Juncture

On the day after his birthday, Harry woke when the sunlight hit his face, and for a moment he was confused by his surroundings. Ginny’s head rested in an unusual place on his chest, but her bed felt normal beneath them. His room at Privet Drive was familiar, but he could not recall ever having slept late enough there to be disturbed by sunlight through the window. After only a moment, his mind became alert, and he remembered what had led them to this odd combination of the familiar and the unfamiliar.

Good morning, Ginny offered quietly, her mental voice relaxed as her body slept on.

Morning, Ginny.

They lay together, enjoying the peace and solitude of the morning, until Harry’s watch beeped insistently. He silenced the alarm and then woke Ginny with a few gentle strokes of her hair. They both sat up and stretched, but then Ginny sleepily leaned sideways to rest her weight and her head against Harry.

Hard to believe that we slept so well here, he said.

Best sleep we’ve had in weeks. I’d have happily taken a bit more.

He smiled fondly. You can get more tonight. Today we get to go to Diagon Alley, remember?

Yeah, Ginny said, sitting up and stretching again. I suppose that’s worth it. A day in Diagon Alley means a day with Mum and Percy, though. I’m not sure I want to go back and deal with all that again.

One step at a time, that’s what your dad says. A lot happened yesterday.

I know, Harry. I’m just . . . nervous, I guess.

Harry picked up his set of brooms as Ginny Shifted back to her room, and then he followed her. Through the broken doorway, they could see that the bathroom was occupied, so they sat on the floor next to the bed, where they could see the bathroom door, and waited. Harry was unable to resist tinkering with the brooms, and Ginny joined him as she pushed aside her worries for the day.

A few minutes later, Ron stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a large towel. “Oi!” he said. “D’you have to sit right there?”

“Sorry, Ron,” Harry said. “We didn’t really think about it.”

The taller boy shook his head and began climbing the stairs towards his room. Since no one else was waiting in the hallway, Ginny picked up her clothes for the day and took her turn in the shower. She had sentimentally chosen her old blue sundress, which was finally starting to feel a bit small for her. When it was his turn, Harry showered and dressed in a pair of khaki-coloured trousers and the red shirt Ginny had approved of the previous day.

After combing out Ginny’s hair and fastening it with her silver clip, they went downstairs to the kitchen. The rest of the family was already there and had started eating, but as soon as they reached the doorway, Mrs. Weasley leapt up from her chair. The woman’s face was blotchy, and her eyes were bloodshot. She hesitated for just a moment, suddenly enthralled with the floor, before loading two plates with an incredible amount of food and placing them in front of Harry and Ginny’s chairs. She did not speak or look at them at all.

“Good morning,” Mr. Weasley said cheerfully. His eyes were also a bit puffy, and Ginny could only guess that her parents had not slept very much or very well. Still, her father’s greeting was genuinely enthusiastic, which gave her some hope for the day, and she felt her nerves settle a bit.

Ginny smiled slightly as they took their seats. The Weasley brothers said their good mornings with varying degrees of attention, and then the twins resumed a conversation with Mr. Weasley about the places they would and would not be allowed to visit that day. Mrs. Weasley said nothing and only picked at her breakfast.

“Maybe just the entrance,” Fred suggested. “There may be bad stuff in there, but they wouldn’t keep it right at the front, would they? It’d all be in the back somewhere.”

“No,” Mr. Weasley said, shaking his head almost habitually. “It wouldn’t be Knockturn Alley if it weren’t all bad.”

The twins continued their campaign, which Harry was sure they knew was hopeless. He and Ginny ate in silence, for the most part, speaking only to add amusing commentary to the twins’ pleas. Other than that, they made sure to keep one eye on her mother. Mrs. Weasley remained silent and withdrawn, but unlike the previous two days, her presence was not a looming mass of negativity at the foot of the table. That day, her silence was distant, as though she were doing her best not to be noticed any more than was absolutely necessary. Somehow her effort only drew Harry and Ginny’s attention to her, and Ginny developed a whole new appreciation for how easily her mother knew when any of the children were trying to hide something.

D’you suppose I should apologise for shouting at her? Ginny asked, unsure of how to deal with her mother but feeling that she should say something.

Her first, Harry said simply.

Ginny reluctantly agreed. Her blazing anger at her mother had cooled, but she realised that she had no desire to initiate any sort of reconciliation this time. Mrs. Weasley had created the distance in her family, and she would have to try to repair the damage.

After breakfast, they had almost half an hour before they needed to leave for London. Mr. Weasley and Percy disappeared, and the twins went to have their showers and get dressed. Ron and Harry went to get Harry’s model brooms again. The three of them were determined to experiment with aiming the toys up and down the stairwells.

As Ginny moved to follow Harry, her mother called out. “Ginny?”

She could never remember hearing such a tremulous tone from her mother. With Harry’s words and feelings in mind, she turned in place and looked at her mother.

Mrs. Weasley stood at the table, pushing the silverware around as she clearly struggled to find something to say. Harry easily kept Ron distracted with the brooms so that Ginny could have a chance to speak with her mother alone.

The moment dragged on, and Mrs. Weasley started to speak a few times but never actually said anything. Ginny knew that her mother was still struggling to accept what she had learned the previous evening, but she finally grew impatient. “Yes, Mum?” Ginny prompted.

Mrs. Weasley finally looked up, and her eyes were very, very bright. She opened her mouth and then closed it again as she swallowed heavily. When she tried again, she managed to speak in a wavering voice. “Are . . . are you all right, dear?”

Harry groaned in the back of her mind, but Ginny just sighed. Quietly, she answered the question in the way that would let them all escape the conversation. “Yes, Mum.”

Mrs. Weasley nodded and then began quickly gathering up the plates for washing. Recognising the dismissal for what it was, Ginny headed up the stairs to her room.

I’m sorry, Ginny.

It’s not your fault, Harry, she replied, stopping on the stairs to lean against the wall for a moment and squeeze her eyes closed. She just hasn’t had the time to come to terms with things, I guess. That’s what McGonagall was saying before, and I doubt it’s any better now.

I’m still sorry. I know you want your mum back.

Ginny said nothing, but when she reached her room, where Ron was busy tweaking the angle of a broom, she hugged Harry tightly. After a moment, they released each other, but Ginny kept her hand tucked into his. “Ready to race?” she asked in an overly bright voice, determined to enjoy the day. Regardless of anything else that had happened or could happen, they would be able to spend the whole day within inches of each other.

At ten fifty, the family lined up at the fireplace. “Now remember, Harry,” Mr. Weasley said. “Speak your destination very clearly, and hop out of the Floo just as soon as you feel yourself start to slow down.”

Harry nodded. I wish we could just Shift there.

There’s nowhere we can go that’s safe and out of the way, though, Ginny said. I’ll go before you so you can feel it properly.

Mr. Weasley went first, Ron followed, and then Ginny took her turn. She stumbled slightly as she exited the fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron, but she kept her feet. She walked to her father and took his hand so that he could make sure she stayed upright as Harry travelled.

C’mon, Harry.

You really do make it look easy, but it’s just not.

Harry threw a bit of powder into the fireplace and stepped in determinedly. Holding his hand a few inches in front of his mouth to avoid inhaling ash, he said, “Diagon Alley!” as clearly as possible. He felt a tug on his feet, and then he was spinning through a morass of green flames and various colours of stone. He kept his elbows in, as Ginny had, but his trip was jerky and rough compared to hers. After a bewildering series of turns and grates, he felt himself begin to slow, but he was too disoriented to react quickly. His eyes finally fixed on the red of Ginny’s hair, and he pushed himself out of the Floo.

His effort had barely been in time. Harry exited the fireplace very close to the floor and landed on the stone with enough force to make his joints ache. His momentum caused him to fall forward from his hands and knees until he was lying flat out on the cool stone.

Well, you got the right grate this time, Ginny said encouragingly as she moved forward and helped him up. That’s always a good start.

“All right there, Harry?” Mr. Weasley asked, waving his wand to remove most of the ash from Harry’s clothes.

“Err . . . yeah, I think so.”

“Don’t worry, lad. It gets easier each time.”

Couldn’t really get harder, could it? Harry groused. Ginny just smiled at him as she laughed silently.

Percy, the twins, and Mrs. Weasley arrived with no mishaps, and after cleaning up they crossed the small room to enter the main area of the Leaky Cauldron. As soon as they stepped through the door, they spotted Hermione and her parents waiting near the front windows, glancing around apprehensively.

Hermione noticed them all immediately. With a delighted noise that could be heard from across the room, she hopped down from her stool and dashed to Ginny, leaning down to hug the younger girl tightly. A moment later, it was Harry’s turn, and he found his nose pressed into his friend’s collarbone. “Hi, Hermione.”

She released him and looked back and forth between the two of them, beaming even as her brow furrowed. “Hello! How are you? Have you been . . . I mean, what’s . . . umm . . . it’s great to see you!”

Harry and Ginny could not help smiling. Hermione’s unbridled inquisitiveness could be wearing at times, but it was almost welcome after their long separation. “You too, Hermione,” Ginny said. “Look, we’ve brought the rest of the family.”

“Oh!” the bushy-haired girl said. “How rude of me.” Turning to the rest of the Weasleys with a smile, she shook the hand Ron offered and nodded at the others. “It’s wonderful to see you all again.”

Mr. and Mrs. Granger caught up with their daughter and exchanged greetings with Harry and the Weasleys. Arthur guided them all towards the bar, where he caught the barkeep’s attention. “Morning, Tom.”

“’Lo, Arthur. C’mon, your room’s this way.”

Tom led them to a door near the exit to Diagon Alley. The room beyond was mostly bare, but it held two round tables set for six people each. “Food’ll be along about noon, an’ I’ll bring Butterbeer shortly.”

“Thank you, Tom,” Mr. Weasley said.

As soon as they cleared the doorway, Hermione pulled Harry and Ginny to the side of one table which was furthest from the other. Ron sat next to her, and the twins dropped into the two remaining seats between Harry and Ron.

“I suppose we know our place, then,” Jason Granger said, loudly enough for Harry and Ginny to hear, as the four adults and Percy settled on the other side of the room. Hermione flushed slightly, but she shot her father a small smile.

“I’m not terribly surprised,” his wife, Helen, added. It was clear that Hermione’s parents were speaking loudly to tease her, but Hermione’s growing smile told Harry and Ginny that it was normal and welcome. “Hermione’s been looking forward to this all summer. Are you all right, Molly? You look a bit peaky.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Mrs. Weasley said with a note of forced casualness. “I’ve not been feeling my best lately, but it will pass.”

The adults continued their pleasantries at a more normal volume as Tom brought in a tray full of Butterbeer. After he left, Hermione caught Harry and Ginny’s attention. “How are you really?” she whispered, leaning forward to see both Ginny and Harry. “Are your pyjamas still malfunctioning? Did you figure out what was causing it? I’d really hoped you’d write again before now.”

“You’re way behind the times, Hermione,” George said softly.

“Been a bit of fun since then,” his twin finished, grimacing sourly.

“Err . . . yeah,” Ginny said. “A lot has happened, really, and we got a bit too caught up in it to remember to write. Sorry.”

Hermione’s eyes widened, and she waved her hand dismissively. “Never mind that. What happened?”

Ginny and Harry had known that they would have to recount the full story of the last several days, so they were prepared. As the Weasley brothers listened carefully and kept an ear out for the adults, Ginny told Hermione about the night when she had flatly refused to wear the pyjamas. She skimmed the events of their two-day exile because not much had actually happened and because they did not care to revisit the feelings from those days.

“That was really rough for everyone, Ginny,” George said, apparently recognising her reluctance. “Hanging ‘round in the house was like using a really small bridge to cross a really big river, you know?”

“What did your dad say yesterday morning, anyway?” Harry asked. “He just told us he’d kept everyone inside.”

Fred shrugged. “Well, you know how Dad works. He asked us what we thought about it all.”

“Told him everyone was being stupid, myself,” Ron said with a dark frown.

“That took a while, actually, since Ron used more descriptive words than that,” George said. “Then I said that it was pretty ridiculous, because you two spend half the day alone at the pond anyway, and we don’t exactly have a lot of close neighbours. If you’d wanted to get up to something, you would have.”

“George!” Ginny scolded, her cheeks colouring.

“Sorry, Gin, but it’s the truth. I don’t actually think you did anything, though.”

“Then what happened?” Harry asked.

“Well . . . I’m not sure we’re really keen on talking about all of it, actually,” Fred said, not bothering to conceal the uneasy glance he shared with his brothers. “It wasn’t a lot of fun.” Ron and George nodded their agreement.

Harry blinked and nodded. “Oh, right.”

“So you’re still not seeing anyone during the day?” Hermione asked Ginny.

“Err . . . I’m not sure yet, actually.” She went on to tell their friend about Dobby’s visit and the resulting change to their nightly arrangements. “That was just last night,” she concluded, “so we haven’t really figured out what the days are going to be like yet.”

Hermione had listened raptly to the entire story without interrupting, but she now appeared to be ready to burst. “A house-elf?” she asked incredulously, her voice a harsh whisper that cut across the table.

“Saw it with my own eyes,” Fred said quietly.

“Why would a house-elf want to keep you away from Hogwarts? I’ve only read about them in passing. I saw a picture once, but I wouldn’t have thought that one would do anything like that.”

“Nobody seems to know,” Harry said. “We can’t find Dobby to ask him, either.”

“Well, obviously he works for someone who suspects some sort of danger at school,” Hermione said, tapping her chin. “Who would be in a position to hear of something like that? A professor? Someone at the Ministry? Maybe someone on the Board of Governors?”

“Could be, Hermione,” George said, “but if one of those people knew something, don’t you think that Dumbledore would know, too?”

“Well, yes, I suppose . . .”

“Which could mean that Dumbledore was lying about it, and he does know of some sort of danger,” Ginny said.

“Ginny!” Hermione exclaimed softly. “He would never ignore something like that.”

Ron snorted. “Tell that to Quirrell.”

The brunette spun to her other side. “That wasn’t entirely his fault, Ron. How was he to know that . . . that Quirrell would want to steal the . . . that thing? He’d taught at Hogwarts before, and I’m sure he didn’t cause any problems then.”

“Whatever Dumbledore knew or didn’t know,” Ginny said, interrupting the budding argument, “I’m not going to just trust him all the time anymore.”

Hermione sighed and nodded slowly. She stared down at the tabletop, her eyes darting randomly about in the way that Harry and Ginny knew meant she was deep in thought. After a few moments, her eyes stilled and became slightly unfocused. Finally, she raised her head and turned to Ginny. “I’m really, really sorry.”

“It’s okay, Hermione,” Harry said. “You didn’t say anything that was really untrue. It just wasn’t true, either.”

“Still, I should have - ”

Ginny put her hand on Hermione’s arm and squeezed lightly. “It’s okay. Really.”

Hermione met Ginny’s eyes imploringly. “You’re sure?”

“Absolutely,” Ginny said. “It’s not like we’ve always treated you perfectly, and we’re all still here today.”

Ron glared at Ginny over Hermione’s shoulder, and the bushy-haired girl smiled slightly. “Yes, I suppose that worked out all right.”

Fred looked ready to press for more details, but Harry caught the older boy’s eyes and shook his head firmly. With a rueful grin, Fred nodded, though George looked faintly rebellious.

“Thanks for the book, Hermione,” Harry said at a normal volume to redirect the conversation. “I’m sure we’ll use it loads.”

“Oh, good,” she replied. “I’d hoped it might be helpful, but I also rather hope you don’t need it too much. What else did you get yesterday?”

Harry happily launched into a listing of his birthday presents, which led him and the Weasley children into a highly-detailed account of their experimentation with the model brooms. Hermione did not look quite as interested as the others were, in Ginny’s opinion, but she kept up with some of the discussion about the brooms’ abilities to accelerate and climb.

At noon, Tom and one of his workers brought in a lunch of sizzling roast beef and vegetables in gravy with baskets of fresh rolls for each table. The room was a bit quieter as everyone ate, but Mr. Weasley kept up an unending string of questions about everyday Muggle life. Harry was amused to hear Hermione’s father firing back just as many questions about the common things in a magical home.

After Fred ate the last of the rolls at their table, George got up from his chair and went to the other. He stopped next to Mr. Granger and waved at the basket. “Would you lot mind if I took a couple of these? We’re completely out.”

Mr. Weasley glanced around the table and then nodded. “Help yourself.”

“Thanks,” George said. He reached out to pick up two rolls and brought them back to his chair. Keeping one for himself, he dropped the other into the empty basket.

“So you’re saying that, ahh, ‘e-lec-tri-ci-ty’ moves really quickly, but it doesn’t generally go anywhere without something to move along?” Mr. Weasley asked.

“That’s right,” Mr. Granger said, reaching for his Butterbeer. “It’s actually quite dangerous if it’s not contained. That’s what lightning is, you know.”

“You don’t say? I’d heard that, but I’ve never had the chance to speak to someone who might actually know how or why.”

Smiling, Ginny glanced over at her father, who was facing in her direction as he spoke to the other man. She knew that he was delighted to have someone to interrogate, and Mr. Granger seemed to be taking the questions in stride when he was not pursuing his own interrogation. After a moment, she was distracted by an odd movement. Mr. Granger’s short hair, which closely resembled Hermione’s in colour, was growing rapidly. As Harry and Ginny watched, it passed his collar in the back and brushed his shoulders in the front.

“What the devil?” he asked, reaching up to touch his hair.

Ginny’s eyes went immediately to George, who was covering his mouth with his hand. Next to him, Fred pressed his lips together tightly, and both boys’ eyes were alight with mirth.

“Oh, dear,” Mr. Weasley said. “The twins got to you somehow.” Mrs. Weasley shot a reproachful look at the twins, but she remained silent, as she had for most of the morning.

Mr. Granger’s hair had passed his shoulder-blades and was headed rapidly for his waist. “Got me? How so?” Harry thought that he was remarkably calm, all things considered.

“They fancy themselves pranksters,” Mr. Weasley explained. “From the looks of it, they got you to swallow some hair-growth tonic.”

“You look positively primordial, dear,” Mrs. Granger said, chuckling lightly. “I wish I had the camera.”

“I’m sure you’ll have no trouble remembering it without,” her husband said.

Ginny glanced at Hermione and found her friend smiling broadly.

“Hold on, I’ll set you to rights,” Mrs. Weasley finally said, reaching for her wand.

“May I do it, Mrs. Weasley?” Hermione asked excitedly. “I know the spell, and I haven’t been able to do magic at all this summer.”

When the red-haired woman looked hesitant, George spoke up. “Don’t worry, Mum. I could do that spell with no problem, which means that Hermione could probably do it in her sleep.”

“I suppose it’s up to you, Jason,” Mrs. Weasley said, glancing disapprovingly at her twin sons.

Mr. Granger, whose hair had almost reached the floor, shrugged casually. “Have a go, Hermione.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Hermione said. Bouncing out of her seat, she stood next to her father and aimed her wand at his hair. “Finite Incantatem.” The growth stopped as suddenly as it had begun. “Crinii Inverti.” Mr. Granger’s lengthy locks began to retract, and after a few moments they looked just as they had before the twins’ interference.

“Well done, Hermione,” Mr. Weasley said expansively. “I couldn’t have done it any better myself.”

Hermione beamed at the Weasleys and her parents. She hugged her father briefly and then returned to her chair.

Mrs. Weasley looked over at the youngsters’ table. “We’ll talk about that little trick when we get home, boys,” she said sternly, a hint of her usual persona creeping out.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, Molly. There’s no harm done,” Mr. Granger said. He twisted around in his chair. “All in fun, right, lads?”

Fred and George grinned broadly. “Absolutely,” they said together.

When the adults’ attention returned to each other, Hermione faced the twins. “I learned that spell after April Fools’, you know. Just in case.”

“Probably smart of you,” Fred admitted.

“Your dad’s a sport,” George said. “Why’re you such a girly-swot?”

Hermione tilted her head back slightly and looked down her nose at the two brothers. “I consider it a service to the community.”

Fred and George laughed outright at her statement and immediately launched into a whispered conversation that involved much gesturing and a few glances back at their bushy-haired friend.

When everyone had finished eating, Mr. Weasley raised his voice to catch the group’s attention. “Well, now, we’ve got quite a bit of the afternoon left. I have an errand to run, and I promised Harry that I’d take him around so that he could do his own shopping. Would anyone else like to come along for that?”

That was pretty smart, Harry said.

Ginny nodded to both of them. “I’ll come, Dad.”

“Me, too,” Ron added.

“We want to go to Gambol & Japes,” George said. “Just to look around for a bit.”

“Hmm,” Mr. Weasley said, “that might take a while. Perhaps we should have two groups.”

“I’ll take them,” Mrs. Weasley replied. “Someone should at least make sure that they only look around.”

The twins looked a bit crestfallen, but they shrugged and nodded anyway.

“I’d like to go with Mr. Weasley, if that’s all right,” Hermione said to her parents.

Mr. Granger nodded. “As long as he doesn’t mind.”

“Of course not!” Mr. Weasley said cheerfully. “Hermione’s no trouble at all. Would you two like to come also?”

“Oh, I think we might find some place to wait rather than running around with you lot,” Hermione’s father said. “Honestly, this place can be a bit overwhelming.”

“Understandable,” Mr. Weasley said, nodding. “I went to Piccadilly Circus once, and I can’t imagine how anyone gets anything done there. We could show you to Flourish and Blotts bookshop, if you’d like, and we could all meet there later.”

“That would be excellent,” Mrs. Granger said. “Books, at least, aren’t too terribly different.”

Ginny’s father smiled. “Well, some are, but you should be able to spot those easily enough.” He looked around the room, his glance landing on each person. “What about you, Percy?”

“If it’s all right, I would like to try to find a friend of mine.”

“Ah, yes, I remember,” Mr. Weasley said as the twins elbowed each other, winking outrageously at anyone that would catch their eye. “That’s fine. You can Floo home on your own, but be sure to be there by six o’clock and not a minute later.”

“Of course, Father,” Percy replied.

Mr. Weasley stood up and clapped his hands cheerfully. “All right, then. I’ll take the youngest four to run our errands, Molly will take the twins to Gambol & Japes for a while, and Jason and Helen will be at the bookshop. We’ll all meet back there by, say, three o’clock — an hour and a half from now — and then we’ll decide where to go from there. Any questions?”

No one responded, but they all got up from the tables and headed for the door. Harry and Ginny, with Hermione and Ron behind them, followed Mr. Weasley into the main area of the bar. Percy had started out of the room as soon as his father finished speaking, and Ginny only barely spotted him as he left the Leaky Cauldron.

The group set off into Diagon Alley, and within a few minutes they had left the Grangers at the entrance to Flourish and Blotts. Mrs. Weasley walked quickly to keep up with the twins’ excited pace, and the three of them slowly pulled ahead of Mr. Weasley’s group.

“The place I need to go is down at the far end,” Ginny’s father said, “so let’s go there first and then work our way back. That way you’ll have the whole alley to pick from, Harry.”

Harry and Ginny began to look into the shop windows as they walked, trying to decide what they might like for their birthdays. Hermione and Ron were happy to offer their suggestions, but neither of them had any ideas that appealed to the younger pair. After a few minutes, Harry began to watch the ground in front of him as he became lost in thought, while Hermione and Ron had fallen a few steps behind and were having an intense but quiet conversation.

Talk to Dad, Ginny suggested. He won’t mind.

Harry lengthened his stride to walk next to Mr. Weasley, while Ginny kept half of her attention on Ron and Hermione to make sure that they kept up with the group.

“Err . . . Mr. Weasley?” Harry asked, speaking as quietly as he could while being heard over the bustling crowd. “May I ask you something?”

“Sure, Harry,” the older man answered, keeping his eyes on the path ahead.

“Well . . . I was wondering. How much should someone spend on a birthday present?”

Mr. Weasley looked down at Harry with a puzzled expression. “What do you mean, exactly?”

Ron and Hermione had started some sort of argument, and Ginny felt safe focusing on Harry’s conversation with her father, knowing that their friends were keeping up by the sounds of their voices.

Harry tried to think of how to explain his dilemma. “I’ve got all this money, you know,” he said, lowering his voice. “I’ve bought things for other people, but I never worried about how much they cost. Ginny . . . err . . . we know when something is . . .”

“A bit much for the Weasleys?” the tall man asked. “It’s all right, Harry. I know what we’ve got, and the important part isn’t in Gringotts.”

“Ahh . . . right. I feel the same, I think. Ginny knows about that sort of thing, but we don’t know what’s . . . err . . . normal, I guess.”

Mr. Weasley scratched his head thoughtfully. “I’m not sure I should be telling you how to spend your money, Harry.”

“That’s all right. Maybe you could . . . err . . . give me your opinion?” Harry shrugged. “I don’t know who else to ask.”

“I can do that, I suppose.” They were passing Gringotts, and Mr. Weasley glanced up at the huge marble doors. “Honestly, Harry, you’ve got enough money to buy almost anything you see.”

“Ginny told me that,” Harry replied softly, “but I shouldn’t, right? I mean, I should make sure there’s a lot left for later, because I’ll never know when I might really need it.”

Ginny’s father peered down at him again. “That’s right, Harry, and very wise. Well put, too.”

Harry grinned. “You taught it to Ginny.”

Mr. Weasley chuckled. “Sometimes, even now, I forget about things like that.”

At least he only forgets the small stuff, Harry said.

“So what’s . . . err . . . reasonable?” he asked aloud. “I . . . err . . .” Harry hastily rephrased his statement. “We want to get things we like, but we don’t want to spend too much, either.”

“Well, I’m only guessing, mind, but I suppose that five Galleons each would be enough for very fine presents at your age. Anything more than that would probably seem rather extravagant to most people.”

“Five. All right, thanks,” Harry said.

“You’re welcome.”

Harry fell back a step or two to walk next to Ginny, and they reached for each other’s hands unconsciously. I have eight Galleons left in my bag, right? he asked.

Plus eleven Sickles and eighteen Knuts.

Right. So hopefully we can stop and get more.

Harry, Ginny reproached gently, just because Dad says that five is okay, that doesn’t mean that you have to spend that much.

I know, but if I don’t, I’ll just have the rest for school things, so why not get enough?

All right, I suppose, but I don’t think we should spend five Galleons each unless we find something really wonderful.

Their musings and their friends’ clearly escalating argument were interrupted when Mr. Weasley stopped in front of a small storefront very close to the end of Diagon Alley. The sign above the ornately-carved shop door said “Cooper’s Construction.”

“Brace yourselves,” Mr. Weasley said with a smile as he opened the door.

The front room of the shop was no larger than Harry’s room at Privet Drive, but it was completely full of bins, shelves, and drawers. Almost everything was made of wood, including the handles on the tiny drawers set into one wall. Looking around, Harry and Ginny spotted the same handles for sale out of a bin, and on the wall above was a display of dozens of different handles and knobs. The opposite wall was completely occupied with a display of assorted types and colours of wood, few of which they recognised.

A fair-haired man stood behind the counter at the back of the store. He wore a red shirt under a faded pair of overalls. “Art Weasley!” the man said loudly, rounding the end of the counter and stepping over a low barrel full of nails. “How the hell are ya?”

His accent was so strange that, combined with the odd shortening of her father’s name, Ginny hardly recognised what he was saying.

I think he’s American, Harry said.

“I’m fine, Jim,” Mr. Weasley said. “And you?”

“Good, good.” The man had reached them, and he pumped Mr. Weasley’s hand vigorously.

Now that he was closer, Harry could clearly see the muscles standing out in the man’s arms and shoulders. He smelled dusty, but it was a wooden sort of dust.

“Who’ve ya brought with ya?” Jim continued, looking down at the children.

“This is my son, Ron, my daughter, Ginny, and their friends, Harry and Hermione.” Mr. Weasley looked down at them. “This is Jim Cooper.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Cooper,” Ginny said, hoping to be polite but feeling a bit overwhelmed by the man’s presence.

“Call me Jim or Jimmy.” Mr. Cooper dropped into a crouch in front of the four friends and thrust his head towards Ginny. “I’ll be . . . you’re Ginny? Are ya sure? I haven’t seen you since you were knee-high to a grasshopper!” Ginny nodded vaguely, amused at the words, but Jim had already turned to Ron and begun shaking his whole arm. “I reckon you don’t remember me, but I saw you when you were just babies. How’re the rest? Bill an’ Charlie an’ . . . well, I can’t quite remember the others.”

“They’re fine, Jim. Those two are out living on their own, now. We’ve just five at home.”

“’Just five’? You an’ Molly’re the only folks in the world who’d say ‘just five’ like it didn’t mean nothin’.” Mr. Cooper looked back down at Harry. “Howdy, Harry. What’s that on yer head? War paint?” The man’s grip was strong and indescribably huge, but he did not squeeze Harry’s hand enough to be painful.

What in the world is war paint?

I have no idea, Ginny replied.

“Err . . . no, Mr. Cooper. It’s just an old scar.”

Jim threw his head back and guffawed loudly. “I know it’s a scar. Hell, even I’ve heard of that. I still say it looks sorta like war paint, though. Good t’ meet ya.” Once again, the big man’s attention shifted without waiting for another response, and he looked past Ginny at Hermione. “Afternoon, Miss Hermione. It’s a pleasure.” He pronounced Hermione’s name with three syllables, but somehow all of the sounds were in there somewhere.

“Thank you, Mr. Cooper,” she replied, looking a bit lost. “You’ve a wonderful shop.”

He laughed again and surged to his feet. “I’ve got a hole full of sawdust, you mean, but thanks all the same. What’re you up to, Art? Just bringin’ a coupla pretty girls in here to class up the place, or can I get somethin’ fer ya?”

Ginny glanced at Hermione and saw her bemused smile mirrored on her friend’s face.

“Oh, the usual,” Mr. Weasley said. “I’ve had a bit of damage I can’t fix.”

“What’ll it be?”

“Well, I need the hinge-side upright for a door frame.”

“Just that one board, not the whole frame?” Jim asked.

“That’s right. One of my twins Transfigured the old one into sawdust, and it scattered too much for me to repair.”

Mr. Cooper’s laughter echoed in the small shop. “I’ll be, Art. Ever’ time you come in here, the story gets better. You mind my askin’ what happened?”

Ginny’s father shrugged easily, and she knew that he would not say anything important. “It was fairly simple, actually. The door was closed and locked, and Fred wanted it open. Once he Transfigured that part of the frame, the door just fell into the room.”

Jim nodded, his smile never fading, and Ginny thought that perhaps he realised that he would not get any more details. “Well, good fer him. Let’s see . . . you got standard seventy-six inch doors and oak frames, don’t ya?”

“That sounds right.”

“No problem, then,” the big man said.

“Do you still have a Portkey Permit?” Mr. Weasley asked.

“’Course I do! Couldn’t do business without it. You want me to send it to the usual place?”

“Yes, please.”

“Done, then. I’ll have it in your yard by five. Anything else?”

Mr. Weasley shook his head. “That’s all. For now, anyway.”

“Hmm… okay, let’s call that four Sickles.”

Ginny’s father gave the other man four silver coins and shook his hand again. “Thanks, Jim. I’ll see you next time.”

“Anytime, Art.” Mr. Cooper looked down at the young quartet again. “Y’all be careful, now. If ya take out impor’nt parts of th’ house, it might jus’ fall down on ya.”

“Err . . . we’ll remember, Mr. Cooper,” Ginny said when neither Ron nor Hermione answered.

They filed out of the shop and paused once the door had closed behind them. “Well, that was fun, wasn’t it?” Mr. Weasley asked.

“He’s loony, right?” Ron asked.

“No, Ron. He’s a nice man, actually. He’s just very . . . enthusiastic. It takes a bit of getting used to.”

“Where is he from, Mr. Weasley?” Hermione asked curiously. “He sounds American.”

“You’re right, Her-my-nee,” Arthur said teasingly. “Somewhere in the southern part of the country, I believe. I’ve never thought to ask exactly where, and I’m not sure I would understand his answer if I did.”

As they walked back down Diagon Alley, they passed Ollivander’s two doors down from the construction shop. “Dad,” Ginny asked, “can we stop and ask Mr. Ollivander if he’s got any phoenix feathers?” She had grown to love her petite wand, but she could not deny that Harry’s still performed a bit better for them both.

“Didn’t he say that he’d contact you if he found a phoenix feather?” Mr. Weasley asked.

In their eagerness, they had forgotten that. “Well, yes, I suppose he did,” she replied.

“Let’s leave him alone, then,” her father said. “I’m sure he’ll let you know if he has one.”

“What if he forgets?” Harry asked.

Mr. Weasley grinned. “Harry, that man remembers the name, parentage, and wand of every wizard or witch who’s ever bought a wand from him. Do you really think he’ll forget about your feather?”

He’s got a point, Ginny said.

“Oh. Right.”

The small group strolled along the shopfronts, and Ron kept leading Harry off to gawp in one shop window or another. Hermione latched onto Ginny’s arm, and within a few steps, they were far enough behind Mr. Weasley and the boys to have a private conversation without becoming truly separated.

“Ginny,” Hermione whispered. “What exactly did that house-elf say last night?”

“Honestly, he said pretty much what I told you at lunch. He thinks there’s some danger at Hogwarts, and he’s been trying to keep us from going. Other than that, it was mostly just apologising and trying to punish himself.”

“He didn’t say anything about what the danger might be?”

“No.” Ginny bit her lip and glanced ahead to make sure that their conversation was private. “Well . . . there was one thing. It might have been some sort of clue.”

“What was it?” Hermione asked, wide-eyed.

“He . . . err . . . he said that Harry is the one in danger.”

Her friend scowled slightly and looked over with a piercing gaze. “What did he really say? Word for word?”

Should have known that wouldn’t work.

Ginny sighed. “He said that Hogwarts is very dangerous for Harry Potter, and anything bad for Harry Potter is . . . is very bad for Ginny Potter.”

“You’re kidding!” Hermione said, her voice rising. After a quick look at the people nearby, she continued in a loud whisper. “He said that?”

“Yeah. Trust me, I remember it exactly.”

Hermione walked in silence for a few moments, staring at the ground in thought. “I can’t imagine that he would have said that if he wasn’t sure that Harry was the target somehow, so he must know something very specific.” She began nodding as she followed her line of reasoning. “He’d obviously been spying on you two for a while, which makes it likely that he overheard something. He must spend almost all of his time at the house where he works, though.”

Harry nodded his approval of the display of wirelesses that Ron was admiring, but he kept most of his attention on the girls’ conversation.

The brunette raised a hand unconsciously and began twirling a lock of her hair around her finger. “It’s most likely that he overheard a conversation between his employer and someone else. If they had been talking about protecting Harry, then it seems logical that he would have said something to his employer rather than coming to you. All of his slip-ups make it seem that he’s deathly afraid of his employer, though, which could imply that the conversation he overheard was about threatening Harry.”

Hermione’s eyes finally re-focused on Ginny. “How common is it to have a house-elf in a wizarding home?”

“Umm . . . I don’t know that it’s rare, exactly, but it’s not common. There are lots of old families out there, and plenty of them have estates with elves. Dad says that even the Weasleys might have had an elf or two a long time ago.”

“All right. So we need to think of someone, probably from an old wizarding family, who could hear about or cause a threat to Harry at Hogwarts. A threat that Dumbledore wouldn’t know about, at least not yet.”

“Yeah, and . . .” Ginny hesitated for a moment. “We also have to think of someone who would want to hurt Harry. There’s only one real reason for a grudge against him, isn’t there?”

“There could be several, actually, but only one that seems to fit,” Hermione said. “Last term or ten years ago, it’s the same, isn’t it?”

Ginny and Harry silently agreed with their friend. “Any guesses on who, then?” she asked hopefully.

Hermione sighed. “No, not really.” She frowned at the ground for a few more steps and then looked up at Ginny with a brighter expression. “He really called you Ginny Potter?”

Ginny fought to keep the colour out of her cheeks, but she knew that she failed. “Yeah.”

“Do you mind?”

“No! Of course not!” Ginny said instantly. “I think . . . you know, in some ways, it might be easier that way. No one complains when married people share a room.”

Hermione grinned and rolled her eyes. “That’s not really the problem, and you know it.”

“I know, I know.” Ginny frowned. “No one ever lets us forget.”

The other girl’s expression fell into a look of contrite sympathy. “Sorry.”

Ginny shrugged, determined not to dwell on that thought. “It’s not your fault. Can you think of any reason Dobby might have called me that?”

“No,” Hermione replied, shaking her head. “He’s obviously been around your house enough that he should know your last name.”

“I told him it was Weasley, too,” Ginny said. “He said he thought it should be Potter.”

Hermione burst into a brief giggle. Smiling broadly, she leaned over to whisper directly into Ginny’s ear. “I think it should be Potter, too, when you get right down to it. Just not quite yet.”

“Hermione!” Ginny cried softly, completely losing the battle with her traitorous blush. A moment later, however, she was also grinning. “You’re quite clever, do you know that?”

Harry glanced over his shoulder and tried to catch Hermione’s eye. When she noticed him, he smiled quickly and shrugged. Hermione grinned in response, and she and Ginny laughed softly together for a few moments.

“C’mon, Harry,” Ron said, pulling him by the arm towards the next shop. “We have to go into Quality Quidditch Supplies. There will definitely be things you want there.”

“All right,” Harry said, “but not without Ginny.”

Ron nodded impatiently. “Yeah, sure.” Ginny pulled Hermione up to walk just behind the boys, and Ron glanced over his shoulder at them. “What’s so funny?”

Ginny schooled her face into an innocent mask. “Nothing, Ron. Why?”

“Oh, never mind.”

Ron, Ginny, and Harry were all fascinated by the racing brooms and gear on display in Quality Quidditch Supplies. A banner hanging on the back wall of the store said, “Coming Soon: The Nimbus 2001,” in letters that zoomed on and off of the canvas from all directions. Speculating on the cost and performance of the next Nimbus occupied them for several minutes, but Harry and Ginny did not find anything that they truly wanted within the limit they had set for themselves.

When they reached Gringotts, near the centre of Diagon Alley, Mr. Weasley led them all inside. They could not all fit in a cart, so Mr. Weasley sent Harry down to his vault with the goblin attendant while the three Weasleys and Hermione waited in the lobby.

Ginny sat on a bench and closed her eyes as Harry’s cart careened its way down to his vault. They enjoyed the wild ride, but she was very glad that she had not been trying to move at the same time.

“Are house-elves related to goblins, Mr. Weasley?” Hermione asked quietly. “They look a bit similar.”

“Not that I know of,” he replied. “Anything’s possible, though.”

When he arrived, Harry carefully scooped up ten gold Galleons and added them to his bag. The withdrawals he had made since learning of the vault had not visibly reduced the quantity of coins at all. As he slipped his pouch back into his pocket, an idea occurred to him. Is there any way I could give some of this to your dad?

Ginny’s gratitude for his generosity was tinged with embarrassment and an obscure sort of pride. Umm . . . I don’t think so, she said. Thanks, though.

A few minutes later, they emerged back into the sunlight. As they descended the steps, Ron pointed across the alley at Simon’s Playthings and Games. “That’s where we got your brooms, Harry,” he said. “Let’s try there.”

Ginny had been to the toyshop occasionally, when she had begged her mother to let her go inside and look around. The store had been a busy place, filled with moving and unmoving toys, frolicking children, and more colours than she had ever imagined seeing at one time. Simon’s matched her memories perfectly.

When they reached the front windows, they saw glass shelves occupied by rows and rows of carved wooden figures in a variety of garish costumes. Many of them were waving at the people passing outside the shop, but some appeared to be talking to each other via broad arm-gestures, and one pair was clearly fighting. On a shelf above them, a Snitch-sized ball bounced inside an invisible cage, changing colours each time it encountered an unseen wall. The bottom of the same window was filled with a large fabric-covered horse, which trotted and occasionally galloped in place.

Mr. Weasley led them through the doors, and they were immediately greeted by a bright green, quilted monkey, which swung down from the rafters of the shop and squeaked, “Welcome to Simon’s, England’s only magical toyshop! If you can’t find it here, you don’t want it!”

A wide-eyed Hermione grabbed Ginny’s free hand, and Ron stood behind the other three children. Together, they stared around the store, seeing everything from Paper-free Finger-paints, which allowed one to paint in mid-air, to Music Balls, which made a different sound when each of the twenty sides were touched. The latter rolled freely about on the floor, making their own discordant melodies as they ricocheted off of furniture, shoes, and other toys.

They wandered through the ground floor, seeing so many fantastic things that they could hardly identify them all. At the centre of the store, ten ropes dangled at an unnatural angle from the ceiling to the floor. Each rope had a flat disc tied to the end on the ground. As they reached the first rope, a boy of no more than six ran around them and leapt onto one of the circular platforms. With a loud honk, the platform rose along the rope, taking the boy with it. A harried-looking young man in a green waistcoat dropped through the ceiling on another, straight rope and departed for the front of the store. Both platforms then returned to their original positions.

I don’t remember those from last time, Ginny said. There were musical stairs instead.

“Up we go, then,” Mr. Weasley said. He stepped onto a platform and disappeared, and Ron followed him quickly.

Ginny glanced at Harry. We’d better not try that at the same time.

Ladies first.

Ginny stuck her tongue out at him, but she climbed onto one of the discs and passed through the ceiling. The platform stopped, leaving her flying through the air towards a massive pile of brightly-coloured pillows. She landed harmlessly and scrambled off of the pile to join her father and brother.

Brilliant! Harry said.

Ginny grinned. They should have those at Hogwarts instead of all of those silly staircases.

Hermione stepped forward onto the platform, and Harry and Ginny watched from both levels as she was lobbed into the pillows. She landed flat on her front, her arms and legs splayed out around her. Mr. Weasley walked over and gently helped her to her feet, and then Harry took his turn. He pulled his knees to his chest in mid-air, bounced once on the pillows, and rolled to his feet near the edge of the pile.

Hermione took a deep breath as she straightened her clothes and hair. “That would take a lot of getting used to.”

Ron grinned. “Let’s do it again, then.”

“I’m so glad you liked it, Ron,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

“Look, Harry,” Mr. Weasley said, pointing. “There goes one of your brooms.”

The second level of Simon’s was much more open than the first, and it was filled mostly with things that took up a lot of space. Zooming along one wall was a Comet like the one from Harry’s set. As he and Ginny watched, it approached a corner, where an odd bowl was mounted to the wall. When the broom was less than a foot from the bowl, it turned smoothly and raced away along the adjacent wall.

“Did you see that?” Harry asked. “It turned!”

“Didn’t know they could,” Ron said, his eyes fixed on the tiny broom.

When the model reached the farthest wall of the store, it entered a tall display where the brooms were sold in sets. Rather than flying through the display, though, the Comet performed loops and dives between the boxes before exiting the structure at an angle and soaring towards the other corner.

Without waiting to see if anyone followed them, Harry and Ginny rushed across the room towards the display. Tucked in among the packages, they spotted more of the bowl-shaped devices. As they watched, an Oakshaft made its stately way into the area, following the same course the Comet had.

The bowls make them turn, Harry said. See? There’s a ring-shaped one to make the loop.

Looking more closely at the boxes, Ginny and Harry saw that some of them contained assortments of the special bowls, which were apparently called ‘banks’. Some sets had only four banks, but higher up on the shelves were boxes with twelve and even twenty per box.

“Harry, Ginny, look up there,” Mr. Weasley said.

Following his gesture, they looked up to where the ceiling peaked in the middle of the room. There, they saw a different set of brooms moving through a space no larger than the Weasleys’ broomshed. Inside, the models manoeuvred rapidly through loops, slaloms, and corkscrews around a myriad of different banks, all supported by a complex network of thin wooden poles. In one place, each broom somehow picked up a coloured ball, and the balls clung to the tiny shafts as the brooms flew. When they approached the same spot from a different angle, each ball fell away from the broom and dropped neatly through a hoop of the same colour. Above the set of five hoops was a scoreboard labelled with each broom type. The Nimbus’s score was much higher than any of the other brooms’.

Mesmerised by the motion of the models, Harry and Ginny could only stare. “That’s incredible,” they muttered simultaneously. From the corner of her eye, Ginny saw Ron walk closer to the display, turning to see it from the side.

“It’s the Everything-and-the-Sink Set,” Hermione said. “It comes with forty-eight banks in twelve sizes, four loops, eight reversible funnels, one goal-keeping set, and one-hundred-forty-four feet of Sticking Sticks.”

Ginny kept her eyes on the models, but Harry turned to blink at Hermione. “What?”

She pointed up to the topmost shelf of the display. There, a large box showed the brooms looping around the goal set. The description Hermione had provided was printed in shimmering letters at one end.

Nine Galleons, Harry said, reading the label on the shelf. He sighed silently. Too much.

Not if we combine our presents.

Harry had instinctively thought that she would want something different, but he knew that the set had captured her interest as well as his. Are you sure? he asked, wanting to be certain. We haven’t even been to Madam Malkin’s yet.

Mum and Dad’ll get me clothes, anyway, and I don’t care if they’re not new. This is loads better.

Harry nodded. “Mr. Weasley,” he said, “would it be all right if Ginny and I got this for both of our presents? It wouldn’t be more than five Galleons each.”

The older man’s eyes moved to Ginny, who was still watching the brooms near the ceiling. “I think that would be reasonable, Harry,” he said, smiling broadly. With a casual flick of his wand, Mr. Weasley levitated the box down from the shelf.

“You’re getting that?”

Harry and Ginny both turned to find Ron standing a few steps away, scowling at the box in his father’s arms.

Bugger, Ginny said. I should have realised he wouldn’t like it.

Instinctively, Harry understood his friend’s scowl. “Yeah,” he said, doing his best to sound cheerful and unaware. “You’ll help us put it all together, won’t you? We can use Ginny’s whole room.”

You’re just incredible, Harry, Ginny said, giving him the mental equivalent of a hug.

He responded with an internal shrug. Just because he doesn’t technically own it doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy it, and playing with it is what matters.

After a moment, the red-haired boy brightened considerably. “Yeah, I’ll help. If we do it right, maybe we can get them to go up and down the stairs to my room, too.”

Harry’s answering grin was completely genuine. “We hadn’t thought of that. Perfect.”

Hermione had wandered off to examine a display of animated plush toys in a pen nearby. She rejoined them, and after a few minutes of exploration, the group found the musical staircase and walked back down to the counter at one side of the ground floor. Harry paid for the set happily, and the young witch behind the counter Portkeyed it directly to the Weasleys’ front step.

Their mission accomplished, they all walked back towards Flourish and Blotts. The elder Grangers had already selected a few books each and were reading together on a bench near the front window. Hermione greeted them and then wandered away into the shelves with a determined expression.

“Have any trouble?” Mr. Weasley asked.

“Not really,” Mrs. Granger said. “One book tried to kiss me, so I just stayed away from that section afterwards.”

Ginny’s father chuckled. “I’ve seen those. Most of them stop if you let them peck your hand.” He looked around briefly. “Have you seen Molly?”

Mr. Granger shook his head. “Not yet.”

Ginny’s father perched on the end of the bench and continued talking to the Grangers. Ron picked up a new Quidditch magazine from a rack and began reading it without bothering to sit down. Harry and Ginny sat on the floor between the bench and the window, facing each other with their knees touching.

I’ll bet we could set up something like we saw, Harry said. We’d just have to be really careful about aiming everything so that the brooms start over when they’ve finished.

Ginny nodded. It shouldn’t be too hard to make them go up the stairs, either. It’d take two banks — one to turn them that way, she said, gesturing with her hands, and then another to make them go up.

Harry looked up to see Mr. Granger looking at them strangely. Oops.

Just pretend we’ve been talking really quietly, Ginny replied. She made the same motions again with her hands. “Like that, see?” she whispered.

“Oh, I get it,” Harry said equally softly. “Then we put another one at the top to level them off again.”

By the time Mrs. Weasley and the twins returned, they had a crude plan for getting the model brooms up the stairs to Ron’s room and back down again without stopping.

“Sorry we’re late. We stopped at the apothecary’s to pick up more Floo powder,” Ginny’s mother explained in a rush. “There was an awful queue, and that was after I finally dragged these two out of that ridiculous joke shop.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing, Mum,” Fred said.

George grinned. “A joke shop is supposed to be ridiculous.”

Mrs. Weasley huffed. “Well, they’re doing quite splendidly at it, then.”

At her father’s request, Ginny and Harry set out to find Hermione. They found her sitting on the floor in the Creatures section with three books cradled in her lap and a fourth open in her hands.

“What are you reading about, Hermione?” Ginny asked.

“House-elves. So far, all I know is that they’re unique and apparently not related to goblins at all. This book,” she raised the one she had been reading, “is widely regarded as the best source of information, so I hope it will have more to say. The other three supposedly contain true stories involving house-elves and their employers, so I’m hopeful that they can help us determine which families might still have elves.”

“You don’t have to do all of that work just for us,” Harry said.

“I know, but I want to.” Hermione bit her lip for a moment, her eyes downcast, before meeting his eyes. “Harry, I’m sorry. I know you heard me earlier, but . . . I wanted to say it to you directly, I suppose. You didn’t do anything remotely wrong, and I’m sorry for even wondering if you had. It’s just that . . . well . . .” She sighed and looked at the floor again. “It’s just that I didn’t think it through, really.”

Why’s she still worried about this? Harry asked. We told her it was all right, and she knows that hearing it from you is as good as hearing it from me.

I’m not sure. Something makes it different for her, I guess, but I can’t imagine what.

Doesn’t matter, I suppose.

Harry reached out and put his hand lightly on Hermione’s shoulder. “Hermione, it’s okay. We forgive you . . . I forgive you, even if we don’t think you really need to apologise in the first place.”

Hermione smiled weakly. “Thank you, Harry. I know it’s silly, in a way, but that means a lot to me.”

“Come on,” Harry said, helping Hermione to her feet. “If we take any longer, your parents will think you fell into one of these books or something.”

The three friends made their way back to the adults, and the Grangers went to the counter to pay for their books. A few minutes later, all ten of them emerged back onto the street.

“Would you all like to stop for ice-cream?” Mr. Weasley asked. “Jason, you’ve really got to try the ginger flavour.”

“I suppose that would be all right,” the other man replied. “Provided it doesn’t try to eat back, of course.”

“It’s just like Muggle ice-cream, Mr. Granger,” Harry said. “It just comes in strange flavours.”

Fortescue’s was crowded, but they managed to find enough empty tables to pull together into a line along one wall. All four of the adults ordered the ginger-flavoured ice-cream, and the twins split an apple-raspberry split. Ron chose bubblegum, and Hermione picked out an odd-looking flavour called éclair. When it was their turn, Harry and Ginny considered for a long time before ordering two different seven-flavour samplers.

After everyone had tucked into the ice-cream and shared spoonfuls here and there, Ginny’s father caught the Grangers’ attention. “As it happens, Ginny’s birthday is coming up fairly soon, too. We’re going to have a small celebration at our house one week from today, and I’m sure Ginny would love it if Hermione could come. Molly and I would enjoy seeing you again as well, if you’re interested.”

Ginny straightened in her chair. No one had mentioned any plans for her birthday yet, and she had thought that there would be no more than pudding and presents, as there had been for Harry’s.

Technically, this whole day is for my birthday, Harry pointed out happily. Why shouldn’t you have a party at The Burrow?

Hermione turned to Ginny and smiled, clearly sharing their excitement.

“Well,” Jason Granger said, “it sounds like fun, but we do have to think about getting to Devon and back. That’s quite a lot for one day.”

“I could help with that, if you wanted,” Mr. Weasley said. “Non-magical folk can be carried with Side-Along Apparition.”

Mr. and Mrs. Granger both looked down at Hermione with expectant looks.

“It’s a form of teleportation,” she explained, “and it can be done with a passenger.”

“Hmm. We’ll have to consider that,” her father said.

“We could also drive down and stay the night somewhere nearby,” Mrs. Granger said.

“There’s that,” Mr. Granger replied. He turned back to Mr. Weasley. “We’ll talk about it, Arthur, and see what we can work out. For now, let’s just say that we’re open to the idea. Can we contact you tomorrow evening somehow?”

“We can send Hedwig if you’d like.” Harry said. “She hasn’t had a chance to deliver anything in a while.”

“Thank you, Harry,” Mrs. Granger replied. “That would be very kind of you.”

When all of the ice-cream was gone — with a bit of help from Ron and the twins — the Grangers and Weasleys left the shop and walked back towards the Leaky Cauldron.

“I hope I get to go, at least,” Hermione said from Ginny’s left. “It’s so wonderful just to be around magical people and things again.”

“I’d love it if you could,” Ginny said, smiling. “We could show you my room and the pond and the paddock. Oh, and the clock. You’ll like the clock.”

“Do you think your parents would let me do any magic?” the brunette asked. “I could help with the dishes.”

Harry grinned at her eagerness. “We’ll find something.”

“It’s horribly unfair, you know,” Hermione said. “You lot get to use magic every day.”

“Sorry, Hermione,” Ginny said. “There’s just lots of things we can’t do without it. I don’t have anything like a hair-dryer, so I’d be stuck without the Drying Charm.”

“Yes, I know why it’s done that way. I just don’t like it. I really want to be able to practise the things I’ve been reading about.”

Hermione launched into a series of questions about spells she had read about. Harry, Ginny, and Ron had heard about or seen some of them, but others were unfamiliar. As usual, Hermione seemed to file away every morsel of information she collected.

Back in the main room of the Leaky Cauldron, the two families said their goodbyes. Ginny’s father and Hermione’s shook hands warmly, and the two women shared a friendly hug.

“I’ll do my best to make sure I can come next weekend,” Hermione whispered as she hugged Ginny. Then, when she moved to Harry, she said, “You two take care of yourselves, and don’t get anywhere near those relatives of yours.”

“All right, Hermione,” Harry said. “We’ll send Hedwig tonight.”

After a few final waves, the Grangers left the Leaky Cauldron and walked away in the direction of King’s Cross. One by one, the Weasleys Floo’d back to The Burrow, and this time Harry managed to arrive with no more fanfare than a long tumble across the living room floor.

As soon as they arrived, Fred and George went up to their room with their heads close together, whispering intently. Mrs. Weasley quietly announced that she was going to start on dinner. Harry, Ron, and Ginny ran to the front step, and the two boys carried the birthday present inside.

Mr. Weasley stopped them at the bottom of the stairs. “Hold on a moment. I need to fix that door before you lot turn Ginny’s room into a broom-maze.”

“We could build it down here,” Ron said.

“Oh, no,” his father replied. “You can do whatever you like with your rooms and even the stairs in between, but that’s as far as you go. I don’t want you to take over the entire house.” His smile softened the words, but Harry and Ginny knew that he was completely serious.

“Will it take a long time to fix the door, Mr. Weasley?” Harry asked.

“Once the piece is delivered, it won’t take very long at all. Jim might have sent it already, in fact.”

Ginny looked up, excited. “Will it come to the paddock?” At her father’s nod, Ginny Shifted to the edge of the paddock and looked around. As she had hoped, a solitary plank of wood was lying in the grass nearby. She ran a few steps to it, leaned down to touch the board, and then Shifted into a bit of the front garden that Harry could see through the window.

“It’s here, Mr. Weasley, and Ginny’s brought it closer,” he said, pulling open the front door.

“You two had better be careful,” Mr. Weasley said, walking out onto the step. “I might decide that you’re dead useful for carrying things.” With a swish and flick of his wand, he levitated the board and steered it into the house.

Harry, Ginny, and Ron followed him up the stairs to the landing outside her room. They watched curiously as he cast a silent spell on the exposed wall and then fitted the board into place. “How do you make it stay?” Harry asked.

“A special sort of Sticking Spell,” Mr. Weasley replied. “It’s very strong and mostly permanent, but it only works to join two things made of the same material.” Holding the plank still with one hand, he tapped its edge with his wand, and Harry and Ginny saw it seat more firmly into the slot. Then Mr. Weasley ran his wand down the length of the board before letting go of it. A final tap caused the surface of the wood to become slightly glossy, which matched the original frame.

From the top of Ginny’s wardrobe, where she could not even see them, her father retrieved two half-hinges, two metal pegs, and six metal screws. He held one hinge up against the newly-completed frame, and Harry could see that the holes in the hinges lined up perfectly with a set of holes that had been drilled into the wood.

“That charm won’t work with a wooden frame and metal hinges,” Mr. Weasley explained, “so we just use screws. Of course, I don’t have to bother with one of those brill things.” A few waves of his wand levitated a screw and drove it smoothly into place.

“A drill, you mean,” Ginny said.

“Is that it? I can never remember.” He finished attaching the hinges and then stepped back. “Actually, Ginny and Harry, if you don’t mind, you could bring the door up from the shed and save us some time.”

Harry nodded as Ginny Shifted into the back garden. “We need a flat place to put it,” he said.

“Why not on the bed? It ought to be good for something. Can you put it there safely?”

Harry shrugged. “Ginny can.”

Ginny entered the shed and spotted her door leaning against the wall. After a few seconds’ concentration, she leaned over and pressed her palms onto the surface along one edge. A moment later, she appeared in her room, next to the bed, with her arms extended, and the door fell out from under her hands to bounce slightly on the decrepit mattress.

Ron nudged Harry. “Couldn’t you have done it?”

Harry shrugged. “Maybe, but Ginny’s better at Shifting big things than I am.”

The red-haired boy blinked, and Mr. Weasley looked down at them curiously. “That makes absolutely no sense, does it?” Ron asked.

“I suppose not,” Harry said, “but there you are.”

Ginny’s father levitated the hinged door into position. At his direction, Ron dropped the two pegs into place. Mr. Weasley tapped the knob, and then he opened and closed the door a few times. “That’s done, then. You lot can play with Harry’s brooms until dinner, but try not to block the bathroom door.”

“Thanks, Daddy,” Ginny said. She bounded down the stairs to where Harry and Ron had left the Everything-and-the-Sink Set. This time, she only put her fingers on it before Shifting upstairs and depositing the entire box neatly on the floor of her room.

Show off, Harry said, smiling fondly.

It’s fun. You could do it if you tried.

He shrugged. Probably, but it’s fun through you, so why bother?

The three of them spent the next hour and a half unpacking the box and examining its contents. The six-inch-long support poles had built-in Sticking Charms, and with nearly three hundred of the little pole-sections, Harry and Ginny suspected that they could put the banks and loops almost anywhere they pleased.

Not long after they got started, Fred and George climbed the stairs to stand in the doorway. “Well, I suppose that answers our first question,” George said, looking around at the scattered pieces of the set. “Excellent choice, Harry.”

“What’d you get, Ginny?” Fred asked.

“This,” she replied. “Harry and I decided to just get one gift.”

The twins nodded. “Makes sense,” Fred said. “You share everything anyway.”

“D’you want to join in?” Harry asked. “We’re trying to sort out all the pieces.”

“Hmm, perhaps later,” George said. “We’ve got other things going right now.”

Ginny snorted. “You mean you’d rather come back once we’ve done all the work so that you can just play with the brooms.”

“Possible, dear sister,” Fred said with a devilish grin. “You can’t be sure of that, though, can you?”

By six o’clock, Ginny, Harry, and Ron had constructed a course that covered most of her floor at a height of six inches. They had not yet used any of the funnels, the loops, or the goal-keeping set, but they had quickly learned how to combine the various banks to make a continuous circuit.

They ate dinner as quickly as they could and hardly noticed Mrs. Weasley’s silence and downcast eyes. When they were all excused from the table, Fred and George joined in the construction project. Ginny’s room became quite crowded with people and broom accessories, but they managed to expand the course to go over the bed — rather than under it — and to include two of the loops. They also worked out how to make a loop with an open space in the middle, such that the racing brooms circled around a placid Bun-bun as they followed their winding path.

Finally, well after ten o’clock, Mr. Weasley appeared in the doorway. “Come on, all of you. It’s time for bed.”

“Do we have to, Dad?” Ron asked.

At that moment, Harry and Ginny both yawned, and her father chuckled. “It seems like a good idea, yes.”

“At least watch the brooms go first,” Ginny said.

“All right,” he agreed.

The twins quickly removed the slalom they had been attempting to build under Ginny’s desk, and Harry and Ginny made a few other adjustments to make the course complete. The five children stood in the open spaces they had left for themselves, and then Harry started the brooms.

Mr. Weasley watched and clapped appreciatively as the brooms started their third lap. “Well done, all of you. Rein them in, now, and let’s all get some sleep.”

George put his hand across the course, and one by one the brooms reached him and stopped. He passed them to Harry, who carefully tethered them to their mounting block.

The three brothers said their goodnights and left. Harry and Ginny changed into their nightclothes separately, and he picked up the brooms to take with him to Privet Drive again.

“Goodnight,” Ginny said to her father, who was still standing in the corridor.

“Sleep well, phoenixes,” he said, smiling with a hint of sadness in his eyes. “Be back here in time for breakfast, all right?”

“We will, Mr. Weasley,” Harry said. “I’ll set my watch.”

After her father cast their Injury Alarm charms and hugged them both, Ginny backed away in preparation for Shifting to Privet Drive. Through the open door, she saw her mother climb up to the landing.

“Ginny, I . . .” Mrs. Weasley started.

After a few heartbeats of silence, Ginny knew that her mother would not be able to say anything meaningful. She fisted her hands in the material of the long t-shirt she wore, determined to wait until her mother was forced to say something.

“Goodnight, dear,” her mother finally whispered. “Goodnight, Harry.”

Ginny sighed, not bothering to fully hide the gesture. “Goodnight.”

With a last, frustrated look at Mr. Weasley, whose expression had collapsed, Harry and Ginny shifted to Surrey. A few minutes later, they were settled into bed.

What a great day, Harry said, forcing their minds to focus on the best parts of their day together.

Ginny nodded, agreeing with his words and accepting his intentions. It’s almost odd, isn’t it?

Yeah. That’s . . . well, that’s almost as good as what I always dreamed a birthday would be like.

Ginny squeezed him lightly. We’ll make sure they’re all like that from now on, or even better.

Goodnight, Ginny.

She grinned. Goodnight, old man.

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Meaning of One, Part Two: Chambers and Secrets - Chapter 7: Juncture by Sovran