Impact

Harry and Ginny slept in the day after their trip to Diagon Alley. After taking quick showers, they barely made it down to the table before Mrs. Weasley began serving Sunday breakfast.

Ginny slipped into her place on Harry’s left. She automatically reached to move her silverware, but she found that it was already arranged on the left side of her plate. When she looked up at her father questioningly, he flicked his gaze towards Mrs. Weasley. After a moment, Ginny nodded, found Harry’s left hand with her right, and began eating.

Ginny and Harry spent most of the meal talking with Ron and the twins. The five of them were eager to resume their work on the broom-course taking shape in Ginny’s bedroom, and even Mr. Weasley seemed interested in finding different ways to arrange the track. His suggestions were interrupted when a barn owl soared through the window and landed rather abruptly on the table by his elbow. Mr. Weasley untied the parchment from its leg, and it immediately dipped its beak into Fred’s pumpkin juice, launched itself from the table, and flew away again.

“Must be from the Ministry,” Fred said. “Their birds are always in a right rush, not to mention rude and all.”

Mrs. Weasley, seated at the other end of the table, put down her fork. “What is it, Arthur?” Her voice was quiet, but that was becoming normal.

The red-haired man looked up with a serious expression. “Raids. We’ve been working to set them up for a while now, and it seems that tonight’s the best time.”

“Again?” Mrs. Weasley asked. “That’s three nights so far this year.”

“They are becoming more common,” Mr. Weasley agreed, “but they’ve all had at least some success, I think.”

“Who’re you going after, Dad?” Ron asked.

“There’s a group of young wizards, not long out of Hogwarts, who think it’s fun to bait the Muggles in London. They keep trying to outdo each other with more and more ridiculous charms. Bunch of petty miscreants, really, but they’re causing real problems for the Muggles. A biting teacup isn’t terribly harmful by itself, but if a Muggle tries to tell his friends about it, they start to think he’s off his rocker.”

I suppose it’d be wrong of me to find those wizards and ask them to relocate to Surrey, Harry said. Somewhere near Grunnings, perhaps?

Ginny grinned. Very wrong, Harry.

“They don’t often tell anyone, though, do they?” she asked. She had always been interested in her father’s work, and her relatively newfound knowledge of Muggle life helped her to understand why he did it.

“Thankfully, no. They usually keep quiet and forget about it before too long, or they convince themselves that they must have imagined it somehow.”

After breakfast, Ginny and Harry led her three youngest brothers up to her room, and the group of them spent most of the day arranging and rearranging the course for Harry’s brooms. They did not even realise it was lunchtime until Mrs. Weasley brought up a tray piled high with sandwiches. Carafes of lemonade and pumpkin juice hovered in her wake and settled themselves onto the remaining open area on Ginny’s desk.

“Here, everyone,” Mrs. Weasley said, not meeting anyone’s eyes. With a flick of her wand, she Summoned stacks of plates and battered glasses.

I wish she’d go ahead and say something, Ginny said, carefully hiding her sigh, but at least she’s not angry anymore.

“Thanks a lot, Mum,” George said, and the others echoed his gratitude. With a nod and a slight smile, Mrs. Weasley went back downstairs.

Fred looked at the doorway for a few moments after she left, and he took a long breath as though he were going to say something. Then, with a glance around the room, he exhaled and reached for a plate and a sandwich.

After a large but hasty lunch, Harry and the four Weasleys expanded their project into the corridor, hoping to make the brooms reach Ron’s room and return to the complex, three-dimensional arrangement already filling Ginny’s room. Their construction required endless trial runs of the brooms to assist in placing each bank. By mid-afternoon, the twins grew bored and left for their own pursuits, but Ron stayed with the project until dinner. By that time, they had placed the goal set and a few other pieces in his room, and the entire course took nearly one whole minute for the model Nimbus to complete.

In the middle of the meal, Hedwig flew into the kitchen and landed on the back of Mr. Weasley’s chair. “Well, hello, Hedwig,” he said, looking a bit surprised. “What’ve you got there?”

The owl held out her leg towards Mr. Weasley, who checked the name and then untied the letter. Hedwig flapped twice to alight on Harry’s chair, and he offered her a bit of meat from his plate. With a soft brush of her wings against his cheek, she took off and flew out through the window again.

“Ah!” her father said. “It seems that Hermione and her parents will be coming ‘round next weekend. They’re staying in a small B&B in the village for Friday night. They’ll be here around midmorning on Saturday, and then they’ll drive back to Cambridge that evening.”

“That’s great!” Ginny said.

Hermione’ll love this place, Harry said. She might actually spend the whole day watching the dishes.

“Would you like to invite Luna, too, Ginny?” Mr. Weasley asked.

“Yes, please.”

“All right. Anyone else?”

Ginny thought for a moment, but there was only one other person she really wanted to be at her birthday party. “Can Professor McGonagall come?”

Mr. Weasley glanced at his wife. Her jaw tightened, but she took a deep breath and smiled weakly. “I think that would be lovely,” she said.

He nodded, smiling reassuringly, and turned back to Ginny. “Would you like to invite her yourself, or shall I?”

“We can do it,” Ginny said.

“I’ll leave it to you, then,” Mr. Weasley said. “Let’s say we’ll get started at ten in the morning, all right? As soon as we’ve finished eating, I’ll Floo Xeno.”

“Then will you come and see the brooms?” Ron asked. “We’ve used at least half of the pieces, now.”

“Of course. You lot can give me the grand tour of whatever you’ve done with our upper floors.”

After dinner was complete and the dishes had begun washing themselves, Mr. Weasley went into the living room. Mrs. Weasley, muttering that she needed to finish putting away the day’s washing, also left the kitchen.

Ginny activated the pendant on her right wrist, and having no better place to look, she addressed it directly. “Hello, Professor. I hope we’re not interrupting your dinner. We’re having a party here on Saturday for my birthday, and it’d be great if you could come. If not, that’s okay, but we’ll miss you. It’s going to start around ten, and I suppose it will be over whenever people want to leave. Harry and I hope you can come. Goodnight.”

She looked up to find her brothers all watching her with various expressions of puzzlement. “Err . . . why were you talking to your hand?” Fred asked.

Ginny raised her wrist. “The pendants Professor McGonagall gave us. Remember?”

“Oh, yeah. Looks a bit odd, though.”

No stranger than a telephone call, really, Harry said.

Yeah, but how would they know that?

Mr. Weasley came back into the room at that moment. “Luna will come over at about the same time Hermione and her parents are supposed to arrive,” he said. “I invited Xeno, too, but he begged off, as usual. Not much of a social butterfly, that one.”

Ginny smiled at her father, pleased that both of her friends would be at the party. “Thanks, Daddy.”

“You’re welcome, Firefly. Now let’s see this contraption you lot have made.” He raised his head to look across the kitchen as Mrs. Weasley appeared at the base of the stairs. “Want to come along, Molly? You wouldn’t want to miss the eighth wonder of the magical world.”

“I thought our inverted potion-bottle pyramid was the eighth wonder of the magical world,” Fred protested.

Mr. Weasley nodded. “Oh, it was . . . seven years ago. Since it’s not around for sightseers to sightsee anymore, though, we had to have a new one.”

Everyone paraded up the stairs to the third landing and found a safe place from which to watch the brooms. Harry put the brooms into the start position, and then they began their race, twisting and looping and diving around inside Ginny’s room. When they left the room and started up the stairs, Ginny led her parents up after them.

“A most creative arrangement,” Percy said to no one in particular. Rather than following the brooms, he went back downstairs to his room.

Most creative, Ginny scoffed, watching the brooms pick up their corresponding balls. Coloured ink is probably creative to him. Since the revelation of Dobby’s interference, Percy’s behaviour had hardly changed at all. He remained stiff, distant, and seemingly uncaring. Hurt and angry, Ginny refused to approach him, and she could not imagine doing so any time soon.

When the brooms returned to Ron’s room and made their goals, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley applauded lightly. “Getting all of those pieces to line up properly must have been quite a chore,” Mr. Weasley said.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Ginny said. “The funnels help to keep the brooms all on the right path.”

“We sort of got the hang of it,” Ron added.

Harry shrugged. “The banks work in pairs, really.”

“It’s very impressive,” Mrs. Weasley said, offering a small smile.

Mr. Weasley pulled his pocket watch out of his robes and flipped it open. “I have to meet the rest of the team at the Ministry before too long,” he said. “I’d better get dressed.”

He started down the stairs, and Mrs. Weasley followed him with a deep sigh. “I wish you didn’t have to go on these raids, Arthur. Aren’t there enough other people who can do it?”

“I am technically the head of the office, Molly dear, even if there are only two of us and nobody cares which is which. I should be there for our part of the operation.”

The two adults’ voices faded as they descended the stairs. Harry and Ginny looked at each other, their pride disappearing into a muted worry. They could not help thinking of Luna’s concern that her father would not come home, but they believed that Mr. Weasley could handle anyone and anything he might encounter. In the end, they left Ron watching the brooms and walked down to the living room.

Sitting together on the sofa and holding hands, they watched the door that led from the living room to the master bedroom. After a few minutes, Ginny’s parents emerged.

Ginny and Harry stood up, and she crossed to stand at her father’s feet, craning her head back to look up at him. She had always felt extremely small when she stood close to her father, but somehow that feeling comforted her. “Be careful, Daddy,” she said.

Mr. Weasley smiled and picked her up. Rather than squeezing her to his chest, as he often did, he sat her on his hip so they were at eye level. “I will, Firefly,” he said, “but don’t worry. I haven’t been bitten by a teacup or battered by an umbrella in years.”

“It’s the blenders you have to watch out for,” Harry said.

Mr. Weasley laughed and ruffled Harry’s hair with his free hand. “Too right, Harry. I’ll be especially careful with the blenders.” He kissed Ginny’s cheek noisily and then set her down.

“’Bye, Dad,” Fred said. Harry turned and saw the twins and Ron standing near the door to the kitchen. Percy stood behind them, barely visible at the bottom of the stairs.

“Goodnight, boys and girl. Don’t give your mother too much trouble.” Mr. Weasley kissed Mrs. Weasley on the lips quickly. “I’ll be back for breakfast, if not sooner.” He crossed the kitchen and patted each of the boys on the shoulder or arm. Finally, with a wave, he stepped out into the garden and Disapparated.

“Well,” Mrs. Weasley said, exhaling sharply. “Your father’s going to have a long night, so let’s make sure the house is presentable for him when he gets home. Percy, tidy the kitchen, please. Fred and George, you take the living room. Ron, pick up the corridors and the stairwell, but you can leave the broom set out if you’d like. Ginny . . .”

Mrs. Weasley’s brisk instructions came to an abrupt halt as she turned to Ginny. After only a moment, she took a deep breath. “Ginny and Harry, please clean the upstairs bathroom. Remember, all of you — no magic.”

Yuck, Ginny said. I always seem to get the bathroom when she gets a bee in her bonnet like this.

Why no magic, though? Harry asked.

One or another of the children had asked that question often in the past, and Ginny’s memories provided her mother’s answer. It keeps us busy, and we’re not supposed to use magic for everyday things that we can do by hand.

I suppose we’re lucky, then, Harry said. I bet we’ve done more Muggle cleaning this summer than the rest of your family has in their whole lives.

There’s that.

Mrs. Weasley was still looking at them, a hesitant and questioning look on her face, so Ginny nodded. “Okay.”

Ginny and Harry made short shrift of the bathroom, and then they went downstairs to help the twins. By the time the house met Mrs Weasley’s high standards, Harry and Ginny were tired, so they changed into their nightclothes, said their goodnights, and Shifted to their private bedroom in Surrey.

They tumbled down the stairs at The Burrow the next morning, still in their nightclothes, and found Ginny’s brothers eating breakfast at the table. Mrs. Weasley stood at the worktop, cleaning one of her pans by hand. Every few seconds, she glanced up at the family clock. Following her mother’s gaze, Ginny saw that her father was still ‘at work’.

“Err . . . Mum?” Ginny asked. “Shouldn’t Dad be home by now?”

“I’m sure he’ll be home soon,” Mrs. Weasley said. “Don’t worry. He’s gone from work to travelling a few times this morning, but he’s not been in any danger.”

Harry and Ginny went back upstairs and rushed through their showers. Then they returned to the kitchen, and Mrs. Weasley brought them both breakfast. They had just started to eat when Mr. Weasley’s hand moved from ‘at work’ to ‘travelling,’ and a moment later they heard a crack from the garden.

Ginny’s father stepped into the kitchen, his cap askew and his shoulders sagging wearily. His voice, however, was cheerful and almost energetic. “Hello, Weasleys. Sorry I’m late.”

After hanging his hat from the back of his chair, he dropped into his seat. Mrs. Weasley placed a plate in front of him, and he tucked in eagerly. “Nine raids,” he said between mouthfuls. “Nine! Every time we got into a hideout, we found a clue that led us to another. It turns out that there was a whole ring of wizards, all playing off against each other with silly tricks and odd charms.”

“Find anything good?” Ron asked.

“Not personally. Silly things, as I said . . . boxes full of those biting teacups and a few cans of shrinking keys. There was some nasty stuff in other departments, though. The lot from Experimental Charms were still trying to sort through it all when I left.” He looked around as he took a sip of orange juice. “The kitchen looks really top-notch.”

“We did the rest of the house, too,” Ron said.

“Then I’m sure it also looks great.”

By the time Mr. Weasley had finished eating, he was yawning. He had been excused from his office for the day, so he went to take a nap. Mrs. Weasley cautioned the children to be quiet, and Harry and Ginny decided that they would have to wait to get back to the broom set. Instead, they went out to the pond and had a long, carefree swim for the first time in days. That afternoon, the five youngest residents of The Burrow played a game of Quidditch, having decided that the outdoors were temporarily more interesting than the indoors.

As the week went on, Harry and Ginny’s new situation gradually became normal. The broom set lost some of its initial fascination, but they still spent many hours inventing new courses. At other times, they swam, played Quidditch, or used Harry’s broom servicing kit to trim and tame the Nimbus and the Weasleys’ collection of brooms. One or more of Ginny’s youngest brothers frequently shared their activities, but at other times the boys found their own amusements. When they were alone, Harry and Ginny practised flying separately, swam, or tried out new card games from the book Hermione had sent them.

On Tuesday, they received a note from Professor McGonagall. She planned to attend the party, but she would not arrive until noon. Ginny made sure her parents knew to expect another guest, and her mother’s forced smile at the news was not at all surprising.

Several times, Mrs. Weasley approached Ginny and seemed to want to talk, but she never got past a certain hesitant look before making an innocuous comment or request and walking away. Ginny sighed in frustration each time it happened, but her mother made progress in other ways. Tiny bits of their day-to-day lives, like the placement of Ginny’s silverware, were arranged for them. Every other day, Mrs. Weasley washed and laid out Harry’s pyjamas and the t-shirt Ginny had commandeered to be her nightdress. They were always reminded to return to The Burrow directly after waking up in the morning, but they were never questioned about their nights in Surrey. The topic was not taboo, but they found that no one wanted to discuss it, and neither did they.

Starting on Thursday afternoon, Ginny’s mother became rather frantic about cleaning the house. All of the things that Ginny, Harry, or her brothers had done at the beginning of the week had to be done again, and many new tasks were added to her mother’s mental list. The broom set was temporarily restricted to Ginny’s room, and Ron and the twins spent most of an afternoon cleaning their own bedrooms with rather mixed results. The parlour had to be dusted, the kitchen floor scrubbed, and all of the rugs aired. Harry and Ginny were not thrilled with the work, but it was not terribly onerous. The prospect of the weekend kept them cheerful.

Before dinner on Friday, Ron, the twins, Harry, and Ginny all went outside to de-gnome the garden together. Halfway through the task, as near as Ginny could guess, Mrs. Weasley appeared on the back step. “Ginny! Harry!” she called, her voice a little higher than usual. “Could you come and help me for a moment?”

I’d bet my entire vault that she doesn’t need us to move something heavy, Harry said.

Ginny handed the gnome she had just caught to George. Her brother gave her a small smile and whispered, “Good luck.”

Harry and Ginny walked back to The Burrow hand in hand, using those few moments to attempt to settle their emotions. When they reached the house, Mrs. Weasley held the back door open for them and then closed it firmly when they were all inside.

Ginny’s mother stayed near the door, and they turned to face her from a few feet away. She pulled a flannel from the strap of her apron and began wringing it in her hands, her knuckles whitening to match the fabric.

“I . . . I don’t actually need your help,” Mrs. Weasley said at last. She met their eyes, but every few seconds her gaze darted away for a moment.

Ginny and Harry kept their eyes locked on her, their faces as neutral as they could manage. They nodded together.

Mrs. Weasley gasped and raised the flannel to her face as her body heaved. She made no other sound, and after wiping her eyes she looked at them again. “I suppose I do need your help, in a way. I can’t . . . you’re the ones who . . .”

A small part of Ginny longed to rush forward and climb into her mother’s arms, but she tightened her grip on Harry’s hand instead. As much as they hoped for reconciliation, they knew that they could not initiate it.

After trying and failing to find words for a few moments, Mrs. Weasley pulled a chair away from the table and dropped into it. Again she wiped her eyes and then visibly forced herself to meet Ginny’s stare. “You’re a good girl, Ginny. Good, and clever, and so very brave. So strong. And I’m . . . I . . .” Her body hitched again, and tears began flooding her cheeks. “I don’t know what to do,” she sobbed, burying her face in her hands. “I just don’t know what to do.”

Ginny took a half-step forwards before catching herself. She would always want her parents’ appreciation, but this time, she needed more.

C’mon, Mum, she urged silently.

Mrs. Weasley continued to cry, and Ginny’s eyes welled up as they watched her. They barely registered voices from the garden, but both of their heads snapped up when the back door opened. Mr. Weasley entered the room wearing a cheerful smile, but his expression changed instantly to concern as he looked back and forth between Harry, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley.

Ginny waved a hand towards her mother, and her father pulled the distraught woman’s head against his body. His arms wrapped around her shoulders, and her sobbing grew louder in the quiet kitchen.

Stroking his wife’s head gently, Mr. Weasley quirked a questioning eyebrow at Harry and Ginny.

“She wanted to talk to us,” Ginny whispered.

“All right,” he said, nodding. “Do you mind if we try that again later?” When they shook their heads, he gave them a small smile. “Thank you. Why don’t you go on outside and help your brothers finish? I’ll call you all in for dinner.”

Harry and Ginny nodded and slipped around her parents to leave the house. They pulled the door closed as quietly as they could behind them, and then they trudged back out into the garden.

Fred lowered his arm as they approached, a gnome still struggling against his grip on its feet. “You all right?”

Ginny sighed as Harry shrugged. Nodding slightly, Fred passed the gnome to Harry. After swinging it twice, he flung it out of the garden as hard as he could. It landed several yards away and rose dizzily to its feet. Resolutely, Ginny and Harry looked around to find more gnomes.

At dinner that evening, Mr. Weasley announced that Mrs. Weasley was not feeling well and was resting. She had finished making dinner, though, so Harry and Ginny joined the Weasley males at the table. At first, their conversation was subdued, but by the time they finished eating everyone’s spirits had risen to a quiet version of normal.

At long last, by Harry and Ginny’s reckoning, Saturday arrived. They woke up the moment Harry’s watch chimed, and they Shifted to The Burrow seconds later. After her shower, Ginny picked out her favourite summer outfit and a set of Harry’s new clothes. She combed and dried her hair, leaving it loose but tucking an elastic into her pocket for later. When Harry was ready, they headed down to the kitchen.

“Good morning,” Mrs. Weasley said without turning away from the stove and her cooking.

Mr. Weasley looked up from his newspaper and grinned. “Morning, you two. Any reason you’re up so early?”

“Dad!” Ginny said, glaring at him playfully. Even her mother’s distance could not truly dampen her spirits on the day of her birthday party.

“Oh, that’s right,” Mr. Weasley said. “Today’s the final of the international gnome-racing championship, isn’t it?”

“Do the gnomes race each other, or do people race against the gnomes?” George asked. He and a yawning Fred dropped loosely into their chairs, still wearing their pyjamas.

Mr. Weasley folded his paper completely. “Hello, boys. Have trouble sleeping?”

“We were doing just fine until these two came stomping down the stairs,” Fred said. “For tiny titchy people, they make a heck of a racket.”

“That’s a bit rich, coming from you,” Harry said.

“Us?” George asked.

“Impossible,” Fred added. “I can’t remember the last time we woke anyone up so rudely.”

“Last summer,” Harry said immediately.

Ginny nodded. “You said it was supposed to sound like a lion roaring, but it was really more like listening to a lorry drive under my room.”

“Oh yeah,” Fred said, frowning slightly.

“Never did get that right.”

“Breakfast is ready,” Mrs. Weasley said, levitating four platters across the room to the table.

A moment later, Percy walked into the kitchen from the living room. He sat down and served himself breakfast in silence. Harry and Ginny filled their own plates and began eating as quickly as they could.

“Stuffing yourselves won’t make ten o’clock come any faster,” Mrs. Weasley said from across the room with a hint of her old vigour, “but it will make you sick. Slow down.”

Knowing she was right and surprised by her voice, they began alternating bites to force themselves to eat at a more normal pace. As they established a rhythm, Ron leapt down the last four stairs and began serving himself before even sitting down. Harry noticed that Mrs. Weasley was already cooking something else, presumably for the day’s lunch.

When Ron had finally pushed his plate away, Ginny’s mother urged them all out of the kitchen. “I’ve got plenty to do, and I need the space. You lot amuse yourselves until the Grangers and Luna get here, but don’t go messing up the house.”

Percy went back upstairs immediately. The twins followed after a moment, muttering to each other about the roaring charm they had never mastered. Casting about for some way to pass the time, Harry turned to Ron. “Fancy a game of chess?”

“Yeah, all right,” the red-haired boy said.

A few minutes later, the three of them and Mr. Weasley set themselves up in the living room. Ginny’s father read a newspaper in his chair. Ron and Harry played chess across the coffee table, and Ginny sat on the sofa behind Harry, whose left hand rested idly on her bare foot. They tried to focus on the game, but they often found themselves watching the fireplace or staring out through the window.

I hope Hermione and Luna get along, Ginny said.

Err . . . I’m not sure how that’ll go, honestly.

I know. That’s why I’m hoping.

Well, Harry said, letting his attention wander from the chessboard, they’re both really nice. They’re just very different otherwise. You never know — maybe they’ll have something in common to talk about.

They were quiet, inwardly and outwardly, for a few moments.

Just because we can’t think of it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist, right? Ginny asked.

Ron waved his hand in front of Harry. “Oi, are you playing or what?”

“Sorry.”

Ten minutes before ten o’clock, Ginny and Harry abandoned the chess game when they heard the distant sound of a car’s engine. Leaving Ron to pick up the pieces and the board, they both ran out to the front step. From there, they spotted the sun glinting off of metal in the distance. Less than a minute later, they could clearly see a large, silver Mercedes creeping up the unpaved drive.

Boy, I wish Uncle Vernon could see this.

Without seeing us or anyone else, you mean.

When the car’s engine stopped, the back door opened, and Hermione stepped out carrying a small, brightly-wrapped box. Harry and Ginny ran across the grass to meet her.

“Happy early birthday, Ginny,” Hermione said, hugging them both.

“Thanks, Hermione,” Ginny said. “I’m so glad you could come.”

“Me, too.”

The elder Grangers got out of the car, and Ginny’s parents walked over from the house to greet them. “Good trip?” Mr. Weasley asked.

“Not too bad,” Mr. Granger replied, shaking the other man’s hand. “We were out a bit later than usual last night, but there wasn’t too much traffic, and the B&B was pretty cosy.”

“Devon is so lovely,” Mrs. Granger said. “All these rolling hills and little valleys. It’s a wonderful change from the Cambridge Fens. It’s just flat and windy there.”

“Arthur,” Mr. Granger said, “is there some way we could see the house? Hermione promised us that it’s there, but what we see . . .”

Mr. Weasley smiled. “Not pretty, is it? Once you go inside, you’ll be able to see what’s really there.”

Ginny and Harry suddenly felt a strange stab of anxiety. The Grangers’ car looked utterly out-of-place in front of The Burrow, and Hermione was staring at the house with a thoughtful expression.

Ginny was trying to think of something to say when Hermione’s face cleared and she smiled wondrously. “The house is made with magic! It has to be. It is, isn’t it?”

The familiarity of Hermione’s keen interest soothed their fears, and they smiled. “Sure,” Harry said. “Why shouldn’t it be?”

“That’s . . . that’s fascinating,” his friend replied. “How does it work?”

“You’d have to ask Dad,” Ginny said. “It was all built before I was born.”

They all filed inside, and Hermione’s parents started visibly when they crossed the threshold. “Goodness,” Mrs. Granger said. “That’s . . . amazing.”

“No more so than some of the things you see every day, I’m sure,” Mr. Weasley said. “Someday, I’m going to persuade Molly to go to a kinema with me.”

“You know I’d go, Arthur,” Mrs. Weasley said. “We just don’t know how it’s done.”

“Details, mere details.”

Ron, the twins, and Percy came down the stairs in a loose group and greeted the Grangers. Smiling, Mr. Granger stepped forward and held his hand out to Fred. “Hello, George. Or is it Fred? It’s so nice to see you again.”

Fred smiled politely. “You too, Mr. Granger.” He reached for the older man’s hand, but as soon as they came in contact, a tiny buzz sounded. Fred recoiled. “Yeow!” he cried, shaking his hand.

All three Grangers laughed, and Ginny noticed that Hermione had her father’s eyes and grin.

“Gotcha!” Mr. Granger said, smiling. He turned his palm up to reveal a metal disc mounted on the back of a silvery ring. “It’s called a joy buzzer. Oldest trick in the book.”

Mr. Weasley looked up. “Really? What does it do?”

“Gives a tiny electric shock, just enough to surprise someone and make them jump like a fool.”

Harry grinned. “Worked really well for that.”

“George,” Fred said, “We’ve been pranked.”

“We have, brother mine. In a way we didn’t know was possible.”

“What are we to do?”

“We could run away —“

“Hide in Cornwall —“

“Lick our wounds and plot empty revenge,” George said, nodding. “Or —“

“We could learn,” they said together.

“That’s dizzying,” Mr. Granger said.

“You’ll get used to it, Dad,” Hermione told him, laughter bubbling in her voice.

“She’s right, impossible as it may seem.” Mr. Weasley waved at the living room. “Have a seat if you’d like, or we can show you around the house if you’d rather.”

“That would be lovely,” Mrs. Granger said. The four adults wandered into the kitchen as Ginny’s parents pointed out assorted bits of furniture and decoration.

“Luna should get here any time now,” Ginny said to Hermione. “Do you mind waiting for her in here? You can go on the tour if you’d rather.”

“No, I’ll wait,” Hermione replied. “I can see the house later.” She raised the package she was carrying. “Where should I put this?”

“Oh, just put it on the table,” Ginny said. She was excited to receive a gift from her friend, but for the moment she was much happier to have Hermione herself at the house.

Hermione nodded, put the box down, and looked up. “Hi, Ron,” she said.

“’Lo, Hermione.”

“Is your Dad always like that?” Fred asked. “Poking people with that buzzer thing?”

“No, he bought that just for you. Dad said that anyone who makes a joke should be able to take one, too.”

“Ah, such wisdom,” George said.

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned back to Ginny. “How have you been?”

Ginny merely shrugged. “All right.”

The older girl leaned forward. “Are you sure? Because —“

She was cut off when the tiny fire in the fireplace expanded and turned bright green. A moment later, Luna tumbled out, wearing a pink blouse and her familiar denim shorts. Harry offered her a hand and pulled her up from the floor. “Hi, Luna.”

Luna glanced around and then smiled. “Hello, Alex.” She hugged Harry and then Ginny. Without hesitating, she moved one step further to hug Hermione. “It’s nice to meet you.”

With a surprised expression, Hermione patted Luna’s back and then stepped away. “Err, you, too. I’m Hermione Granger. You must be Luna Lovegood.”

“Yes, I am,” Luna said with a bright smile. Her eyes flicked to Hermione’s hands, which were clasped in front of her waist. “You’re nervous about me. Don’t worry, I’m quite used to it.”

“No, not at all!” Hermione dropped her hands to her sides. “I’ve heard so much about you, and I’m just interested to meet you in person.”

“You’re polite. Thank you.” Luna’s smile slipped, and she frowned. “Do you know what a Hinkypunk is?”

Hermione looked around before answering. “Yes.”

“Do you know how it’s different from a Punkyhink?”

Now Hermione was blinking rapidly. “Err . . . no.”

Luna sighed. “I don’t either. I think it might have to do with footedness. You’re especially clever, so I thought I should ask. I also think you’re quite pretty.”

Hermione blushed. “What . . . I’m not . . . umm . . . thank you? You, too.”

“You’re welcome,” Luna said. She turned to the three Weasley brothers standing nearby. “Hello, Ronald.”

“Hi,” Ron mumbled, slowly taking a short step backwards.

The blonde smiled. “Do you feel like swimming today?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, maybe. Ginny’s party, innit?”

“Well, not exactly, but you’ve a good point.” Luna turned to Harry and Ginny. “I haven’t seen the right thing for your other birthday yet. I hope you don’t mind if I wait to give it to you until I’ve found it.”

“Of course, Luna,” Ginny said. “It doesn’t matter at all, you know that.”

“What do you want to do today, Ginny?” Hermione asked. “Are there . . . err . . . magical party games?”

Ginny giggled. “Like ‘Charm the Tail on the Hippogriff’ or something? No, nothing like that. I thought we might swim this morning, while it’s a bit cooler, and then come up with something else for after lunch.” They wanted to play Quidditch for a while, but they knew that neither Luna nor Hermione cared for flying, and they did not want their guests to feel left out. “Did you bring your swimming costumes?”

Luna tugged aside the collar of her blouse to show the strap of her costume, and Hermione nodded. “It’s in the car.”

“D’ you want to swim, then?” Ginny asked. “We don’t have to.”

“That’s fine,” Hermione said. “I’ll go get my costume.”

She went out to the Grangers’ car and returned carrying a small satchel. “C’mon,” Ginny said. “I’ll show you the bathroom.”

Ginny and Hermione climbed the stairs, and Ginny pointed out the doors to Percy and the twins’ rooms as they passed. At the third landing, she opened the door to the bedroom. “This is our room.”

“She seems nice,” Luna said to Harry in the living room.

“I think you’ll like her,” he said.

“Oh, I do. I just hope she likes me, too.”

“Don’t worry about a thing, Luna,” Fred said. “She seems to tolerate us well enough, so she’s bound to love you.”

He’s got a point, Ginny said as Hermione looked around their room.

Ron and George snorted, and then the three boys went up the stairs to change.

Hermione’s eyes followed the broom course and scanned the other furniture and decorations. Then she turned to Ginny and smiled. “It’s strange, but it fits,” she said. “I can tell that you and Harry live in this room, but . . . well, it rather looks as though someone a bit different lived in it for a long time before that.”

Ginny looked around the room, forcing herself to notice the things that had long ago become normal for her. Fanciful drawings with shaky lines and smudged ink were Spell-o-taped to one side of the bureau. In the corner, the stuffed dragon that Charlie had given her still flapped weakly on the floor among other plush toys. Dried flowers, colourful pebbles, and assorted pictures cut from magazines all surrounded the mirror. Mixed in with those treasures were new additions such as a framed photo of the victorious Gryffindor Quidditch team, the various bits and pieces of the broom set, and a neat arrangement of her and Harry’s combs, brushes, and jewellery.

She smiled and shrugged. “You’re right.”

Luna pushed her hair behind her ears, and the motion drew Harry’s attention. “Sorry, Luna,” he said. “I got distracted.”

“It’s all right,” she replied. “I’m sure you and Hermione have plenty of things to talk about.”

“Not really. We’re just showing her our room.”

Ginny turned back to the doorway and waved across the corridor. “That’s the bathroom. You can change in here or in there, whatever you’d prefer.”

“Oh,” Hermione said. She glanced around the room. “The bathroom’s fine.”

“Okay. We’ll wait downstairs.”

Hermione nodded as she crossed the corridor, and Ginny rejoined Harry and Luna in the living room. As she passed momentarily through the kitchen, she saw her parents and the Grangers sitting at one of the conjured picnic tables in the back garden.

Luna glanced around and then put her hand on Ginny’s arm. “You’re happier now. Did things get better?”

“Yeah. It’s a long story.”

“I don’t have to hear it,” Luna said. “I’m just glad you’re not sad anymore.”

“Thanks.” Ginny glanced into the kitchen, seeing no-one, and leaned in to whisper to Luna. “Look, Hermione’s parents are here, too, and they don’t know anything about Harry and me. Try not to say anything that would make them wonder, all right?”

“That’s rather silly, you know,” Luna said. “It’s perfectly obvious.”

“Maybe to you, but we’d like to try it anyway,” Harry said.

“If that’s what you’d like, Alex, that’s what we’ll do.”

They heard the twins coming down the stairs, and a moment later Ron appeared also. The six of them waited a few more minutes until Hermione finally stepped into the room. Her pleated skirt and pale yellow shirt had been replaced with a dark blue t-shirt and synthetic shorts in the same colour.

“Let’s get our charms,” Ginny said, leading the way into the kitchen and then out through the back door.

Mr. Weasley was explaining something to the Grangers, using broad movements of his arms and waving frequently at the house. At the other table, Percy was reading a book.

“We’re going to the pond, Dad,” Ginny said. “Can we have the charms?”

“Sure, Firefly.” He stood up from the table and walked towards Ginny, raising his wand.

“Ahh . . . what charms would those be, Arthur?” Mrs. Granger asked.

“Oh, just a couple of standard ones for when the kids are outside. First,” he tapped Ginny’s head, “is a sunscreen charm. We Weasleys are a bit paranoid about sunburn, as you might expect. Second,” he waved his wand and then flicked it at Ginny, “is a standard Injury Alarm charm, which will let us know if they’re hurt.”

Mr. Weasley performed the same spells on Harry, who was next in line, and then started on Hermione.

“Does that make it safe to let them run around where we can’t see them?” Mr. Granger asked.

“Well, it’s served us well, but we could go and sit down by the pond if you’d rather.”

After a brief discussion as Mr. Weasley completed the series of charms, he and Mr. Granger decided to go to the pond while their wives stayed near the house. Harry and Ginny led the way to the pond, and when they got within sight of it they stopped to shed their outer clothes. Then, with a shared grin, they ran forward side-by-side and dived into the pond together from their usual launching-rock.

As they streaked underwater towards the far end of the pool, they heard splashes behind them. When they surfaced and looked around, they saw the twins and Ron already in the water nearby. Luna and Hermione were wading into the water from the grassy shore, and the blonde girl’s lurid bathing costume contrasted sharply with Hermione’s simple black one-piece.

Ginny and Harry swam towards the shore until they could both stand on the bottom easily, and Hermione waded directly to them as Luna wandered towards the Weasley brothers. “You have to be careful,” Hermione whispered. “How do you suppose that dive looked to my father?”

Harry glanced up at Mr. Granger, who was deep in conversation with Mr. Weasley as the two men sat in matching lawn chairs. “What’d he say?”

“He was surprised, but Ginny’s dad said that you two had been practicing that all summer. I don’t think he’ll be suspicious as long as you don’t do anything else unusual.”

“Sorry, Hermione,” Ginny said. “We’ve never had to worry about it here.”

The older girl’s stern look softened slightly. “I know. I just don’t think we could explain things to my parents very easily.”

“We’ll be careful,” Ginny promised. At close range in relatively shallow water, she was slightly startled to realise that Hermione had grown since they had last seen her in anything remotely fitted. Ginny grinned and leaned closer to her friend. “Couldn’t you have waited until I got started before you filled out any more?”

Feeling slightly awkward, Harry turned away and kept an eye out for anyone who might overhear the girls’ conversation.

“Ginny!” Hermione glanced around the pond and coloured a bit beneath her tan. “It’s not as if I planned it this way. Besides, I’m almost two years older, remember?”

“I’m only joking, Hermione,” Ginny said. “Luna’s right. You look great.”

“I’m not so sure, but thank you,” Hermione said. “I’d just rather not . . . err . . . call attention to myself, you know?”

“We don’t have to swim if you don’t want to,” Harry said over his shoulder.

She huffed at his back. “Turn around, Harry, you look ridiculous.” He twisted back again, grinning slightly but still watching the area around them. “I like to swim, and I can’t change the way I look,” she continued. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Did you ever finish with Geometry?” Harry asked, hoping to change the topic.

There was nothing wrong with our conversation, Ginny said, giggling in their minds.

Easy for you to say.

Hermione nodded. “Mostly. There are a few theorems I haven’t proved yet, but I’m sure I’ll have them done in another few days.”

Any idea?

None.

“That’s great,” Harry said. “I’m sure it won’t take you any time at all.”

“Hermione!” Fred shouted from Ginny’s right, behind Harry.

The three of them turned just as Fred swung his arm and sent a veritable wall of water towards them. Harry and Ginny were caught in the edge of it, but it was obviously aimed at Hermione, who shrieked. She emerged from the splash with her hair flattened against her head and wiped her face. “George!”

“Fred,” Ginny whispered.

“Fred!” Hermione shouted again.

Harry, who had turned to face Fred, spotted George creeping towards them from the other end of the pond. “Duck!”

Hermione, Harry, and Ginny all managed to avoid the water George sent at them, and Ginny splashed at Fred in retaliation. Hermione swam away from the skirmish, but George followed her. Fred joined his twin, and Harry and Ginny swam after them all.

Thus began a splashing war of epic proportions. Within moments, Ron and Luna were drawn into the game, and the seven of them settled into rough teams of the Weasley brothers versus everyone else. Unable to Shift, Harry and Ginny got much wetter than they usually did, but Hermione seemed to be the boys’ favourite target.

The brothers soon declared themselves victorious over Ginny and her guests, and the battle devolved into a free-for-all. Hermione proved perfectly willing to pursue Harry and Ginny, and at one point Luna and Hermione managed to corner them and make them admit defeat. Ron rescued them by attacking the two girls from behind, and Harry turned to face Ginny.

I have to splash you, he said, feigning reluctance with no success whatsoever.

Oh really?

Yes. It would look very odd if we were the only ones who hadn’t splashed each other.

Ginny raised her chin and grinned. I get to fight back, then.

He shrugged. Yes, that’s fair.

This may not work, you know.

One way to find out, isn’t there?

Harry shoved water towards her, and Ginny forced herself to stay in place as her head was soaked again. Before he could repeat the performance, Ginny splashed back. Throwing planning and caution to the wind, they both closed their eyes and pushed their hands through the water blindly. For nearly a minute, they were only aware of a chaotic morass of thrusting arms and the near-constant impact of water at short range.

I get to win, Ginny said, laughing aloud with her face turned away from the incoming water. It’s my party, remember?

Oh, fine.

After a few more moments, Harry stopped splashing and ducked under the water to retreat. Ginny heard clapping from the bank, and she looked up and waved at her father and Mr. Granger as Harry surfaced nearby.

“Not the best showing, eh, Harry?” Mr. Granger called jokingly.

Harry shrugged. “She may be small, but she’s vicious.”

Ha!

The seven swimmers finally began to settle down, and they swam and lounged and talked happily until Mr. Weasley declared lunchtime. They all climbed out of the pond, and he let Hermione dry them with her wand. Once dressed, they wandered back up to the house. When they got close enough, Ginny spotted Professor McGonagall sitting with her mother and Mrs. Granger in the garden. She darted forward, but Harry deliberately continued to walk with Ron, Hermione, and Luna.

Thinking quickly, Harry turned to whisper in Luna’s ear. “I think Professor McGonagall would be much happier if you didn’t call her by her first name.”

The blonde girl looked a bit perplexed, but she nodded readily.

“Professor!” Ginny said, hugging the older woman quickly. “I’m glad you came.”

McGonagall’s lips turned up in a small smile. “In all my years of teaching, I have never once been invited to one of my students’ birthday parties. How could I resist the opportunity? Happy early birthday, Miss Weasley.”

Ginny huffed, though her smile did not fade. “Do I have to be Miss Weasley today?”

“Oh, I suppose not,” the professor said. “Happy birthday, Ginny.”

“Thanks, Professor.”

As he approached with his other friends, Harry saw Mrs. Weasley struggling to keep some semblance of a smile on her face.

“Hello, Miss Granger,” McGonagall said. “I hope your summer has been pleasant.”

“It has, Professor, thank you,” Hermione said. “It’s nice to see you again.”

Professor McGonagall turned to Luna. “Are you the Luna Lovegood I’ve heard so much about? My name is Minerva McGonagall.”

“I’m happy to meet you, Ms. McGonagall,” Luna said. “I thought you were going to be very standoffish.”

The professor blinked. “Well, I suppose that some might get that impression, but I’m not terribly concerned with it.”

“All right. I won’t be, either.”

“Good, then. Please tell your father I said hello.”

Luna nodded. “I’m sure he would say hello, also.”

Mrs. Weasley rose from the table and started towards the house. “All of you lot that live here, come inside and help me bring out our lunch.”

Harry and Ginny joined the line of Weasleys, but they were not surprised that Luna and Hermione both offered to help. In short order, the table was laden with several platters of sandwiches, carafes of pumpkin juice and lemonade, and all of the other things Mrs. Weasley had prepared that morning. Percy emerged from the house, and the large group divided much as they had at the Leaky Cauldron. Luna squeezed into one side of the children’s table with Harry, Ginny, and Hermione.

After lunch, Hermione brought her gift outside for Ginny to open. “It’s not much,” she said, “but I saw it and couldn’t resist getting it for you.”

Puzzled and intrigued, Ginny tore off the paper and opened the simple cardboard box. Inside was a layer of tissue paper.

Clothes? That’s odd.

She folded the tissue out of the way and saw a white Muggle t-shirt. Screened onto the front in large, green letters were the words, “My Brother Did It.” Ginny began laughing loudly while the shirt was still in the box. Harry, sitting to her right, forced himself to lean over her shoulder and look at the shirt before exploding into peals of mirth. Hermione grinned at them from Ginny’s other side.

The adults had gathered at the ends of the table, and the Grangers both wore pleased smiles. “What is it, Ginny?” Mr. Weasley asked.

Still laughing, she lifted the shirt out of the box and turned it for everyone else to see. Luna began giggling immediately, and Ginny’s father chuckled in a low voice. Mrs. Weasley’s eyes crinkled merrily, and after a moment she began to titter. Across the table, the three Weasley brothers were silent for a few heartbeats. Ron started laughing first, and the twins quickly followed suit. Ginny looked around and found that even Percy was obviously trying to contain a smile.

“That’ll save time,” Ron said.

Fred wiped his eyes. “Too right. Everyone’ll know it’s your fault right off.”

His younger brother snorted. “Nobody’s going to believe that.”

“Oh, dear,” Professor McGonagall said, her shoulders shaking faintly. “Would you wear that on request, Ginny?”

Finally recovering their composure, Ginny beamed at the professor. “Are you kidding? I’d never get to take it off.” She put the shirt on top of its box and turned to hug Hermione. “Thanks, Hermione, it’s brilliant. Absolutely perfect.”

“You’re welcome,” the older girl replied, still smiling widely.

“Time for the cake, then,” Mrs. Weasley said, turning back towards the house.

“A moment, please, if you don’t mind,” Professor McGonagall said. “I’ve brought something, too, but it’s not quite finished yet.”

Ginny’s mother nodded and stayed near the table as the professor reached into her pocket and brought out a plain black button. She stepped up to the end of the table and put the button on the wooden surface with a tiny snap. “There you are, Ginny,” she said.

Confused, Ginny looked up. “Err . . . thanks, Professor. It’s a nice button.”

“It’s a very special button, actually, but as I said, it’s not finished yet.” McGonagall turned to Ginny’s father. “Arthur, would you be so kind as to bring me a stone from the bottom of your pond? Something around the size of your fist, please.”

Mr. Weasley looked as interested as Ginny felt, and he Apparated away immediately. Moments later, he reappeared carrying a smooth, round rock the size of an apple. Apparently, he had already taken the time to dry his hands and the stone.

“Excellent, thank you,” McGonagall said, taking the stone and placing it several inches in front of the button. She drew her wand and pointed it at the stone.

As Harry and Ginny watched, the simple rock began to expand. First, it flattened into something resembling a thick dinner plate, but then the edges rose into the air and curled in upon each other. The circular shape developed rounded corners and began to look like some sort of biscuit tin. Just as Ginny thought of that, a slit appeared on the sides of the stone, and the part above the new crack separated from the rest to form a lid. Finally, the surface of the stone itself blurred slightly and reformed into a highly polished, perfectly smooth expanse of pearly grey.

When McGonagall lowered her wand, the simple stone had been transformed into a rectangular box with a hinged lid and a simple latch. Altogether, it was about the size of a large paperback book.

The professor smiled. “That’s better.” Lifting the lid of the box, she revealed the unadorned cavity inside. She tapped the inside of the lid, and it became a flawless mirror. “What is your favourite colour, Ginny?” she asked.

“Green,” Ginny answered breathlessly. They had never seen real magic done this way, as though it were a show performed by a master artist.

McGonagall tapped her wand on the bottom of the box. The stone rippled, and soft, forest-green velvet spread across the bottom and up the interior sides of the box. It stopped at the lip, leaving the stone exterior untouched. Inside the box, tiny velvet covered partitions grew from the bottom and sides, dividing the interior into compartments of various sizes.

“Now for the button,” McGonagall said. She picked up the plain button and centred it inside the box at the back edge. She took a deep breath, pointed her wand at the button, and began whispering too quietly for comprehension. After a moment, she moved her wand in a series of precise, minute movements, and the button transformed into a small, velvet-covered pedestal. Atop the pedestal, a white stone flower bud grew and froze as if just about to bloom.

The professor closed the box, the sound muted by the velvet between the base and the lid. Another wave of her wand sent a bolt of white light into the box, and then she tucked her wand back into her pocket. Smiling, she lifted the box and placed it directly in front of Ginny. “Open it, Ginny,” she said.

Ginny lifted the lid of the box reverently. As it opened fully, the bud blossomed into a tiny fairy, no more than two inches tall. She had long, red hair and ivory skin, and she was wearing a flowing green dress. When the transformation was complete, she began to glow with a blue-white light, just as some real fairies did.

The tiny figure raised her arms above her head, and tinkling music began to play from the box itself. The allegro melody was whimsical, and Ginny and Harry thought that perhaps he had heard it before. As captivating as the music was by itself, they were utterly mesmerised when the fairy began to spin and jump atop the pedestal, dancing gracefully to the box’s song.

“Tchaikovsky,” Mr. Granger whispered as the entire group moved to stand behind Ginny. “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy.”

Harry and Ginny were enraptured by the fairy’s carefree dance, but some part of their minds registered the conversation around them.

“The story itself has been told to magical children for over two millennia,” McGonagall said. “Pytor Tchaikovsky was a genius in both of our worlds.”

“That’s amazing,” Hermione breathed. “Is it permanent?”

“It is not indestructible, but it is still made of stone. The magic will last as long as the box is not broken.”

Hermione’s voice was laced with awe. “Incredible. Permanent transfigurations are really hard, and that was . . . that was a lot of them.”

“Why thank you, Miss Granger,” McGonagall said. “I’m quite proud of it myself. I must admit, however, that Professor Flitwick charmed the button to provide the music and motions. He also extends his best wishes for your birthday, Ginny.”

“Is it a real fairy?” Ron asked.

“No, Mr. Weasley. No one can permanently Transfigure something inanimate into something truly alive. The fairy is simply a very talented figurine.”

Ginny was utterly enamoured of the box and its minute dancer, and even Harry admired the beauty of the professor’s gift. Ginny’s pleasure and undiluted joy were far more important to him, though. Twisting in his seat, he looked up at Professor McGonagall and smiled with all of their elation. She blinked, her eyes beginning to glisten slightly, and then gave him the slightest of nods.

When the song and dance started over again, Ginny climbed up onto the bench and turned to the professor. “Thank you. Thank you so much. It’s beautiful.” She leaned forward and kissed the woman’s cheek before hugging her tightly.

“Oh,” McGonagall said, looking a bit startled. “You’re quite welcome, Ginny.”

Ginny clambered back into her seat and watched the fairy again. Luna was leaning into Harry to see, so he slipped off of the bench and waved her into his place. The blonde girl smiled at him and then sat shoulder-to-shoulder with Ginny. On the other side, Hermione watched in a near mirror of Luna’s position.

Harry took Luna’s place at the end of the table across from Ron, who had sat back down. “Girls,” the other boy said. “It’s nice enough, I s’pose, but I can’t imagine staring at it for that long.”

“It’s pretty,” Harry said, shrugging. “It makes . . . it makes them happy.” He had almost said ‘us’ but caught himself in the Grangers’ presence.

“Well,” Mrs. Weasley said, her voice slightly too loud and a bit strained. “This definitely calls for cake.”

A minute later, the box’s song started over, and Ginny regretfully lowered the lid. Lifting it carefully, she set it aside. It was heavy for a box of its size, but not so heavy as to be awkward for her. Without prompting, Luna moved back to her place at the end of the bench and let Harry sit next to Ginny.

Ginny’s mother returned from the house wearing a very forced, wet smile and carrying a large cake on a flat pan. The cake was made in a likeness of the pond at The Burrow. It was oval, and the blue icing on top was edged with grey-white in an irregular pattern to represent stones. In the central ‘pool’, the words ‘Happy Birthday Ginny’ moved about like a ribbon, sometimes disappearing under the blue icing and reappearing elsewhere.

When Mrs. Weasley set the cake in front of Ginny, the words stopped moving and hovered in place for a few moments. The letters themselves still rippled as though underwater, and for a moment Harry and Ginny were certain that the n’s in her name had raised their right-hand legs to make r’s while the i ballooned into an a. The G kept its shape, for the most part, but it squeezed itself into something that could almost look like an H when viewed next to the other letters.

Harry looked up at Mr. Weasley, who was standing behind him. The tall man smiled and squeezed Harry’s shoulder lightly.

Ginny giggled aloud and mentally. Happy birthday again, Harry.

Happy birthday, Ginny.

As soon as the cake had been consumed, Mrs. Weasley returned to the house with the empty pan, saying that she wanted to get ‘just a bit’ of tidying done. The rest of the adults and Percy returned to their table, and Ginny allowed her father to take the music box indoors for safety.

“All right,” George said. “What’s next, Ginny?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “You mean you’d let me pick?”

“Well, yeah,” Fred said. “It is your party.”

Harry and Ginny goggled at the twins, who shrugged. “We might have a suggestion or two,” George admitted, “if you haven’t decided yet.”

In truth, Ginny had been uncertain what to do with the rest of the afternoon. She did not want to exclude Hermione and Luna by suggesting Quidditch, but she did not want to exclude her brothers by talking with the girls all afternoon.

I’m not sure any of them would mind, either way, Harry said.

I know, but it’d be rude, and I’d rather do things together since everyone’s here.

Whatever makes you happy.

“All right, I’m listening,” Ginny said, feigning cautious scepticism.

Identical grins appeared on the twins’ faces, and they leaned across the table conspiratorially. “We call it Dough-ball.”

“Dough-ball?” Harry asked, lowering his voice habitually. “What’s Dough-ball?”

“A few years ago, we ran across one of Dad’s old spell-books from Hogwarts,” George said. “Needless to say, we liberated it, and we’ve been going back to it now and then ever since.”

Fred nodded. “Just this spring, we found a spell towards the back. We tried it once or twice, but it’s a bit hard to hide, so we haven’t been able to practice much.”

“Since it’s your birthday, though,” George said, “Dad might let us try it out, and it looks like great fun.”

“What does it do?” Hermione asked.

Fred’s eyes lit with mischief. “Watch.”

After glancing at the other table to make sure that the older people were fully occupied, he pointed his wand at the table-top and whispered, “Farinam.”

A fat disc of something pink appeared at the end of his wand and flew towards the table. It impacted with a muffled splat, spreading out into a low mound.

“See?” George asked. “Dough-ball.”

Harry poked the mound with his finger and found that it was, in fact, some sort of dough. It stuck tenaciously to his finger, forcing him to scrape his fingertip against the table to be rid of the stuff. After a few moments, the dough dissolved into nothing.

“The book says you can make it bigger or smaller, different colours, and even different thicknesses,” George said.

“So what do we do with it?” Ron asked.

“I’m so glad you asked, little brother,” Fred said. A quick turn of his wrist aimed his wand, and with another whispered incantation he sent a small pink dough-ball whizzing towards Ron. It hit him squarely in the chest, leaving a pale pink mess on his shirt.

“Ow!” Ron looked angry for a moment, but his scowl quickly cleared. “Oh, yeah. I’d like to learn that.”

Harry made the connection just as easily. Running around the garden and launching balls of dough at each other had a definite appeal. He looked around, finding Luna staring at Ron’s shirt with a puzzled expression. On Ginny’s other side, Hermione looked a bit worried, but Harry could see the interest in her eyes.

She’s really missed doing magic.

Err . . . what’s that spell going to do for us, though? Ginny asked. She was just as interested as Harry, but they had to remember Professor McGonagall’s lessons.

Good question.

“We’d have to find out how the spell works,” Ginny said.

“Why?” Fred asked. “The book says the stuff is harmless.”

“D’you think it’d be harmless if it was ten feet across or something?” Harry asked.

“Hmm. Good point,” George said.

Fred shrugged. “No matter. Like I said, it’s hard to hide the spell, so it’s not as though we could keep it from Dad.”

“Let’s ask him about it, then,” Ginny said. “If he won’t let us cast it at all, it doesn’t matter what it does.” She clambered off of the bench and walked over to where her father was sitting with Professor McGonagall, Hermione’s parents, and Percy. Harry followed her, and the others fell in behind him.

Ginny waited for a lull in the adults’ conversation, which came quickly when they noticed all seven of the children standing nearby. “Daddy?” she asked, smiling up at him.

One of his eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch. “Yes, Firefly?”

“We’d like to play a game with a spell. Would that be all right?”

The eyebrow rose a bit more. “What spell is it?”

“Err . . .” Ginny looked over her shoulder at the twins, not remembering the exact incantation.

“Farinam,” George said.

Mr. Weasley closed his eyes and sighed. “Finally found that one, have you? Had to happen sooner or later.”

Professor McGonagall chuckled very softly, and Ginny looked up to find the tall woman wearing a tiny smirk. “Well, Arthur?” she asked.

He sighed and then grinned at the professor. “Fair’s fair, I suppose.” Turning back to Ginny, he assumed a more serious expression. “You lot can use the spell, but only today and only out-of-doors. If you ever want to cast it again after today, you’ll have to ask again. Is that clear?”

Ginny nodded, glad that the persuasion had been easier than she had expected.

Yeah, but that’s the easy part, Harry said.

Ginny turned to Professor McGonagall, trying to restrain her optimism. “Err . . . what type of spell is this one, Professor?”

The woman’s lingering smirk stretched into a smile. “I’m very glad you asked that, Ginny. What type of spell do you think it might be?”

Hermione looked eager to answer, but Ginny knew that the question had been for her and Harry. After a moment’s consideration, Ginny said, “Well, it can’t be the first type, because then you wouldn’t be able to make bigger or smaller balls, right?”

“Indeed,” the professor replied. “And?”

“I don’t think it’s the second type, either,” Ginny said, thinking aloud. “It’s not . . . well, it’s just not the right sort of spell.”

McGonagall nodded. “That’s true, Ginny. The real answer is that you are not only moving the ball, as with the Levitation Charm, but you are also conjuring it, and the power required for Conjuration varies greatly.”

“Conjuration?” Hermione asked. “Really?”

“A very simple one, yes. It will not last long at all until you’ve had much more practice.”

Harry hid his disappointment as well as he could, but Ginny sagged. “That means it’s the third kind, then,” she said. “Oh, well. I suppose w- I can watch while everyone else plays with it.” She hoped that her momentary slip had not been noticed.

“Excuse me. What does all of this mean?” Mr. Granger asked. He and his wife had been listening raptly.

“Magic is not the same for everyone,” Mr. Weasley said. “Some people naturally produce more . . . err . . . significant results with a certain type of spell. That difference is especially noticeable in younger children, and Ginny in particular has to be careful what spells she uses.”

The Grangers nodded, but Harry suspected that they still did not fully understand. That’s great, but how am I going to avoid casting the spell?

Dunno.

“I did not say you could not cast it,” McGonagall said, bringing Harry and Ginny out of their momentary reverie. ”The spell was taught at Hogwarts for many years until I modified the curriculum to use Goshawk’s Standard Books of Spells. The spell your brothers have found is one of the primary reasons I sought the change.” The professor’s eyes flicked to Mr. Weasley as she smiled again. “You, like hundreds of students before you, have already realised the havoc this spell can cause.”

“Quick, what’s ‘havoc’ mean?” Fred asked in a stage whisper.

“Fun,” George replied in the same voice.

The group chuckled, but Ginny and Harry kept their attention on McGonagall. “I have, on very rare occasions, wondered if I made the right decision in that case,” she said. “Frivolous as it may seem, the so-called ‘Throw-Dough’ conjuration is actually a very effective learning tool. With a single incantation, it conjures a mass of mixed flour, salt, and water. At the same time, it tints that mass and sends it outwards as a projectile.”

“Farinam!” Hermione said. “That’s what it means . . . flour. I knew I’d seen it somewhere.”

“Indeed, Miss Granger. The original incantation was ‘Farinam Mitte’, which gives us the common name of the spell and the current, truncated incantation. In any case, the caster controls the size, colour, and consistency of the dough. Also, of course, the dough can be aimed at a target. Manipulating these factors provides precisely the practice that young witches and wizards need in order to learn fine control of their talents.”

“So I can cast it?” Ginny asked.

“I encourage you to cast it, provided you are supervised by an adult,” McGonagall said, nodding. “As you do, however, be sure that you actively seek to manipulate the spell rather than simply flinging dough about.”

“Are you certain it’s safe, Minerva?” Mrs. Granger asked. “What if the dough gets in their eyes or mouths?”

“I have rarely encountered any problems when using the spell. The conjuration expires very quickly at their age, and it can be removed with the hands or a simple cleansing spell if needed.” The professor turned from Hermione’s mother to the students nearby. “However, I have always insisted that no student use the spell from less than ten feet away and that they never aim above the shoulder.”

“Those rules will do quite nicely,” Mr. Weasley said in a commanding tone. “Don’t break them.” He turned to the Grangers and spoke more softly. “I’m confident that my children won’t be in any undue danger, and I will referee them myself. Of course, Hermione is your daughter, and it’s up to you whether she joins in or not.”

Mrs. Granger looked closely at Ginny’s father and then at the gathered children. After a moment, she met Mr. Granger’s eyes. “All right,” she said. “Hermione, if you want to play, you may.”

“Thanks, Mum. I’ll be careful,” Hermione said.

“Let us see how you all do with it, then,” McGonagall said. “Arthur, do you mind if that tree gets battered a bit?” She pointed at a medium-sized tree with a trunk that was about eight inches across and fifteen feet away.

“Not at all.”

“Line up, then, all of you. One at a time, aim your wand at the tree, flick your wrist sharply, and say ‘Farinam’. As you cast, think of the size, colour, and texture you want the dough to have. For now, try to make your dough small and firm enough to mould to the tree without excess water or flour.”

The seven students gathered together and faced the target tree. Under Professor McGonagall’s watchful eye, they cast the spell one after another. Fred and George had cast the spell before and were very adept, although McGonagall advised them to work on brightening their colour. Hermione also showed her natural talent, producing a small, dark grey ball that was only a bit too dense.

Ron’s first attempt was the size of a Bludger, and it wrapped partway around the tree in a puff of orange dust. His second spell yielded a somewhat better result, but the professor told him to practice his consistency.

Luna cast the spell without prompting. Her dough-ball missed the tree completely, but Professor McGonagall Summoned it back to them for examination. The mass was the size of Ginny’s fist, and it was half-pink, half-yellow. The two colours met in an even line with no blurring or overlapping. When McGonagall squeezed the ball in her hand, it deformed smoothly.

“Did you intend to produce this combination of colours, Miss Lovegood?”

“Yes. Do you not like them?”

“On the contrary, they’re very nice. Most witches and wizards cannot produce two colours on their first attempt, and you’ve got a very even texture. You should, perhaps, practice your aim.”

Luna shrugged and stepped out of the way.

“Ginny, would you like to try it next?”

Ginny stepped forward nervously. They had to use her time well so that there would be no questions about Harry’s control when it was his turn. Carefully, they concentrated on producing a green ball no larger than the twins’ and with the consistency of her mother’s homemade bread dough.

Ready?

Ready as we’ll get.

Ginny flicked her wrist lightly. The ball impacted the tree several inches higher than she had intended, and it deformed into an irregular oval the size of a serving platter. The sound it made was much wetter than the others had been.

The colour’s right, though, Harry said.

“Well done, Ginny,” McGonagall said. “A bit sticky, and I suspect that you did not intend for it to be so large, but an excellent effort overall. Try again, but this time focus on the size. Don’t worry about the colour for now.”

She did as instructed, and her second dough-ball was smaller with only a slight green tinge.

“There you are. In the future, try to maintain that size while bringing the colour back and perhaps drying out the mixture a bit.” Her gaze moved to Harry, and her eyebrow quirked. “Your turn, Mr. Potter.”

This time, they focused on a red version of the same ball. With his eyes locked on a particular groove in the tree’s bark, Harry cast the spell. When the dough struck the tree, it was a bit larger than Ginny’s second attempt, but the colour was clearer, and it was moulded to the exact centre of the trunk.

Still a bit wet, though.

It’s better than mine were, overall.

Harry shrugged, careful to keep the expression internal. It was our third try, not our first or second.

“Well-aimed, Mr. Potter. Try to reduce the size in the future, and then work on the moisture.” Professor McGonagall looked around at the group for a moment. Her gaze landed on the twins, and she smiled. “All right. Class is dismissed. I hope I have not ruined your holiday with education.”

Fred grinned. “We’ll just skive off of your class one day and call it even.”

McGonagall gave him a very bland look, and both twins raised their hands in surrender. “Err . . . just kidding, of course,” George said.

“You’d better be,” Mr. Weasley said. “Now, are you all ready? Remember, always cast from at least ten feet away, and never aim above the shoulder. Oh, and if anyone hits one of us,” he added, waving at the adults, “they won’t be playing for the rest of the game.”

The Weasley children and their friends all nodded.

“Run out into the garden, spread out a bit more, and start when I say ‘go’.”

The twins led the group away from the house, already whispering between themselves. Hermione, who looked both excited and apprehensive, veered off to stand behind a thick shrub at one side of the garden.

Appreciating their friend’s thinking, Harry and Ginny broke into a jog and crouched together behind a boulder that had been left in the garden for decoration. Looking back, they saw that the twins were still walking directly away from the house, with Ron and Luna behind them. The twins had opened the gap, however, and as soon as Mr. Weasley yelled, Fred and George spun around and shouted, “Farinam!”

Luna quickly sidestepped behind Ron, and both pinkish balls hit him squarely in the chest. Then, a dark grey ball appeared from the direction of Hermione’s hiding place and struck Fred on the thigh. Harry and Ginny sent a pair of somewhat sloppy red and green balls at the twins, but the two brothers had begun to move, and only Ginny’s made contact. At the same moment, Ron launched a retaliatory dough-ball at George, and Luna lobbed a ball into the air in an arc towards Hermione’s shrub.

From that point, the battle became a chaotic mixture of running, hurling dough, and listening for the distinctive thud of a hit. At first, Harry and Ginny tried to remember that they were supposed to be practicing the magic, but the pace of the game made them forget and begin launching spells as fast as they could. Before too long, however, they realised that smaller, thicker dough-balls flew more truly than larger, sloppier ones, and they began to think about the spell again.

Hermione was forced away from her cover fairly quickly, and Harry and Ginny left the shelter of the boulder in pursuit of the rest of the group. At one point, however, the twins managed to persuade Hermione to ally with them, and the game settled into another two-sided contest. Fred and George were very quick with their spells, and Hermione’s well-aimed dough-balls had quickly become suitably sticky.

Together, they made a formidable team, and they soon had the younger team on the run. Harry and Ginny took cover behind the boulder again and began alternating their shots at Hermione, who was trading spells with Luna and Ron together. Ginny realised that they had lost track of the twins, but a small sound behind her made Harry and Ginny both spin around as quickly as they could.

As they had feared, Fred and George had crept around behind them and were only fifteen feet away. Fortunately, the twins had apparently not expected to be detected so quickly, and George was standing in the open.

Reacting without conscious thought or focus, Ginny whipped up her wand. “Farinam!”

A bright green ball of dough, over a foot in diameter, sailed from her wand towards George. Ginny had been aiming at his chest, but luckily only half of the ball struck George on his right hip. The impact was still enough to send him tumbling into the grass.

Mr. Weasley Apparated into the melee with a loud crack, and the students all stopped their game. Barely aware of her father, Ginny scrambled towards George, but he was already climbing to his feet without help.

“Are you all right, George?” Ginny asked as she and Harry arrived. “I’m really sorry.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” he said. “Just a fall. Don’t worry about it.”

“All the same,” Mr. Weasley said, “I think it’s time you took a break, Ginny. Why don’t you go and practice the spell on a tree? See if you can get the ball to be smaller than it was earlier.” He glanced over his shoulder at Mr. Granger, who was walking across the garden towards them with Professor McGonagall. “I’m sure Harry wouldn’t mind keeping you company.”

“Err . . . yeah, of course. I’d be glad to,” Harry said.

“Is everything all right?” Mr. Granger asked.

“Yes,” Mr. Weasley replied, “Ginny just got a bit carried away.”

Ron, Luna, and Hermione had gathered nearby, and Mr. Weasley turned to them. “Ginny and Harry are off-limits for a while so that they can practice the spell. You lot can go on.”

The three adults walked back towards the house. Harry and Ginny looked around and spotted a large tree at the back of the garden, and they started towards it. As they passed, George patted Ginny on the shoulder. “Good spell, Gin,” he said.

She flashed a smile at her brother, glad that he was not hurt or upset with her.

I suppose we should have guessed it would happen, Harry said.

Yeah. Professor McGonagall must have known it would be safe, though.

It’s just dough. Even Ron’s didn’t hurt so much as they just jarred you a bit.

Ginny shook her head. Ours was a lot bigger than his, though. It knocked George over even though it barely hit him.

They practiced the conjuration against a tree for a while. Ginny cast all of the spells, and Harry sat on the ground next to her as they concentrated. They found it easy enough to change the colour of the dough, and they could change the consistency a bit, but they were unable to get the ball any smaller than it had been on Ginny’s second attempt. Every few minutes, they stopped for a few moments and spoke aloud about ‘Ginny’s’ progress.

“It’d be easier to practice this if I could hit where I was aiming,” Ginny said, scowling.

An idea suddenly occurred to Harry, and he held up his wand. “Try this one.”

“Oh, I should have thought of that.”

They had grown accustomed to the slight inferiority of Ginny’s wand, but they had rarely needed to aim at anything more than a few feet away. She cast the spell again, thinking more about her aim than the ball, and their typical sloppy mass of dough struck the centre of the trunk. Encouraged, she tried again with more focus. The resulting ball was smaller and still went where she aimed it.

That was it, all right, she said.

Footsteps in the grass nearby caught their attention, and they turned to see Professor McGonagall approaching. “That last one was much better, Ginny,” she said.

“Thanks, Professor. It’s easier with Harry’s wand.”

“Ah, yes. I had almost forgotten about that. Try again, and see if you can make the ball smaller.”

Ginny cast the spell again, but the result seemed to be just the same.

“Hmm,” McGonagall said. “That’s about the size of a dinner plate, wouldn’t you say?” A bit confused, they nodded. “All right, this time try to make it the size of a salad plate.”

They did as instructed, but the dough was still larger than they had pictured.

It’s not as big as the last one, though, Harry said.

“Excellent, Ginny,” McGonagall said. Over the next several minutes, she directed them to try various sizes ranging from that of a salad plate up to the diameter of a punch bowl. The desired size changed each time, but the professor always had them attempt the smallest version in between other sizes. On her final attempt, Ginny produced a ball that was precisely the size she had been trying for all along.

“You see,” McGonagall said, “the idea is not simply to produce a small mass of dough. The point is to control the spell, regardless of what you want it to do.” The professor looked back over her shoulder, and Harry followed her gaze to see Mr. Granger and Mr. Weasley standing at the door to the shed, peering inside. “Now,” she said more quietly, “try to make a ball the size of a Quidditch goal.”

“Really?” Ginny asked.

“Really. Remember, the idea is to control the spell, and in that regard, making a large ball is just as difficult as making a small one.”

Nodding, Ginny turned back to the tree. A Quidditch goal was familiar enough to her that she had no difficulty picturing one in front of the tree, and she flicked her wand after only a moment. To their delight, a bright green disc flew across the garden and wrapped itself completely around the trunk of the tree, filling the space Ginny had pictured and making the entire tree sway slightly.

McGonagall clapped her hands together once. “Perfect. Well done, both of you.” She tapped a finger against her chin for a moment. “I think that we will use this spell for its original purpose. You two need to learn this sort of control before casting any spells at other students in class. We’ll practice it on Sundays in my office, and I will ask your parents to let you cast it here provided you only target the tree.”

“All right, Professor,” Harry said. “How do we know we’re ready to use spells in class, though?”

“When you can consistently produce a ball of the size, colour, and consistency I request, and when your smallest ball is no more than three inches across, I think you will be ready. That is slightly smaller than the average in my third-year classes, and you’ll be able to transfer that level of control to other spells you may use.

“Enough work for now,” McGonagall concluded. “It is, after all, your birthday party. Molly and Helen brought out a fresh pitcher of lemonade, if you’d like some. Otherwise, I think you can rejoin the game.”

They had been outside and active for a while, so a cool drink sounded like a good idea. The three of them walked back towards the house, watching Hermione, Ron, and the twins exchange spells at the other side of the garden.

Professor McGonagall’s voice interrupted their observations. “I have another gift for you both,” she said softly. “The headmaster told me this morning that the wards at the Dursleys’ home have been recharged enough to last until next June. What you do with that information is up to you. I will not share it with anyone else.”

They had been waiting all summer to hear that they no longer had to visit Privet Drive, but their feelings were mixed.

It’s really not bad, now, Harry said. No work, no yelling . . .

No Vernon, Ginny continued, slipping her hand into his. It’s just our room, where no-one else can bother us.

Do we have to stop sleeping there right away?

They considered the idea for a few moments. I suppose not, Ginny said. Everyone knows that the wards will be recharged sometime, but nobody knows exactly when. We’ll have to stop at some point, but not yet.

Their decision made, Harry nodded. “Thank you, Professor. We might wait a bit to tell the others.”

“As I expected,” she replied with a sad smile. “However, you need to let me know as soon as you tell anyone else so that I may inform the headmaster. It would not help your situation here if your family learned that you were hiding this.”

When they got closer to the house, Harry and Ginny spotted Luna sitting by herself at one of the picnic tables. They glanced at each other and made a quick decision. After pouring themselves glasses of lemonade, Ginny and Harry sat across from their friend.

On the table in front of her were several mounds of the dough they had been conjuring, all in different colours, and Luna was pinching bits off of each mound to add to the figure in front of her. Peering around, Ginny could see that Luna had crafted a model boy, no more than six inches tall. It was dressed just as Harry was, complete with a tiny scar scratched into its forehead. As they watched, Luna picked up her wand, pointed it at the table, and whispered the dough spell. A two-inch dome of black dough plopped onto the table. Luna pinched off a portion of it and began fashioning hair for her model.

Standing a few inches away from the girl’s elbow was a completed figure of Ginny, with slightly paler skin, long red hair, and tiny dots of brown dough for eyes. The model was standing straight, with one arm extended and a tiny twig in its fist.

“Wow, Luna,” Harry said, “those are amazing.”

“Thank you,” she said, never looking up from her work.

“How’d you think of using the spell that way?” Ginny asked.

Luna stopped and blinked at them. “Oh, I didn’t. Dad taught me the spell years ago to play with. I’d never thought of using it to throw things at each other.”

Harry and Ginny were not terribly surprised. “Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked.

The pale girl shrugged and resumed using her thumbnail to texture the figure’s hair. “Everyone seemed very excited, and I thought I should at least try using it the other way. I like this better.”

“How do you get the dough to last?” Ginny asked.

“When I want it to last for a while, it does. That one will be gone in another few minutes, though,” she said, inclining her head towards the Ginny model.

“That’s a shame,” the real Ginny said. “They’re really brilliant.”

“I could make the conjuration permanent, if you’d like,” McGonagall said from the other table. “The dough will harden in an hour or so.”

“That would be nice,” Luna said. “Ginny likes them, and I could give them to her for her birthday.”

“I’d really like that,” Ginny said.

McGonagall nodded and came over to sit at the end of the table on Luna’s left. After a moment’s concentration, she tapped her wand on the completed figure’s head. “Your control is exceptional, Miss Lovegood. I expect I shall enjoy working with you over the next seven years.”

Luna smiled in a vague way but never looked away from the figures. “Thank you.” A few minutes later, when Luna set the Harry-figure to the side, the professor tapped that one, also.

“I’ll do Hermione next,” Luna announced. “They don’t take long to make, and then you can have a whole set to help you remember the day.” She looked out across the garden at Hermione and the Weasley brothers, and then she cast two quick spells. A small ball of blue and brown dough and a larger one of beige dough appeared, and Luna began shaping the one that was close to the colour of Hermione’s tanned skin.

We could never make it that smooth, Harry said, even if we got the colours right.

She’s been doing it for years, though. I bet we’ll be able to do that after practicing with Professor McGonagall.

Harry, Ginny, and McGonagall watched for a few moments as Luna created arms, legs, and a head from the dough. “You don’t have to sit with me,” she said suddenly. “I’m quite happy playing with the dough and watching everyone run around. You should join them if you want to.”

“Well, we would like to, but we also like being with you, and we don’t want you to think we’re ditching you,” Ginny admitted.

Luna looked up and smiled. “I know you’re not. You can come back when you get tired.”

“All right,” Harry said as they rose from the table. “See you in a while.”

They left their friend and professor sitting together at the table. On their way back to the other children, they walked along the edge of the garden and took the time to assess the scene in front of them. The twins seemed to have ganged up on Hermione and Ron, who were trapped in the older boys’ crossfire. Without hesitation, Harry and Ginny joined the fray to assist their friends, sending identical discs of dough at each of the twins.

The battle continued for the rest of the afternoon. Alliances were created and destroyed regularly, and even the twins sometimes broke ranks to hurl dough at each other. Harry and Ginny were able to control their magic for the most part, and whenever their spells became sloppy they simply moved to the side of the garden and watched for a few minutes until they had calmed down.

Just before four o’clock, by Harry’s watch, Mr. Weasley’s amplified voice boomed across the garden. “Come on back, everyone.”

Harry and Ginny stopped their dash between one tree and another, and a final dough-ball hit him on his right leg.

“Sorry, Harry!” Hermione called from behind a tree.

They walked back to the house together and found all five of the adults standing near the back door. Luna still sat at one of the tables, and a group of completed figurines was arrayed in front of her.

“We need to be going, Hermione,” Mr. Granger said. “It’s a long drive home.”

“All right,” she replied, clearly reluctant. “I’ll go get my things.”

Hermione went into the house as the Weasley boys jostled around the pitcher to get glasses of lemonade. Content to wait their turn, Harry and Ginny crossed to Luna.

“They’re all finished,” Luna said, “and all but me are dry. I hope you like them.”

Ginny examined the figurines closely. The model of Harry was standing next to the Ginny figure, his head bent slightly as though looking down at her. A few inches away, Hermione seemed to be crouching behind something, her hair pulled back into a bushy ponytail. The twins and Ron were all dressed just as they were in reality, and the figures appeared to be engaged in a fierce duel. The model of Ron even had a lurid pink blotch in the middle of its back.

Off to the side of the main grouping was a figure of Luna herself. A tiny picnic table had been made out of dough and twigs, and the blonde-haired figure sat bent over the brown surface. Under its hands was a tiny model, less than an inch tall, whose only distinguishable feature was its pale yellow hair.

Ginny leaned over and hugged her friend fiercely. “These are brilliant, Luna,” she said. “Absolutely brilliant.”

“No they’re not. I didn’t give them any brains.” Over Ginny’s shoulder, Harry could see Luna’s small grin.

“Will you help me carry them upstairs?” Ginny asked.

Luna nodded, and each of them picked up a model in each hand, leaving the most recent one to finish drying. Mr. Weasley held open the back door, and Ginny led them up to her room. The music box had already been placed atop her bureau, and they positioned Luna’s creations next to it amongst the things that had been moved aside.

The door across the hall opened, and Hermione stepped into the corridor. She was still wearing her t-shirt and shorts, but her face and hands looked freshly-scrubbed, and her hair was a bit tidier. The bag she had brought was slung over her shoulder. “I wish I could stay,” she said to Ginny. “It’s wonderful here.”

“We had a great time, too,” Ginny replied. “Maybe you can come back again sometime and stay longer.”

“I’d like that.” Hermione turned to Luna. “It was really nice to meet you, Luna.”

“You, also, Hermione,” Luna said. “I was afraid it would be awkward, but sometimes awkward things are nice in the end.”

Hermione grinned at Harry. “That’s very true. You’re starting Hogwarts this year, right?” Luna nodded. “Maybe we can all go to Diagon Alley to get our school things on the same day.”

“I can’t,” Luna said. “Dad doesn’t like to shop in Diagon Alley. He says we pay extra for everything there so that the shopkeepers can afford the Ministry’s high property taxes.”

“Really? That . . . well, that’s not surprising, in a way,” Hermione said. “Err . . . do you mind if we go ahead and shop there anyway? It’s the only place my parents can get to.”

“Of course not. That’s why the shops are there. I already have most of my things, anyway,” Luna said, tapping the end of the wand that protruded from her pocket.

The brunette’s forehead creased in thought, but she nodded. “Thanks.” She turned to Ginny. “Write to me as soon as your Hogwarts letters arrive, and maybe we can get our parents to go on the same day.”

“Sure, Hermione. It shouldn’t be long now.”

The four friends walked back down to the garden. “All set, Hermione?” Mr. Granger asked.

“Yes, Dad,” Hermione said.

The group walked around the outside of the house to the Grangers’ car. As soon as the large vehicle came into sight, Luna walked ahead of the group and circled it slowly. She peered into the windows and tail-pipe, and she lay down on the ground to see beneath it. Finally, she stood up and dusted off her shorts. “I’ve never seen one up close before,” she said. “Does it really run on fire?”

“Well, in a way, Luna,” Mr. Granger said. “That’s the simplest way to explain it, I suppose.”

The blonde girl nodded. “It sounds rather dangerous.”

“It is, yes. But so is . . . err . . .” He looked over at Mr. Weasley. “Is it Apparation or Apparition? I forget.”

“Apparition,” Luna said. “You’re right. You have to be very careful to control the magic properly, or it can hurt you or kill you.”

“That’s just the same, then,” Mr. Granger said. “The people who make cars are very careful to control the fire properly.”

Luna brightened. “That’s good. Thank you for letting me look at its organs.”

“You’re welcome, Luna.” Mr. Granger stepped forward and opened the back door. “Ready, Hermione?”

Hermione nodded, turned to Ginny, and pulled her into a hug. “Happy birthday,” she said. “Don’t forget to write to me as soon as your letter comes.”

“We won’t, Hermione,” Harry said as she moved to hug him, too.

The Weasley brothers all shook Hermione’s hand. “Watch out for flying bread,” George said.

“We might learn how to throw it really far,” Fred added.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Let’s all hope not,” she said. She turned to Luna and, after a moment’s hesitation, stepped forward and hugged the smaller girl. “I hope to see you on the train, Luna.”

“Thank you,” Luna said. The two girls smiled at each other as they separated, and Ginny was elated to see that both expressions were genuine.

That’s the nice thing about Luna, Harry said. You don’t have to understand her to like her.

“Thank you for having us, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione said.

“You’re always welcome, Hermione,” Mrs. Weasley said. Ginny suddenly realised that she had not heard her mother speak since bringing out her birthday cake.

Hermione climbed into the car, and her father shut the door. The elder Grangers got into the car also, and a moment later it roared to life. Luna jumped slightly at the sound, but then she leaned forward again with her head cocked to one side.

The car’s back window rolled down, and Hermione leaned out. “’Bye, everyone! I’ll see you soon!”

“Bye, Hermione!” Ginny shouted in response as she and Harry waved. Hermione waved back as the car began to move, and a minute later it was out of sight on the long drive.

“Really nice people, the Grangers,” Mr. Weasley said. “It was nice to have them over.” He looked over at the rest of the group. “We’ll be having dinner before too long, Luna. Would you like to join us?”

Luna shook her head. “No, thank you. I told Dad I’d be home for dinner.”

“All right. You’re free to stay as long as you like before that.”

“I think I’ll leave, too. The party is over, and I finished Ginny’s present.”

The group returned to The Burrow, and Luna hugged Harry and Ginny goodbye. She embraced Ron, also, but he only patted her back once before straightening. Smiling distantly, Luna hugged the twins and then the elder Weasleys. “I had a wonderful day,” she said. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Come by any time, Luna,” Mr. Weasley said. “Say hello to your father for me.”

“I will. Goodnight.” Luna pinched a bit of Floo powder out of the pot, threw it into the fire, and spun away towards her home.

“Dad,” Ginny asked, struck by a sudden thought, “do the shopkeepers in Diagon Alley pay the Ministry extra taxes to have their shops there?”

“Why, yes, Ginny, they do,” her father replied, blinking in surprise. “Why on earth do you ask?”

Ginny grinned. “Just wondering.”

What’s that saying you always heard? Harry asked. Even a blind Niffler finds a Knut every now and again?

You never know, Ginny said. Maybe she’s right about lots of things.

The Weasleys went their separate ways until time for dinner. Harry and Ginny went up to their room and sat on the floor with the music box in front of them. Ginny lifted the lid and watched the tiny fairy dance to the tinkling music while Harry gathered her meagre collection of jewellery along with the necklace Bill had given him. Carefully, they arranged the items in the box. Many of the compartments were left empty, but Harry and Ginny were pleased with the arrangement of necklaces, home-made bracelets, and the one tarnished copper ring that she had bought from a second-hand shop in Diagon Alley years before.

They cleared the rest of their things from the top of the bureau and placed the box on the right side. Then, on the left side, they arranged the figurines just as Luna had.

There, Ginny said when they were done, opening the box again to see how the fairy’s light played across the top of her bureau.

Harry nodded and squeezed her hand. Everything in a good place. I like it.

Me, too.

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Meaning of One, Part Two: Chambers and Secrets - Chapter 8: Impact by Sovran