don’t intend to put up with his childish behaviour any longer. And I definitely don‘t want to have to experience his temper tantrums while I’m snogging you silly!”

Harry sighed, smiled and acquiesced. “Do what you feel you have to. I’ll support your actions.” After a short pause, he added, with a grin, “Especially that last bit.”

Ginny started to blush. “You’d better.”

***

The twins Apparated right into the kitchen as Ginny removed her head from the fireplace, having used the Floo network to contact them.

“So where’s the little git now?” asked Fred.

“No time like the present to get started,” added George.

“He’s upstairs, sulking in his room,” replied Ginny. “Don’t do too much to him -- We just want him to listen to us.”

“Good as done, sis,” George said, starting out of the kitchen.

“Plan 240A?” queried his brother, following him.

“Erm… no. Plan 242C, I think…” came the reply as both twins started up the stairs.

Harry, who had been sitting at the table, asked, “They actually have hundreds of plans?”

“They do. Oh, by the way, if they ever mention Plan 191 -- run. When they used that one on Percy, he -- no, I cant say… it‘s too much…” She closed her eyes and shuddered at the memory.

There was the faint sound of a door slamming open, followed by a shout from Ron -- then everything was silent.

“Must be a silencing charm,” Ginny murmured, her eyes focusing on the kitchen clock. The hand labelled ‘Ron’ was spinning from ‘Home’ to stop on ‘Imminent Danger’. The redheaded girl smiled, and started the kettle of water boiling. She dug five mugs out of the cupboard, measured tea into the tea ball, set out the teapot and added containers of honey, sugar and cream. As she was slicing a lemon, they heard a distant door open and footsteps descending the stairs from the third floor.

“My, that was quick,” muttered Ginny as she added the hot water to the teapot to let the tea steep. “I was sure I’d have at least ten minutes…”

Harry glanced at the clock, which had Ron’s name pointing back at ‘Home’.

“That fast?”

“Well, I’m sure it would have been longer if the clock had said ‘Mortal Peril’, so it looks like Ron got off fairly easily this time.”

“Uh-huh…” Harry was committing to memory another rule for him to keep -- Never let Ginny get mad enough to call her brothers.

Ron slouched into the room, his face quite red, and took a seat at the table. He was followed by Fred and George, who took the seats to either side of the Hogwarts Head Boy. Glancing at his older brothers, Ron turned his attention to his sister who was just sitting down next to Harry.

“Ron, are you willing to listen to what we have to say?” asked Ginny.

Ron glanced quickly to either side before answering. “I, erm… I guess so,” he conceded.

“Good. First, I want to apologize for jumping to conclusions and thinking you and Hermione were going to get engaged.” Ginny paused, watching her brother for a reaction. “I shouldn’t have eavesdropped in the first place, even if it was by accident, and by not checking my facts as well as I could have, I made a right mess of things. I’m sorry.”

Ron grunted noncommittedly, and nodded his head, which earned him an elbow in the ribs from Fred. “Ouch… I mean, apology accepted.” He glared at Fred for a moment, as he rubbed the sore spot.

“My turn,” said Harry. “I want to apologize for stepping in and trying to get you to talk to Ginny before you were ready. I’m sorry.”

Ron avoided a second poke in the ribs by answering, “Uh, yeah, Okay. Apology accepted.”

Fred and George nodded sagely before asking in unison, “Well?”

Ron’s ears glowed scarlet, and he found it quite difficult to maintain a gaze with either Harry or Ginny as he spoke. “Erm, I -- I guess I… owe you both an apology, too.”

George said, “Go on…”

“It’s been pointed out to me that I’ve been somewhat -- less than pleasant to be around the past few days…” Ron started.

“Please continue,” interjected Fred.

“…and I -- I’ve been a real git about the whole thing.”

Fred and George leaned back to exchange grins.

“It’s my fault that Hermione’s mad at me…”

“Why?” asked the twins in unison, making Ron blush an even deeper shade of red.

“…because if I had thought before I spoke, I wouldn’t have come off like a -- a misogynistic boor. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, very good. You even pronounced ‘misogynistic’ correctly!” beamed Fred. “That’s five sickles you owe me, George.”

“Yeah, well, we did make him practice a bit -- but I thought for sure he’d forget.” George handed Fred five silver coins.

Ron kept looking back and forth at his brothers. “You bet on my apology?”

“No, of course not. We’d never do something like that,” said George.

“That’s right,” added Fred. “We bet on your pronunciation!”

Harry and Ginny couldn’t help but laugh at the look on Ron’s face. “That’s -- That’s --” he sputtered, unable to think of an epithet to fit.

“That’s money in my pocket, little Ronnikins,” laughed Fred. Ron closed his eyes in resignation, expressing it by bowing and shaking his head.

“Oh yeah, almost forgot,” said George. “Don’t upset Ginny by not talking to her anymore. It isn’t a good thing to do at all. And if you find yourself slipping again, I have just one thing to say -- Remember that Plan 191 will be waiting.”

Ron went from beet red to ashen grey in a heartbeat, swallowed convulsively and nodded, sweat breaking out on his brow.

“Good -- I’m glad we understand each other,” The twin said with a smile. “Why don’t you have some tea. You look like you could use it.”

***

The rest of the day was considerably more pleasant (even though Ron kept twitching and glancing over his shoulder every now and then when one of the twins would walk by) and all five spent a relaxing afternoon taking turns playing Mah Jhong with Harry’s set. Ginny was ahead on overall points when, during the last game, Ron managed to clear his rack with two quadruples (Four coin and flower), a triple nine bamboo and two pairs of directions and seasons, scoring a whopping 570 points to win.

“I think I’ve got this game figured out, finally,” he said as he helped put away the ivory tiles.

“And just what is it about the game that you’ve got figured out?” asked Ginny, smiling, but with a glitter in her eyes.

“The secret of winning,” replied Ron.

“So, tell me -- What’s the secret?”

Ron grinned. “There’s only one thing you need to win consistently…”

“And that is…?” Ginny continued to question.

“Sheer, unmitigated luck,” answered Ron as he closed the lid of the game.

“Why, big brother, I’m proud of you,” the petite redhead smiled. “It only took you five months to figure out what Hermione told us at the beginning.”

“…What?” Ron suddenly looked stricken.

“Hermione told us that it was a game of chance, coming down to drawing the tiles to win,” explained Ginny,

“Oh…” Ron trailed off. “I guess she did, didn’t she?” He had a pained look in his eyes.

“Ron?” Ginny questioned, “Are you all right?”

“Umm, yeah, I’m okay…” he sighed, and sat down in one of the armchairs. “It’s just…”

“Just what, Ron?” Ginny both looked and sounded concerned.

Ron took a deep breath, and blew it out slowly before looking up and meeting her eyes. “Hermione,” he gave a sad, lopsided smile as he said her name. “I guess I’ve screwed up everything with her, haven’t I?”

Ginny bit her lip as she sat down on another chair, facing him. “Well, the situation isn’t good, I’ll admit, but I think you have a chance to redeem yourself if you go about it properly.”

“What will I have to do?”

Ginny bit her lip again as she thought. “First thing you have to do is apologize. Lots of flowers and candy would be nice, too. Don’t expect a lot at first -- you’re going to have to regain her trust before much happens, and you do that by being on your best behaviour. Watch what you say, even when not in her presence; She could be out of your line of sight but still able to hear.”

“Any idea how long it could be?” asked Ron.

“It all depends on you. Keep everything quiet, don’t push and let her words and actions lead you, and it might be over in a week. Screw up anything, even something minor, and it could take months. Screw up something big and… let’s just say that you might prefer Fred, George and Plan 191.”

Ron winced, and checked to see if the twins were at a safe distance. “That bad?”

Ginny nodded. “That bad.”

“Ouch!”

“Now I think it’s time you answered some questions,” said Ginny quite seriously. “You do have some real feelings for Hermione, don’t you?”

Ron’s ears went red. “I, erm… Yes, I guess I do.”

“Don’t you know? This is important, Ron. Do you or don’t you?”

“I -- I don’t know. It’s just -- I keep thinking about her, and I like being with her, but sometimes -- It’s almost like she scares me. I keep thinking I’ll say the wrong thing --”

“You’ve proved you know how to do that, Ron,” laughed Fred. Ginny shot him a venomous glance.

“ -- or do something really stupid --”

“You’re two for two, Ronniekins!” That comment came from George, who also became a recipient of Ginny’s glare.

“ -- and it’s like my mind just freezes up and won’t work.”

Ginny smiled. “Okay, that answers that question -- those are definitely the signs of at least infatuation, and given that the two of you have been acting like a couple for almost two years, it‘s fairly obvious that she has feelings for you. You‘ve got to remember that she was deeply disappointed when that misunderstanding about the proposal proved false -- It was something she really wanted.”

“She wants me to propose?” Ron’s jaw dropped open.

“No, she wanted you to propose. There’s a difference. Right now, she’s hurt and angry and probably would feel a lot better if she could take a Beater’s bat to you.”

“Oh…” Ron looked crestfallen.

“That’s now -- by the time we get back to Hogwarts, she may be feeling worse. I’d watch my step If I were you.” interjected Harry.

“Yeah, great… Anything else?”

“One more question -- What do you have against marriage?” Ginny looked quite determined to get an answer. “You seem to always be deriding the concept and I did have to threaten you to get you to agree to the elopement, so why --”

“Wait a minute, there,” George’s ears had perked up. “What elopement?”

“Yes, little sister, do tell us about that,” Fred added.

“Oh, no…” Ginny flushed a deep red as she buried her face in her hands. Harry stepped to her side and placed a hand on her shoulder. Looking to see if either Mr. or Mrs. Weasley could hear, he lowered his voice to a near whisper.

“There isn’t going to be any elopement now -- it was just something we thought we could do. As it turned out, we couldn’t.” He was quite grim as he spoke, so even the twins failed to react. “And that’s all either Ginny or I have to say on the matter. It‘s over and done with.”

“Okay, sure thing,” said Fred.

“No problem,” said George.

They both turned to Ron. “You’ll fill us in later, right?” they asked in unison.

Ron looked first at Ginny, then at Harry. “Nope. Harry’s said it all. And if you try to get me to tell, I’ll sic Ginny on you.”

Chapter Fourteen

Harry, Ginny and Ron Portkeyed back to Hogwarts after their holidays, the former two relieved that Ron was speaking to them again, the last apprehensive about seeing Hermione. Ginny had continued to give him practical advice on how to make up with his girlfriend throughout the preceding weekend, but it now seemed that everything she had told him had completely evaporated from his mind.

“Hello, Hermione, I want to apologize… -- No, that doesn’t sound right. Hi, Hermione, I’m really sorry about… -- No, that won’t work either…” Ron kept mumbling to himself. “Hello, Hermione --”

“Hello, Ron. Have a nice holiday?” Hermione’s voice carried a sharp edge of sarcasm as she stepped in front of him. “I really want to thank you for that wonderful Christmas gift -- it really got me to thinking about some things.”

“Hermione, I -” Ron started, only to be cut off.

“I’ve thought a great deal about certain things in my life, and I’ve come to a conclusion,” the bushy-haired young woman continued. “I really believe I haven’t been spending enough time with my studies, so I’ll be stopping some of my activities of the past.”

“Erm, yeah, okay -- I just --”

“That means we’ll be seeing a great deal less of each other,” Her voice had turned cold, “so don’t be making any plans that include me -- I’m sure to be too busy.” With that, Hermione turned her back on the Head Boy and walked away.

Ron stood immobile, shocked by Hermione‘s actions and unsure of what to do.

“I saw you and Hermione talking,” Ginny came up beside him. “Did you apologize?”

“I--I wasn‘t able… she never gave me a chance to complete a sentence.”

“Uh-oh, that can’t have been good. What did she say?”

Ron hesitated. “She, erm… she said she had thought things over and was going to spend more time on her studies, so don’t make plans to include her because she would be too busy.”

“Oh dear -- it’s worse than I thought… “ Ginny frowned. “I think it best if you give her a few more days before you try to talk to her again.”

“Yeah… a few more days,” muttered Ron as he watched a distant figure pass through the great front doors of Hogwarts Castle.

***

Ginny and Anna May came through the portrait hole after the day’s lessons to find Ron seated at one of the Common Room tables, a good-sized pile of crumpled parchment littering the floor around his seat.

“Hello, Mr. Ron -- Whatcha doing?” asked the seven year old witch.

“Hi, Anna May. I’m trying to find the right words for a letter,” answered the Head Boy as he studied the missive he was working on.

Anna May looked puzzled. “Doncha mean the right letters for a word, Mr. Ron? My teacher in p’imary told us that was called spellin‘. I’m still not so good at that.”

Ron looked at the youngest Gryffindor, a sudden grin on his face at her comment. “You know, Anna May, I think you’re right.”

“Ron, explain the difference to her!” Ginny exclaimed. “She needs to know about things like that!”

The red-haired Head Boy, still smiling, complied. “Ginny’s right -- there is a difference. Spelling does mean using the right letters to make a word, but finding the right words for a letter means that I’m trying to write an important message to go by Owl-post, and I’m not really sure how to say what I need to.”

Anna May nodded in understanding. “You want to ‘pollyjize to Miss Herminey, don’t you?”

Ron did a double-take. “Who told you that?” he asked the little girl.

“Nobody. Miss Herminey isn’t happy no more, an’ she cries a lot at night when she thinks no one‘s ‘round. You always get this look on your face when you see her, like you want to talk to her but you never do. An’ she tries to ‘void you when she sees you ’cause you had a fight about your Chrissmuss present to her.”

Ron’s jaw had dropped open as Anna May spoke, and it was several moments before he closed it with a sudden snap and shook his head in disbelief. “How does she do that?” asked Ron, looking to Ginny for the answer.

Ginny shrugged her shoulders in a way that conveyed the thought, ‘I don’t know’.

“Mummy says I’m ‘buhzervant, Mr. Ron,” Anna May piped up, “ an’ I pay ‘tenshun to peoples. But I think it’s ‘cause I ‘member forward, too. That’s how I knowed ‘bout the Chrissmuss present.”

“Erm, yeah… okay,” Ron blinked several times as he spoke, not quite sure how to otherwise respond.

“Mr. Ron, you can’t do nothin’ that’ll make Miss Herminey talk to you ‘gain ‘till the right day an’ that’s gonna be nex’ mulumph…” Anna May garbled the last word as Ginny put her hand over the child’s mouth.

“You can’t tell him, Anna May -- if you do, it might change what’s supposed to happen! Remember about the babies?” Ginny had knelt down next to the little girl as she warned of revealing too much of the future, then let Anna May speak.

Anna May’s eyes grew wide, and she nodded. “ ‘Cause he might not do the right stuff the right way if he knows ‘bout it.”

“Exactly.”

“Now wait a minute -- Why do you think I wouldn’t -- wouldn’t -- like she said?” asked Ron.

“Because if you knew exactly what you were supposed to do to make something happen, you’d change it -- not on purpose, but by accident. And it might take only the smallest change in the pattern of events to change everything to something else.”

“What?” Ron asked, confused.

“It would be impossible for you to do everything you’re supposed to if you knew about it. Look, I’ll try to show you.” Ginny looked around, then bent over to pick up one of the crumpled balls of parchment. “Here -- Hold this out at arm’s length and drop it. Pay attention to what you do and remember it.”

Ron took the crumpled sheet and did what he was asked. The crinkled ball dropped to the tabletop, bounced once and rolled to one side, coming to rest near the table’s edge.

“Did you pay attention to everything?” asked Ginny.

“Yeah, just like you told me to.”

Ginny picked up the wadded parchment and handed it back to Ron. “Okay, now do it again, exactly the same.”

Ron once more extended his arm and let the balled-up parchment drop. It hit the tabletop and bounced twice before it began to roll, this time over the table’s edge and onto the floor

Ron looked at the crumpled half-letter as it came to rest, sudden understanding apparent on his face. “Damn…”

“Ron, watch your language! Anna May doesn‘t need to learn things like that! Besides,” Ginny chided, glancing around the common room quickly, “Hermione might be here and able to hear you.”

Ron sighed and crumpled up his latest attempt at correspondence, adding it to the jumble of papers around the chair. “I give up… I have homework to do.” He shoved his chair back from the table and bent over to begin grabbing wads of parchment, tossing them one by one into the fireplace.

“I’ll help,” said Anna May, pulling her wand and, with a whispered word, levitating most of the wadded up sheets.

Ron paused to watch. “How does she bloody effing do that?” he said, forgetting that his sister was standing next to him.

“Language, Ron, watch your language! -- Remember what I told you!” Ginny hissed at her brother as she, too, watched in amazement as Anna May levitated what had to be at least thirty of the crumpled parchment balls into interweaving flight, making them form dancing three-dimensional patterns before they dove into the flames of the fireplace in a spiralling line.

It was then that the portrait hole opened and Hermione climbed through, her attention on something she was trying to get out of her pocket. Ron stood up, apparently wanting to rush over to the seventh-year Prefect. Instead , he merely watched the young woman, a look of infinite sorrow in his eyes, as she glanced in his direction, paused for the briefest of moments, then turned and disappeared through the door to the girl’s stairway.

“Things are improving -- this time she actually looked at me,” sighed Ron as he bent over , retrieved the last of the crinkly balls, and tossed it into the fireplace. “At this rate, she might stay a whole minute in the same room with me by the time we leave school.”

***

February had begun the day before, and today’s Daily Prophet only carried more bad news. The Death Eater attacks on muggle communities had slowed with the bad weather, but all through Britain and the continent there were still enough dark activities to keep Muggle and Wizard alike wary. In the muggle world, things were quite tense, the attacks by Voldemort’s followers now being blamed on ‘radical terrorists’. Rumours and innuendo were everywhere -- Muggle London was akin to a police state, with curfews, attack sirens and other precautions not seen since the mid-1940’s now back in place. Wizarding London was just as bad -- It was near enough to being just as it had a bit more than seventeen years in the past, the first time Voldemort had risen in power.

“Hermione, this has got to come to an end!” Ginny exploded at her friend. “Fine, so you’re mad at Ron -- Why won’t you even let him apologize?”

“He knows how to find me if that’s what he really wants to do,” sniffed Hermione.

“Not when you run away every time he tries!” Ginny retorted. “When was the last time you stayed still long enough to listen to all he had to say?”

Hermione just shook her head and stared out the window of her dorm room at the wind-driven snow. “I’ve felt like that ever since that night -- cold and lonely. You’re brother hurt me, Ginny, his words cut me like a knife. I didn’t know what to do, or to say -- I’m still not sure if I even want him to apologize,” she spoke softly.

“He wants to apologize. You know the old saying, ‘Half a loaf is better than none”? Just let him do that much, even if you choose never to speak to him again,” Ginny pleaded earnestly. “What could that hurt?”

“I just don’t know…”

“Hermione, please! You do know that I’m only asking you to do this for the best of reasons, don’t you?” The red-haired young woman seemed to be near tears.

“The best of reasons? You really think that I would ever want to get back together with that -- that oaf of a brother of yours?”