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Meaning of One, Part Two: Chambers and Secrets - Chapter 6: Division by Sovran
Fri, 09/19/2008 - 17:53
As usual, Harry was the first to stir
the next morning, and the unnatural silence of Ginny’s room was the
first thing he noticed. Neither of them had slept well the previous
night, waking up frequently to replay the evening’s events in their
minds. Finally, however, Ginny had fallen into a deep sleep, and now
her breathing was steady and soft against his stomach.
What time is it? she asked.
Harry raised his left arm, careful not to disturb her.
When his watch came into view, she sighed mentally. I guess Dad meant it when he said we’d be left alone. They didn’t even wake us for breakfast.
He definitely seemed serious about it last night.
Shouted words and frenzied actions from the previous evening flooded into their minds. In the light of the morning and the quiet of Ginny’s room, the entire episode seemed almost surreal.
I didn’t want any of that to happen, Ginny said softly.
You didn’t cause it. Not really.
It doesn’t matter. It won’t help anything. I can’t believe I got angry enough to swear at my own family and call them names. That’s just what we got so angry at them for doing last year.
It’s been a very long month, Ginny. I can’t think of any better justification than the things that have happened to us.
That doesn’t make it right.
Would you rather have let your mum punish us again? Make us sleep in your parents’ room in a large cot, or even in their bed with them?
No. I meant it when I said we couldn’t take it anymore.
Exactly, Harry said.
Still . . . I did all of those things, no matter what might have pushed me into it. Mum and Percy may never forgive me. I wouldn’t blame the twins for not wanting to be with us anymore. And Dad . . . Ginny’s voice clouded with anguish. I can’t stand to see that look on his face and to know that I helped put it there. Harry’s throat tightened sympathetically. What are we going to do, Harry?
I don’t know, Ginny, he replied, stroking her hair in a gentle, soothing motion. For now, we’re going to be left alone, and we can handle that as long as we’re together. Right?
Right.
The sensation of a hand on her head penetrated Ginny’s slumber, and after a few moments her eyes drifted open.
Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.
It’s okay, she said. I don’t really want to be asleep right now. Sitting up in bed, she stretched and then tucked Bill’s t-shirt under her knees.
Harry levered himself upright and immediately spotted a basket just inside the door. Now that he was fully awake, he could smell the familiar aroma of sausages. It looks like they didn’t forget our breakfast, after all.
He picked up the basket and brought it back to the bed. Inside, they found a square of parchment lying atop two warm, covered plates.
Harry paused, recognising the incredible difference between his uncle and Ginny’s father. Mr. Weasley had seemed somewhat less than confident in the last few weeks, but his letter showed that he, too, was determined to make things right no matter how long it took.
He’s the best, Ginny agreed softly.
And he thinks your mum is the best.
Wordlessly, she nodded.
With nothing to distract them, they ate their breakfast quickly. When they were ready to shower, they stopped and tried to work out the solution to a problem that Mr. Weasley apparently had not considered.
How do we know that no-one’s in the bathroom? Harry asked.
Err . . . I suppose we could Shift into the hallway, but it’s just as likely that someone would be there.
Harry thought for a moment. It’s late enough that nobody will be showering. What if one of us Shifted directly into the shower to see if anyone’s there?
And what if somebody is? They’d be really hacked off at us.
Can you think of a better idea?
Well, no, Ginny admitted. You’d better be the one to go in there first, though. I think the boys would be less upset if you appeared while they were in the bathroom.
He shrugged and Shifted into the shower. After confirming that the room was empty, they took turns to shower and dress for the day. Ginny stowed their playing cards in the pocket of her dress. A moment later, they appeared next to the pond. Harry took Ginny’s hand, and they walked along the stream, staying in the shade until they could get the sunscreen charm.
When they made their way back to the pond a while later, they found Mr. Weasley sitting cross-legged in the grass and facing them. Ginny and Harry approached slowly. Even though they knew that her father was trying to fix the situation at The Burrow, they were cautious after the previous night’s explosions.
“Hi, Daddy,” Ginny said quietly as they emerged into the sunlight.
“Good morning, Firefly. Morning, Harry. Come and sit down.” He patted his thighs invitingly.
Gratefully, Ginny and Harry crossed to her father, and she settled into his lap sideways. At Mr. Weasley’s gesture, Harry sat in the grass on the man’s right side, facing Ginny and keeping her hand in his.
“Did you sleep alright?”
Ginny shrugged, staring at the grass. “I suppose.”
“Was your breakfast still warm?”
“Yeah. Thanks,” she mumbled, nodding.
Mr. Weasley reached up and gently turned Ginny’s head to face him. “Come on, sweetheart. I know things are a bit tricky, but there’s no reason for you to be nervous with me. We’re okay, the three of us.”
“But . . .” Ginny pulled her lower lip between her teeth and held it there for a moment.
Her father smiled gently as he used one finger to pull her lip free. “None of that, now.”
“I said horrible, horrible things, Daddy,” Ginny whispered.
“Yes, you did,” he said calmly. “If you’d used that kind of language at any other time, especially to your mother, we’d be having a very different conversation right now.” Ginny dropped her gaze, but her father tilted her chin up once more. “But we’ll skip that, just this once.”
Mr. Weasley sighed deeply. “I should have put a stop to this whole fiasco weeks ago. Those silly pyjamas never worked properly, and I should have given up the idea as soon as I realised that.” His mouth turned into a small, rueful smile. “They won’t be a problem anymore, though. They may now be the most thoroughly non-magical pyjamas in the entire wizarding world. Even the stain-repelling charms on the thread are gone.”
“Good,” Harry muttered.
“Quite right, Harry,” Mr. Weasley said. “Anyway, given all of that, I’m surprised you two didn’t explode a long time ago. I’m willing to forgive you for being a bit vocal if you’ll forgive me for letting things get to that point.”
Ginny finally relaxed and let herself fall sideways against her father’s chest. “Okay.”
Harry nodded and idly reached out to toy with a lock of Ginny’s hair that was dangling in front of him. “I’m very sorry, too, Mr. Weasley. You’re nothing at all like my relatives. That was a pretty awful thing for me to say to you.”
The older man’s grin reappeared. “Thank you, Harry. That’s quite a compliment.” He lifted a hand from holding Ginny and laid it on Harry’s shoulder. “I want you to know, just as clearly as possible, that you’ve been almost perfect, Harry. I can’t imagine that anyone in the world could have handled this mess any better than you have.”
Harry nodded again, embarrassed, as Ginny gave him a small smile. Anyone who knew you like I do would have done the very same thing, he said.
That’s the point, Harry. Nobody else knows me that well, and nobody ever will.
The small group sat in silence for a few minutes until they heard someone approaching along the stream. Ron emerged from the trees, and without any greeting or even acknowledgement, Ginny’s brother folded himself onto the grass nearby.
“Alright, Ron?” Harry asked, turning so that he could see his friend.
“Yeah, not bad,” he replied.
The sun glinting on Ron’s hair reminded Ginny of why they had been walking in the woods. “Can we have the sunscreen charm, Daddy?”
Nodding, Mr. Weasley tapped Harry and Ginny’s heads with his wand. “You, Ron?”
“Got it already,” he said.
“Felt like swimming, did you?” Mr. Weasley asked.
Ron shrugged. “Yeah, ‘spose.”
“Did Mum send you?” Ginny asked, suddenly wary.
“No. Mum hasn’t said a word to me all morning. She hasn’t said a word to anyone, I think. She just cast the charm when I asked.”
At Mr. Weasley’s encouragement, the three friends got into the pool. Harry and Ginny swam lazily, while Ron amused himself by diving to the bottom and trying to bring ever-larger stones back to the surface.
A short time later, the twins approached the pond. “We heard there was a bit of a pool party,” Fred said.
“So we brought ourselves along to liven it up,” George added.
Ginny stopped swimming and looked up to see her father nodding to the two brothers. “How are things up at the house?” he asked.
“Disturbingly quiet. It’s almost eerie,” Fred said, just loudly enough that Ginny could hear him. After shedding their shirts and shoes, the twins leapt into the pond and immediately began chasing Ron. Before too long, they had managed to draw Harry and Ginny into their game also.
At noon, Mr. Weasley got to his feet and clapped loudly for attention. “It’s lunchtime, boys and girl. What do you all say to a picnic out here?” At their nods, he disappeared for a few minutes and returned with a large picnic basket. Packed into it was a veritable feast of sandwiches, chips, fresh fruit, pumpkin juice, and lemonade.
After lunch, Harry left for Privet Drive even more reluctantly than he usually did. Mr. Weasley went back to The Burrow, saying that he was going to spend the afternoon talking with Mrs. Weasley. Ginny’s brothers agreed on a game of Quidditch, but she begged off, saying that she preferred to stay at the pond. The twins gave her a concerned look, but they finally left with Ron after promising to come by again later that afternoon.
Ginny spent the afternoon floating in the pond or lying in the grass, keeping Harry company as she usually did. Even though her father and three brothers were doing their best to treat her and Harry normally, she only felt truly relaxed when they were all gone. She almost dozed off in the grass once or twice while playing patience, but neither of them wanted even a hint of a nightmare that day, so each time she jumped back into the cool pond and swam for a bit.
A few minutes before six o’clock, Ginny charmed herself dry and Shifted directly into her room, where she changed out of her bathing costume. Harry met her there before taking a turn in the bathroom, and they waited together until Mr. Weasley Apparated into the room carrying a tray laden with one heaping plate of food and two glasses of juice.
“Dinner!” he said cheerfully.
“Thanks, Dad.”
They began to eat, and Mr. Weasley sat on the floor by the door, just as he had in the past. “How was the day, then?”
Ginny swallowed and frowned thoughtfully. “Alright, I suppose. It was really odd not to see Mum for a whole day. Not at all the way things should be.”
“But?” her father asked expectantly.
She nodded. “Better than it has been.”
“Well, that’s a step in the right direction, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
With a small smile, Mr. Weasley got to his feet, absently picking up Ginny’s laundry hamper to take with him. “I’m a bit hungry myself. Call if you need anything, and I’ll come up at bedtime.”
“Daddy,” Ginny said hesitantly, stopping him from Apparating out of the room.
“Yes, Firefly?”
“Can we still go to Diagon Alley on Saturday, or is that already ruined? I know it might be hard, but it’s for Harry’s birthday, and since we won’t get to do anything tomorrow . . .”
Her father held up his hand, and she trailed off. “Of course we’ll go, Ginny. I’ll work out all the details.”
Calling the family’s problems ‘details’ seemed a bit optimistic, but Ginny trusted him. “Okay. Thanks, Daddy.”
As she had hoped, Ginny was the first to wake the following morning. Carefully, she raised herself onto one elbow, and then she leaned over to kiss Harry’s cheek as he slept. Happy birthday, Harry.
Thanks, Ginny. His body awoke slowly and smiled.
You’re two years older than me now. How does it feel?
Harry grinned. Dunno. Temporary, I suppose.
I wish we could do more today. It’s ridiculous that you’ve only ever had one cake, and that one was squashed.
Don’t worry about it, Ginny. Tomorrow will be great.
It’d better be. I’m not going to let us forget to find you a present, either.
One for you, too, then. We won’t get a chance to go anywhere before your birthday.
I suppose that’s only fair.
Their excitement and happiness faded a bit as they remembered their situation. The charms on the room made them feel miles away from anyone else, and the breakfast waiting by the door was simply another degree of separation After eating, they put their swimming costumes back on and Shifted out to the pond. The day was overcast and slightly cool, which seemed to suit their mood.
This time, they brought along the Nimbus, thinking that they might like to fly a bit, even if they preferred to stay out of sight of the house. Ginny quickly liberated Fred’s broom from the shed, and they flew in easy circles around the pond, practicing flying in different directions and speeds as much as they could manage. When they wanted a break, they left the brooms on the grass and waded into the pond.
Shortly before noon, Mr. Weasley approached on foot, and Harry and Ginny climbed out of the pond to meet him. “Good morning, Mr. Weasley,” Harry said. “We thought you’d be out earlier.”
“Oh, I was,” the older man replied, “but you didn’t look like you needed interrupting. Happy birthday, Harry.”
“Thanks.”
“I hope you didn’t mind being left alone all morning,” Mr. Weasley said. “I kept the boys in the house to have a bit of a talk. If you’re willing, I thought we might all try to have lunch together in the house. If you don’t want to, just say so, and we won’t do it. I think we’re ready, though, if you are.”
What do you think? Ginny asked.
Harry shrugged. They don’t have to be nice and friendly and all that. So long as they’re polite, it’ll be okay. If they’re not, we’ll go to Professor McGonagall.
Ginny agreed after a moment. She knew that her father was aware of the risk. “You’re sure?”
Mr. Weasley sighed. “I’m not absolutely sure of anything these days, Ginny, but I’m as sure as I’m going to get for a while. We have to try sometime, right?”
“Alright. We’ll try it.”
“Let’s go, then,” Ginny’s father said, waving them towards the house. “Perhaps if lunch works out, we can try for dinner and something a bit special for our birthday boy.”
In a moment of subdued joy, Harry realised that he had never in his life heard anyone call him the ‘birthday boy’.
Ginny smiled warmly as she reached out to take her father’s hand on one side and Harry’s on the other. “That’d be nice, Daddy.”
Lunch was tense but not hostile. Starting with Ron, all of the Weasleys wished Harry a happy birthday, promising presents for him that evening. Mrs. Weasley offered him seconds and thirds of everything, and she was unfailingly polite and surprisingly cheerful whenever she spoke to Harry or Ginny. Though still actively upset with the woman, they both made an effort to be courteous. Percy was completely silent and did not look at them at all, but they expected that from him.
The twins started a discussion of Hogwarts Quidditch, and neither Harry nor Ginny could resist discussing the next year’s prospects. For a few moments, they almost felt as though they were having a normal conversation with her family. The awkwardness around the table resurfaced at every lull in the conversation, however, and by one o’clock most of the people at the table were staring at each other uncertainly.
Harry and Ginny thanked Mrs. Weasley for lunch, and then he Shifted to Privet Drive. When Ron and the twins announced that they would be playing Quidditch again, Ginny said that she might join them later. She did not think that her brothers would want to talk about the tensions in the house, but she preferred to have an opportunity to relax before taking that chance. After climbing the stairs to put away the Nimbus and getting the usual charms from her father, she returned to the pond alone.
At Privet Drive, Harry was surprised to find the kitchen already spotless. Shrugging, he started upstairs to work in the bathroom, but as soon as he ran the water to clean the tub, he heard a voice shouting from below.
“Boy!” his uncle yelled. “Boy, is that you?”
What can he want?
I don’t know, but be ready to leave at a moment’s notice, Ginny said.
Harry walked back into the hallway and looked down the stairs, but Vernon was not in sight. “Err… yes,” he said loudly.
“Don’t come down! Stay there and listen. We’re having very important guests over for dinner this evening, and it’s absolutely vital that their experience be perfect. You’ll need to scrub the floors in the hall, dust the furniture, and hoover the downstairs carpets this afternoon. Stay out of the kitchen, and don’t even think about touching the oven. When you’ve done, I want you gone! The Masons will be here at six thirty, so you need to leave by five thirty. Understand me?”
Ginny bristled at the injustice of Vernon’s request, but Harry saw it as a reprieve. He would have had to do those things within the next few days anyway, and surely thirty minutes could not matter very much for the wards. “Alright, I’ll be gone.”
“Good!” his uncle yelled. “Now do some work for a change. We’re going to be out until five thirty. And stay out of the kitchen!”
Within moments, the front door slammed, and then Harry heard Vernon’s car pulling out of the drive.
That was odd, Ginny said.
Yeah, but I’m glad they’re not around, regardless of the reason.
Harry began dusting, and Ginny sat on the grass near the pond, her knees pulled up to her chest and her chin on her forearms.
Sort of the same, isn’t it? My family’s around, but we hardly see them, either.
Lunch wasn’t too bad.
Oh, it was very cordial, and it was a lot better than some others have been recently, but it was nothing like it should be.
Harry felt something underlying her words, something they had not yet been able to define. What is it, Ginny? he asked gently.
It’s . . . She sighed and looked around at the pond and the nearby woods. What does it matter that we live here? We could sleep anywhere and spend our time anywhere, and as long as we turned up for meals, it would be just the same as it is now. What’s the point? We don’t see much of anyone in my family.
But . . . he paused, hesitant to point out a flaw in her complaint, but he knew it was better to speak. You’ve been telling them you wanted to be alone in the afternoons, Ginny. You could see them if you wanted to. You could probably see them right now.
Ginny dropped her head back onto her arms. I know, she said, half sobbing. I know I could, and I want to, but I can’t. And I can’t work out why I can’t!
They were silent for a few moments as Harry polished the surface of Petunia’s coffee table. It’s because we’re not sure anymore, he decided. We’re not sure that anyone’s going to be the way they should be.
So it’s easier not to have to find out.
Yeah. We should, though.
You’re right. I’ll play Quidditch with them or something, but not right now. Not yet.
Alright, Harry said. Later, then.
She knew that Harry would not let her stay away from her family if she truly wanted to see them, so she nodded. Later.
Ginny was swimming lazily across the pond when she spotted a blonde figure clad in a yellow dress approaching along the stream. Surprised, Ginny froze for a moment.
“Luna!” she called out. Smiling, Ginny Shifted directly to Luna and hugged her oldest friend. “What are you doing here?”
“Hello, Alex,” Luna said. “Dad unexpectedly had to meet someone in Knockturn Alley again this afternoon, so he sent me over here. He doesn’t think I know where he’s gone, though.”
“It’s great to see you,” Ginny said, releasing Luna. “Oh, dear, I’ve got you all wet.”
“That’s alright. I was too warm anyway.”
The two girls walked back to the pond, and Ginny dried them both with her wand. When they sat down, Luna began picking particularly long blades of grass and deftly braiding them together. “How are you, Alex?”
Slowly and hesitantly, Ginny told Luna everything that had happened in the last two days. By the time she finished, she had once again wrapped her arms around her knees and was staring out across the pond. “Today,” she concluded, “I can’t help thinking about what it would be like if we left.”
“It would be the same, only worse.”
Ginny had not expected an answer, but she turned her head towards Luna anyway. “How do you mean?”
“You’re upset because your family doesn’t behave the way they used to. They don’t seem as happy, and you’re afraid that you’re what’s making them sad. Then you’re afraid that you’ll keep making them sadder until they’re never able to be happy again, and that makes you sad.”
That’s a very blunt way to put it.
“So you think that if you left perhaps they’d be happy again,” Luna continued. “You’re wrong, though.”
“How do you know?” Ginny asked, stunned.
“It’s simple. If you left, they’d be the people who made you leave, and those people couldn’t be very happy people unless they were the ones that helped you come back.”
You know, I think she’s right, Harry said after a few heartbeats of stunned silence.
Ginny’s mind reeled as she tried to process what Luna had said, but somehow Harry understood.
Your dad loves you more than anything, Ginny. I don’t think he’d ever be happy again if you left. Ron wouldn’t get to tease you anymore, and he’d miss that, I think. The twins . . . well, I can’t imagine that they’d ever be the same.
And Mum?
If she didn’t love you and want you around, she wouldn’t try to be nice at all.
Ginny blinked. You’re defending her?
No, Harry said. She doesn’t like me, much less love me, and I don’t like her too much right now either. That doesn’t mean I can’t tell that she loves you.
It should be the same thing! she replied hotly.
But it isn’t. Why would it be? She doesn’t see us as . . . you know, Alex, so she has no reason to love me.
Blinking back tears, Ginny said, It shouldn’t be so easy for you to say that.
She felt Harry’s gentle smile clearly. Maybe. But it is.
I love you, Harry.
I know, Ginevra. I love you, too.
Ginny raised her eyes to find Luna smiling patiently. “You’ve worked it out, haven’t you?” the blonde girl asked.
“I suppose we have,” Ginny said.
“Good.” Luna raised her hands, and Ginny saw that she had made a loop out of freshly-braided grass. The blonde girl placed the circlet on Ginny’s head and patted it into place. “Happy birthday. It matches your eyes.” Without waiting for a response, Luna climbed to her feet and pulled her dress over her head to reveal her swimming costume. Placing the dress, her shoes, and Ginny’s old hair band in a neat pile, Luna waded into the pond.
Still bemused, but now distracted by her friend’s behaviour, Ginny followed Luna into the pond. “Luna? Are you alright?”
The blonde girl turned to face her, and for the first time Ginny noticed that her eyes were slightly red. “I don’t like it when Dad goes places that he won’t take me,” Luna said quietly. “It scares me, and I wish he wouldn’t do it.”
“He’ll be fine, Luna, you’ll see,” Ginny said bracingly. “I’m sure he doesn’t want to leave you alone any more than you want to be left.”
Luna and Ginny lounged in the water and talked for most of the afternoon, though Ginny was careful not to submerge her head and ruin Luna’s wreath. Around four o’clock, Mr. Weasley came out to the pond to say that Mr. Lovegood was home again. Luna said goodbye and left immediately to Floo back to her house.
Harry finished his vacuuming shortly before the Dursleys’ deadline, and at the stroke of five thirty he Shifted to the pond to sit with Ginny. A few minutes later, Mr. Weasley Apparated onto the grass nearby.
“Oh, hello, Harry. You’re here early. Is everything alright in Surrey?” They could hear the concern in her father’s voice, and it reassured them in some way.
“It’s fine, Mr. Weasley. They’re having a dinner party, and they wanted me well clear before their guests showed up. I think Uncle Vernon’s trying to impress someone for his company.”
“I feel badly for them, whoever they are,” Ginny said.
“You never know, sweetheart,” Mr. Weasley said, shrugging. “Some people like that sort of thing. In any case, do you two want to join us for dinner? Your mother’s cooking up something a bit grander than usual, and I think she’s got a pudding going, too.”
Ginny and Harry nodded, Luna’s words still echoing in their minds. “Alright, we’ll go,” she said.
“Perfect. Oh, Hedwig came back with something for you from Hermione, Harry. There might be one or two other presents lying around, as well.”
Harry smiled hesitantly as they walked towards the house. He could no longer count the number of real presents he had received on one hand, but he looked forward to someday not being able to count them on his fingers at all. As that thought flickered through their minds, Ginny put her arm around his waist and leaned her head against his shoulder for a few steps.
Harry and Ginny went upstairs to change out of their swimming costumes, and Harry brushed Ginny’s hair until Mr. Weasley called them back downstairs. Then, with a final affectionate stroke of his hand, Harry carefully put Luna’s woven circlet back in place.
Dinner was, indeed, more elaborate than usual. Mrs. Weasley had somehow identified a few of Harry’s favourites, and the kitchen table groaned with steak and kidney pie, boiled potatoes, fresh peas and carrots from the garden, and steaming hot rolls. He was amazed to see six wrapped packages waiting on the bench near the door to the living room.
Harry was seated at the head of the table, in Mr. Weasley’s usual place, and Ginny took the chair to his left as the rest of the family rearranged themselves. Her father conjured a purple party hat for Harry to wear that said “Happy Birthday Harry” in flashing golden letters. When he noticed the circlet in Ginny’s hair and found out where she had got it, Mr. Weasley cast a complicated charm on it which he said would keep it from ever drying up and falling apart as long as they were careful with it.
Fred and George entertained everyone during dinner by describing some of the pranks they had pulled on their own birthdays in the past. When Ginny mentioned that she and Harry were going to shop for her birthday present to him in Diagon Alley, Mr. Weasley and Ron enthusiastically joined the twins in suggesting possible gifts. Ron thought that Harry could only want a Cannons shirt, while Mr. Weasley suggested that Harry might like to have his own set of chess pieces. The twins, defying prediction, suggested that Harry buy the largest ice-cream sundae that Fortescue could build. Percy sat stiffly and silently through dinner, as usual, which pleased Harry. He did not think that he would be able to tolerate much more from Ginny’s brother.
Mrs. Weasley was quiet throughout the meal, though she tutted familiarly at some of the twins’ exploits and ideas. When everyone had finished eating, she silently got up from the table and began working at the oven. Mr. Weasley levitated all of the dirty dishes into the sink, and then he floated Harry’s pile of presents over to the kitchen table. “Tuck in, Harry,” he said. “That smallish, rectangular one came with Hedwig, and those other two wrapped in string came with regular post owls.”
Curious, Harry first reached for Hermione’s gift, and he was not surprised to find that it felt very much like a book. Sure enough, he unwrapped a copy of The A to Z of Card Games.
That’ll be handy. There’s bound to be something in there that we can play besides Patience.
Trust Hermione to think of that.
Hagrid had sent a large tin of something brown, which everyone supposed to be some sort of sweet. Before ‘accidentally’ dropping it in the bin, Ginny made everyone promise to say that they had eaten and enjoyed the whatever-it-was.
The third owl-delivered package turned out to be from Professor McGonagall. Harry ripped open the paper, and Ron and the twins all oooh’d and aaah’d over the brand new “Quality Quidditch’s Eleventy-Seven Piece Broom Servicing Kit.” Harry flipped open the lid of the handsome wooden case, and inside he found a short note.
“Look, Harry . . . four sizes of twig-clippers!” Ron said happily. “That’ll be loads better than hacking up your broom with scissors. Can I borrow them once you’ve done the Nimbus?”
Harry nodded. “You can borrow them first, if you’d like.”
“Brilliant, thanks.”
“Open this one next,” George said, pushing one of the last three boxes across the table. “We went in with Ron for it.”
The three brothers had bought Harry a set of model broomsticks. Harry readily recognised a Nimbus Two-Thousand, a Cleansweep Seven, and Comet Two-Sixty. Tiny nameplates identified the other two brooms as a Twigger Ninety and an Oakshaft Seventy-Nine. Each scale replica was only four to five inches long, and they hovered above a polished block of wood, tethered by tiny ropes and harnesses.
“If you take off the strings and prod the base with your wand, they’ll race along in a straight line until they hit something,” Fred said.
“According to the catalogue,” Ron added, “the Nimbus almost always wins in the short run, but if you give them a really long time, the Oakshaft can catch up in the end.”
Ginny and Harry had seen the catalogue, also, and they knew that the set of toys had cost the brothers several weeks’ worth of their pocket money. Ginny had once received pocket money as well, but she had stopped asking for it, feeling a bit uncomfortable with the idea. For the same reason, they did not mention the cost of the models at all.
Harry nodded to all three boys, slightly overwhelmed at finally receiving a gift that he could play with, rather than something practical he could wear, eat, or use in school. “This is really brilliant, guys. Thanks a lot.”
Percy’s gift was a box of Ice Mice, which was hardly inspired but which Harry did appreciate. The older boy’s stiff “you’re welcome” was the first time he had spoken directly to Harry or Ginny that day.
Finally, Mr. Weasley pushed the largest of the presents in front of Harry. He knew what sort of gift usually came in boxes like this, but he also knew better than to develop any sort of expectations. Harry opened the box easily and, to his surprise, lifted out a thick pile of clothes. Jeans, shorts, shirts, and t-shirts filled his arms, all apparently in his size. He could tell that they were not new, but Ginny’s experience also told him that they had been carefully selected to be as nice-looking as possible.
Harry paused, staring at the colourful clothing spread out in front of him. This was precisely what Mr. and Mrs. Weasley usually bought for Ginny and her brothers on their birthdays. Aside from that shocking thought, he realised that he now actually had options for what to wear. Ever since returning from Hogwarts, he had spent most days in his swimming trunks, the shorts he had made from Ron’s old jeans, and one of a few t-shirts he had borrowed from Ginny. Everything else he owned had once been Dudley’s, and he had long since become sick of wearing things that were far too large for him.
Mr. Weasley smiled broadly when Harry looked up at him. “Try on one of those shirts, Harry. Let’s see if they fit.”
Grinning, Harry pulled off the t-shirt he had been wearing and picked out a red shirt with a button-down collar. He fastened it carefully and then stood up so that Ginny could see it clearly. She tugged at the collar and sleeves a bit and then nodded. “It looks nice on you.”
“Well done, Molly,” Mr. Weasley called across the kitchen. “That eye of yours hasn’t failed us yet.”
Realising instantly what Mr. Weasley was trying to say, Harry looked up at Ginny’s mother and managed to catch her eye. “Thank you very much, Mrs. Weasley. I really appreciate it,” he said, knowing his voice was very stiff. The obvious source of the gift troubled him somewhat, but he could not deny that he already treasured the complete novelty of having everyday clothes that actually fit him.
The woman’s smile was as forced as Harry’s, but Ginny felt sure that it was not completely false. “You’re very welcome, Harry. I’m glad you like them. Clear the table, everyone. It’s time for pudding.”
Within moments, the wrapping paper had been cleared and the gifts set aside in a neat pile. Harry kept the model brooms on the table between Ginny and himself, watching them idly moving about on their tethers. Mrs. Weasley opened the oven and brought out a huge treacle tart, and the aroma instantly caught Harry’s attention. He watched, enraptured in spite of himself, as she carried it across the kitchen and set it down right in front of him. “Happy birthday, Harry.”
“That looks delicious,” he said honestly.
“D’you want a plate, or should we just give you a fork and get out of the way?” Fred asked.
George held out a plate, and Harry took it eagerly. With careful motions, he scooped out a precise eighth of the tart and placed it in the centre of the small plate. He added a fork from the table, set the pudding in front of Ginny, and then took a second plate from George.
“Harry, you eat it,” Ginny said. “It’s your birthday.”
He looked up at Mr. Weasley. “It’s mine, isn’t it?”
The red-haired man beamed. “Yes, Harry, it’s all yours.”
“Good. Then I’m doing what I want with it,” Harry said.
You’re stubborn, Ginny said lightly, not quite understanding the glee in their minds. When her thoughts caught up, she laughed aloud and dutifully began eating. Harry served everyone else in the kitchen, and then he sat down to eat his own slice just as Ginny finished hers.
Mrs. Weasley nibbled at the dessert, but after only a few moments she turned to Ginny. “If you . . . if you don’t mind my asking, dear, what was so funny?”
“Oh, ahh . . .” Mrs. Weasley had not spoken anything more than pleasantries since Ginny had called her ‘bloody stupid’, so Ginny was surprised and uncertain how to respond. She glanced up at her father, who nodded encouragingly. “Well, you see, Harry decided that if I ate my piece before he ate his piece, then he’d get to taste two whole pieces without taking one from anyone else.”
Ron, Mr. Weasley, and the twins all laughed, and after a moment Mrs. Weasley’s lips twisted into the tiniest of grins. “That’s quite a compliment, when you think about it,” she said softly. Then, to Harry’s surprise, she pushed her plate across the table to him. “Three is even better than two, I’d say.”
Harry blinked, nonplussed. “But . . . that one’s yours, Mrs. Weasley.”
“Don’t worry, I can make treacle tart any time I feel inclined.”
“Oh, well . . . thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Mrs. Weasley glanced at Ron, nodded firmly, and then returned to the sink, where she began directing the dishes to wash themselves.
As Harry resumed eating, Ginny looked up and found her father smiling at them. I don’t know what he said to Mum, she said, but it must have been pretty spectacular.
Whatever it was, it took him the better part of two days. Do you think this’ll last?
I don’t know, truly. But at least she’s acting sort of like a mum now.
When they had finished the treacle tart, Harry and Ginny gathered his presents into their arms and Shifted up to her room to put them away. As soon as they appeared, however, they dumped everything on her bed and drew their wands.
A tiny figure with huge, flapping ears was crouching over the lowest drawer of Ginny’s bureau. Her pyjamas were lying on the floor in front of that drawer, and as Harry and Ginny arrived, the creature froze in the process of poking one long finger at the middle button of the pyjama top. It dropped the pyjamas and raised its hands to cover its head as Harry and Ginny stared at it in shock.
A house-elf? What’s a house-elf doing in my room? Ginny wondered, momentarily more incredulous than alarmed. She had never heard of a house-elf harming a person, and in fact they were known to be almost unbelievably docile.
“What are you doing here?” Harry asked.
The elf crouched lower still, wringing its ears with its hands, and Harry could see that it was wearing what appeared to be a very old and filthy pillowcase. “Dobby is . . . is . . .” the creature wailed softly and tugged its ears again. “Dobby doesn’t want to lie, sir. Dobby wants to talk.”
They were not sure if the elf was answering their question or making a request. “What were you doing with my pyjamas?” Ginny asked.
“Ohhhhh . . . Dobby won’t lie, won’t lie to the nice wizards, the great wizards. He won’t. Dobby was . . .” His prominent Adam’s apple bobbed hugely. “Dobby was trying to tickle the charms, but he can’t find them.”
Harry and Ginny took a step forward and centred their wands on the elf’s forehead. “You?!” Harry demanded. “You’ve been setting off those stupid alarms?!”
“Yes, yes, Dobby has done it for safety! Dobby is so very sorry, so sorry to make trouble for —”
“Sorry! You’re sorry?!” Ginny shouted, ignoring the sweat forming on her neck and brow.
“Yes, most sorry, and Dobby will punish himself, he’ll bang his elbows and iron his ears and . . .”
Ginny cut him off, an incantation to destroy his nose hovering at the front of her mind and waiting to be released. “That doesn’t help! You’ve ruined my whole family! I don’t ruddy care if you’re sorry!”
“No, no, but . . .”
“But nothing!” she cried, unconsciously leaning forward and jabbing her wand towards the elf. Dobby’s feet left the ground completely as he shot across the room, and he impacted the far wall with a heavy, wet crunch.
The tiny elf dragged himself into a sitting position. “Dobby deserved that. He’s not broken — Miss can do it again if she pleases.”
“You do deserve it! My family is broken! You broke it! I haven’t spoken properly to my mother in weeks! My father cries every day! It’s all your fault!”
Harry stood off to one side with his jaw clenched in anger. They had always known that they were right, but they had never really suspected that anyone or anything was deliberately setting off the alarms on the pyjamas.
Dobby pulled his knees to his chest. “All Dobby’s fault, yes, but to be safe! Dobby wants only to help!”
“You didn’t help! You ruined everything!” At the last moment, Ginny refocused her ire into a different incantation. “Petrificus Totalus!”
With a pop, Dobby disappeared before the spell reached him, and Harry saw him blink into existence a few feet away. The pathetic creature was still well within Ginny’s field of view, and he did not attempt to move any further.
The sight before him triggered something deep and primal in Harry’s memory, pulling him slightly out of their rage. Ginny . . .
He did it! It’s all his fault!
Ginny, look! With an indescribable effort, Harry pushed his memory-vision into their minds. In front of him, a completely enraged person holding a wand loomed over a much smaller figure, who was apparently incapable of defending himself.
But . . . but he . . .
He walked up next to her and pulled gently backwards on her shoulder. You can’t, Ginny. You just can’t. And you don’t really want to.
With a bang, the door separated from its frame and fell into the room. Fred stood in the opening, his wand raised. “What’s wrong, Ginny?” he asked urgently. “The hall is baking, and . . . what the hell is that doing here?”
“Ginny and Harry Potter mustn’t hurt themselves or the Wheezys! No, Dobby couldn’t bear it!” Before Harry or Ginny could react, the house-elf bounded forward and touched both of their knees. After a moment of overwhelming noise, they found themselves falling directly into their pond.
Shocked beyond response, they fell into the cool water and surfaced, spluttering. As soon as they had gained their bearings, they Shifted to the shore, where Dobby stood in the crumbling grass. “What was that for?” Harry demanded.
“Dobby can’t let Ginny and Harry Potter hurt themselves!” He snapped his fingers, and they were both completely dry. “They were too hot, they were much too hot. Dobby is sorry for putting them in the water.” With a small grunt, Dobby spun and charged directly at one of the boulders. His forehead struck the rock with a meaty thud, and he fell back into the grass for a moment before regaining his feet woozily.
Dobby backed away and began to run at the rock again, but Harry caught him by his spindly arm. “What are you doing?”
“Dobby is punishing himself! Oh, but Dobby shouldn’t do that. Dobby has angered Ginny and Harry Potter, and so they must want to do his punishing. Shall Dobby fetch a hot iron or a large stick? Perhaps they would rather use their wands more? Dobby will sit still.”
The tiny creature collapsed onto the grass again, his head bowed and his body shaking with high-pitched sobs. Ginny, realising that the house-elf could have left at any time and was deliberately remaining at their mercy, took a deep breath and put away her wand. She carefully pushed her rage into the back of her mind and exhaled slowly to try to find a hint of balance.
“Dobby,” she said in a tightly controlled voice. “Is that your name?”
He cringed at the sound of her voice and spoke without looking up. “Yes, great Lady. Dobby is wretched Dobby’s name.”
Let me, Harry said, pocketing his wand.
Ginny backed up a few steps, distancing herself from the temptation to act upon her temper.
Thinking of Mr. Weasley’s calming actions from Christmas Day, Harry dropped to sit in the grass a few feet away, and Ginny followed his example. “Look up at us, Dobby,” Harry said gently. “We’ve put our wands away, see?”
The elf’s huge green eyes appeared for a moment. “Yes, Dobby sees. Ginny and Harry Potter don’t need their wands for punishment, Dobby knows. They are great and powerful.”
Harry and Ginny took deep breaths and released them slowly, trying to attain the calm Harry hoped to project. “We’re not going to hurt you, Dobby.”
When Dobby did not respond, Harry tried a different tack. “Why have you been setting off the alarms?”
“To keep Ginny and Harry Potter safe, sir.”
Ginny’s anger surged in their minds again, but Harry pushed it back. We need to know more.
“How would that keep us safe?” Harry asked Dobby.
“If Ginny and Harry Potter don’t want to be around her family, they won’t go to Hogwarts.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Ginny said vehemently, unable to completely restrain herself. “If not here, we’d rather be at Hogwarts.”
Dobby shook his head. “There are lots of Wheezys at Hogwarts, and Lady Wheezy can get them there. If they don’t go to Hogwarts, they will be safe. They mustn’t go to Hogwarts!”
That makes no sense at all, Ginny said bitterly.
Mr. Weasley’s voice, loud and urgent, reached them from somewhere out of sight. “Ginny! Harry!”
Ginny scrambled to her feet, ignoring Dobby’s flinch, and stepped forward to stand next to Harry. “Dad!” she cried as loudly as she could.
“No!” Dobby moaned. With another pop, he vanished and reappeared between Harry and Ginny, and a moment later they were once again engulfed by noise.
Wherever they were, they arrived there just as they had left, with Ginny standing and Harry sitting in the grass. Harry jumped to his feet as they looked around, trying to determine where they had been taken. Both of them drew their wands.
After only a moment, Ginny recognised The Burrow at the crest of the next hill and their pond in the shallow valley in between.
“Please!” Dobby said. “Ginny and Harry Potter must listen to Dobby!”
Knowing where they were and confident that they could escape instantly, Harry and Ginny found themselves focused on the puzzle Dobby represented. “Why mustn’t we go to Hogwarts, Dobby?” Harry asked. In the distance, he saw red sparks fly into the air over The Burrow.
“Hogwarts is dangerous, sir. Very dangerous for Harry Potter, and anything bad for Harry Potter is very bad for Ginny Potter.”
Ginny froze, mentally and physically. She had happily pondered that name from time to time, but she had never heard it spoken, and she certainly had not expected Dobby to say it. “My name is Ginny Weasley,” she whispered.
The house-elf shrugged and began absently pinching his ear between his fingernails. “Dobby is very sorry, but you is confused about Lady’s name. He thinks it should be Ginny Potter.”
Do you mind if we let that one go for now? Harry asked.
I suppose not. It’s just . . . surprising.
Harry turned back to Dobby. “Why is Hogwarts dangerous for us?”
Dobby wailed and banged his head against the ground. “Dobby mustn’t say, Dobby won’t say!”
“Why not?”
“House-elves mustn’t speak badly of their masters and mistresses. Dobby will have to iron his ears for a week because he came here.”
“Who is your master?” Harry asked. When Dobby did not reply, he tried again. “What is it that’s dangerous at Hogwarts?”
“Mustn’t, won’t, mustn’t!” Dobby moaned. “Hogwarts is horribly dangerous! Terrible things will happen! You’ll see. Ginny and Harry Potter must stay away!” He snapped his head up to fix them with his luminous green gaze. “Please say they won’t go to Hogwarts. Please? They must stay safe! They is much too wonderful and nice. Harry Potter saved everyone! Ginny and Harry Potter must be safe.”
“Dobby . . .” Harry began slowly. “We’re going back to Hogwarts in the autumn. There’s no way we’d stay away. That’s the place where we’re happiest.”
“Better to be safe! Not happy! If Harry Potter is hurt or . . . or killed, everything will be bad again! All house-elves will be treated the way Dobby is.”
“What do you —?”
“Bad Dobby!” the elf shouted, banging his head on the ground again and twisting his toes harshly. “Bad, wicked Dobby!”
Whatever it is, he really can’t say it, Ginny realised.
He can’t say lots of things, it sounds like.
“We’re sorry, Dobby, but we’re going to have to take the chance. We belong at Hogwarts.”
Dobby rolled to his feet and wrung his hands together. “Dobby was afraid they would say that. He knew they were not cowards. Gryffindors, they is, not Zytherins. But they must stay away, and Dobby will see to it that they does so!”
“What do you mean?” Harry asked cautiously.
“Dobby can keep Harry Potter away from Hogwarts. Ugly-stupid-Muggles aren’t supposed to see magic. Dobby can keep Harry Potter away, and Ginny Potter won’t go without Harry Potter.” In a loud flash, Dobby was gone.
What does he mean? What do Muggles have to do with anything? Harry wondered.
The Decree! Ginny said. He seems to know about everything else that’s been going on. He must know about the Dursleys’ dinner party, too!
Oh, bugger. They thought furiously for a moment. Alright, you try to get help from your parents or McGonagall, and I’ll try to stop him.
Go!
Harry Shifted to his room at Privet Drive, and a moment later Ginny appeared just outside the house. She could already hear voices from inside, though she could not distinguish any of the words. Harry started down the stairs, as quickly and quietly as he could manage, while Ginny pulled open the back door of The Burrow.
Her mother was sitting at the kitchen table, staring at the family clock, while the twins stood at the far side of the room. “Mum!” Ginny cried, not caring at that moment which adult she approached. “We need someone to go to —”
She got no further. When Ginny first opened the door, Mrs. Weasley surged up from the table. With wide eyes, she rushed across the kitchen, dropped to her knees, and pulled Ginny into a crushing hug. “Oh, Ginny, my dear little Ginny. We thought you’d been kidnapped! Are you alright? What happened?”
“It was a house-elf. He took us to the other side of the valley. We’re both fine, but . . .”
“Wait! Wait! Oh, I’ve got to tell your father.” Mrs. Weasley released Ginny almost abruptly and drew her wand. She raised her left hand and held the tip of her wand against her wedding ring for a few seconds.
Harry tiptoed from the bottom of the staircase into the hallway, but he did not see Dobby. As he crept through the house, he could hear the Dursleys talking boastfully, presumably to their important guests.
Fred put down the broomstick he was carrying, and the two brothers took turns hugging Ginny even as she tried to get someone’s full attention. Percy appeared in the doorway from the living room, and Ginny was momentarily pleased to see that he looked relieved. Just as the twins began to question her, Mr. Weasley and Ron strode in through the back door, each carrying a broom. Their tousled hair showed that they had recently been flying at more than casual speeds.
Her father picked her up from the ground and held her tightly against him. “Oh, Ginny, you scared us,” he said simply. “Where’s Harry?”
“He’s at the Muggles’ house. You see . . .”
She was interrupted once again by a sharp crack from the back garden, and before the sound had faded, Professor McGonagall stormed through the doorway.
Harry reached the kitchen and peered inside. Dobby was standing on Petunia’s pristine worktop, pointing one long finger at the ceiling. Harry followed the finger and saw Petunia’s elaborate pudding floating near the ceiling, poised over the open floor.
“Dobby!” he whispered. “Stop!”
“Ginny and Harry Potter mustn’t go back to Hogwarts! Dobby will stop if he says they won’t go!”
“We have to. It’s . . .”
“Dobby is so very, very sorry, sir.”
With a sharp flick of his finger, Dobby sent the pudding crashing to the floor. The glass dish shattered loudly, and cream splattered the entire kitchen. Above the noise, Harry heard maniacal laughter in what sounded disturbingly like his own voice.
“Oh, no,” Ginny moaned into her father’s shoulder, ignoring McGonagall, who was all but running across the room towards her.
Shrieks and startled swearing came from the dining room at Privet Drive, and a moment later Vernon Dursley came barrelling into the kitchen.
“Ginny, what is it?” Mr. Weasley asked.
McGonagall’s voice rang in the crowded kitchen as she placed one hand on Ginny’s shoulder. “What’s going on now? You’ve found Ginny, but where’s Harry?”
“You!” Vernon snarled, hopping from foot to foot, his knees pressed tightly together and a grimace of hideous discomfort on his face, obviously struggling to keep his voice down. “I might’ve known. Came by just to ruin things for me, did you? Think it’s all quite funny, do you? You little bastard!” Enraged, the rotund man snatched up a gravy boat from the shelf near the door and hurled it at Harry’s head. It missed by over a foot and exploded into fragments against the far wall. “You’ll regret the day you were born once I’m done with you!”
Get out! Ginny ordered. Get out right now!
Harry was more than happy to comply, and he Shifted to a bit of open space in The Burrow’s kitchen.
Ginny insistently pushed away from her father and McGonagall and Shifted directly to Harry. Even knowing that she was coming, he was still a bit surprised to find his face abruptly pressed into a swirling curtain of red tresses.
“Harry, Ginny,” McGonagall said commandingly. “Are you hurt or in any danger?”
Ginny turned her head far enough that Harry could see past her hair. “No, Professor, not anymore,” he said.
“Let’s all sit down, then, and hear what’s going on,” Mr. Weasley suggested, sighing in relief. Everyone sat around the kitchen table, and Ginny sat in Harry’s lap. They told themselves that it was to allow Professor McGonagall to have a chair, but they both knew that there was much more to it than that.
Before they had fully settled, Hedwig swooped into the room from the back door and landed on Harry’s shoulder. From there, she pushed her head affectionately against both Harry and Ginny’s cheeks.
“What’s this about a house-elf, then?” Mr. Weasley asked. “Fred mentioned it, too.”
Ginny began to explain what had happened, but she did not get very far before her father interrupted her.
“Wait, please. You say that a house-elf named Dobby has been setting off your pyjamas all along?” he asked.
“Yes. He admitted it and everything,” Ginny said firmly.
“I saw him, Dad,” Fred said, looking uncomfortable. “Tiny little thing, no higher than my waist. He wasn’t messing with the pyjamas when I saw him, but they had been pulled out of the drawer.”
“A house-elf . . .” Mrs. Weasley breathed.
Before anyone else could react, a soft pop sounded from the garden again, and the Headmaster strode through the still-open door. “Ah, good,” he said, “everyone’s here.” Dumbledore waved his wand, and the table grew to accommodate the plush armchair that appeared behind his knees.
“Did you go to Surrey, Albus?” Professor McGonagall asked.
“Yes, I did. Apparently I arrived only seconds after Mr. Potter departed. Fascinating people, the Dursleys. Somehow, they manage to disappoint me more every time I see them, in spite of the ever-increasing difficulty of that feat. I have heard what passes for their version of events. Did I miss the true telling?”
“Ginny was just about to share it with us,” Mr. Weasley said, “but what concerns me most is how the whole mess got started. Ginny and Harry found a house-elf in their room, tampering with her pyjamas, and he admitted to having tripped the charms from the beginning. Does that make sense magically, Albus? Could a house-elf have caused the alarms to go off?”
“Certainly,” Dumbledore said, nodding. “Now that I think of it, I feel quite confident that they could be triggered by a house-elf. Elfin magic is different from that of wizards and witches, and it is extraordinarily versatile.”
“Oh, no,” Ginny’s mother sobbed suddenly. “Oh, no, no, no . . .” She leapt up from her chair and ran from the room, her face buried in her hands. Percy’s face paled as well, and Ron smirked triumphantly at him.
Mr. Weasley rose from his chair, but as he straightened he seemed to reconsider. With a tightly controlled expression, he sat back down at the table. “Alright, Ginny. What happened next?”
After briefly rehashing their discovery of Dobby, Ginny talked about their unplanned trip to the pond. As well as she could, she recounted their conversation with the house-elf, but she left out a few details that she did not think were important to her family. Then Harry took over with the story of what happened at Privet Drive.
When the tale was complete, Dumbledore smiled wryly. “Am I to understand, Harry, that you did not destroy all of Petunia’s best crockery while swearing at the top of your lungs?”
“Err . . . no. Dobby somehow made it sound like I was laughing, but I wasn’t.”
“Shocking.” The Headmaster’s face was impassive, but his eyes were alight. “I’m sure you’ll be heartbroken to hear that the dishes involved were, sadly, beyond even magical repair. I was in rather a hurry, also, so I may have left a few very durable muddy footprints.”
“Tragic,” Fred muttered. He and his brothers had sat quietly throughout the conversation, though they all appeared attentive.
Harry grinned. “That’s too bad, sir. Will you tell me how to clean it up before I go back?”
The Headmaster winked broadly. “Of course.”
“Albus,” McGonagall said with a quelling stare, “what are we to do about this erratic house-elf?”
The old man’s forehead furrowed in thought. “He gave no clue as to who owns him and no indication of what the danger at Hogwarts might be?”
“No, Headmaster,” Ginny said.
“Hmm,” Dumbledore said. After a moment, he raised his head. “Dobby!” Everyone in the kitchen waited silently for the space of a few breaths, but nothing happened. “Well, he is not a Hogwarts house-elf. Given that, I’m not sure that there is anything we can do. We have no way to locate him, and of course I do not know of any danger lurking at the school. Should he appear again, perhaps we might be able to glean a bit more information from him.
“In any case,” he continued, “I am sure you are all pleased to know the source of your charms’ malfunctions.”
Mr. Weasley’s face clouded as he nodded fractionally. “The truth is always best, even if it’s not universally appreciated.”
The kitchen was quiet as everyone absorbed what they had heard. To relieve the oppressive silence, Harry turned to McGonagall. “Thank you for the present, Professor.”
“You’re welcome, Harry,” she said, smiling slightly. “I hope you did not find it to be too self-serving on my part.”
Harry blinked. “I hadn’t really thought of that.”
“Oh, dear me,” Dumbledore said, “I’d almost forgotten.” He drew his wand and circled it, point-down, over the surface of the table. When he finished the motion, a large golden box of Honeydukes’ best chocolates appeared in front of Harry and Ginny. “There you are. Feel free to eat them all at once. I find the experience to be entirely worth the subsequent malaise.”
Harry replied as Ginny reached for the box. “Err, thanks, Professor. I think perhaps we’ll make them last a while, instead.”
“As you like, of course,” the Headmaster said, smiling.
Ginny popped a chocolate into her mouth. Wow, these are amazing. Even better than I thought they’d be.
Have another, then, Harry said, picking up a chocolate for himself.
“I’ll be off,” Dumbledore continued. “I assure you, Arthur, that I will be diligent in ensuring the safety of the school.”
Mr. Weasley looked up, a determined expression on his face. “A moment, Albus. After what Dursley said and did, I won’t allow Harry to be anywhere within his reach. I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night.”
Dumbledore tugged gently at his beard. “Yes, indeed. I should have thought of that more quickly. Is it time, then, for our contingency plan?”
“I think so,” Ginny’s father said, nodding. “It presents its own difficulties, but they have to be considered details at this point. Using it during the nights instead of the days doesn’t really make a difference to the plan itself.”
“Very well. Shall I wait for a few moments or return to Surrey immediately?”
Arthur glanced towards the door to the living room. He sighed and shook his head. “Go ahead. I’ll take care of things on this end. You’ll come back when you’re finished?”
Dumbledore nodded, waggled his fingers in farewell, and then went back out into the garden to Disapparate.
“What’s the new plan, Dad?” Ginny asked cautiously. She completely agreed that Vernon should not be allowed anywhere near Harry, but she did not know how to achieve that goal without forfeiting the protection of the wards at Privet Drive.
“The Headmaster and I came up with an extremely secure way to allow Harry to spend time at the Dursleys’ house, but it’s a bit drastic. We saved it as a backup plan, hoping that the old arrangement would last through the summer.” Mr. Weasley rose from the table and ran a hand through his hair. “You lot wait here. I only want to explain this once.”
“May I be excused?” Percy asked suddenly. Ginny thought he looked a bit pale. “I do not feel that I have anything to contribute to this conversation, and the outcome is unlikely to affect me.”
Ron, who had been watching Percy with a smug expression throughout the conversation, glared daggers at the taller boy, but Percy kept his eyes firmly fixed on the wall of the kitchen.
“Oh, fine,” Mr. Weasley huffed. “We’ll fill you in later.”
With a crisp nod, Percy started up the stairs, and Mr. Weasley continued into the living room. After a moment, Professor McGonagall leaned forward. “How are things here?” she asked in a soft voice.
“Umm . . .” Ginny glanced around the table at her three youngest brothers. “Quiet, I suppose.”
“We haven’t left yet,” Harry said simply.
McGonagall nodded. “I do hope that you will not have to.”
The door opened again, and Mr. Weasley led his wife into the kitchen. Her eyes were wide, her cheeks flushed, and she stood with a certain unyielding set to her shoulders.
After the two adults had taken their seats, Mr. Weasley cleared his throat. “Alright, this is what we’re going to do. As we speak, the Headmaster is removing the doorway to Harry’s room in Surrey and securing the window. The doorway will be replaced with a solid wall. The only way in or out of that room will be via magic, and he is adding a ward to prevent Apparition directly into the room.” He paused and took a deep breath. “Harry, you’ll be sleeping there at night.”
Ginny straightened in Harry’s lap, and she scowled fiercely. “But —”
Her father’s raised hand cut her off. “Yes, Ginny. You’ll be sleeping there, too.”
Mrs. Weasley sucked in a breath, but the rest of the room remained silent. Ginny blinked at her father. She had only been to Privet Drive in person once, for a few minutes in the middle of the night, and she had always assumed that she would never be allowed to go there with her parents' knowledge. She was relieved that her father was not trying to separate her from Harry at night, but the idea of actually sleeping away from The Burrow during the holidays was entirely foreign to her, even though they had frequently considered it. “Oh,” she said faintly.
“The only ways into that room will be Portkeys and your special mode of travel,” Mr. Weasley continued.
“Shifting,” Harry said distractedly. “Ginny named it Shifting.”
“Alright, Shifting, then,” the older man said, nodding and very faintly grinning. “The Dursleys won’t be able to reach you at all, and you need only go there to sleep at night. Back on the first day of the holidays, we considered doing this and asking Harry to spend his days there, but we thought that would be cruel. Being there in the afternoons meant you had to do work, but at least you were able to move around. We’re still not asking you to spend all day in that little room — rather, we’re going to use the same arrangement for sleeping instead, alright?”
Ginny’s mother made a soft, choked noise, and they looked over to find her brows furrowed in concern.
“Go ahead, Molly,” Mr. Weasley said gently. For a moment, his gaze moved obviously to Ron, and then he faced his wife squarely.
“I . . .” she said, tension plain in her voice. “I know this will sound . . .” She swallowed heavily and began again. “I know how this will sound, but . . . are you sure that’s wise?”
All expression drained from Harry’s face, and Ginny felt heat rush into her head.
“Please,” her mother continued, “I just mean that . . . What if something happens? What if . . . what if one of them is ill, or gets hurt by accident? There won’t be anyone to . . . to help them.” By the time she finished speaking, the woman was breathing heavily and squeezing her eyes closed each time her words faltered.
“That’s entirely valid, Molly,” Mr. Weasley said. “If something happens to one of them, the other can come and find us instantly. I’ll have a special Portkey that will let me go there and return as needed.”
“But what if something happens to them both, or they can’t . . . can’t Shift somehow? Wouldn’t it be better if there were someone else there? Perhaps . . .” Her eyes darted around the table. “Perhaps George could stay with them.”
“No,” Harry said firmly.
Mr. Weasley shook his head. “No, dear. All they’ll be doing is sleeping. They’ll even come back here to use the bathroom. They’ll be fine.”
Ginny’s mother looked around again, and her eyes settled on Professor McGonagall for a fraction of a heartbeat. Whatever she saw in the other woman’s face caused her expression to crumple a bit. She looked back at Mr. Weasley. “You’re sure?” she whispered.
“I’m sure.”
Mrs. Weasley stared sightlessly at the table for a moment, and then she looked back up at her husband. “Can you at least put Injury Alarm Charms on them? That way . . . that way we’ll know if they need help.”
“That’s an excellent idea,” Mr. Weasley said. “Would that be alright, you two?” he asked, turning to Harry and Ginny.
Reluctantly, Ginny nodded. They did not like the idea of any sort of monitoring, but she had carried that charm every day for most of her life.
“That’s what we’ll do, then.” Her father faced her mother again. “Alright, Molly?”
Her gaze dropping back to the table, Mrs. Weasley nodded. “Alright.”
Mr. Weasley smiled softly, squeezed her arm, and turned back to Harry and Ginny. “Understand, both of you, that those people are dangerous. You should never, under any circumstances, leave Harry’s room. You should only go there for sleeping. All of your clothes and things will be here, and if you’re going to do anything other than sleep, no matter what it is, you should be here with us. Is that quite clear?”
Ginny was still a bit surprised by the new arrangement, but she agreed wholeheartedly with her father. “We promise, Daddy. We don’t want to be there anyway.”
They all heard Dumbledore arrive in the garden, and he dropped into his armchair a moment later. He pulled a square envelope out of his robe and slid it across the table towards Harry. “I intercepted this at your relatives’ home, Mr. Potter. I believe it is for you.”
Harry picked up the letter and saw that it was, indeed, for him. After glancing around the table, he flipped open the folded sheet of parchment.
Ginny and Harry’s hearts began to race as they read the letter. Dobby had very nearly succeeded in having them expelled, and only the random generosity of a ministry official had spared them.
“From Miss Hopkirk, I presume?” McGonagall asked.
Harry nodded and passed the letter to his professor, who skimmed it before handing it on to the Headmaster. “Ah, how fortunate,” Dumbledore said. He looked up at Harry and Ginny, and his smile widened. “Oh, fear not. If necessary, we almost certainly could have evaded Mafalda’s dire consequences. That does not mean, of course, that the Decree can be flouted with impunity.”
Harry and Ginny nodded. Her parents had always had a very strict rule that the children were not allowed to do even the slightest bit of magic in Muggle areas.
Dumbledore turned towards Mr. Weasley. “The house is prepared,” he said. “I informed the Dursleys, but I don’t think it did any good. They seemed quite perturbed that they would be unable to have guests for the remainder of the summer.”
“Why not?” Ron asked, speaking for the first time.
“The missing door, Mr. Weasley,” Dumbledore replied. “The house obviously has a fourth bedroom when viewed from the outside, but there is no door to it on the inside. Someone might get suspicious,” he concluded, his beard twitching.
“Did ‘someone’ a favour, if you ask me,” George muttered.
“Too right,” Fred said. He grinned suddenly. “Could have put a fake door there if you’d wanted to, couldn’t you?”
“Perhaps, Mr. Weasley, but perhaps not. It is quite difficult magic,” the Headmaster said, now smiling openly. “Regardless, it is the Dursleys’ problem, not ours. Arthur, I took care to ensure that they do not know about Miss Weasley. As far as they are concerned, the changes are solely for Mr. Potter’s benefit.”
Mr. Weasley nodded gratefully. “Thank you, Albus.”
I wish we could somehow get them to not know about you, too, Ginny said.
“Hang on, Professor,” Ron said with a confused expression. “If Harry got a letter when the house-elf did magic in the Muggles’ house, won’t he get another one now since you did magic there?”
“An excellent question, Mr. Weasley,” the Headmaster said, his eyes brightening. “As it happens, there are some few small advantages to being in my position, and one of them is the right to inform the Ministry that I will be performing magic in an otherwise forbidden area.”
“Now that’s handy,” Fred said admiringly.
“Do you have the Portkey I’ll be using?” Mr. Weasley asked, bringing the conversation back to the topic at hand.
“Ah, yes,” Dumbledore said, nodding and pulling a matchbox out of his robes. “I do hope you’ll let me know how it works if you get more than a few opportunities to use it.”
“How it works?” Mrs. Weasley asked, her voice rising.
“Forgive me, Molly. I did not mean to imply that it would malfunction. This is a particular sort of Portkey which allows someone to go back and forth between two locations repeatedly without re-casting the charm. It is my own creation. I know for certain that it works, but I am interested to find out if it produces any abnormal sensations after many repetitions.”
Mr. Weasley took the matchbook and tucked it into his own pocket. “I rather hope that I don’t have much occasion to use it, but I’ll let you know how it feels when I do. Are you sure that it won’t cause a problem with the Ministry?”
“Quite sure. As I said, there are some advantages to being in my position.” The Headmaster stood up and Banished his chair, and the table returned to its normal size. “If there is nothing else, I will be on my way.”
“Good night, Albus,” Mr. Weasley said. “Thank you for your help.”
Dumbledore nodded, still smiling. “It truly was my pleasure. Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley . . . I’m glad that you won’t be dealing with those people any more this summer.” He turned towards the door, but before he reached it he stopped. “Oh, by the way, your spending the nights there should recharge the wards more quickly than we initially planned. I will be certain to let you know when that process is complete, and then you will not have to be there at all.”
Harry nodded. That idea sounded more appealing than anything else they had thought of. “Thank you,” he said.
“Again, my pleasure. A good evening to you all.”
“I will take my leave, also,” McGonagall said. “I will, as always, keep a sharp eye out for any potential danger at Hogwarts. Ginny and Harry, if you should ever encounter this ‘Dobby’ again, contact me immediately.”
“Alright, Professor, we will,” Harry said. “Thanks for coming.”
“You’re most welcome. I’m relieved that you are both safe. Good night, everyone.”
“Good night, Minerva,” Mrs. Weasley said, facing the older woman with an expression that Harry and Ginny could not interpret. The others chorused their farewells, and McGonagall departed from the garden with a soft pop.
“Well, then,” Mr. Weasley said energetically, “when you two are ready to go to sleep, let me know, and I’ll go along with you to Little Whinging this first time. Aside from that, I’m fairly certain that it’s still Harry’s birthday. What would you like to do for the rest of the evening, Harry?”
Mr. Weasley’s not-quite-forced cheerfulness reminded them momentarily of the previous Christmas, but Harry and Ginny carefully let that memory pass without attention. “Oh, err . . .” Harry had almost completely forgotten the date. It was abnormal for him to receive any extra attention on his birthday, and he certainly had not expected it. “I’d like to try out the model brooms, I think.”
“Let’s give them a go, then,” Mr. Weasley said.
The entire group moved into the living room, and Ginny Shifted upstairs to get the tiny brooms. When they were unleashed and activated, they performed exactly as expected. After a few straight races across the living room, all of which had the same results, the group began looking for longer or more interesting courses. Mr. Weasley hit upon the idea of launching the brooms at a slight elevation, which sent them climbing from floor to ceiling. Neither the Oakshaft nor the Twigger ever won, but the other three brooms performed very accurately under the varying conditions.
After little more than an hour, Harry and Ginny announced that they wanted to go to bed. They took turns in the bathroom and then met Mr. Weasley in Ginny’s room, even though it still did not have a functioning door. Harry had considered wearing some of his new clothes to sleep in, though the box had not included any pyjamas. At last, however, he had decided that he did not want to wrinkle them unnecessarily, so he continued to wear Dudley’s old pyjamas, which Ginny had long since shortened to fit him in at least one dimension.
Ginny carefully placed Luna’s circlet, which had survived the evening thanks to Mr. Weasley’s spells, on top of her bureau next to the hair-clip she had received from Hermione. Harry created Bun-bun and handed it to Ginny, knowing that he could not cast the spell once they left The Burrow. He regretfully eyed the set of toy brooms on Ginny’s bedside table.
“Err . . . Mr. Weasley?” Harry asked. “Do you suppose the Ministry would know if I took my brooms with me?”
Ginny’s father smiled. “As long as you don’t activate them, I think that’d be alright.”
Happily, Harry nodded and picked up the block with its attached models.
Mr. Weasley cast the Injury Alarm Charm on them both and then pulled the matchbox out of his pocket. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll go ahead, and you two come right after.”
“That won’t work, Daddy,” Ginny said quickly. “If you go first, we might . . . err . . . overlap with you.”
“Overlap?” her father asked, blinking. “You mean literally?” Ginny nodded. “Gracious, I suppose there’s a down-side to everything. Is that why you two always bounce a bit when you Shift someplace?”
“Yeah,” Harry said. “We only made that mistake once, so now we always land a little above the ground.”
“I imagine that lesson wasn’t pleasant, but I suppose the two of you came out of it alright, however it happened. In any case, a Portkey won’t allow any overlapping, so you two go on, and I’ll follow.”
Harry and Ginny Shifted in rapid succession to his bedroom at Privet Drive. They backed into a corner in case Mr. Weasley fell when he arrived. The room was not much different than it had been the previous day except that it no longer had a door. An unblemished expanse of wall, covered with the same faded wallpaper as the rest of the room, occupied the former doorway. The only reminder of the door’s former location was a large, moving poster of the Wimbourne Wasps.
Mr. Weasley appeared in the middle of the room and caught his balance easily. Looking around, he spotted the two children and grinned. “Well, you can’t say it’s not private.” He took two steps and turned on the lamp at Harry’s bedside with a careful and determined push of his thumb. “Ingenious,” he said under his breath.
As Harry put the brooms on the rickety desk, Ginny slowly took in the details of the room. Everything in it was familiar to her, and she had seen it many times through Harry’s eyes and his memories. For some reason, however, it still felt quite strange for her to be in it herself.
Are you alright? Harry asked, taking her hand and squeezing it lightly.
Yeah, I’m just . . . I feel out-of-place. It makes me nervous.
That’s how I felt at The Burrow the first few times, remember?
Reassured by Harry’s presence and determined to adapt, Ginny looked around again. Her gaze landed on Dudley’s old bed, and her nose wrinkled in distaste. “Daddy, can we swap this bed for the one in my room? I’d rather sleep in a rosebush than on that thing.”
“Is it that bad?” Mr. Weasley asked curiously. He turned to sit on the bed, but he sprang up again almost immediately. “Yes, yes it most certainly is. Can you move the beds yourselves? If not, we may have to wait for tomorrow, when the Headmaster can do the magic.”
“We can do it,” Harry said, nodding. “Would you stand in the corner so we won’t hurt you by accident?”
The beds won’t both fit in either room, Ginny said as they planned their manoeuvres.
We’ll drop one at the pond for a minute, then.
Harry put his hands flat on Dudley’s old bed and Shifted it to the grassy area near the pond, noticing in passing the slight rush of magic through his body. When he arrived, they could not help pausing for a moment to admire the peacefulness of the outdoors at night, even if it was a bit chilly. Pulling out of their momentary reverie, Ginny Shifted to her room and sat on her bed. With a slightly stronger surge of magic due to the heavier frame, she then moved herself and her bed into the open space at Privet Drive. Finally, Harry took Dudley’s bed to Ginny’s room, where it would not be used, and returned to Surrey, completing the triangular transfer.
“Much better,” Ginny said, sliding backwards on the bed to make room for Harry. The room was even smaller than Ginny’s, which meant that the bed was pushed into one corner. Their usual sleeping arrangement put Ginny between Harry and the wall, but she did not mind. When Harry lay down, Ginny found that she only had to straighten a bit, rather than curling tightly around Bun-bun, to fit in the available space. Her head rested higher on Harry’s chest, and her knees pushed against his thigh, but she could still slip her hand under his shirt to provide them the contact they needed. Harry’s right hand rested lightly on her ribcage, warming her through the fabric of her t-shirt.
Situated comfortably, Ginny looked up to find her father crouched at the side of the bed, watching them with a wistful expression. After a moment, he leaned forward and rested his arms on the edge of the bed. “You two be careful, alright? Don’t go outside of this room at all. If you need anything, go back to The Burrow and get it there. If anything at all happens, come and find me. Albus said he made this room impregnable, even to sound, but I wouldn’t put it past Vernon to try using a sledgehammer on the wall or something.”
“We won’t go anywhere else, Daddy,” Ginny said reassuringly. “We don’t want to.”
“Good.” Her father sighed. “I don’t really like this, you know. I’d rather you were both under my roof, where I can be sure you’re alright.”
Harry and Ginny could not help but see the advantages of sleeping at Privet Drive, where they were guaranteed peace and privacy, but they did not want to say that to her father. “We’ll be okay, Mr. Weasley,” Harry said instead.
“I’m sure you will. You always take such excellent care of each other. Make sure you’re back home in time for showers and breakfast tomorrow. You don’t want to be late to Diagon Alley.” With another sigh, Mr. Weasley rose to his feet and leaned across Harry to kiss Ginny’s temple. Then he straightened and laid a gentle hand on Harry’s shoulder before stepping away. “Goodnight, little phoenixes.”
“’Night, Daddy.”
“Goodnight, Mr. Weasley.”
With a nervous smile, Mr. Weasley touched his wand to the matchbox and vanished from the room.
Harry set the alarm on his wristwatch for eight thirty, and then he turned off the lamp. Welcome to the Dursleys’. May I take your coat? he asked playfully.
Ginny giggled slightly, imagining Petunia’s outrage at her presence. It’s even more boring in person than it is through you.
At least we don’t have to see them, Harry said. For some reason he could not quite identify, he most definitely did not want Dudley to be anywhere near Ginny. Based on Harry’s memory, she was not interested in such a meeting, either.
Harry’s eyes landed on his brooms on the desk, floating at the ends of their tethers as though waiting eagerly for him to find some new way to enjoy them.
And no more housework! Finally! Ginny said. We’ll have all day to play with the brooms if we want to. Maybe we can make some progress with our own flying.
We can tune up Fred and George’s brooms for them so they won’t mind us riding them.
Maybe on Sunday, Ginny said. Tomorrow’s going to be busy enough as it is. I can’t wait to tell Hermione about all of this.
She’s going to be mortified.
I know, but she’ll be alright. We never blamed her, and hopefully she knows that.
Harry nodded. It’s going to be a neat trick telling her everything without her parents knowing. It might take a while.
We’ll manage. We still have to find you a birthday present, too.
I don’t have to see the Dursleys again for . . . well, for a really long time. That’s the best present I could possibly have imagined.
Ginny squeezed his waist. I’m happy for you. For us.
Harry could not help voicing what they were both thinking. What about your mum?
We’ll just have to wait and see what happens. Ginny knew that Harry did not expect much from her mother. Neither of them did, actually, but she refused to dwell on that thought. At least now we have a place to go if we need to.
It’s sort of our place, isn’t it? We’re the only ones who can get in and out without that special Portkey.
I suppose it is. She smiled softly in the darkness. Welcome home, Harry.
Strange as it may be.
What time is it? she asked.
Harry raised his left arm, careful not to disturb her.
When his watch came into view, she sighed mentally. I guess Dad meant it when he said we’d be left alone. They didn’t even wake us for breakfast.
He definitely seemed serious about it last night.
Shouted words and frenzied actions from the previous evening flooded into their minds. In the light of the morning and the quiet of Ginny’s room, the entire episode seemed almost surreal.
I didn’t want any of that to happen, Ginny said softly.
You didn’t cause it. Not really.
It doesn’t matter. It won’t help anything. I can’t believe I got angry enough to swear at my own family and call them names. That’s just what we got so angry at them for doing last year.
It’s been a very long month, Ginny. I can’t think of any better justification than the things that have happened to us.
That doesn’t make it right.
Would you rather have let your mum punish us again? Make us sleep in your parents’ room in a large cot, or even in their bed with them?
No. I meant it when I said we couldn’t take it anymore.
Exactly, Harry said.
Still . . . I did all of those things, no matter what might have pushed me into it. Mum and Percy may never forgive me. I wouldn’t blame the twins for not wanting to be with us anymore. And Dad . . . Ginny’s voice clouded with anguish. I can’t stand to see that look on his face and to know that I helped put it there. Harry’s throat tightened sympathetically. What are we going to do, Harry?
I don’t know, Ginny, he replied, stroking her hair in a gentle, soothing motion. For now, we’re going to be left alone, and we can handle that as long as we’re together. Right?
Right.
The sensation of a hand on her head penetrated Ginny’s slumber, and after a few moments her eyes drifted open.
Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.
It’s okay, she said. I don’t really want to be asleep right now. Sitting up in bed, she stretched and then tucked Bill’s t-shirt under her knees.
Harry levered himself upright and immediately spotted a basket just inside the door. Now that he was fully awake, he could smell the familiar aroma of sausages. It looks like they didn’t forget our breakfast, after all.
He picked up the basket and brought it back to the bed. Inside, they found a square of parchment lying atop two warm, covered plates.
Ginny and Harry,
Your room is now off-limits to anyone but you and me. I’ve disabled the doorknob, and the quieting charms I put up last night will stay in place. I know you can get to the bathroom whenever you need to.
I’ve taken the rest of the week off from work. I’ll bring you lunch at noon and dinner at six. Other than that, you’re free to do whatever you please within the usual limits. I’ve instructed the boys not to pester you if they see you, but I didn’t forbid the youngest three from talking to you at all. For now, it might be best if you avoid the ground floor, but I won’t say that you can’t come downstairs if you want to.
I’ll find you and check on you later this morning. If you need anything, go out into the hallway and call for me.
We’ll get this fixed, little phoenixes. I promise.
All my love,
Dad
Harry paused, recognising the incredible difference between his uncle and Ginny’s father. Mr. Weasley had seemed somewhat less than confident in the last few weeks, but his letter showed that he, too, was determined to make things right no matter how long it took.
He’s the best, Ginny agreed softly.
And he thinks your mum is the best.
Wordlessly, she nodded.
With nothing to distract them, they ate their breakfast quickly. When they were ready to shower, they stopped and tried to work out the solution to a problem that Mr. Weasley apparently had not considered.
How do we know that no-one’s in the bathroom? Harry asked.
Err . . . I suppose we could Shift into the hallway, but it’s just as likely that someone would be there.
Harry thought for a moment. It’s late enough that nobody will be showering. What if one of us Shifted directly into the shower to see if anyone’s there?
And what if somebody is? They’d be really hacked off at us.
Can you think of a better idea?
Well, no, Ginny admitted. You’d better be the one to go in there first, though. I think the boys would be less upset if you appeared while they were in the bathroom.
He shrugged and Shifted into the shower. After confirming that the room was empty, they took turns to shower and dress for the day. Ginny stowed their playing cards in the pocket of her dress. A moment later, they appeared next to the pond. Harry took Ginny’s hand, and they walked along the stream, staying in the shade until they could get the sunscreen charm.
When they made their way back to the pond a while later, they found Mr. Weasley sitting cross-legged in the grass and facing them. Ginny and Harry approached slowly. Even though they knew that her father was trying to fix the situation at The Burrow, they were cautious after the previous night’s explosions.
“Hi, Daddy,” Ginny said quietly as they emerged into the sunlight.
“Good morning, Firefly. Morning, Harry. Come and sit down.” He patted his thighs invitingly.
Gratefully, Ginny and Harry crossed to her father, and she settled into his lap sideways. At Mr. Weasley’s gesture, Harry sat in the grass on the man’s right side, facing Ginny and keeping her hand in his.
“Did you sleep alright?”
Ginny shrugged, staring at the grass. “I suppose.”
“Was your breakfast still warm?”
“Yeah. Thanks,” she mumbled, nodding.
Mr. Weasley reached up and gently turned Ginny’s head to face him. “Come on, sweetheart. I know things are a bit tricky, but there’s no reason for you to be nervous with me. We’re okay, the three of us.”
“But . . .” Ginny pulled her lower lip between her teeth and held it there for a moment.
Her father smiled gently as he used one finger to pull her lip free. “None of that, now.”
“I said horrible, horrible things, Daddy,” Ginny whispered.
“Yes, you did,” he said calmly. “If you’d used that kind of language at any other time, especially to your mother, we’d be having a very different conversation right now.” Ginny dropped her gaze, but her father tilted her chin up once more. “But we’ll skip that, just this once.”
Mr. Weasley sighed deeply. “I should have put a stop to this whole fiasco weeks ago. Those silly pyjamas never worked properly, and I should have given up the idea as soon as I realised that.” His mouth turned into a small, rueful smile. “They won’t be a problem anymore, though. They may now be the most thoroughly non-magical pyjamas in the entire wizarding world. Even the stain-repelling charms on the thread are gone.”
“Good,” Harry muttered.
“Quite right, Harry,” Mr. Weasley said. “Anyway, given all of that, I’m surprised you two didn’t explode a long time ago. I’m willing to forgive you for being a bit vocal if you’ll forgive me for letting things get to that point.”
Ginny finally relaxed and let herself fall sideways against her father’s chest. “Okay.”
Harry nodded and idly reached out to toy with a lock of Ginny’s hair that was dangling in front of him. “I’m very sorry, too, Mr. Weasley. You’re nothing at all like my relatives. That was a pretty awful thing for me to say to you.”
The older man’s grin reappeared. “Thank you, Harry. That’s quite a compliment.” He lifted a hand from holding Ginny and laid it on Harry’s shoulder. “I want you to know, just as clearly as possible, that you’ve been almost perfect, Harry. I can’t imagine that anyone in the world could have handled this mess any better than you have.”
Harry nodded again, embarrassed, as Ginny gave him a small smile. Anyone who knew you like I do would have done the very same thing, he said.
That’s the point, Harry. Nobody else knows me that well, and nobody ever will.
The small group sat in silence for a few minutes until they heard someone approaching along the stream. Ron emerged from the trees, and without any greeting or even acknowledgement, Ginny’s brother folded himself onto the grass nearby.
“Alright, Ron?” Harry asked, turning so that he could see his friend.
“Yeah, not bad,” he replied.
The sun glinting on Ron’s hair reminded Ginny of why they had been walking in the woods. “Can we have the sunscreen charm, Daddy?”
Nodding, Mr. Weasley tapped Harry and Ginny’s heads with his wand. “You, Ron?”
“Got it already,” he said.
“Felt like swimming, did you?” Mr. Weasley asked.
Ron shrugged. “Yeah, ‘spose.”
“Did Mum send you?” Ginny asked, suddenly wary.
“No. Mum hasn’t said a word to me all morning. She hasn’t said a word to anyone, I think. She just cast the charm when I asked.”
At Mr. Weasley’s encouragement, the three friends got into the pool. Harry and Ginny swam lazily, while Ron amused himself by diving to the bottom and trying to bring ever-larger stones back to the surface.
A short time later, the twins approached the pond. “We heard there was a bit of a pool party,” Fred said.
“So we brought ourselves along to liven it up,” George added.
Ginny stopped swimming and looked up to see her father nodding to the two brothers. “How are things up at the house?” he asked.
“Disturbingly quiet. It’s almost eerie,” Fred said, just loudly enough that Ginny could hear him. After shedding their shirts and shoes, the twins leapt into the pond and immediately began chasing Ron. Before too long, they had managed to draw Harry and Ginny into their game also.
At noon, Mr. Weasley got to his feet and clapped loudly for attention. “It’s lunchtime, boys and girl. What do you all say to a picnic out here?” At their nods, he disappeared for a few minutes and returned with a large picnic basket. Packed into it was a veritable feast of sandwiches, chips, fresh fruit, pumpkin juice, and lemonade.
After lunch, Harry left for Privet Drive even more reluctantly than he usually did. Mr. Weasley went back to The Burrow, saying that he was going to spend the afternoon talking with Mrs. Weasley. Ginny’s brothers agreed on a game of Quidditch, but she begged off, saying that she preferred to stay at the pond. The twins gave her a concerned look, but they finally left with Ron after promising to come by again later that afternoon.
Ginny spent the afternoon floating in the pond or lying in the grass, keeping Harry company as she usually did. Even though her father and three brothers were doing their best to treat her and Harry normally, she only felt truly relaxed when they were all gone. She almost dozed off in the grass once or twice while playing patience, but neither of them wanted even a hint of a nightmare that day, so each time she jumped back into the cool pond and swam for a bit.
A few minutes before six o’clock, Ginny charmed herself dry and Shifted directly into her room, where she changed out of her bathing costume. Harry met her there before taking a turn in the bathroom, and they waited together until Mr. Weasley Apparated into the room carrying a tray laden with one heaping plate of food and two glasses of juice.
“Dinner!” he said cheerfully.
“Thanks, Dad.”
They began to eat, and Mr. Weasley sat on the floor by the door, just as he had in the past. “How was the day, then?”
Ginny swallowed and frowned thoughtfully. “Alright, I suppose. It was really odd not to see Mum for a whole day. Not at all the way things should be.”
“But?” her father asked expectantly.
She nodded. “Better than it has been.”
“Well, that’s a step in the right direction, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
With a small smile, Mr. Weasley got to his feet, absently picking up Ginny’s laundry hamper to take with him. “I’m a bit hungry myself. Call if you need anything, and I’ll come up at bedtime.”
“Daddy,” Ginny said hesitantly, stopping him from Apparating out of the room.
“Yes, Firefly?”
“Can we still go to Diagon Alley on Saturday, or is that already ruined? I know it might be hard, but it’s for Harry’s birthday, and since we won’t get to do anything tomorrow . . .”
Her father held up his hand, and she trailed off. “Of course we’ll go, Ginny. I’ll work out all the details.”
Calling the family’s problems ‘details’ seemed a bit optimistic, but Ginny trusted him. “Okay. Thanks, Daddy.”
As she had hoped, Ginny was the first to wake the following morning. Carefully, she raised herself onto one elbow, and then she leaned over to kiss Harry’s cheek as he slept. Happy birthday, Harry.
Thanks, Ginny. His body awoke slowly and smiled.
You’re two years older than me now. How does it feel?
Harry grinned. Dunno. Temporary, I suppose.
I wish we could do more today. It’s ridiculous that you’ve only ever had one cake, and that one was squashed.
Don’t worry about it, Ginny. Tomorrow will be great.
It’d better be. I’m not going to let us forget to find you a present, either.
One for you, too, then. We won’t get a chance to go anywhere before your birthday.
I suppose that’s only fair.
Their excitement and happiness faded a bit as they remembered their situation. The charms on the room made them feel miles away from anyone else, and the breakfast waiting by the door was simply another degree of separation After eating, they put their swimming costumes back on and Shifted out to the pond. The day was overcast and slightly cool, which seemed to suit their mood.
This time, they brought along the Nimbus, thinking that they might like to fly a bit, even if they preferred to stay out of sight of the house. Ginny quickly liberated Fred’s broom from the shed, and they flew in easy circles around the pond, practicing flying in different directions and speeds as much as they could manage. When they wanted a break, they left the brooms on the grass and waded into the pond.
Shortly before noon, Mr. Weasley approached on foot, and Harry and Ginny climbed out of the pond to meet him. “Good morning, Mr. Weasley,” Harry said. “We thought you’d be out earlier.”
“Oh, I was,” the older man replied, “but you didn’t look like you needed interrupting. Happy birthday, Harry.”
“Thanks.”
“I hope you didn’t mind being left alone all morning,” Mr. Weasley said. “I kept the boys in the house to have a bit of a talk. If you’re willing, I thought we might all try to have lunch together in the house. If you don’t want to, just say so, and we won’t do it. I think we’re ready, though, if you are.”
What do you think? Ginny asked.
Harry shrugged. They don’t have to be nice and friendly and all that. So long as they’re polite, it’ll be okay. If they’re not, we’ll go to Professor McGonagall.
Ginny agreed after a moment. She knew that her father was aware of the risk. “You’re sure?”
Mr. Weasley sighed. “I’m not absolutely sure of anything these days, Ginny, but I’m as sure as I’m going to get for a while. We have to try sometime, right?”
“Alright. We’ll try it.”
“Let’s go, then,” Ginny’s father said, waving them towards the house. “Perhaps if lunch works out, we can try for dinner and something a bit special for our birthday boy.”
In a moment of subdued joy, Harry realised that he had never in his life heard anyone call him the ‘birthday boy’.
Ginny smiled warmly as she reached out to take her father’s hand on one side and Harry’s on the other. “That’d be nice, Daddy.”
Lunch was tense but not hostile. Starting with Ron, all of the Weasleys wished Harry a happy birthday, promising presents for him that evening. Mrs. Weasley offered him seconds and thirds of everything, and she was unfailingly polite and surprisingly cheerful whenever she spoke to Harry or Ginny. Though still actively upset with the woman, they both made an effort to be courteous. Percy was completely silent and did not look at them at all, but they expected that from him.
The twins started a discussion of Hogwarts Quidditch, and neither Harry nor Ginny could resist discussing the next year’s prospects. For a few moments, they almost felt as though they were having a normal conversation with her family. The awkwardness around the table resurfaced at every lull in the conversation, however, and by one o’clock most of the people at the table were staring at each other uncertainly.
Harry and Ginny thanked Mrs. Weasley for lunch, and then he Shifted to Privet Drive. When Ron and the twins announced that they would be playing Quidditch again, Ginny said that she might join them later. She did not think that her brothers would want to talk about the tensions in the house, but she preferred to have an opportunity to relax before taking that chance. After climbing the stairs to put away the Nimbus and getting the usual charms from her father, she returned to the pond alone.
At Privet Drive, Harry was surprised to find the kitchen already spotless. Shrugging, he started upstairs to work in the bathroom, but as soon as he ran the water to clean the tub, he heard a voice shouting from below.
“Boy!” his uncle yelled. “Boy, is that you?”
What can he want?
I don’t know, but be ready to leave at a moment’s notice, Ginny said.
Harry walked back into the hallway and looked down the stairs, but Vernon was not in sight. “Err… yes,” he said loudly.
“Don’t come down! Stay there and listen. We’re having very important guests over for dinner this evening, and it’s absolutely vital that their experience be perfect. You’ll need to scrub the floors in the hall, dust the furniture, and hoover the downstairs carpets this afternoon. Stay out of the kitchen, and don’t even think about touching the oven. When you’ve done, I want you gone! The Masons will be here at six thirty, so you need to leave by five thirty. Understand me?”
Ginny bristled at the injustice of Vernon’s request, but Harry saw it as a reprieve. He would have had to do those things within the next few days anyway, and surely thirty minutes could not matter very much for the wards. “Alright, I’ll be gone.”
“Good!” his uncle yelled. “Now do some work for a change. We’re going to be out until five thirty. And stay out of the kitchen!”
Within moments, the front door slammed, and then Harry heard Vernon’s car pulling out of the drive.
That was odd, Ginny said.
Yeah, but I’m glad they’re not around, regardless of the reason.
Harry began dusting, and Ginny sat on the grass near the pond, her knees pulled up to her chest and her chin on her forearms.
Sort of the same, isn’t it? My family’s around, but we hardly see them, either.
Lunch wasn’t too bad.
Oh, it was very cordial, and it was a lot better than some others have been recently, but it was nothing like it should be.
Harry felt something underlying her words, something they had not yet been able to define. What is it, Ginny? he asked gently.
It’s . . . She sighed and looked around at the pond and the nearby woods. What does it matter that we live here? We could sleep anywhere and spend our time anywhere, and as long as we turned up for meals, it would be just the same as it is now. What’s the point? We don’t see much of anyone in my family.
But . . . he paused, hesitant to point out a flaw in her complaint, but he knew it was better to speak. You’ve been telling them you wanted to be alone in the afternoons, Ginny. You could see them if you wanted to. You could probably see them right now.
Ginny dropped her head back onto her arms. I know, she said, half sobbing. I know I could, and I want to, but I can’t. And I can’t work out why I can’t!
They were silent for a few moments as Harry polished the surface of Petunia’s coffee table. It’s because we’re not sure anymore, he decided. We’re not sure that anyone’s going to be the way they should be.
So it’s easier not to have to find out.
Yeah. We should, though.
You’re right. I’ll play Quidditch with them or something, but not right now. Not yet.
Alright, Harry said. Later, then.
She knew that Harry would not let her stay away from her family if she truly wanted to see them, so she nodded. Later.
Ginny was swimming lazily across the pond when she spotted a blonde figure clad in a yellow dress approaching along the stream. Surprised, Ginny froze for a moment.
“Luna!” she called out. Smiling, Ginny Shifted directly to Luna and hugged her oldest friend. “What are you doing here?”
“Hello, Alex,” Luna said. “Dad unexpectedly had to meet someone in Knockturn Alley again this afternoon, so he sent me over here. He doesn’t think I know where he’s gone, though.”
“It’s great to see you,” Ginny said, releasing Luna. “Oh, dear, I’ve got you all wet.”
“That’s alright. I was too warm anyway.”
The two girls walked back to the pond, and Ginny dried them both with her wand. When they sat down, Luna began picking particularly long blades of grass and deftly braiding them together. “How are you, Alex?”
Slowly and hesitantly, Ginny told Luna everything that had happened in the last two days. By the time she finished, she had once again wrapped her arms around her knees and was staring out across the pond. “Today,” she concluded, “I can’t help thinking about what it would be like if we left.”
“It would be the same, only worse.”
Ginny had not expected an answer, but she turned her head towards Luna anyway. “How do you mean?”
“You’re upset because your family doesn’t behave the way they used to. They don’t seem as happy, and you’re afraid that you’re what’s making them sad. Then you’re afraid that you’ll keep making them sadder until they’re never able to be happy again, and that makes you sad.”
That’s a very blunt way to put it.
“So you think that if you left perhaps they’d be happy again,” Luna continued. “You’re wrong, though.”
“How do you know?” Ginny asked, stunned.
“It’s simple. If you left, they’d be the people who made you leave, and those people couldn’t be very happy people unless they were the ones that helped you come back.”
You know, I think she’s right, Harry said after a few heartbeats of stunned silence.
Ginny’s mind reeled as she tried to process what Luna had said, but somehow Harry understood.
Your dad loves you more than anything, Ginny. I don’t think he’d ever be happy again if you left. Ron wouldn’t get to tease you anymore, and he’d miss that, I think. The twins . . . well, I can’t imagine that they’d ever be the same.
And Mum?
If she didn’t love you and want you around, she wouldn’t try to be nice at all.
Ginny blinked. You’re defending her?
No, Harry said. She doesn’t like me, much less love me, and I don’t like her too much right now either. That doesn’t mean I can’t tell that she loves you.
It should be the same thing! she replied hotly.
But it isn’t. Why would it be? She doesn’t see us as . . . you know, Alex, so she has no reason to love me.
Blinking back tears, Ginny said, It shouldn’t be so easy for you to say that.
She felt Harry’s gentle smile clearly. Maybe. But it is.
I love you, Harry.
I know, Ginevra. I love you, too.
Ginny raised her eyes to find Luna smiling patiently. “You’ve worked it out, haven’t you?” the blonde girl asked.
“I suppose we have,” Ginny said.
“Good.” Luna raised her hands, and Ginny saw that she had made a loop out of freshly-braided grass. The blonde girl placed the circlet on Ginny’s head and patted it into place. “Happy birthday. It matches your eyes.” Without waiting for a response, Luna climbed to her feet and pulled her dress over her head to reveal her swimming costume. Placing the dress, her shoes, and Ginny’s old hair band in a neat pile, Luna waded into the pond.
Still bemused, but now distracted by her friend’s behaviour, Ginny followed Luna into the pond. “Luna? Are you alright?”
The blonde girl turned to face her, and for the first time Ginny noticed that her eyes were slightly red. “I don’t like it when Dad goes places that he won’t take me,” Luna said quietly. “It scares me, and I wish he wouldn’t do it.”
“He’ll be fine, Luna, you’ll see,” Ginny said bracingly. “I’m sure he doesn’t want to leave you alone any more than you want to be left.”
Luna and Ginny lounged in the water and talked for most of the afternoon, though Ginny was careful not to submerge her head and ruin Luna’s wreath. Around four o’clock, Mr. Weasley came out to the pond to say that Mr. Lovegood was home again. Luna said goodbye and left immediately to Floo back to her house.
Harry finished his vacuuming shortly before the Dursleys’ deadline, and at the stroke of five thirty he Shifted to the pond to sit with Ginny. A few minutes later, Mr. Weasley Apparated onto the grass nearby.
“Oh, hello, Harry. You’re here early. Is everything alright in Surrey?” They could hear the concern in her father’s voice, and it reassured them in some way.
“It’s fine, Mr. Weasley. They’re having a dinner party, and they wanted me well clear before their guests showed up. I think Uncle Vernon’s trying to impress someone for his company.”
“I feel badly for them, whoever they are,” Ginny said.
“You never know, sweetheart,” Mr. Weasley said, shrugging. “Some people like that sort of thing. In any case, do you two want to join us for dinner? Your mother’s cooking up something a bit grander than usual, and I think she’s got a pudding going, too.”
Ginny and Harry nodded, Luna’s words still echoing in their minds. “Alright, we’ll go,” she said.
“Perfect. Oh, Hedwig came back with something for you from Hermione, Harry. There might be one or two other presents lying around, as well.”
Harry smiled hesitantly as they walked towards the house. He could no longer count the number of real presents he had received on one hand, but he looked forward to someday not being able to count them on his fingers at all. As that thought flickered through their minds, Ginny put her arm around his waist and leaned her head against his shoulder for a few steps.
Harry and Ginny went upstairs to change out of their swimming costumes, and Harry brushed Ginny’s hair until Mr. Weasley called them back downstairs. Then, with a final affectionate stroke of his hand, Harry carefully put Luna’s woven circlet back in place.
Dinner was, indeed, more elaborate than usual. Mrs. Weasley had somehow identified a few of Harry’s favourites, and the kitchen table groaned with steak and kidney pie, boiled potatoes, fresh peas and carrots from the garden, and steaming hot rolls. He was amazed to see six wrapped packages waiting on the bench near the door to the living room.
Harry was seated at the head of the table, in Mr. Weasley’s usual place, and Ginny took the chair to his left as the rest of the family rearranged themselves. Her father conjured a purple party hat for Harry to wear that said “Happy Birthday Harry” in flashing golden letters. When he noticed the circlet in Ginny’s hair and found out where she had got it, Mr. Weasley cast a complicated charm on it which he said would keep it from ever drying up and falling apart as long as they were careful with it.
Fred and George entertained everyone during dinner by describing some of the pranks they had pulled on their own birthdays in the past. When Ginny mentioned that she and Harry were going to shop for her birthday present to him in Diagon Alley, Mr. Weasley and Ron enthusiastically joined the twins in suggesting possible gifts. Ron thought that Harry could only want a Cannons shirt, while Mr. Weasley suggested that Harry might like to have his own set of chess pieces. The twins, defying prediction, suggested that Harry buy the largest ice-cream sundae that Fortescue could build. Percy sat stiffly and silently through dinner, as usual, which pleased Harry. He did not think that he would be able to tolerate much more from Ginny’s brother.
Mrs. Weasley was quiet throughout the meal, though she tutted familiarly at some of the twins’ exploits and ideas. When everyone had finished eating, she silently got up from the table and began working at the oven. Mr. Weasley levitated all of the dirty dishes into the sink, and then he floated Harry’s pile of presents over to the kitchen table. “Tuck in, Harry,” he said. “That smallish, rectangular one came with Hedwig, and those other two wrapped in string came with regular post owls.”
Curious, Harry first reached for Hermione’s gift, and he was not surprised to find that it felt very much like a book. Sure enough, he unwrapped a copy of The A to Z of Card Games.
That’ll be handy. There’s bound to be something in there that we can play besides Patience.
Trust Hermione to think of that.
Hagrid had sent a large tin of something brown, which everyone supposed to be some sort of sweet. Before ‘accidentally’ dropping it in the bin, Ginny made everyone promise to say that they had eaten and enjoyed the whatever-it-was.
The third owl-delivered package turned out to be from Professor McGonagall. Harry ripped open the paper, and Ron and the twins all oooh’d and aaah’d over the brand new “Quality Quidditch’s Eleventy-Seven Piece Broom Servicing Kit.” Harry flipped open the lid of the handsome wooden case, and inside he found a short note.
Happy birthday, Harry. I hope you enjoy this, regardless of whose broom you use it on. I plan to stop by later this evening.
— M. McGonagall
“Look, Harry . . . four sizes of twig-clippers!” Ron said happily. “That’ll be loads better than hacking up your broom with scissors. Can I borrow them once you’ve done the Nimbus?”
Harry nodded. “You can borrow them first, if you’d like.”
“Brilliant, thanks.”
“Open this one next,” George said, pushing one of the last three boxes across the table. “We went in with Ron for it.”
The three brothers had bought Harry a set of model broomsticks. Harry readily recognised a Nimbus Two-Thousand, a Cleansweep Seven, and Comet Two-Sixty. Tiny nameplates identified the other two brooms as a Twigger Ninety and an Oakshaft Seventy-Nine. Each scale replica was only four to five inches long, and they hovered above a polished block of wood, tethered by tiny ropes and harnesses.
“If you take off the strings and prod the base with your wand, they’ll race along in a straight line until they hit something,” Fred said.
“According to the catalogue,” Ron added, “the Nimbus almost always wins in the short run, but if you give them a really long time, the Oakshaft can catch up in the end.”
Ginny and Harry had seen the catalogue, also, and they knew that the set of toys had cost the brothers several weeks’ worth of their pocket money. Ginny had once received pocket money as well, but she had stopped asking for it, feeling a bit uncomfortable with the idea. For the same reason, they did not mention the cost of the models at all.
Harry nodded to all three boys, slightly overwhelmed at finally receiving a gift that he could play with, rather than something practical he could wear, eat, or use in school. “This is really brilliant, guys. Thanks a lot.”
Percy’s gift was a box of Ice Mice, which was hardly inspired but which Harry did appreciate. The older boy’s stiff “you’re welcome” was the first time he had spoken directly to Harry or Ginny that day.
Finally, Mr. Weasley pushed the largest of the presents in front of Harry. He knew what sort of gift usually came in boxes like this, but he also knew better than to develop any sort of expectations. Harry opened the box easily and, to his surprise, lifted out a thick pile of clothes. Jeans, shorts, shirts, and t-shirts filled his arms, all apparently in his size. He could tell that they were not new, but Ginny’s experience also told him that they had been carefully selected to be as nice-looking as possible.
Harry paused, staring at the colourful clothing spread out in front of him. This was precisely what Mr. and Mrs. Weasley usually bought for Ginny and her brothers on their birthdays. Aside from that shocking thought, he realised that he now actually had options for what to wear. Ever since returning from Hogwarts, he had spent most days in his swimming trunks, the shorts he had made from Ron’s old jeans, and one of a few t-shirts he had borrowed from Ginny. Everything else he owned had once been Dudley’s, and he had long since become sick of wearing things that were far too large for him.
Mr. Weasley smiled broadly when Harry looked up at him. “Try on one of those shirts, Harry. Let’s see if they fit.”
Grinning, Harry pulled off the t-shirt he had been wearing and picked out a red shirt with a button-down collar. He fastened it carefully and then stood up so that Ginny could see it clearly. She tugged at the collar and sleeves a bit and then nodded. “It looks nice on you.”
“Well done, Molly,” Mr. Weasley called across the kitchen. “That eye of yours hasn’t failed us yet.”
Realising instantly what Mr. Weasley was trying to say, Harry looked up at Ginny’s mother and managed to catch her eye. “Thank you very much, Mrs. Weasley. I really appreciate it,” he said, knowing his voice was very stiff. The obvious source of the gift troubled him somewhat, but he could not deny that he already treasured the complete novelty of having everyday clothes that actually fit him.
The woman’s smile was as forced as Harry’s, but Ginny felt sure that it was not completely false. “You’re very welcome, Harry. I’m glad you like them. Clear the table, everyone. It’s time for pudding.”
Within moments, the wrapping paper had been cleared and the gifts set aside in a neat pile. Harry kept the model brooms on the table between Ginny and himself, watching them idly moving about on their tethers. Mrs. Weasley opened the oven and brought out a huge treacle tart, and the aroma instantly caught Harry’s attention. He watched, enraptured in spite of himself, as she carried it across the kitchen and set it down right in front of him. “Happy birthday, Harry.”
“That looks delicious,” he said honestly.
“D’you want a plate, or should we just give you a fork and get out of the way?” Fred asked.
George held out a plate, and Harry took it eagerly. With careful motions, he scooped out a precise eighth of the tart and placed it in the centre of the small plate. He added a fork from the table, set the pudding in front of Ginny, and then took a second plate from George.
“Harry, you eat it,” Ginny said. “It’s your birthday.”
He looked up at Mr. Weasley. “It’s mine, isn’t it?”
The red-haired man beamed. “Yes, Harry, it’s all yours.”
“Good. Then I’m doing what I want with it,” Harry said.
You’re stubborn, Ginny said lightly, not quite understanding the glee in their minds. When her thoughts caught up, she laughed aloud and dutifully began eating. Harry served everyone else in the kitchen, and then he sat down to eat his own slice just as Ginny finished hers.
Mrs. Weasley nibbled at the dessert, but after only a few moments she turned to Ginny. “If you . . . if you don’t mind my asking, dear, what was so funny?”
“Oh, ahh . . .” Mrs. Weasley had not spoken anything more than pleasantries since Ginny had called her ‘bloody stupid’, so Ginny was surprised and uncertain how to respond. She glanced up at her father, who nodded encouragingly. “Well, you see, Harry decided that if I ate my piece before he ate his piece, then he’d get to taste two whole pieces without taking one from anyone else.”
Ron, Mr. Weasley, and the twins all laughed, and after a moment Mrs. Weasley’s lips twisted into the tiniest of grins. “That’s quite a compliment, when you think about it,” she said softly. Then, to Harry’s surprise, she pushed her plate across the table to him. “Three is even better than two, I’d say.”
Harry blinked, nonplussed. “But . . . that one’s yours, Mrs. Weasley.”
“Don’t worry, I can make treacle tart any time I feel inclined.”
“Oh, well . . . thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Mrs. Weasley glanced at Ron, nodded firmly, and then returned to the sink, where she began directing the dishes to wash themselves.
As Harry resumed eating, Ginny looked up and found her father smiling at them. I don’t know what he said to Mum, she said, but it must have been pretty spectacular.
Whatever it was, it took him the better part of two days. Do you think this’ll last?
I don’t know, truly. But at least she’s acting sort of like a mum now.
When they had finished the treacle tart, Harry and Ginny gathered his presents into their arms and Shifted up to her room to put them away. As soon as they appeared, however, they dumped everything on her bed and drew their wands.
A tiny figure with huge, flapping ears was crouching over the lowest drawer of Ginny’s bureau. Her pyjamas were lying on the floor in front of that drawer, and as Harry and Ginny arrived, the creature froze in the process of poking one long finger at the middle button of the pyjama top. It dropped the pyjamas and raised its hands to cover its head as Harry and Ginny stared at it in shock.
A house-elf? What’s a house-elf doing in my room? Ginny wondered, momentarily more incredulous than alarmed. She had never heard of a house-elf harming a person, and in fact they were known to be almost unbelievably docile.
“What are you doing here?” Harry asked.
The elf crouched lower still, wringing its ears with its hands, and Harry could see that it was wearing what appeared to be a very old and filthy pillowcase. “Dobby is . . . is . . .” the creature wailed softly and tugged its ears again. “Dobby doesn’t want to lie, sir. Dobby wants to talk.”
They were not sure if the elf was answering their question or making a request. “What were you doing with my pyjamas?” Ginny asked.
“Ohhhhh . . . Dobby won’t lie, won’t lie to the nice wizards, the great wizards. He won’t. Dobby was . . .” His prominent Adam’s apple bobbed hugely. “Dobby was trying to tickle the charms, but he can’t find them.”
Harry and Ginny took a step forward and centred their wands on the elf’s forehead. “You?!” Harry demanded. “You’ve been setting off those stupid alarms?!”
“Yes, yes, Dobby has done it for safety! Dobby is so very sorry, so sorry to make trouble for —”
“Sorry! You’re sorry?!” Ginny shouted, ignoring the sweat forming on her neck and brow.
“Yes, most sorry, and Dobby will punish himself, he’ll bang his elbows and iron his ears and . . .”
Ginny cut him off, an incantation to destroy his nose hovering at the front of her mind and waiting to be released. “That doesn’t help! You’ve ruined my whole family! I don’t ruddy care if you’re sorry!”
“No, no, but . . .”
“But nothing!” she cried, unconsciously leaning forward and jabbing her wand towards the elf. Dobby’s feet left the ground completely as he shot across the room, and he impacted the far wall with a heavy, wet crunch.
The tiny elf dragged himself into a sitting position. “Dobby deserved that. He’s not broken — Miss can do it again if she pleases.”
“You do deserve it! My family is broken! You broke it! I haven’t spoken properly to my mother in weeks! My father cries every day! It’s all your fault!”
Harry stood off to one side with his jaw clenched in anger. They had always known that they were right, but they had never really suspected that anyone or anything was deliberately setting off the alarms on the pyjamas.
Dobby pulled his knees to his chest. “All Dobby’s fault, yes, but to be safe! Dobby wants only to help!”
“You didn’t help! You ruined everything!” At the last moment, Ginny refocused her ire into a different incantation. “Petrificus Totalus!”
With a pop, Dobby disappeared before the spell reached him, and Harry saw him blink into existence a few feet away. The pathetic creature was still well within Ginny’s field of view, and he did not attempt to move any further.
The sight before him triggered something deep and primal in Harry’s memory, pulling him slightly out of their rage. Ginny . . .
He did it! It’s all his fault!
Ginny, look! With an indescribable effort, Harry pushed his memory-vision into their minds. In front of him, a completely enraged person holding a wand loomed over a much smaller figure, who was apparently incapable of defending himself.
But . . . but he . . .
He walked up next to her and pulled gently backwards on her shoulder. You can’t, Ginny. You just can’t. And you don’t really want to.
With a bang, the door separated from its frame and fell into the room. Fred stood in the opening, his wand raised. “What’s wrong, Ginny?” he asked urgently. “The hall is baking, and . . . what the hell is that doing here?”
“Ginny and Harry Potter mustn’t hurt themselves or the Wheezys! No, Dobby couldn’t bear it!” Before Harry or Ginny could react, the house-elf bounded forward and touched both of their knees. After a moment of overwhelming noise, they found themselves falling directly into their pond.
Shocked beyond response, they fell into the cool water and surfaced, spluttering. As soon as they had gained their bearings, they Shifted to the shore, where Dobby stood in the crumbling grass. “What was that for?” Harry demanded.
“Dobby can’t let Ginny and Harry Potter hurt themselves!” He snapped his fingers, and they were both completely dry. “They were too hot, they were much too hot. Dobby is sorry for putting them in the water.” With a small grunt, Dobby spun and charged directly at one of the boulders. His forehead struck the rock with a meaty thud, and he fell back into the grass for a moment before regaining his feet woozily.
Dobby backed away and began to run at the rock again, but Harry caught him by his spindly arm. “What are you doing?”
“Dobby is punishing himself! Oh, but Dobby shouldn’t do that. Dobby has angered Ginny and Harry Potter, and so they must want to do his punishing. Shall Dobby fetch a hot iron or a large stick? Perhaps they would rather use their wands more? Dobby will sit still.”
The tiny creature collapsed onto the grass again, his head bowed and his body shaking with high-pitched sobs. Ginny, realising that the house-elf could have left at any time and was deliberately remaining at their mercy, took a deep breath and put away her wand. She carefully pushed her rage into the back of her mind and exhaled slowly to try to find a hint of balance.
“Dobby,” she said in a tightly controlled voice. “Is that your name?”
He cringed at the sound of her voice and spoke without looking up. “Yes, great Lady. Dobby is wretched Dobby’s name.”
Let me, Harry said, pocketing his wand.
Ginny backed up a few steps, distancing herself from the temptation to act upon her temper.
Thinking of Mr. Weasley’s calming actions from Christmas Day, Harry dropped to sit in the grass a few feet away, and Ginny followed his example. “Look up at us, Dobby,” Harry said gently. “We’ve put our wands away, see?”
The elf’s huge green eyes appeared for a moment. “Yes, Dobby sees. Ginny and Harry Potter don’t need their wands for punishment, Dobby knows. They are great and powerful.”
Harry and Ginny took deep breaths and released them slowly, trying to attain the calm Harry hoped to project. “We’re not going to hurt you, Dobby.”
When Dobby did not respond, Harry tried a different tack. “Why have you been setting off the alarms?”
“To keep Ginny and Harry Potter safe, sir.”
Ginny’s anger surged in their minds again, but Harry pushed it back. We need to know more.
“How would that keep us safe?” Harry asked Dobby.
“If Ginny and Harry Potter don’t want to be around her family, they won’t go to Hogwarts.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Ginny said vehemently, unable to completely restrain herself. “If not here, we’d rather be at Hogwarts.”
Dobby shook his head. “There are lots of Wheezys at Hogwarts, and Lady Wheezy can get them there. If they don’t go to Hogwarts, they will be safe. They mustn’t go to Hogwarts!”
That makes no sense at all, Ginny said bitterly.
Mr. Weasley’s voice, loud and urgent, reached them from somewhere out of sight. “Ginny! Harry!”
Ginny scrambled to her feet, ignoring Dobby’s flinch, and stepped forward to stand next to Harry. “Dad!” she cried as loudly as she could.
“No!” Dobby moaned. With another pop, he vanished and reappeared between Harry and Ginny, and a moment later they were once again engulfed by noise.
Wherever they were, they arrived there just as they had left, with Ginny standing and Harry sitting in the grass. Harry jumped to his feet as they looked around, trying to determine where they had been taken. Both of them drew their wands.
After only a moment, Ginny recognised The Burrow at the crest of the next hill and their pond in the shallow valley in between.
“Please!” Dobby said. “Ginny and Harry Potter must listen to Dobby!”
Knowing where they were and confident that they could escape instantly, Harry and Ginny found themselves focused on the puzzle Dobby represented. “Why mustn’t we go to Hogwarts, Dobby?” Harry asked. In the distance, he saw red sparks fly into the air over The Burrow.
“Hogwarts is dangerous, sir. Very dangerous for Harry Potter, and anything bad for Harry Potter is very bad for Ginny Potter.”
Ginny froze, mentally and physically. She had happily pondered that name from time to time, but she had never heard it spoken, and she certainly had not expected Dobby to say it. “My name is Ginny Weasley,” she whispered.
The house-elf shrugged and began absently pinching his ear between his fingernails. “Dobby is very sorry, but you is confused about Lady’s name. He thinks it should be Ginny Potter.”
Do you mind if we let that one go for now? Harry asked.
I suppose not. It’s just . . . surprising.
Harry turned back to Dobby. “Why is Hogwarts dangerous for us?”
Dobby wailed and banged his head against the ground. “Dobby mustn’t say, Dobby won’t say!”
“Why not?”
“House-elves mustn’t speak badly of their masters and mistresses. Dobby will have to iron his ears for a week because he came here.”
“Who is your master?” Harry asked. When Dobby did not reply, he tried again. “What is it that’s dangerous at Hogwarts?”
“Mustn’t, won’t, mustn’t!” Dobby moaned. “Hogwarts is horribly dangerous! Terrible things will happen! You’ll see. Ginny and Harry Potter must stay away!” He snapped his head up to fix them with his luminous green gaze. “Please say they won’t go to Hogwarts. Please? They must stay safe! They is much too wonderful and nice. Harry Potter saved everyone! Ginny and Harry Potter must be safe.”
“Dobby . . .” Harry began slowly. “We’re going back to Hogwarts in the autumn. There’s no way we’d stay away. That’s the place where we’re happiest.”
“Better to be safe! Not happy! If Harry Potter is hurt or . . . or killed, everything will be bad again! All house-elves will be treated the way Dobby is.”
“What do you —?”
“Bad Dobby!” the elf shouted, banging his head on the ground again and twisting his toes harshly. “Bad, wicked Dobby!”
Whatever it is, he really can’t say it, Ginny realised.
He can’t say lots of things, it sounds like.
“We’re sorry, Dobby, but we’re going to have to take the chance. We belong at Hogwarts.”
Dobby rolled to his feet and wrung his hands together. “Dobby was afraid they would say that. He knew they were not cowards. Gryffindors, they is, not Zytherins. But they must stay away, and Dobby will see to it that they does so!”
“What do you mean?” Harry asked cautiously.
“Dobby can keep Harry Potter away from Hogwarts. Ugly-stupid-Muggles aren’t supposed to see magic. Dobby can keep Harry Potter away, and Ginny Potter won’t go without Harry Potter.” In a loud flash, Dobby was gone.
What does he mean? What do Muggles have to do with anything? Harry wondered.
The Decree! Ginny said. He seems to know about everything else that’s been going on. He must know about the Dursleys’ dinner party, too!
Oh, bugger. They thought furiously for a moment. Alright, you try to get help from your parents or McGonagall, and I’ll try to stop him.
Go!
Harry Shifted to his room at Privet Drive, and a moment later Ginny appeared just outside the house. She could already hear voices from inside, though she could not distinguish any of the words. Harry started down the stairs, as quickly and quietly as he could manage, while Ginny pulled open the back door of The Burrow.
Her mother was sitting at the kitchen table, staring at the family clock, while the twins stood at the far side of the room. “Mum!” Ginny cried, not caring at that moment which adult she approached. “We need someone to go to —”
She got no further. When Ginny first opened the door, Mrs. Weasley surged up from the table. With wide eyes, she rushed across the kitchen, dropped to her knees, and pulled Ginny into a crushing hug. “Oh, Ginny, my dear little Ginny. We thought you’d been kidnapped! Are you alright? What happened?”
“It was a house-elf. He took us to the other side of the valley. We’re both fine, but . . .”
“Wait! Wait! Oh, I’ve got to tell your father.” Mrs. Weasley released Ginny almost abruptly and drew her wand. She raised her left hand and held the tip of her wand against her wedding ring for a few seconds.
Harry tiptoed from the bottom of the staircase into the hallway, but he did not see Dobby. As he crept through the house, he could hear the Dursleys talking boastfully, presumably to their important guests.
Fred put down the broomstick he was carrying, and the two brothers took turns hugging Ginny even as she tried to get someone’s full attention. Percy appeared in the doorway from the living room, and Ginny was momentarily pleased to see that he looked relieved. Just as the twins began to question her, Mr. Weasley and Ron strode in through the back door, each carrying a broom. Their tousled hair showed that they had recently been flying at more than casual speeds.
Her father picked her up from the ground and held her tightly against him. “Oh, Ginny, you scared us,” he said simply. “Where’s Harry?”
“He’s at the Muggles’ house. You see . . .”
She was interrupted once again by a sharp crack from the back garden, and before the sound had faded, Professor McGonagall stormed through the doorway.
Harry reached the kitchen and peered inside. Dobby was standing on Petunia’s pristine worktop, pointing one long finger at the ceiling. Harry followed the finger and saw Petunia’s elaborate pudding floating near the ceiling, poised over the open floor.
“Dobby!” he whispered. “Stop!”
“Ginny and Harry Potter mustn’t go back to Hogwarts! Dobby will stop if he says they won’t go!”
“We have to. It’s . . .”
“Dobby is so very, very sorry, sir.”
With a sharp flick of his finger, Dobby sent the pudding crashing to the floor. The glass dish shattered loudly, and cream splattered the entire kitchen. Above the noise, Harry heard maniacal laughter in what sounded disturbingly like his own voice.
“Oh, no,” Ginny moaned into her father’s shoulder, ignoring McGonagall, who was all but running across the room towards her.
Shrieks and startled swearing came from the dining room at Privet Drive, and a moment later Vernon Dursley came barrelling into the kitchen.
“Ginny, what is it?” Mr. Weasley asked.
McGonagall’s voice rang in the crowded kitchen as she placed one hand on Ginny’s shoulder. “What’s going on now? You’ve found Ginny, but where’s Harry?”
“You!” Vernon snarled, hopping from foot to foot, his knees pressed tightly together and a grimace of hideous discomfort on his face, obviously struggling to keep his voice down. “I might’ve known. Came by just to ruin things for me, did you? Think it’s all quite funny, do you? You little bastard!” Enraged, the rotund man snatched up a gravy boat from the shelf near the door and hurled it at Harry’s head. It missed by over a foot and exploded into fragments against the far wall. “You’ll regret the day you were born once I’m done with you!”
Get out! Ginny ordered. Get out right now!
Harry was more than happy to comply, and he Shifted to a bit of open space in The Burrow’s kitchen.
Ginny insistently pushed away from her father and McGonagall and Shifted directly to Harry. Even knowing that she was coming, he was still a bit surprised to find his face abruptly pressed into a swirling curtain of red tresses.
“Harry, Ginny,” McGonagall said commandingly. “Are you hurt or in any danger?”
Ginny turned her head far enough that Harry could see past her hair. “No, Professor, not anymore,” he said.
“Let’s all sit down, then, and hear what’s going on,” Mr. Weasley suggested, sighing in relief. Everyone sat around the kitchen table, and Ginny sat in Harry’s lap. They told themselves that it was to allow Professor McGonagall to have a chair, but they both knew that there was much more to it than that.
Before they had fully settled, Hedwig swooped into the room from the back door and landed on Harry’s shoulder. From there, she pushed her head affectionately against both Harry and Ginny’s cheeks.
“What’s this about a house-elf, then?” Mr. Weasley asked. “Fred mentioned it, too.”
Ginny began to explain what had happened, but she did not get very far before her father interrupted her.
“Wait, please. You say that a house-elf named Dobby has been setting off your pyjamas all along?” he asked.
“Yes. He admitted it and everything,” Ginny said firmly.
“I saw him, Dad,” Fred said, looking uncomfortable. “Tiny little thing, no higher than my waist. He wasn’t messing with the pyjamas when I saw him, but they had been pulled out of the drawer.”
“A house-elf . . .” Mrs. Weasley breathed.
Before anyone else could react, a soft pop sounded from the garden again, and the Headmaster strode through the still-open door. “Ah, good,” he said, “everyone’s here.” Dumbledore waved his wand, and the table grew to accommodate the plush armchair that appeared behind his knees.
“Did you go to Surrey, Albus?” Professor McGonagall asked.
“Yes, I did. Apparently I arrived only seconds after Mr. Potter departed. Fascinating people, the Dursleys. Somehow, they manage to disappoint me more every time I see them, in spite of the ever-increasing difficulty of that feat. I have heard what passes for their version of events. Did I miss the true telling?”
“Ginny was just about to share it with us,” Mr. Weasley said, “but what concerns me most is how the whole mess got started. Ginny and Harry found a house-elf in their room, tampering with her pyjamas, and he admitted to having tripped the charms from the beginning. Does that make sense magically, Albus? Could a house-elf have caused the alarms to go off?”
“Certainly,” Dumbledore said, nodding. “Now that I think of it, I feel quite confident that they could be triggered by a house-elf. Elfin magic is different from that of wizards and witches, and it is extraordinarily versatile.”
“Oh, no,” Ginny’s mother sobbed suddenly. “Oh, no, no, no . . .” She leapt up from her chair and ran from the room, her face buried in her hands. Percy’s face paled as well, and Ron smirked triumphantly at him.
Mr. Weasley rose from his chair, but as he straightened he seemed to reconsider. With a tightly controlled expression, he sat back down at the table. “Alright, Ginny. What happened next?”
After briefly rehashing their discovery of Dobby, Ginny talked about their unplanned trip to the pond. As well as she could, she recounted their conversation with the house-elf, but she left out a few details that she did not think were important to her family. Then Harry took over with the story of what happened at Privet Drive.
When the tale was complete, Dumbledore smiled wryly. “Am I to understand, Harry, that you did not destroy all of Petunia’s best crockery while swearing at the top of your lungs?”
“Err . . . no. Dobby somehow made it sound like I was laughing, but I wasn’t.”
“Shocking.” The Headmaster’s face was impassive, but his eyes were alight. “I’m sure you’ll be heartbroken to hear that the dishes involved were, sadly, beyond even magical repair. I was in rather a hurry, also, so I may have left a few very durable muddy footprints.”
“Tragic,” Fred muttered. He and his brothers had sat quietly throughout the conversation, though they all appeared attentive.
Harry grinned. “That’s too bad, sir. Will you tell me how to clean it up before I go back?”
The Headmaster winked broadly. “Of course.”
“Albus,” McGonagall said with a quelling stare, “what are we to do about this erratic house-elf?”
The old man’s forehead furrowed in thought. “He gave no clue as to who owns him and no indication of what the danger at Hogwarts might be?”
“No, Headmaster,” Ginny said.
“Hmm,” Dumbledore said. After a moment, he raised his head. “Dobby!” Everyone in the kitchen waited silently for the space of a few breaths, but nothing happened. “Well, he is not a Hogwarts house-elf. Given that, I’m not sure that there is anything we can do. We have no way to locate him, and of course I do not know of any danger lurking at the school. Should he appear again, perhaps we might be able to glean a bit more information from him.
“In any case,” he continued, “I am sure you are all pleased to know the source of your charms’ malfunctions.”
Mr. Weasley’s face clouded as he nodded fractionally. “The truth is always best, even if it’s not universally appreciated.”
The kitchen was quiet as everyone absorbed what they had heard. To relieve the oppressive silence, Harry turned to McGonagall. “Thank you for the present, Professor.”
“You’re welcome, Harry,” she said, smiling slightly. “I hope you did not find it to be too self-serving on my part.”
Harry blinked. “I hadn’t really thought of that.”
“Oh, dear me,” Dumbledore said, “I’d almost forgotten.” He drew his wand and circled it, point-down, over the surface of the table. When he finished the motion, a large golden box of Honeydukes’ best chocolates appeared in front of Harry and Ginny. “There you are. Feel free to eat them all at once. I find the experience to be entirely worth the subsequent malaise.”
Harry replied as Ginny reached for the box. “Err, thanks, Professor. I think perhaps we’ll make them last a while, instead.”
“As you like, of course,” the Headmaster said, smiling.
Ginny popped a chocolate into her mouth. Wow, these are amazing. Even better than I thought they’d be.
Have another, then, Harry said, picking up a chocolate for himself.
“I’ll be off,” Dumbledore continued. “I assure you, Arthur, that I will be diligent in ensuring the safety of the school.”
Mr. Weasley looked up, a determined expression on his face. “A moment, Albus. After what Dursley said and did, I won’t allow Harry to be anywhere within his reach. I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night.”
Dumbledore tugged gently at his beard. “Yes, indeed. I should have thought of that more quickly. Is it time, then, for our contingency plan?”
“I think so,” Ginny’s father said, nodding. “It presents its own difficulties, but they have to be considered details at this point. Using it during the nights instead of the days doesn’t really make a difference to the plan itself.”
“Very well. Shall I wait for a few moments or return to Surrey immediately?”
Arthur glanced towards the door to the living room. He sighed and shook his head. “Go ahead. I’ll take care of things on this end. You’ll come back when you’re finished?”
Dumbledore nodded, waggled his fingers in farewell, and then went back out into the garden to Disapparate.
“What’s the new plan, Dad?” Ginny asked cautiously. She completely agreed that Vernon should not be allowed anywhere near Harry, but she did not know how to achieve that goal without forfeiting the protection of the wards at Privet Drive.
“The Headmaster and I came up with an extremely secure way to allow Harry to spend time at the Dursleys’ house, but it’s a bit drastic. We saved it as a backup plan, hoping that the old arrangement would last through the summer.” Mr. Weasley rose from the table and ran a hand through his hair. “You lot wait here. I only want to explain this once.”
“May I be excused?” Percy asked suddenly. Ginny thought he looked a bit pale. “I do not feel that I have anything to contribute to this conversation, and the outcome is unlikely to affect me.”
Ron, who had been watching Percy with a smug expression throughout the conversation, glared daggers at the taller boy, but Percy kept his eyes firmly fixed on the wall of the kitchen.
“Oh, fine,” Mr. Weasley huffed. “We’ll fill you in later.”
With a crisp nod, Percy started up the stairs, and Mr. Weasley continued into the living room. After a moment, Professor McGonagall leaned forward. “How are things here?” she asked in a soft voice.
“Umm . . .” Ginny glanced around the table at her three youngest brothers. “Quiet, I suppose.”
“We haven’t left yet,” Harry said simply.
McGonagall nodded. “I do hope that you will not have to.”
The door opened again, and Mr. Weasley led his wife into the kitchen. Her eyes were wide, her cheeks flushed, and she stood with a certain unyielding set to her shoulders.
After the two adults had taken their seats, Mr. Weasley cleared his throat. “Alright, this is what we’re going to do. As we speak, the Headmaster is removing the doorway to Harry’s room in Surrey and securing the window. The doorway will be replaced with a solid wall. The only way in or out of that room will be via magic, and he is adding a ward to prevent Apparition directly into the room.” He paused and took a deep breath. “Harry, you’ll be sleeping there at night.”
Ginny straightened in Harry’s lap, and she scowled fiercely. “But —”
Her father’s raised hand cut her off. “Yes, Ginny. You’ll be sleeping there, too.”
Mrs. Weasley sucked in a breath, but the rest of the room remained silent. Ginny blinked at her father. She had only been to Privet Drive in person once, for a few minutes in the middle of the night, and she had always assumed that she would never be allowed to go there with her parents' knowledge. She was relieved that her father was not trying to separate her from Harry at night, but the idea of actually sleeping away from The Burrow during the holidays was entirely foreign to her, even though they had frequently considered it. “Oh,” she said faintly.
“The only ways into that room will be Portkeys and your special mode of travel,” Mr. Weasley continued.
“Shifting,” Harry said distractedly. “Ginny named it Shifting.”
“Alright, Shifting, then,” the older man said, nodding and very faintly grinning. “The Dursleys won’t be able to reach you at all, and you need only go there to sleep at night. Back on the first day of the holidays, we considered doing this and asking Harry to spend his days there, but we thought that would be cruel. Being there in the afternoons meant you had to do work, but at least you were able to move around. We’re still not asking you to spend all day in that little room — rather, we’re going to use the same arrangement for sleeping instead, alright?”
Ginny’s mother made a soft, choked noise, and they looked over to find her brows furrowed in concern.
“Go ahead, Molly,” Mr. Weasley said gently. For a moment, his gaze moved obviously to Ron, and then he faced his wife squarely.
“I . . .” she said, tension plain in her voice. “I know this will sound . . .” She swallowed heavily and began again. “I know how this will sound, but . . . are you sure that’s wise?”
All expression drained from Harry’s face, and Ginny felt heat rush into her head.
“Please,” her mother continued, “I just mean that . . . What if something happens? What if . . . what if one of them is ill, or gets hurt by accident? There won’t be anyone to . . . to help them.” By the time she finished speaking, the woman was breathing heavily and squeezing her eyes closed each time her words faltered.
“That’s entirely valid, Molly,” Mr. Weasley said. “If something happens to one of them, the other can come and find us instantly. I’ll have a special Portkey that will let me go there and return as needed.”
“But what if something happens to them both, or they can’t . . . can’t Shift somehow? Wouldn’t it be better if there were someone else there? Perhaps . . .” Her eyes darted around the table. “Perhaps George could stay with them.”
“No,” Harry said firmly.
Mr. Weasley shook his head. “No, dear. All they’ll be doing is sleeping. They’ll even come back here to use the bathroom. They’ll be fine.”
Ginny’s mother looked around again, and her eyes settled on Professor McGonagall for a fraction of a heartbeat. Whatever she saw in the other woman’s face caused her expression to crumple a bit. She looked back at Mr. Weasley. “You’re sure?” she whispered.
“I’m sure.”
Mrs. Weasley stared sightlessly at the table for a moment, and then she looked back up at her husband. “Can you at least put Injury Alarm Charms on them? That way . . . that way we’ll know if they need help.”
“That’s an excellent idea,” Mr. Weasley said. “Would that be alright, you two?” he asked, turning to Harry and Ginny.
Reluctantly, Ginny nodded. They did not like the idea of any sort of monitoring, but she had carried that charm every day for most of her life.
“That’s what we’ll do, then.” Her father faced her mother again. “Alright, Molly?”
Her gaze dropping back to the table, Mrs. Weasley nodded. “Alright.”
Mr. Weasley smiled softly, squeezed her arm, and turned back to Harry and Ginny. “Understand, both of you, that those people are dangerous. You should never, under any circumstances, leave Harry’s room. You should only go there for sleeping. All of your clothes and things will be here, and if you’re going to do anything other than sleep, no matter what it is, you should be here with us. Is that quite clear?”
Ginny was still a bit surprised by the new arrangement, but she agreed wholeheartedly with her father. “We promise, Daddy. We don’t want to be there anyway.”
They all heard Dumbledore arrive in the garden, and he dropped into his armchair a moment later. He pulled a square envelope out of his robe and slid it across the table towards Harry. “I intercepted this at your relatives’ home, Mr. Potter. I believe it is for you.”
Harry picked up the letter and saw that it was, indeed, for him. After glancing around the table, he flipped open the folded sheet of parchment.
Dear Mr. Potter,
We have received intelligence that both a Hover Charm and a Cackling Charm were used at your place of residence this evening at twelve minutes past eight.
As you know, underage wizards are not permitted to perform spells outside school. Normally, only one warning is provided before disciplinary action is taken. Due to the nearly simultaneous occurrence of the two charms, however, the Ministry has generously decided to treat the two spells as a single incident. Further spellwork on your part may lead to expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, Paragraph C).
We would also ask you to remember that any magical activity that risks notice by members of the non-magical community (Muggles) is a serious offence under section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks’ Statute of Secrecy.
Enjoy your holidays! Yours sincerely,
Mafalda Hopkirk
Improper Use of Magic Office
Ministry of Magic
Ginny and Harry’s hearts began to race as they read the letter. Dobby had very nearly succeeded in having them expelled, and only the random generosity of a ministry official had spared them.
“From Miss Hopkirk, I presume?” McGonagall asked.
Harry nodded and passed the letter to his professor, who skimmed it before handing it on to the Headmaster. “Ah, how fortunate,” Dumbledore said. He looked up at Harry and Ginny, and his smile widened. “Oh, fear not. If necessary, we almost certainly could have evaded Mafalda’s dire consequences. That does not mean, of course, that the Decree can be flouted with impunity.”
Harry and Ginny nodded. Her parents had always had a very strict rule that the children were not allowed to do even the slightest bit of magic in Muggle areas.
Dumbledore turned towards Mr. Weasley. “The house is prepared,” he said. “I informed the Dursleys, but I don’t think it did any good. They seemed quite perturbed that they would be unable to have guests for the remainder of the summer.”
“Why not?” Ron asked, speaking for the first time.
“The missing door, Mr. Weasley,” Dumbledore replied. “The house obviously has a fourth bedroom when viewed from the outside, but there is no door to it on the inside. Someone might get suspicious,” he concluded, his beard twitching.
“Did ‘someone’ a favour, if you ask me,” George muttered.
“Too right,” Fred said. He grinned suddenly. “Could have put a fake door there if you’d wanted to, couldn’t you?”
“Perhaps, Mr. Weasley, but perhaps not. It is quite difficult magic,” the Headmaster said, now smiling openly. “Regardless, it is the Dursleys’ problem, not ours. Arthur, I took care to ensure that they do not know about Miss Weasley. As far as they are concerned, the changes are solely for Mr. Potter’s benefit.”
Mr. Weasley nodded gratefully. “Thank you, Albus.”
I wish we could somehow get them to not know about you, too, Ginny said.
“Hang on, Professor,” Ron said with a confused expression. “If Harry got a letter when the house-elf did magic in the Muggles’ house, won’t he get another one now since you did magic there?”
“An excellent question, Mr. Weasley,” the Headmaster said, his eyes brightening. “As it happens, there are some few small advantages to being in my position, and one of them is the right to inform the Ministry that I will be performing magic in an otherwise forbidden area.”
“Now that’s handy,” Fred said admiringly.
“Do you have the Portkey I’ll be using?” Mr. Weasley asked, bringing the conversation back to the topic at hand.
“Ah, yes,” Dumbledore said, nodding and pulling a matchbox out of his robes. “I do hope you’ll let me know how it works if you get more than a few opportunities to use it.”
“How it works?” Mrs. Weasley asked, her voice rising.
“Forgive me, Molly. I did not mean to imply that it would malfunction. This is a particular sort of Portkey which allows someone to go back and forth between two locations repeatedly without re-casting the charm. It is my own creation. I know for certain that it works, but I am interested to find out if it produces any abnormal sensations after many repetitions.”
Mr. Weasley took the matchbook and tucked it into his own pocket. “I rather hope that I don’t have much occasion to use it, but I’ll let you know how it feels when I do. Are you sure that it won’t cause a problem with the Ministry?”
“Quite sure. As I said, there are some advantages to being in my position.” The Headmaster stood up and Banished his chair, and the table returned to its normal size. “If there is nothing else, I will be on my way.”
“Good night, Albus,” Mr. Weasley said. “Thank you for your help.”
Dumbledore nodded, still smiling. “It truly was my pleasure. Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley . . . I’m glad that you won’t be dealing with those people any more this summer.” He turned towards the door, but before he reached it he stopped. “Oh, by the way, your spending the nights there should recharge the wards more quickly than we initially planned. I will be certain to let you know when that process is complete, and then you will not have to be there at all.”
Harry nodded. That idea sounded more appealing than anything else they had thought of. “Thank you,” he said.
“Again, my pleasure. A good evening to you all.”
“I will take my leave, also,” McGonagall said. “I will, as always, keep a sharp eye out for any potential danger at Hogwarts. Ginny and Harry, if you should ever encounter this ‘Dobby’ again, contact me immediately.”
“Alright, Professor, we will,” Harry said. “Thanks for coming.”
“You’re most welcome. I’m relieved that you are both safe. Good night, everyone.”
“Good night, Minerva,” Mrs. Weasley said, facing the older woman with an expression that Harry and Ginny could not interpret. The others chorused their farewells, and McGonagall departed from the garden with a soft pop.
“Well, then,” Mr. Weasley said energetically, “when you two are ready to go to sleep, let me know, and I’ll go along with you to Little Whinging this first time. Aside from that, I’m fairly certain that it’s still Harry’s birthday. What would you like to do for the rest of the evening, Harry?”
Mr. Weasley’s not-quite-forced cheerfulness reminded them momentarily of the previous Christmas, but Harry and Ginny carefully let that memory pass without attention. “Oh, err . . .” Harry had almost completely forgotten the date. It was abnormal for him to receive any extra attention on his birthday, and he certainly had not expected it. “I’d like to try out the model brooms, I think.”
“Let’s give them a go, then,” Mr. Weasley said.
The entire group moved into the living room, and Ginny Shifted upstairs to get the tiny brooms. When they were unleashed and activated, they performed exactly as expected. After a few straight races across the living room, all of which had the same results, the group began looking for longer or more interesting courses. Mr. Weasley hit upon the idea of launching the brooms at a slight elevation, which sent them climbing from floor to ceiling. Neither the Oakshaft nor the Twigger ever won, but the other three brooms performed very accurately under the varying conditions.
After little more than an hour, Harry and Ginny announced that they wanted to go to bed. They took turns in the bathroom and then met Mr. Weasley in Ginny’s room, even though it still did not have a functioning door. Harry had considered wearing some of his new clothes to sleep in, though the box had not included any pyjamas. At last, however, he had decided that he did not want to wrinkle them unnecessarily, so he continued to wear Dudley’s old pyjamas, which Ginny had long since shortened to fit him in at least one dimension.
Ginny carefully placed Luna’s circlet, which had survived the evening thanks to Mr. Weasley’s spells, on top of her bureau next to the hair-clip she had received from Hermione. Harry created Bun-bun and handed it to Ginny, knowing that he could not cast the spell once they left The Burrow. He regretfully eyed the set of toy brooms on Ginny’s bedside table.
“Err . . . Mr. Weasley?” Harry asked. “Do you suppose the Ministry would know if I took my brooms with me?”
Ginny’s father smiled. “As long as you don’t activate them, I think that’d be alright.”
Happily, Harry nodded and picked up the block with its attached models.
Mr. Weasley cast the Injury Alarm Charm on them both and then pulled the matchbox out of his pocket. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll go ahead, and you two come right after.”
“That won’t work, Daddy,” Ginny said quickly. “If you go first, we might . . . err . . . overlap with you.”
“Overlap?” her father asked, blinking. “You mean literally?” Ginny nodded. “Gracious, I suppose there’s a down-side to everything. Is that why you two always bounce a bit when you Shift someplace?”
“Yeah,” Harry said. “We only made that mistake once, so now we always land a little above the ground.”
“I imagine that lesson wasn’t pleasant, but I suppose the two of you came out of it alright, however it happened. In any case, a Portkey won’t allow any overlapping, so you two go on, and I’ll follow.”
Harry and Ginny Shifted in rapid succession to his bedroom at Privet Drive. They backed into a corner in case Mr. Weasley fell when he arrived. The room was not much different than it had been the previous day except that it no longer had a door. An unblemished expanse of wall, covered with the same faded wallpaper as the rest of the room, occupied the former doorway. The only reminder of the door’s former location was a large, moving poster of the Wimbourne Wasps.
Mr. Weasley appeared in the middle of the room and caught his balance easily. Looking around, he spotted the two children and grinned. “Well, you can’t say it’s not private.” He took two steps and turned on the lamp at Harry’s bedside with a careful and determined push of his thumb. “Ingenious,” he said under his breath.
As Harry put the brooms on the rickety desk, Ginny slowly took in the details of the room. Everything in it was familiar to her, and she had seen it many times through Harry’s eyes and his memories. For some reason, however, it still felt quite strange for her to be in it herself.
Are you alright? Harry asked, taking her hand and squeezing it lightly.
Yeah, I’m just . . . I feel out-of-place. It makes me nervous.
That’s how I felt at The Burrow the first few times, remember?
Reassured by Harry’s presence and determined to adapt, Ginny looked around again. Her gaze landed on Dudley’s old bed, and her nose wrinkled in distaste. “Daddy, can we swap this bed for the one in my room? I’d rather sleep in a rosebush than on that thing.”
“Is it that bad?” Mr. Weasley asked curiously. He turned to sit on the bed, but he sprang up again almost immediately. “Yes, yes it most certainly is. Can you move the beds yourselves? If not, we may have to wait for tomorrow, when the Headmaster can do the magic.”
“We can do it,” Harry said, nodding. “Would you stand in the corner so we won’t hurt you by accident?”
The beds won’t both fit in either room, Ginny said as they planned their manoeuvres.
We’ll drop one at the pond for a minute, then.
Harry put his hands flat on Dudley’s old bed and Shifted it to the grassy area near the pond, noticing in passing the slight rush of magic through his body. When he arrived, they could not help pausing for a moment to admire the peacefulness of the outdoors at night, even if it was a bit chilly. Pulling out of their momentary reverie, Ginny Shifted to her room and sat on her bed. With a slightly stronger surge of magic due to the heavier frame, she then moved herself and her bed into the open space at Privet Drive. Finally, Harry took Dudley’s bed to Ginny’s room, where it would not be used, and returned to Surrey, completing the triangular transfer.
“Much better,” Ginny said, sliding backwards on the bed to make room for Harry. The room was even smaller than Ginny’s, which meant that the bed was pushed into one corner. Their usual sleeping arrangement put Ginny between Harry and the wall, but she did not mind. When Harry lay down, Ginny found that she only had to straighten a bit, rather than curling tightly around Bun-bun, to fit in the available space. Her head rested higher on Harry’s chest, and her knees pushed against his thigh, but she could still slip her hand under his shirt to provide them the contact they needed. Harry’s right hand rested lightly on her ribcage, warming her through the fabric of her t-shirt.
Situated comfortably, Ginny looked up to find her father crouched at the side of the bed, watching them with a wistful expression. After a moment, he leaned forward and rested his arms on the edge of the bed. “You two be careful, alright? Don’t go outside of this room at all. If you need anything, go back to The Burrow and get it there. If anything at all happens, come and find me. Albus said he made this room impregnable, even to sound, but I wouldn’t put it past Vernon to try using a sledgehammer on the wall or something.”
“We won’t go anywhere else, Daddy,” Ginny said reassuringly. “We don’t want to.”
“Good.” Her father sighed. “I don’t really like this, you know. I’d rather you were both under my roof, where I can be sure you’re alright.”
Harry and Ginny could not help but see the advantages of sleeping at Privet Drive, where they were guaranteed peace and privacy, but they did not want to say that to her father. “We’ll be okay, Mr. Weasley,” Harry said instead.
“I’m sure you will. You always take such excellent care of each other. Make sure you’re back home in time for showers and breakfast tomorrow. You don’t want to be late to Diagon Alley.” With another sigh, Mr. Weasley rose to his feet and leaned across Harry to kiss Ginny’s temple. Then he straightened and laid a gentle hand on Harry’s shoulder before stepping away. “Goodnight, little phoenixes.”
“’Night, Daddy.”
“Goodnight, Mr. Weasley.”
With a nervous smile, Mr. Weasley touched his wand to the matchbox and vanished from the room.
Harry set the alarm on his wristwatch for eight thirty, and then he turned off the lamp. Welcome to the Dursleys’. May I take your coat? he asked playfully.
Ginny giggled slightly, imagining Petunia’s outrage at her presence. It’s even more boring in person than it is through you.
At least we don’t have to see them, Harry said. For some reason he could not quite identify, he most definitely did not want Dudley to be anywhere near Ginny. Based on Harry’s memory, she was not interested in such a meeting, either.
Harry’s eyes landed on his brooms on the desk, floating at the ends of their tethers as though waiting eagerly for him to find some new way to enjoy them.
And no more housework! Finally! Ginny said. We’ll have all day to play with the brooms if we want to. Maybe we can make some progress with our own flying.
We can tune up Fred and George’s brooms for them so they won’t mind us riding them.
Maybe on Sunday, Ginny said. Tomorrow’s going to be busy enough as it is. I can’t wait to tell Hermione about all of this.
She’s going to be mortified.
I know, but she’ll be alright. We never blamed her, and hopefully she knows that.
Harry nodded. It’s going to be a neat trick telling her everything without her parents knowing. It might take a while.
We’ll manage. We still have to find you a birthday present, too.
I don’t have to see the Dursleys again for . . . well, for a really long time. That’s the best present I could possibly have imagined.
Ginny squeezed his waist. I’m happy for you. For us.
Harry could not help voicing what they were both thinking. What about your mum?
We’ll just have to wait and see what happens. Ginny knew that Harry did not expect much from her mother. Neither of them did, actually, but she refused to dwell on that thought. At least now we have a place to go if we need to.
It’s sort of our place, isn’t it? We’re the only ones who can get in and out without that special Portkey.
I suppose it is. She smiled softly in the darkness. Welcome home, Harry.
Strange as it may be.