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Meaning of One, Part Two: Chambers and Secrets - Chapter 5: Control by Sovran

Fri, 09/19/2008 - 17:50
    Chapter number: 
    5
    14 July 1992

    Harry & Ginny,
    I’m sorry, but I don’t know what to tell you. It is very odd that the alarms would go off for no apparent reason. In fact, there has to be a reason, even if we don’t yet know what it is, and even if it doesn’t make sense to us. If it’s not you (and I’m sure it’s not) and it’s not a malfunction of the charm, then it must be something else. I think you should contact the Headmaster and ask him what could possibly interfere with the charms. If anyone would know, it would be him. Once you know what some of the possibilities are, you can start to separate the truly impossible ones from the highly unlikely ones that only seem to be impossible.

    You know I’m your friend, and you know I believe you. However, it’s natural for you to be a bit curious about each other, even though you both already know everything there is to know. I’m not saying that you’re doing anything wrong, but if you do find yourselves wondering what things feel like, try to remember that other people would think it very strange and very inappropriate. I can’t think of any better way to say that. Just be careful, please. I don’t think you need or want the extra attention.

    I can’t wait to see you on 1 August. I love my house and my parents, but I miss my friends, magical people, and all the fascinating things in my new world. Say hello to Ron and the rest for me.

    Your friend,
    Hermione

    Ginn y had been waiting out the hour after lunch at the kitchen table when Hermione’s letter arrived, and she resisted the urge to smack herself in the forehead.

    Why didn’t we think of that? she asked.

    Harry stopped dusting the fine china in his aunt’s Welsh dresser, considered the question, and then shrugged. Dunno. It makes a lot of sense, though.

    That evening after dinner, Harry and Ginny approached her parents as they sat in the living room. “Mum, Dad, can we ask you for a favour?”

    “What sort of favour, Ginny?” Mr. Weasley asked, folding the Daily Prophet he had been reading and setting it aside. In the chair next to his, Mrs. Weasley looked up from her perpetual knitting, though her face was a careful mask of neutrality.

    “We were wondering if you could contact the Headmaster and ask him about my pyjamas,” Ginny said, focusing solely on her father. “See if he knows what could make the alarms go off without us doing anything and without the charm being wrong.”

    “That’s an excellent idea, Firefly,” her father said. “I was thinking of talking to him myself.” He stood up and crossed to the fireplace. “No time like the present.”

    After activating the Floo and saying, “Hogwarts, Headmaster’s Office,” Mr. Weasley kneeled and put his head and shoulders into the fire. Ginny and Harry sat on the sofa to wait, and Mrs. Weasley continued knitting without speaking, although they could tell that her eyes were on them frequently. A few minutes later, Mr. Weasley backed out of the fire.

    “I’m just going to nip out to Hogwarts to talk to him for a while. He says it’s a ‘question worth exploring’. Ginny, would you get your pyjamas so I can take them with me?”

    “Sure.” Ginny Shifted to her room, took the pyjamas out of her drawer, and returned to the living room. “Can we come with you?”

    “I’m afraid not, but I promise you that I’ll tell you any ideas he has.”

    Ginny nodded reluctantly. They would have preferred to hear the conversation first-hand, but if her father did not want them to go, they trusted him to tell them what they wanted to know.

    Mr. Weasley took the garments from Ginny and then threw another pinch of powder onto the fire. “I’ll be back before bedtime.”

    Harry and Ginny spent the evening at the kitchen table, making the last suit of cards in their set. It’s a good thing we had plenty of red ink, Ginny said as Harry wrote a neat, blocky ‘A’ on the last of the diamonds.

    They had just finished carefully shuffling the rectangles of parchment when they heard the Floo activate from the next room. Keeping the cards in a neat pile, Ginny tied a bit of ribbon around them and tucked them into her pocket. Then they both jumped up from the table and went into the living room.

    Mrs. Weasley was helping Ginny’s father to brush the last of the soot from his clothes. He spotted the two children, smiled, and motioned them towards the sofa. Once everyone was seated again, he ran a hand through his receding hair. “Well, I had a good talk with Albus, but I’m afraid the news is both good and bad. I didn’t quite follow all of the theory — you know how the Headmaster can be — but here’s the gist. It is possible for the alarms to be set off without changing the charms and without doing the things that are supposed to set them off. The problem is that we don’t know what might actually be doing that. We thought of a couple of things, but they’re both extremely far-fetched.”

    “What things, Mr. Weasley?” Harry asked, eager to pursue an answer they knew had to exist. Hermione had even told them to separate the truly impossible from the merely far-fetched.

    “Well, accidental magic, for one,” the older man replied, rubbing his chin. “All kinds of things are possible from accidental magic, even things that we don’t understand how to do with deliberate spells. You two in particular are more than capable, in theory, of setting the charms off without actually meaning to. For practical purposes, however, you’d probably have to want to set off the alarms, and you’d almost certainly have to be awake. So the likelihood of your wanting to do that, your magic responding in just that way, and your somehow doing it all in your sleep at least once . . . well, it seems very unlikely.”

    “We definitely don’t want to set off the alarms, awake or not,” Ginny said. “What else could do it?”

    “Hopefully, something even more unlikely.” Mr. Weasley turned to his wife. “Is everyone in the house?” At her nod, he took a deep breath and raised his voice to a resonating bellow. “Boys! Downstairs, now!”

    Almost instantly, the house began to echo with the thunder of stampeding feet. Percy appeared first, followed by Ron and then the twins. All four boys looked apprehensive, and when Ginny glanced back at her father’s face, she knew exactly why.

    Mr. Weasley swept his stern gaze across all four of his sons. “Professor Dumbledore tells me that it is possible for a talented wizard or witch to set off the alarms on Ginny’s pyjamas without being detected. All four of you could probably do that if you really wanted to, though Albus says that you, Ron, have probably not had enough Charms study yet to work it out on your own. So I’m asking each of you . . . have you been tampering with Ginny’s pyjamas?”

    The boys all shook their heads with varying expressions of confusion, but Ginny thought that they all looked sincere.

    “This is serious, boys,” her father continued in a low voice. “It’s not a prank, and it’s not a bit of a laugh with your sister. This is something that is extremely hurtful if someone’s doing it deliberately. If any of you is setting off the alarms, you’re making all eight of us unhappy. We can deal with that, if it’s true, but you have to tell me. Now.”

    “I have not done that,” Percy said crisply, glancing quickly at Harry before focusing on Mr. Weasley again. “Now that you’ve mentioned it, I think I can imagine how it could be done, but I have not done it.”

    Mr. Weasley nodded, and George spoke. “Not us, either. The charm’s easy enough to tweak, but I can’t imagine why we’d want to. Ginny’d kill us, and Harry would grind up the bits she didn’t roast to ashes.”

    Ginny and Harry grinned as they shot grateful looks at her twin brothers. They would have been shocked to find out that the twins had been setting off the alarm, but as soon as Mr. Weasley had revealed the possibility, their thoughts had inadvertently turned to Fred and George.

    Ron did not wait for any sort of prompting. “Dumbledore’s barmy,” he said, shrugging. “I’m rubbish at Charms. It’d be a pretty stupid prank, too.”

    Mr. Weasley turned to Ginny and Harry. “You know this lot better than anyone, Ginny. Do you believe them?” he asked.

    “Yeah, I reckon I do,” Ginny said truthfully.

    “Alright, boys,” he said. “Thank you for being honest. You’re free to go.”

    The four brothers climbed the stairs much more slowly than they had descended, and the twins shot sympathetic looks over their shoulders at Ginny as they vanished up the stairs.

    “Well, that takes care of the other remote possibility that we thought of,” Ginny’s father said, sighing. “I’m afraid we don’t have any other ideas, Firefly. There are probably still other things that could make the alarm go off, but Albus and I weren’t able to come up with any. We’ll keep thinking about it, though.”

    Ginny nodded in resignation. “Oh well. At least we know it’s possible. Thanks for checking.”

    “You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he said. “Why don’t you and Harry get ready for bed, and then I’ll come up to say goodnight.”

    “Okay,” Ginny said as they rose from the sofa. Ginny took her pyjamas back from her father, and they went upstairs to take their turns in the bathroom.

    I suppose it was a bit helpful, overall, Ginny said optimistically as they lay together a few minutes later.

    I’d like to think so. Now at least they know for sure that it’s possible for something else to be going on. Maybe your mum will ease up a bit.

    Let’s hope,     Ginny sighed. I’m glad it wasn’t one of the boys. I’m not sure I’d have ever been able to forgive them.

    You would have, eventually. You’re far too nice a person.     Harry knew she was going to try to object, so he pre-empted her. And I’m the person who knows you best, so you can’t argue.

    Yes, Harry,     Ginny said, feigning meekness.

    He snorted. Yeah, right. You can’t possibly expect me to buy that, can you?

    She smiled innocently. Yes, Harry.

    This entire conversation is completely and utterly pointless, isn’t it?

    Yes, Harry.

    Wednesday passed uneventfully, much to the relief of everyone at The Burrow. Ginny and Harry spent the morning playing the simplest of card games, none of which relied on anything more than chance to determine a winner. The next morning at breakfast, however, everyone at the table was startled by the warbling wail of the pyjamas’ alarm. Harry and Ginny had been completely focused on their breakfast, and their heads snapped up when the sound began.

    That’s the twenty-four hour thing, right? Ginny asked quickly.

    Right.

    “You saw me, Mum,” Ginny said over the noise as her mother rose from her chair. “You saw me wearing my pyjamas last night. We didn’t cause that alarm.”

    Mrs. Weasley sighed and nodded, and then she started climbing the stairs. Percy sniffed and kept glancing disapprovingly at Harry and Ginny while Mrs. Weasley was gone, but he stopped when Ron threw a banger at the side of his head. Ginny and Harry were unsure what was going on, but they were surprised to see the anger on Ron’s face. After a few moments, the noise stopped, and Mrs. Weasley reappeared in the kitchen. Without saying anything, she returned to her breakfast, and the others at the table soon followed her example. Throughout the rest of the meal, however, Percy and Ron kept exchanging baleful and even hostile looks. Mrs. Weasley was apparently very distracted, because she did not reprimand either of the boys.

    After breakfast, Harry and Ginny decided that they wanted out of the fight that was brewing, but they still wanted to try to follow Professor McGonagall’s advice. Shortly after going into Ginny’s room and closing the door, they heard the twins go into their own room on the floor below. They sat quietly, waiting until Percy left the kitchen so that they could once again take their cards down to the kitchen table. They were surprised, however, when they heard Percy and Ron having an argument on the stairs. The brothers’ words drifted up the stairwell in angry, muted whispers.

    “ . . . then it’s only proper for you to be involved!” Percy was clearly lecturing his youngest brother, and his voice was tinged with the condescending irritation that all of his siblings despised.

    “Bugger that! It’s not right, and you’re not right. It’s not necessary, and I won’t bloody do it!” Ron’s retort was immediately followed by the sounds of stomping feet going back down the stairs and, a moment later, the back door slamming. As Harry and Ginny exchanged uneasy glances, they heard Percy huff slightly before he too went into his room and closed his door.

    What do you think that was about?

    I don’t know, Harry. And right now, I really don’t want to know.

    They waited another few minutes until some semblance of quiet had settled over the house, and then they went back downstairs with their cards. As Mrs. Weasley tidied the kitchen, they began a game whose outcome they knew they could not possibly affect. As they played, they forced themselves to ignore Mrs. Weasley’s bustling presence and frequent glances.

    Half an hour later, however, Ginny suddenly realised that her mother had begun to wipe the countertops by hand for the third time.

    She’s watching us, Ginny said with a quiet sigh, feeling that the woman’s watchfulness was inevitable. Even when they were clearly innocent, she seemed adamant about treating them as though they had done something wrong.

    Let’s go to the living room, Harry suggested after a moment. It’s bad enough that we have to stay near the house all the time without her actually monitoring our every move.

    At least she’s not forcing us to stay in one spot, though. Not yet, anyway.

    True.

    Ginny and Harry casually carried their cards into the next room. There, they sat on the floor, facing each other, with their legs splayed so that their bare feet were pressed together. Not more than two minutes later, by Harry’s watch, Mrs. Weasley bustled into the room, activated the wireless, and began knitting in her chair.

    Well, that proves it.

    Did you really doubt it?     Ginny asked rhetorically, her irritation building. She’s doing a miserable job on whatever she’s been making lately, too. It looks like a jumper for Fluffy.

    Ginny eventually won the game they were playing by collecting all of the cards. She handed them to Harry, whose larger hands made it easier for him to shuffle. We don’t have to stay here, do we?

    I don’t think so. Nobody told us to.

    And McGonagall said that if we really wanted to go swimming, we could, right, Harry?

    Right.

    I really want to go swimming.

    Without any further self-persuasion, they packed up the cards and tied them into a bundle. “We’re going out to the pond, Mum,” Ginny said as they stood, and she tucked the deck into her pocket. “Could you give us the charms?”

    “You - ” Mrs. Weasley seemed to be on the verge of protesting, her carefully neutral expression sliding into what appeared to be discomfort, but she stopped herself and regained her calm. After a brief moment, she began again. “Of course, Ginny.”

    After the spells had been cast, Ginny thanked her mother, and then Harry Shifted to their usual diving boulder. Seeing that there was nothing in her way, Ginny Shifted to the grass nearby, where she left her dress and sandals. Harry threw his shirt and shoes into the same area, and then he lowered himself into the water as she waded in from the shore.

    That’s one way to make sure she can’t watch us for a few minutes, Ginny said morosely.

    They swam for a while, waiting to see if Ginny’s mother or one of her brothers would arrive. As the minutes passed without any visitors, they gradually began to relax.

    Do you suppose they’re glad we’re not around, sometimes? Harry asked. Kind of like how we don’t really want to be around?

    Floating next to him and staring up at the trees that overhung one side of the pool, Ginny furrowed her brow. I don’t think so. Why would they be?

    Well, if we’re not there, then maybe they don’t have to feel guilty about watching us all the time. They can just do what they want and pretend that we’re . . . you know . . . just two students going swimming during the holidays.

    I’m not sure they could ever convince themselves of that. Especially not Mum.     Ginny was quiet for a few moments as a new idea worked its way into their minds. I feel absolutely awful about Neville, now.

    Me, too. It’s hard to imagine making someone else feel so much like . . . like an inconvenience.

    We’ll make it up to him this year,     Ginny promised. Harry could only agree with her.

    Over dinner that evening, Mrs. Weasley told Mr. Weasley about the alarm that morning. “It went off while you were all here in the kitchen?” he asked, putting down his fork. The rest of the family nodded. “Any wands out at the table?”

    “No. I think I would have noticed,” Mrs. Weasley replied.

    “Probably. And we both saw Ginny in her pyjamas last night. That really doesn’t leave us with any new information.”

    Ginny sighed, disappointed, and the sound seemed to draw her father out of his thoughtful reverie.

    He shook his head and smiled. “Well, we’ll just have to keep our eyes open for anything else that might give us a clue.”

    The next morning, Harry and Ginny managed to stay at the kitchen table with their cards, and Mrs. Weasley busied herself in the house without actually hovering directly over them. She bustled in and out occasionally, and while that left them slightly suspicious, it was enough of an improvement that they stayed where they were. Ron and the twins each joined them for a few minutes at a time, but none of them seemed interested in spending much time playing with Muggle cards. Fortunately, they had finally realised that playing Patience would be just the same for them as it would for anyone else.

    How can it have taken us this long to think of that?

    Beats me,     Harry said, shrugging. I suppose that everything else is complicated, so we didn’t think of something so simple.

    Shortly before lunch, a nondescript brown owl flew through the open door and landed on the back of Mr. Weasley’s chair. Ginny untied a large, square envelope from the owl’s leg, and it flew off again without waiting for a snack. Turning the parchment over, Ginny saw that it was addressed to Percy in Professor McGonagall’s precise, elaborate handwriting.

    Must be the O.W.L. scores.

    If I were one of the twins,     Ginny said, I’d hide these for a few days, but I just can’t bear doing that, even to Percy. Even if he has been a git lately.

    “Percy!” she shouted up the stairs. “You’ve got a letter from Hogwarts!”

    Moments later, they heard Percy coming down the stairs. His steps were controlled, as usual, but much faster than normal. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, Mrs. Weasley entered from the living room, and the older woman stood looking back and forth between the letter and her third son, excitement plain on her features.

    Ginny held the envelope out to Percy without asking. He took it and opened it quickly, using his wand to neatly slice the seam. His eyes flicked from the top of the parchment to the bottom in a precise series of motions, and then he started over and read the entire document again. As his eyes focused on the bottom half of the page for the third time, a broad smile slowly overtook his features. Harry realised, silently, that he had never seen Percy smile so earnestly, and he thought that the expression made the older boy look much more like a real Weasley.

    “Well?” Mrs. Weasley asked expectantly.

    Percy straightened, his smile remaining in place. “Twelve. Nine ‘Outstandings’ and three ‘Exceeds Expectations’.”

    “Oh, Percy!” his mother cried, stepping forward to hug him. “That’s wonderful! I’m so proud of you.”

    Ginny could not help smiling, regardless of her recent frustration with her brother. He did not care about many of the things the rest of the family cherished, but it was obvious that succeeding in his academic pursuits made him genuinely happy. “Well done, Percy,” she said.

    “Thanks, Ginny,” he said as Mrs. Weasley released him.

    “Oh, yes, jolly well done, Percival,” Fred said in a very proper voice, entering the room with his nose pointing well up towards the ceiling. “Absolutely smashing, old boy!”

    George strolled into the room behind his twin. “Jolly good show, that is. Next time we find a terribly nasty piece of paper, full of questions no one gives a rat’s arse about, we’ll know which fellow to call.”

    “You two could do well by taking a page from Percy’s book,” Mrs. Weasley said, frowning. “You’ll not get very far in life if you don’t have good O.W.L. scores. Now, then, this calls for a bit of a celebration,” she said, turning back to Percy. “It’s rather late notice, but what would you like for dinner?”

    “Oh,” Percy said, pausing to contemplate his answer. “Shepherd’s pie would be nice.”

    “Shepherd’s pie it is, then.”

    “Thank you, Mum. If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to write to Pe . . . err, I need to send a letter. To a friend . . . from school.”

    Mrs. Weasley nodded, and Percy left the room. The twins followed him back up the stairs, still exchanging snide remarks in horribly false voices.

    As soon as the Weasley boys had disappeared up the stairs, Mrs. Weasley turned a keen eye to Ginny. “Ginny, do you suppose that ‘Pe-‘ is Penelope Clearwater?”

    In spite of the recent tension in the house, Ginny grinned faintly. She hoped that Percy’s romantic life would divert her mother from watching every move she and Harry made. “I’m almost certain of it, Mum.”

    “Hmm. Do you know her?”

    “Not really. She’s a Ravenclaw prefect. Everyone knows she’s really smart, and she seems nice from what we’ve heard. She’s pretty, too.”

    Her mother’s face lit up. “Oh, good. I knew he’d pick a nice, clever girl, and I’m sure Percy doesn’t mind that she’s pretty.” Her gaze moved from Ginny’s face to Harry’s, and the brightness of her expression dimmed, but her smile did not completely fade.

    You’re smart, nice, and handsome, yourself, Ginny said, silently willing her mother to agree.

    Harry met Mrs. Weasley’s eyes, careful to keep his expression neutral. She might not see it that way, no matter what you think.

    She sent him the mental equivalent of a scowl. I don’t think, I know. No one can know better than I do.

    Ginny’s mother seemed to shake herself out of a stupor, and her blank face resurfaced. “You two clear the table and then wash for lunch. It’ll only be a few minutes.”

    Harry dropped his eyes, and they began gathering their cards, careful to avoid tearing or creasing the thin parchment.

    She just doesn’t see it, does she? Ginny mourned, her brief feelings of pleasure and hope fading to nothing. That, or she won’t admit it.

    What, Ginny?     Harry could feel her mild exasperation and see the swirl of thoughts in their minds, but he was not yet sure what she was trying to articulate.

    You, she replied, taking his hand as they climbed the stairs to the bathroom. You’re a good person, Harry.

    Thanks to you, maybe,     he replied. I’m not sure I was very good before we met.

    Nonsense,     she retorted. You were just as good then as you are now. You just didn’t have any chances to show it.

    With Mrs. Weasley fully occupied preparing a special meal in Percy’s honour, Harry and Ginny managed to enjoy a few minutes of peace outside, away from prying eyes and suspicious glances, and Ginny was left completely alone for the afternoon. Mr. Weasley arrived home shortly before six that evening, and Ginny suspected that her mother had relayed Percy’s good news via Floo. As soon as Harry returned from Privet Drive, all eight of The Burrow’s residents sat down to dinner together.

    “Well,” Mr. Weasley said, “it seems we’ve a downright brilliant wizard in the family. Twelve O.W.L.s, and nine ‘Outstandings’. That ties the Weasley record. Well done, Percy. You set out to get twelve, and you did. Just goes to show that you can do anything you put your mind to.”

    “Thank you, Father,” Percy said. He had regained some of his customary aloofness, but his smaller smile was no less sincere.

    “Dad,” George said, frowning slightly. “I think you might need to widen all the doors. Otherwise, Percy’s head might not fit through anymore, and he’d be stuck here in the kitchen where we’d have to pass him all the time.”

    “Be nice, Fred,” Mr. Weasley said. “Twelve O.W.L.s is a very impressive achievement.”

    “Sure it is,” Ron said darkly. “Funny how he can be so good with books and so rotten with his own family.”

    “That’s enough, Ron,” Mr. Weasley said firmly. With a last glance at Percy, the youngest Weasley brother nodded and looked down at his plate. “Tuck in, then,” their father said.

    After a few minutes, conversation resumed over dinner, and Percy seemed inspired to tell everyone about his exams in excruciating detail. Ron did not talk at all, and Harry and Ginny kept attention away from themselves by following his example. The twins let their older brother ramble on for a few minutes before they began interjecting their own commentary. Neither of them took Arithmancy or Muggle Studies, but Harry thought that they did a credible and humorous job pretending to know facts that Percy had clearly worked to memorise. Ginny, who was quite used to her brothers’ interactions, decided that the twins’ “fake” knowledge of fourth-year Potions sounded a lot more genuine than facetious.

    By the end of the meal, Percy had gone silent and stiff again, and the twins were loudly exploring outlandish ways for Percy to ensure that everyone knew about his O.W.L. scores. Very quietly, Harry and Ginny agreed with Fred and George that Percy would enjoy some sort of magical sign that constantly projected his scores in the air above his head. At that, George grinned and winked. After dinner, the twins vanished into their room with a bit more alacrity than was usual for them.

    That weekend, Ginny and Harry wrote to Hermione again, explaining everything her father had said about his conversation with the Headmaster. On Tuesday, just before lunch, Hedwig brought Hermione’s reply. Oddly, their friend’s letter was written in pencil, and parts of it appeared to have been erased and re-written several times. Ginny and Harry had escaped to the pond for a half-hour of relaxation before midday, and they lay in the grass as they read Hermione’s letter through Ginny’s eyes.

    20 July 1992

    Ginny & Harry,
    I’m not sure what else to tell you, but I’m glad you’ve kept me up-to-date. It sounds as though your father and the Headmaster did their best to think of any possibility, but there are almost always options that no one can think of until after they have been proven by some other means.

    Please don’t get mad at me, but I feel that I have to say this, since I wonder if anyone else will, based on your letters. There’s an old principle called Occam’s razor. In Latin, it’s written “    pluralitas non est ponenda sine necessitate. ” You can do the literal translation if you want to, but it basically means that the simplest answer is usually correct.

    Do you see what the simplest answer to your question is? It doesn’t require bizarre feats of accidental magic, brothers who meddle without reason, or anything else outlandish. Even the alarms going off while you were in another room could probably be explained, and it would still be simpler than the Headmaster’s unusual theories. All it requires is for the two of you to be curious and comfortable. Everyone is curious, and your family knows that you are completely comfortable with each other. I know you experience everything together anyway, but I also know that some experiences are not exactly the same for both of you.

    I’m not saying that you’ve made the alarms go off, but I hope you can see that it’s hard to avoid wondering about that. I think you would tell me the truth if you had been doing anything. Wouldn’t you?

    Best from,
    Hermione

    P.S. I’m doing Geometry this week, and I didn’t realise I was using a pencil until I’d finished. I’d rather send this to you quickly than re-copy it. I hope you don’t mind.

    When they finished, Ginny put the parchment aside and stared up at the cloud-dotted sky.

    She doesn’t really believe us, either, Ginny said at last. She sighed, unable to stop a bit more resentment from creeping into her mind. She wants to and knows she should, but she doesn’t.

    Trying awfully hard, though, isn’t she?     Harry said. He had finally found a place where at least one person cared about him, but even here he seemed to be causing trouble without intending to. Now, somehow, he had got one of their best friends to stop believing them.

    It’s not like that, Harry, and you know it. Even to Ginny’s mind, her rebuttal was weak. You’re not to blame, and neither am I. Well, for the most part we’re not. She shook her head firmly. To answer your question, though, yes, she is trying, and she makes it sound reasonable. It is reasonable, and we both know it. It’s just not true, and we both know that, too.

    They were quiet for a few minutes, letting their minds wander from one confusing or frustrating point to another.

    Should we try to write her back? Harry asked.

    I don’t think I want to, Ginny said hopelessly. We’d just end up defending ourselves again, and I’m so tired of having to do that. How is it that Ron believes us and she doesn’t?

    Dunno. Maybe it’s all that logic of hers getting in the way. Do we still want to meet in Diagon Alley, then? At best, it would be awkward, and at worst she would get dragged into the whole mess.

    For a few moments, they weighed their desire to see one of their best friends against their fear that the day could become awkward, or worse, strained enough that they might have problems if their tempers got the best of their magical control. Let’s still meet, Ginny said at last, verbalising their thoughts. Even if she’s not sure, she’s trying really hard to be a good friend, and I think she’ll keep doing that. It will be nice to see a friend and to be away from all the reminders here at home.

    Okay,     Harry agreed. We could invite Luna over before that, if you want.

    Ginny shook her head against the grass. No. The stupid alarms are going off at all hours, it seems, and I don’t want her to be here if one of them starts screeching again.

    She’d understand, though.

    Yeah, of course she would, but I would hate to put her in the middle of the whole thing when Mum has to turn it off. I think I’m also a bit afraid of what she might say to Mum, you know? She has no problem seeing us as . . . you know, Alex, but Mum doesn’t want to hear anything like that right now.

    Alright, so we’ll go to Diagon Alley, and maybe sometime later we’ll see Luna again,     Harry said slowly.

    We need to make sure it’s okay for you to miss a whole day at the Dursleys’, as well. Dumbledore thought it would be okay, remember, but we need to be sure.

    Harry slid his hand up from Ginny’s palm and wrapped his fingers gently around her wrist. When her pendant grew warm, he turned onto his side and addressed the small metal disc. “Good morning, Professor,” he said. “Err . . . things here are . . . okay, I guess. The alarms are still going off, but we’re trying hard to do what you said and not get upset. It hasn’t really been working all the time, but we’re doing our best. We come out to the pond sometimes, but we’re really trying to spend time around the house when we can stand to. It took a while, but we made ourselves a deck of Muggle-style cards, and we’re playing games with them.

    “Anyway, we’re planning to meet Hermione in Diagon Alley on the first of August. Could you please ask the Headmaster if the wards at my relatives’ house will be okay if I’m not there for a whole day? We really want to go to Diagon Alley, but not if it messes everything up.” He paused for a moment, trying to decide if there was anything else they needed to say. “Well, that’s all. I hope your summer is going well, or at least better than ours. ‘Bye.”

    Heading back to the house for lunch, Harry and Ginny were surprised when they saw the twins talking animatedly at the far side of the paddock, back by the tree line. George was trying to convey something, based on what they could see of his facial expressions, and Fred was frantically waving his hands about and talking in a loud voice. While they were unable to understand the words, Harry and Ginny had no difficulty guessing that their situation was the cause of the argument, just as it was with Mrs. Weasley or with Ron and Percy.

    The twins almost never fight, Ginny observed as they resumed walking. I’m afraid to know why they are now.

    Fred doesn’t seem happy, does he?

    No, not at all.     She shook her head sadly. I wish we could just go away. Go where we can be us without any of this, or the Dursleys, or the other students. Or any of the thousand other things that seem to give us problems.

    I’m sorry, Ginny.

    It’s not your fault, Harry. As long as we’re together, we’ll be okay, right?

    Right. Somehow.

    When they went up to bed that evening, they found a grey owl waiting silently on Ginny’s windowsill. Hedwig eyed the newcomer curiously from atop the wardrobe, but she did not look concerned. Shrugging, Harry untied a letter from the owl’s leg.

    Harry & Ginny,
    I spoke to the Headmaster, and he said that you should have no problems skipping your time at the Dursleys’ on 1st August. He will send them a note to let them know that you won’t be there.

    I appreciate your updating me on the situation at The Burrow. I’m glad that you are still trying to be as accommodating as possible. While I do understand that you may be getting frustrated, bear in mind that we all make mistakes, and that it is from love that all these problems arise. When things seem to be overwhelming, it might help to reflect on that. Please don’t forget to call me if you need to or want to, and I will certainly expect to hear from you if things should become worse.

    Above all, if you feel you cannot handle the situation, come to Hogwarts, and then contact me. I am always available for you, and as you have been discovering, acting rashly is extremely risky for the pair of you. While it may be redundant, I would remind you that the situation does not need to be absolutely critical to warrant contacting me. I hope that you will agree that, sometimes, simply having someone to talk to can help you to attain a better understanding of a situation before things become critical.

    Yours,
    Minerva McGonagall

    Ginny offered the visiting owl a treat, and Harry moved Hedwig’s water bowl over to the windowsill. After devouring the morsel and drinking deeply from the bowl, the owl flew away into the darkness.

    I hope it doesn’t have to fly all the way to Hogwarts tonight, Ginny said in passing.

    McGonagall wouldn’t ask it to, I’m sure. Maybe it’s just hunting. Harry glanced back down at the note in his hand. I wish the professor could come ‘round more often. She’s the only adult that really does seem to understand. And she’s right . . . we probably should try to get away from an argument before we react. She told us that a long time ago, and that’s just what we should have done with your Mum. Harry sighed briefly. Oh well, at least we got an answer to our question about the wards. Imagine . . . a whole day without seeing Privet Drive.

    That alone is worth the trip.

    The following night, they were dreaming of an underwater Quidditch match with the Chudley Cannons when their rest was interrupted by the strident beeping of Ginny’s pyjamas. The sound was not as loud as it had once been, but it was still more than enough to wake them up and make them sit up abruptly.

    Bloody pyjamas! Ginny shouted in their minds, her arms tightening around the bunny she still held.

    Harry picked up his glasses and put them on as they tried to think of some way to stop the noise. Before they came up with anything, the door opened, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley burst into the room. Behind them, in the hallway, Harry could see that the Weasley brothers had once again gathered and were peering into the room.

    With a now-familiar flick of his wand, Mr. Weasley silenced the alarm. In the sudden, welcome silence, Harry and Ginny relaxed, and Ginny set Bun-bun aside as she reached up to rub her eyes. She began to repeat their impromptu mantra as she raised her head. “We didn’t do . . . what?”

    Every member of her family was staring at her in shock. The alarm in Percy’s eyes was combined with the curl of his lip, and Ginny saw no hint of the brother she had so recently shared a few good moments with. Ron blinked sleepily and furrowed his brow, but the twins were both alert and flicking their eyes back and forth between Ginny and Harry. Mrs. Weasley’s face was now almost completely white, and her lips were pressed into a thin, nearly invisible line. Searching for comfort and some sort of trust, Ginny sought out her father, but Mr. Weasley simply looked sad.

    “What is it?” Ginny asked again.

    Her father sighed deeply. “Button your shirt, Ginny.” There was no anger in his words, but his voice conveyed his resignation.

    Guided by Ginny and by his own surprise, Harry’s eyes snapped to her pyjamas. The topmost button was undone, and her pale skin seemed almost to glow in the dim light from the window.

    How . . . ?

    Hastily, Ginny reached up and fixed her button. Then she picked up Bun-bun and pulled him back to her chest, welcoming the pressure and feeling of security the toy provided.

    “We didn’t do anything,” she said, but the damage was done. No one who had not believed them before would possibly believe them now, so the best they could hope for was that no one who had believed them decided to change their minds.

    Mrs. Weasley turned to her husband as the colour flooded back into her face. “Arthur, you cannot possibly let this go,” she said in a harsh whisper.

    Ginny’s father covered his face with his hands and rubbed his eyes with his fingertips. Everyone else seemed to be holding their breath, but Mr. Weasley exhaled in a long, loud sigh. As the air left his lungs, his shoulders sagged. When the sound finally ended, he dropped his hands from his face and turned his head towards Mrs. Weasley, though he clearly did not meet her eyes.

    “Okay,” he said. He turned to Ginny, and they saw the sadness, compassion, and near-regret in the man’s face. “Okay,” he said again, his voice barely a whisper.

    Inhaling through his nose, the tall man straightened and ran one hand through his hair. “We’re going to have a sleepover in the sitting room. Fred, George, Ron, Ginny, and Harry . . . you lot are expected. Percy, it’s your choice.”

    Ron shot the taller boy a plainly hostile look, but Percy’s expression did not change at all. “No, thank you,” he said primly, his eyes resting firmly on Harry. It was obvious to Harry and Ginny what her brother was thinking.

    “Fine,” Mr. Weasley said, nodding and waving Percy back towards his own room. “The rest of you, go get your pillows and blankets.”

    Ginny and Harry did not move for a moment. Instead, they watched Mr. Weasley’s face. He turned to Mrs. Weasley and quirked an eyebrow slightly. After a long pause, she nodded stiffly, and then she returned to watching Harry and Ginny. There was no mistaking her obvious disapproval and unhappiness.

    When her father shifted his eyes and faced their gazes squarely, they could see the many emotions swirling across his face.

    He still believes us, Ginny said, some small spark of hope reigniting in their minds.

    Yeah, I suppose so.

    He just can’t ignore the possibility. Not with Mum and Percy being the way they are.

    So do we go along?

    She sighed audibly. After everything else, bunking in the living room is pretty easy. We might as well.

    Pulling their eyes away from Ginny’s father, they gathered their pillows, Ginny’s duvet, their wands, and Bun-bun. Then, still under intense scrutiny from her mother, they descended the stairs with Ron and found the twins waiting in the living room.

    “Back up a bit,” Mr. Weasley said. Once Fred and George had moved away from the middle of the room, their father muttered an incantation and swept his wand over the floor. “Cushioning Charm. It should be about as comfortable as your beds, and you can bunk on the sofa or the chairs if you’d rather.” He paused for a moment and then spoke with far less energy. “We’ll do this every night until I say otherwise.”

    The tall man turned and hugged each of the twins and Ron in turn. Then he kneeled on the cushioned floor and pulled Harry and Ginny together into his embrace. “Hang in there. We’ll work it out,” he whispered.

    “How?” Ginny whispered back, no longer feeling irritation or sorrow. All they felt was an empty feeling, knowing nothing was right anymore.

    His arms tightened around their shoulders. “I don’t know, sweetheart, but we will.”

    Mr. Weasley got to his feet and stepped carefully towards the door leading to the master bedroom. Once he had begun moving, Mrs. Weasley swept her gaze around the room. “Goodnight, children,” she said in a tight voice.

    “’Night, Mum,” Fred said, followed quickly by George and Ron. Harry and Ginny could only bring themselves to nod.

    When both of the adults had disappeared and closed the door behind them, the five young people stepped forward into the middle of the floor. George glanced around and then turned to Ginny. “Look, Ginny,” he said in a soft, serious voice. “You and Harry lie in the middle, and Ron and I will go on either side. They can’t ask for any better than that, and we’ll leave you alone. Right, Ron?”

    “Absolutely,” the younger boy said, nodding firmly.

    “I’ll take the sofa, then, if no one minds,” Fred said.

    “Help yourself, Fred,” Ginny said listlessly.

    Seeing no better solution, Harry and Ginny dropped their pillows together and lay in the middle of the floor. The other brothers arranged themselves as promised, which put Fred a few feet away from the others’ heads, lying crosswise to them on the sofa. After tucking their wands beneath their pillows, Harry spread the blanket over them both, and when he had settled, Ginny moved to his side in their usual position.

    After a few moments, everyone stilled as they became comfortable. “’Night, Ginny. ‘Night, Harry,” Ron said softly into the darkness.

    “Goodnight, Ron,” Harry said. “Goodnight, troublemakers.”

    “Sleep tight,” George said, and Ginny could hear the grin in his voice.

    “That’s what bookends do, after all,” Fred finished.

    George snorted. “Knew you’d come through, brother mine.”

    “It’s a gift.”

    The boys’ voices fell silent, and within a few minutes, Harry could hear Ron snoring from his left side. The windows were open slightly to allow fresh air into the room, and Ginny and Harry could hear the unmistakable voices of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley arguing, though they could not make out any of the words. Ginny knew that it had to be quite an argument if the sound was travelling from her parents’ window on the back of the house all the way to the front windows.

    How much more can we take, Harry? She struggled not to let the tears flow. Ron and Percy might as well be having a fistfight, and Mum and Dad are really rowing. They never do that. How much longer can we keep going on like this?

    I don’t know, Ginny.     Harry pulled her a little tighter against himself, wishing that he could make the pain stop for her. Until she had come along, he had never had anyone whose happiness truly mattered to him, and he was willing to try anything to make her hurt less. As long as there’s hope, as long as they’re trying at least a little, then we keep going. Isn’t that what you said?

    My family shouldn’t be this way,     she lamented. Even the twins aren’t getting along the way they should. Ginny tried her best to keep herself from sobbing outright, but she knew that her soft sniffles echoed in the quiet room. Thankfully, if the others were awake, they pretended not to notice.

    Harry took her hand as it rested on his waist. It’s not your fault, Ginny. We didn’t do anything wrong.

    It’s not your fault, either,     she said firmly, feeling the sadness beneath his words.

    I know that, I suppose. I still feel bad.

    Her sigh was a soft rush of warm air across his pyjamas. Yes, we do.

    A long while later, when their bodies could no longer support the turmoil in their minds, they finally fell asleep.

    As Mr. Weasley had instructed, the five youngest residents of The Burrow began sleeping in the living room. After the first night, the twins regained some of their panache and most of their own camaraderie. They kept the other children awake long into the night with amusing stories of their escapades, including raucously exaggerated impressions of Mr. Filch and Professor Snape. They only stopped when Mr. Weasley came down the stairs, bleary-eyed, and told them all to go to sleep.

    During the mornings, Ginny and Harry did their best to stay near The Burrow without interacting with her mother any more than was necessary. They flew, swam, or played games indoors, but they were always watchful and apprehensive about the possibility of encountering Mrs. Weasley or Percy. Meals became strained affairs, with inconsistent flashes of the family’s usual vivacious banter. The only truly normal-feeling time the family spent together was dinner on Friday, when almost everyone at the table managed to contribute something to a long, multi-sided discussion of the upcoming professional Quidditch season.

    Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sequestered themselves in their bedroom each night after dinner, and Harry and Ginny quickly realised that the adults placed charms on their room to keep their conversations private. Ginny was desperately curious to know what her parents were saying, but she and Harry agreed that it was probably better that they not know.

    The morning after the third night, Ginny’s parents had either reached some sort of compromise, or they had become tired of waking up in the middle of the night to tell the twins to go to sleep. Mr. Weasley majicked everything on Ron’s floor into his empty trunk, pushed Ron’s bed up against one wall, and then brought Ginny’s bed into Ron’s room.

    Ginny and Harry watched as he worked, but they kept their silence. They felt the ache of Ginny’s jaw as it clenched, and they had each jammed their hands into their pockets to keep from touching. Ron sat on his bed, glaring at his father throughout the entire process.

    When everything was arranged to his liking, Mr. Weasley turned to Ginny and Harry. “This is the best I . . . the best we can do right now. I’m very sorry.”

    “Would you like to take Ron’s door, too?” Harry asked as his irritation mounted. The pain her family was inflicting on Ginny was truly starting to erode his patience.

    “No, Harry,” Mr. Weasley said with a sigh. “I hope you can think of it as somewhat like your room at Hogwarts.”

    Ginny could not contain herself any longer. “Where are our curtains, then? Can we have curtains that we can seal?”

    Her father shook his head slowly, his eyes distant and worn. “No, Ginny.”

    “Then it’s not like Hogwarts,” Harry said coolly, ignoring the rising warmth of the room.

    Mr. Weasley nodded and left without another word.

    After a moment of silence, Ginny huffed loudly. “Sorry, Ron. I know you like having your own room. So do we.”

    “I’m not blaming you,” Ron said, still scowling. “I’m blaming the rest of the gits in this house.”

    Ginny nodded, but she looked at the stairwell to see that it was empty before turning back to her brother. “Dad’s trying, Ron. He’s really trying to get Mum to see reason. We shouldn’t have been so hard on him.”

    Ron looked a bit surprised at the observation, but he nodded once in acceptance. Ginny and Harry went back down to her room, and they spent the morning sitting in the middle of her bare floor with the door wide open. They played cards, and every time someone passed on the stairs, they looked up and stared at that person until they were out of sight. At lunchtime, they claimed their sandwiches from the kitchen and carried them back upstairs to wait out the noon hour.

    Once Harry had left, Ginny sat in her desk chair. Because it was Saturday, Harry had finished the most difficult of his tasks at the Dursleys’, but she focused on his senses and kept him company as he did his daily work. At a noise on the stairs, she refocused on her room in time to see Percy enter the bathroom. When she turned back away from the door, her eyes fell on Hermione’s last letter.

    Should we write back now? Harry asked.

    I suppose so, Ginny said, resigned. She doesn’t believe us, but at least she seems to want to talk to us anyway.

    They began writing their reply, but when they finished, they realised that their words were much less cheerful than they had hoped.

    25 July 1992

    Hermione,

    We hope you’re doing well. How is your Geometry? We know what it is, but neither of us has ever really paid attention to it.

    It’s okay that you don’t believe us, Hermione. Really. We’re not stupid — we understand what it must look like to everyone else. We don’t blame you, and we won’t hold it against you. At least you’re nice about it.

    A few days ago, one of the alarms went off in the middle of the night, and when we woke up, one of my buttons was undone. We didn’t undo it, of course, but Mum threw a fit. After that we slept in the living room with Ron and the twins for a few nights. Now, though, we’re sharing Ron’s room with him, much to his disgust. When do you suppose we’ll be old enough to exist without a minder?

    Maybe going to Diagon Alley is not such a good idea. Everything is starting to get really bad here. Most days, it seems like we’re the only two people in the house who get along anymore. Maybe that should tell us something. We don’t know. Anyway, it’s hard to imagine that the lot of us would be very good company for you and your parents, and we certainly don’t want any of you to get stuck in the middle of this mess. If you don’t want to meet, that’s fine. We’ll still be happy to see you on the Hogwarts Express.

    Ginny and Harry

    Ginny tied the letter to Hedwig’s leg and sent her on her way to Cambridge. Writing to their friend, however briefly and morosely, had given Ginny a few minutes of feeling as though she were communicating with someone who would listen. Somehow, she felt more hopeless and calmer about the situation at the same time.

    Call Professor McGonagall, Harry suggested. She said we could contact her just to talk, and you want to talk.

    I don’t want to bother her, though.

    Me, either. What’s the worst that can happen, though?     he said, shrugging. If she’s busy, she’ll just ignore it, and that’s no worse for us than what’s happening now.

    Alright.

    Ginny pressed her pendant with her palm. “Good afternoon, Professor. I really hope I’m not bothering you. If it’s not a good time, don’t worry. It’s not a problem.” Ginny took a shaky breath. “If you’re not busy, though, would you maybe like to come and see me? Things are still getting worse here. I know you can’t do anything about it, but . . . maybe we could just talk. Harry’s not here in person, of course, but he says I want to talk to someone. He’s right, I think. I’m going out to the pond now. If you want to come, could you just meet me there? If you want to see my mum, too, that’s fine, but . . . well, I don’t. So I’ll be at the pond either way. Err . . . thanks. ‘Bye.”

    To avoid walking through the kitchen, Ginny Shifted directly to the diving rock. After catching her balance from the short drop onto the stone, she sat looking along the edge of the water so that she could see both the pond and the grass nearby.

    Ginny threw her sandals onto the grass and lowered her feet into the cool water. She did not feel that swimming would accomplish anything, so she simply kicked at the water and watched the ripples spread and bounce across the surface of the pond. She hoped that Professor McGonagall would arrive soon, but at least the water was pleasant on her skin in the interim.

    Less than five minutes later, a soft pop announced her professor’s arrival on the grass nearby. “Hello, Ginny,” she said softly. “How are you?”

    Ginny smiled politely, relieved. “I’m still here, I suppose. Thanks for coming, Professor.”

    McGonagall stepped carefully onto the rock and sat gingerly next to Ginny. “I did say that I would come whenever you needed me.”

    “I know, but I’m sure you have important things to see to this summer, so . . .” She trailed off and shrugged.

    The older woman pulled off her shoes, lifted the hem of her dress a few inches, and let her feet dangle in the water next to Ginny’s. “As it happens, I do,” she said. “One of them has black hair. Another has red hair and,” McGonagall leaned over to peer into the water, “enviably small feet. Do you know anyone like that?”

    Ginny lifted her legs out of the water for a moment. “I’ve never heard anyone envy being this size.”

    “I’m quite happy with myself, overall, but I’ve never liked my feet,” McGonagall said calmly. “I rather wish that they were more petite.”

    Looking into the water, Ginny did not see anything terribly unflattering about her professor’s feet, but she had to admit that they were much longer than her own would ever be. “They look like good feet to me. I bet you’re much more stable than I’ll ever be.”

    McGonagall laughed out loud, a rare and contagious sound. “Perhaps. Thank you, Ginny.”

    “You’re welcome, Professor,” Ginny said. Suddenly, she realised that she had also been laughing, very softly, and the idea was vaguely foreign. Her mood grew serious, and she began staring out across the water again.

    The older woman must have noticed the change, because she spoke in a much more subdued voice. “The point is that you and Harry are priorities for me. If you call me, whatever the reason, I will do my utmost to respond.”

    “Thanks,” Ginny muttered gratefully.

    “Now, why don’t you tell me what’s happened since our last talk?”

    Swinging her legs in the water, Ginny slowly told her professor about the alarms, the tension, and the growing divisions in her family over the previous few weeks. She talked without interruption about how everything had made them feel, and she explained her suspicions about the arguments between the other Weasleys. Finally, she explained how she and Harry had come to be sleeping in Ron’s room.

    When Ginny finished her story, McGonagall sighed deeply. “Well, Ginny, you’re right. I can’t really do anything to fix your problems. If there were a simple solution or a bit of magic to be done, I would most certainly do it, but it isn’t my place to interfere with your family.”

    “I know,” Ginny whispered. “Mum would go spare if she even knew that I’d talked to you about this.”

    “We’ll forget to mention it to her, then.” The professor looked out into the nearby woods for several long moments. “You probably won’t hear this from anyone else, but I hope you realise that you and Harry are both doing a marvellous job of handling this. You’ve made a few mistakes and at least one big one, but you know that, and you’re still trying just as hard as you can.”

    Ginny’s half-hearted laugh sounded more like a snort, even to her ears. “That’s more or less what Luna said, too.”

    “Luna Lovegood?” McGonagall asked, and Ginny nodded. “She sounds fascinating. Why don’t you tell me about her? How long have you known each other?”

    “As long as I can remember, really.” For the next fifteen minutes, Ginny tried to describe her oldest friend, sharing stories from their time together and trying to remember all of the unusual experiences Luna had related to her. Only when she started talking about Luna and her father’s campaign to protect the nundus did Ginny realise that she felt comfortable and talkative for the first time in weeks.

    She stopped her narrative and smiled ruefully. “I suppose I did just want to talk.”

    McGonagall reached over and patted Ginny’s knee. “Of course you did. Whatever else you may be, you’re still a woman, and every now and again we simply need to talk.”

    See? Harry had been doing his work and following the conversation at the pond, but he had known to not add his voice until Ginny had wound down.

    And you think you’re not smart? she replied, letting her gratitude fill their minds.

    There’s a difference between being stupid and being foolish. Just ask the twins.

    Ginny giggled softly. True.

    “I see that my work here is done,” McGonagall said, pulling her feet out of the water and drying them with her wand. After putting her shoes back on, she crouched down and put a gentle hand on Ginny’s shoulder. “I meant what I said, Ginny. If you and Harry ever need me, for anything whatsoever, you have only to call. I will come at once if at all possible, and I will not be angry or bothered.”

    “Alright, Professor. Thank you for talking with me.”

    Letting you talk to her, you mean.

    “You’re welcome, Ginny, but I truly did enjoy it. I’m quite looking forward to Miss Lovegood’s arrival at Hogwarts.”

    “She’s great,” Ginny said.

    “I’d best get back,” McGonagall said. “Don’t hesitate to call me if you just want to talk.” She stepped off of the rock and turned back to Ginny with a smile. “Oh, and do remember to have fun whenever you can find it. I haven’t put my oversized feet in a stream in years.”

    Ginny nodded. “You can borrow ours anytime you like.”

    With a sedate wave, McGonagall Apparated away. Even after she had left, Ginny still felt a tiny flare of optimism. She was not happy by any means, but she was further from despair and calmer than she had been. We can do this, Harry. It won’t be easy, but we can do it.

    They carried their rejuvenated attitude to dinner that evening, and they spent the entire meal making faces at Fred and George across the table. Harry and Ginny knew that they were forcing themselves to be silly, but they did it anyway and focused on enjoying the results. If the twins were surprised, they did not let it show, and the four friends completely ignored the sombre and baffled mood of the rest of the family.

    Their first night in Ron’s room was more restful than the previous three. Ginny still fervently wished that they could sleep in her room, but they refused to dwell on that feeling. In spite of his reasons, Mr. Weasley had been right, and it was a bit like living in the dormitory at Hogwarts again.

    The following day was Sunday, and the subdued observance of the breakfast ritual made it much harder for Harry and Ginny to maintain their spirits. They tried to engage the twins in some form of childishness again, but this time they could not keep themselves from noticing Percy’s and Mrs. Weasley’s quelling looks across the table. Finally, they sighed in unison and gave up. The rest of the meal passed in stiff silence, punctuated by the fierce looks that Ron was giving to Percy.

    Mr. Weasley proposed a Quidditch game for the rest of the day. Harry and Ginny agreed to play, but her father’s forced expression told them that he was grasping at any activity which might bring some semblance of harmony to the family. Nevertheless, Harry enjoyed playing as a Chaser until he had to leave for the Dursleys’. At that point, Ginny took her turn on the broom. Harry did his daily work as quickly as he could and ignored the weekly list, choosing instead to sit on the floor of his room and fly along with Ginny.

    The rest of the family clearly enjoyed their day of Quidditch, but Ginny was certain that everyone knew that not having Percy or her mother around helped the others to relax. When they gathered for dinner that evening, neither the studious boy nor Mrs. Weasley seemed interested in talking to anyone else. Ginny’s mother finally responded to a direct question from her father, but even Harry could now see that the two adults were upset with each other.

    The next morning, they woke to find Hedwig perched on the wardrobe with a letter tied to her leg. Hermione’s reply was uncharacteristically brief.

    26 July 1992

    Dear Ginny & Harry,

    I don’t care what you’re doing or not doing. It doesn’t matter what I think or what anyone else thinks. You two are my best friends, and no ridiculous alarms, regardless of how they’re set off, are going to change that. I want to see my best friends, even if some of your family doesn’t want to come. I’ll see you at 11:00 on Saturday, 1st August. Don’t be late. If you don’t show up, I’ll get my parents to drive down to Ottery St. Catchpole, and we’ll use a map to follow every stream in the area until I find a house that my parents think is abandoned.

    Your friend,
    Hermione

    Ginn y was unable to contain a small smile. She’s a good friend. Scary, but good.

    So we’ll go?     Harry asked.

    Yeah. She’s right, just like McGonagall was. It’ll be nice to see her, whatever else is going on. Maybe she won’t even bring it up.

    He grinned fondly. Hermione? Be serious.

    Well, yes, but I bet she’ll drop it if we ask her to.

    Over the next two days, Harry and Ginny became committed to enjoying themselves in spite of the strife in her family. Being anywhere near Percy or Mrs. Weasley was completely uncomfortable, and Ginny always had the feeling that the twins were carefully keeping something from her. She was sad to think that Fred and George were still at odds with each other, but she was grateful that they were trying to keep her out of their dispute.

    Initially, they continued to spend time with Ron, but he spent more and more of his time muttering about Percy. Harry and Ginny tolerated the general antagonism at first, but they found themselves almost unconsciously spending less time with Ginny’s youngest brother.

    That decision was taken out of their hands at lunch on Tuesday. They had spent the morning at the pond again, and they had not spoken to any of the brothers or Mrs. Weasley at breakfast. Just as they sat down to lunch, Ron stormed down the stairs and dropped heavily into his chair muttering loudly about “annoying plonkers who were too stupid to understand simple answers.” He picked up his sandwich left-handed and took a vicious bite out of the inoffensive bread and meat.

    Percy came down the stairs a few minutes later. Harry and Ginny immediately noticed the reddened patch of skin on his left cheek, and they had a dreadful feeling that they knew what had happened. He sat calmly at the table and began eating without preamble.

    Mrs. Weasley had also noticed his contusion. “Percy, what happened to your poor face?”

    “Ronald saw fit to punch me, Mother,” he answered calmly.

    “Ronald Bilius Weasley!” she shouted. “Why would you do such a thing?”

    Ron shrugged. “He keeps asking the same stupid question, and I keep giving him the same easy answer. I figured maybe he needed it to be delivered a different way.”

    Sure, now he gets eloquent, Ginny said.

    “What on earth does that mean?” Mrs. Weasley demanded. After a few seconds without an answer, she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. There’s no excuse for fisticuffs. You can spend the rest of the day in your room alone, Ron, and you’ll not be flying for a week.”

    Ron looked truly wounded, but he did not back down. “Fine. But if he asks me again, I’m going to answer the same way.”

    “Two weeks, no flying!”

    The youngest Weasley boy’s jaw locked into a scowl. “Just get him to stop asking.”

    “Asking what? Percy, what is it that you’re asking?”

    “Go ahead, Percy,” Ron said stubbornly. “Tell everyone what you want me to do.”

    Percy frowned, and his eyes darted around the table. Harry and Ginny noticed that he did not look anywhere near them. “Never mind,” the older boy said. “It’s not . . . important.”

    Mrs. Weasley huffed. “Well, stop asking, then.”

    As soon as he was finished eating, Ron stood up from the table and climbed the stairs two at a time. Everyone in the kitchen clearly heard his door slam when he reached the top, but Ginny thought she was the only one who flinched.

    Poor Ron. I’d bet anything that he was defending us again.

    We’ll find some way to thank him,     Harry said, thinking gratefully of Ron and Mr. Weasley’s support. I guess that everyone who sticks up for us is going to get punished.

    By that fifth day after the last alarm, Ginny and Harry had completely lost the optimism they had gained after talking with McGonagall, and they worried that each day which passed made it more likely that the alarm would go off on the following day. Each alarm, they knew, brought them one step closer to the point of no return.

    In the wee hours on Wednesday, their fears were finally realised. Harry and Ginny had been sleeping relatively peacefully when they were awakened by the pyjamas’ ascending wail, supposedly indicating that Ginny had tried to take off her pyjamas less than four hours after putting them on.

    Instantly awake and incandescently angry, Ginny leapt out of bed and into the middle of Ron’s floor. “Bloody sodding pyjamas!” she shouted.

    “What the-?” Ron’s drowsy voice caught Harry’s attention for a moment. The red-haired boy stopped speaking abruptly when he spotted Ginny, and then he scrambled out of his blankets and towards the window.

    Everything that had happened to Harry and Ginny over a very long month boiled in their minds. All of the problems and heartache they had felt and witnessed, all of the arguments they had never thought they would see in the Weasley family, and all of the injustices heaped upon them swirled and melted together, and suddenly they could not bear the feel of the soft fabric on Ginny’s skin.

    She pulled the pyjama top off over her head, foregoing the buttons, and threw it down onto the floor. As soon as it left contact with her skin, the incessant beeping of one of the other alarms was added to the previous wail, but Ginny ignored the sound. She pushed off the trousers and threw them on top of the shirt, heedless of yet another addition to the cacophony.

    Reaching back towards the bed, she yanked Harry’s wand out from under his pillow. Harry put on his glasses and, not bothering to climb out of bed, Shifted to stand beside her and hold her free hand. As soon as they touched, the temperature of the room became oppressively hot, but they did not care. Their focus was entirely on the vile material lying innocently on the floor in front of them.

    Ginny aimed the wand at her pyjamas, summoned all of her hatred for what they represented, and flicked her wrist. “FINITE INCANTATEM!”

    A wave of even hotter air washed across their legs, and the room became blissfully silent.

    Harry and Ginny revelled in their victory for only a fraction of a moment, but they treasured it as though it were an eternity. A fast, panting breath caught their attention, and they looked up to find the rest of the Weasley family, minus Ron, standing in the doorway and staring at them. Instinctively, Ginny crossed her arms over her chest, and Harry moved his hand to rest supportively on her shoulder.

    Out of all of the people present, it was Mrs. Weasley’s face which caught and held their attention. The woman’s eyes were wide and blazing, her scarred nostrils flared, and her lips turned down into a stiff frown. It was she who was breathing harshly, and Ginny knew that her mother was about to utterly lose her infamous temper.

    Ginny was much, much faster.

    “I am done!” Ginny shouted, her body quaking with tension under Harry’s hand. “I don’t care what you do, I don’t care what you say, and I don’t care what you think! I’m not wearing those bloody, buggering pyjamas ever again!

    “None of you gets to tell me what’s going on, because you don’t know! I live my life, and I know what the truth is, even if half of you are too bloody stupid to believe me!”

    Together, they took one step towards the crowd at the door, and Harry absently noticed that the twins took a corresponding step back. Ginny’s voice lowered to a menacing snarl, and her eyes were still fixed on her mother. “We have never broken your stupid rules. Harry has never touched anything more than my hand or my hair to show me that he loves me, and that’s a lot more than you’ve done recently. You don’t have to believe me. I know it’s true, and I’m tired of trying to make it easier for you to deal with your own damned hang-ups!”

    At her prompting, Harry turned and opened one of the drawers of Ron’s bureau. From inside, he pulled out a blue t-shirt that had once been Bill’s. He unfolded it and gathered it in his hands, and then he pulled it down over her head, letting it fall to just above her knees. As he pulled her braided hair out of the collar, she pushed her arms out through the sleeves. As soon as her arms were free, she took Harry’s hand once more.

    Mrs. Weasley stood with her mouth working silently, while Mr. Weasley watched them with open, glistening eyes. The twins were slowly backing down the stairs in obvious alarm, but Percy was scowling fiercely. To Harry, the tall boy appeared to be only moments away from shouting back at Ginny. Harry kept his gaze on Percy, daring him to interfere.

    “This is what I’m wearing to sleep!” Ginny shouted, tugging at the t-shirt with the fingertips of her wand hand. “I’m going to sleep in my own bed, in my own room, with Harry! If any of you can’t handle that, then we’re bloody well going to sleep somewhere else, and the lot of you can go rot!”

    Instantly, Ginny Shifted to the doorway of her room. Harry swept his furious gaze across the Weasleys. “I can’t believe you did this to her. You’re supposed to be her family! These days, you act more like mine.” Scowling, he stepped back to Ginny’s bed. Reaching out and down, he put both of his palms flat on the mattress and Shifted both himself and the bed back to their proper places. In their fury, Harry and Ginny did not feel any rush of magic at all.

    Heavy steps on the stairs warned them of someone’s approach, and they turned to face the door with their wands in hand but pointed at the floor. Mr. Weasley appeared in the doorway first, and he spun back towards the stairs he had just descended. “Stay there, all of you!” he barked. Even in their enraged state, Ginny and Harry recognised the command in her father’s voice. No one else appeared in the doorway.

    Mr. Weasley raised his hand before Ginny could speak. “Ginny, Harry . . . you’re entitled to feel whatever you feel, and no one can take that away from you. Right now, though, your candle is starting to melt. I need you both to either calm down, now, or go outside. This has nothing to do with how I feel. I just need you to keep from hurting yourselves or the rest of us.”

    Startled, Harry glanced over his shoulder and verified that Ginny’s candle was visibly sagging. “Bugger,” he muttered.

    Knowing that they could not possibly calm down quickly enough, Harry and Ginny Shifted to the pond in quick succession. They stood on the largest of the rocks in their nightclothes, letting the cool night air swirl around them and watching the grass wilt at their feet.

    Harry reached up and clenched his pendant in his fist. “Professor, I know it’s late, and I’m sorry, but we . . .” He cut himself off with a frustrated huff. “The ruddy alarm went off again, and we just can’t take it anymore!” he half-shouted. “We had to go to the pond so we wouldn’t burn down the house, and if they won’t leave us alone, we’re not going back there at all. I don’t care if I have to buy us our own house or something. I’m not letting them treat Ginny that way any more! Nobody gets to do that! Ginny wants to stay here, she really does, and I think I do, too, if we can fix things. But if they look at her that way one more time, I think something really bad is going to happen. We don’t want that. Maybe we shouldn’t even carry our wands. We just-”

    His tirade was interrupted when Minerva McGonagall, wrapped in a familiar tartan dressing gown and with her windswept hair around her shoulders, cracked into existence a few feet in front of them. “Harry! Ginny! Are you both alright?”

    “We’re okay, but —“

    He was cut off again when the professor dropped to her knees and pulled them both to her shoulders in a tight hug. “Never mind, Harry,” she said in a low, smooth voice. “It doesn’t matter. I’m so sorry you’re having to go through all of this. It’s not your fault.”

    Their anger was still dominant in their minds, but they also felt the first beginnings of shock and sorrow. Their professor’s words and arms were comforting, and they relaxed gratefully into her embrace.

    Another sharp crack sounded behind Harry and Ginny, and he spun around with his wand raised. Mr. Weasley stood on the grass a few yards away, blinking at them in surprise. Ginny could not bear the hurt in her father’s eyes. She continued to cling to Professor McGonagall even as the older woman rose to her feet, and Ginny pressed her face against the woman’s torso.

    Harry lowered his wand, but he did not relax. “What do you want?” he asked shortly.

    Ginny’s father held up his hands again. “I’m not here to argue with you or make you do anything. I’m just here to make sure you’re safe.”

    Professor McGonagall kept one hand on Ginny’s shoulders and used the other to pull Harry back to her side. “They are safe, Arthur. You and your family, however, may not be right now.”

    Mr. Weasley scrubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, and then he sank down onto the grass. “I know.” He sighed deeply. “They’ve been telling you everything?”

    “Yes, they have.”

    He nodded. “That’s probably a good thing. I’m so sorry it came to this, Ginny. You, too, Harry.”

    Ginny twisted her body to look over her shoulder. “It’s not you, Dad,” she said in a whisper. “I know you’ve been trying really hard to make things work. I just can’t take those stupid pyjamas any more, and I can’t stand the looks that Mum and Percy give us. Even Fred and George seem to be getting in on the act.”

    “Alright,” her father said, his tone never wavering away from obvious concern. “If that’s how you feel, then that’s how you feel. I’m not sure I can fault you for it at this point.”

    “We meant it, Mr. Weasley,” Harry said firmly. “No charms, no ‘sleepovers’, and no roommates. Trust us, trust her, or we’re leaving.”

    The older man nodded, his face so haggard and worn in the reflected moonlight that it made Ginny even sadder. “I understand. I can’t force Ginny’s mother to believe you, but I can persuade her to leave you alone, I think.”

    “Arthur,” McGonagall said more gently, stroking Ginny’s damp hair with one hand and squeezing Harry’s shoulder with the other, “I will take care of these children in any way that I can, including finding a way for them to live at Hogwarts if necessary. I will do that for them, but it’s not my place to interfere with your family in general. Still . . . if Molly continues down the path she’s on, they will stop giving her the option to leave them alone.”

    A single tear rolled down Mr. Weasley’s cheek. “I know. She doesn’t want that, Minerva. Truly, she doesn’t.” He sighed again, and Harry saw his gaze move to McGonagall’s hand on Ginny’s hair. “Thanks for . . . filling in.”

    “This is not my place, either,” the professor said, the steel back in her voice. With gentle hands, she moved Harry and Ginny until they were both facing her at arms’ length. From there, Harry could see the sheen of moisture on the woman’s face and neck. She laid the back of her hand on each of their foreheads and shook her head. “Getting there, but you’re both still too warm.”

    Ginny nodded, and, without any concern for their clothes, she and Harry stepped off of the rock and into the pond. The cool water rose to their necks, as they had intended, and they stood in a loose embrace in the pool as their bodies finally began to settle. When they began to feel chilled, they climbed back out of the pool and moved to sit in the soft grass, somewhat surprised to find it brittle and crackling.

    With two silent waves of her wand, McGonagall dried them out. “Done?” When they nodded, she turned to Mr. Weasley. “Can they stay here tonight without being bothered at all? And can you ensure that they will not be emotionally abused in the future?”

    Ginny saw her father’s eyes harden. “I’ll do my best, and if I can’t, I’ll send them to you myself.”

    McGonagall nodded and looked down at Harry and Ginny. “Is that good enough? It’s your decision.”

    “It’s not a decision,” Harry said. “If none of those things happen again, we’ll stay. If they do, we’ll leave.”

    “What if that means you don’t see much of the rest of us?” Mr. Weasley asked softly. “The only way to keep the peace may be to separate you from the rest of us, at least at first. I’m sure that Ron and the twins will want to see you, regardless.”

    “We can handle that,” Ginny said.

    Her father nodded. “Alright. That’s how we’ll start, then.” He rose to his feet. “Go straight back to your room, please. I’ll make sure that no one bothers you for the rest of the night. I promise.”

    “Thanks, Daddy,” Ginny whispered. She turned to Professor McGonagall and hugged her again. “Thank you, Professor.”

    The tall woman bent as much as she could and whispered, “You’re welcome, Ginny and Harry. I’ll come by again in a day or two, whether I hear from you or not.”

    “Minerva, I . . .” Ginny’s father shrugged helplessly. “Thank you.”

    “Be diligent, Arthur,” she said in reply. “I will do whatever they need done, regardless of how it makes Molly feel.” At his nod, she stepped away from Harry and Ginny. “Goodnight, children.” A moment later, she Disapparated.

    Cued by Mr. Weasley’s nod, Harry and Ginny both went back to her room. The door was still open, so Harry pushed it closed. As they began to hear noises from other parts of the house, Mr. Weasley appeared in the room with them. He flicked his wand at the door and the window, and all sounds from outside the room abruptly faded to the edge of hearing. Then he Apparated out of the room.

    Ginny and Harry listened, but the only sounds they heard clearly were their own breathing and the minute rustle of their clothing. Satisfied that they would be left alone, they put their wands and Harry’s glasses on the nightstand, and then they settled back into bed.

    Their temper had cooled enough that the room was not uncomfortable, but their minds still burned with frustration at the injustices and humiliations they had endured. Ginny tried to put her thoughts into words, but none came to her. Instead, she could only sob loudly as her tears began to flow in earnest. Curled up against Harry’s side, with her face pressed into his shirt, Ginny eventually cried them both into a restless sleep.
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    Comments

    Thu, 03/25/2010 - 09:47 — NotACat
    NotACat's picture

    Yet another slipped through the net…

    Quote:

    we’re not going to back there at all

    Either a word is missing or there's an extra one there that shouldn't be.

    Thu, 03/25/2010 - 13:03 — Sovran
    Sovran's picture

    Well done!

    I put things like that in the story to make sure people are paying attention. Yeah, that's it. So congratulations!

    Mon, 07/26/2010 - 16:39 — NotACat
    NotACat's picture

    Apropos of something completely different…

    …if this is indeed how the twins treated Percy on a regular basis, it's less difficult to see how he came to split with the family in canon. We're shown that they pranked him in various ways—his "Big-Head Boy" badge springing most immediately to mind—and we have no idea how this might or might not have been counter-balanced by anybody else in the household. After years and years of torment and complete lack of appreciation it's not so outrageous that he might simply snap and turn to someone—anyone—who gave at least the appearance of sympathy.

    Obviously, in this current story, we're shown Ginny extending the hand of peace, only to have it nibbled (if you see what I mean ;-), but at least he and she tried to meet half-way and succeeded—even if only for just a moment. I wonder whether this might ever have happened in canon, and whether in this story Percy might not turn out quite such a pillock. I'm not expecting him to turn into some kind of secret agent type, mind you (in Kevin's story "The Accidental Bond" the Weasley family is much more disfunctional and Percy departs rather earlier, but keeps up communication with Arthur behind the scenes—developments are awaited with bated breath ;-) but at least he might not end up quite so hostile as in canon—or I guess he might be worse!

    It’s not your fault, Harry. As long as we’re together, we’ll be okay, right?

    On re-read this strikes me as one of the most poignant lines of dialogue in the whole story: it pretty much encapsulates the whole darn thing right there, doesn't it?