Harry was up until well past midnight, talking things over with Ron. Hermione’s revelation had come as a shock to them both.
“It shouldn’t have been a surprise at all,” Ron said. “Of course she’d want to go back to finish school. We should have realized it weeks ago.”
“We did have quite a bit on our minds,” Harry replied, reasonably. “But you’re right. It was pretty obvious.”
Their course of action was obvious as well. Neither Harry nor Ron wanted to spend a year away from their girlfriends. That by itself would have been enough, but there were additional incentives to return to Hogwarts. Kingsley Shacklebolt had given Harry a detailed list of the prerequisites needed to be accepted as an Auror; every spell and potion and technique that a potential new Auror needed to know before setting foot in headquarters for training.
The list was daunting. There were potions that neither Ron nor Harry had ever heard of, with ingredients that neither of them had known existed. The spells included such things as Self-Transfiguration, which was something that they had absolutely no experience with. Even Hermione, as far as they were aware, knew neither theory nor practice for it. The list only got worse after that.
“This is all seventh year stuff,” Ron had said with a defeated expression. “And you need all of that before they’ll even start to train you?”
Harry nodded. “I think they’d accept us, considering…well, you know. But we’d probably be in remedial training for a year anyway, with everything we don’t know.”
“Great. A year of remedial training, living at home with Mum and Dad, not seeing Hermione except at Christmas.” Ron grimaced. “Hogwarts is sounding better and better.”
Harry agreed wholeheartedly. He didn’t feel like telling Ron the final reason that he wanted to go back to Hogwarts: he wanted “ needed “ the structure and the security that school would provide. He’d been thinking over his talk with Hermione’s father, and it had hit him: this was the first time in his life that his choices were completely open. Everything had always been decided for him; he had been walking a path charted for him since before his birth. Now, there was no more destiny, no older and wiser adults to steer him. Be careful what you wish for, isn’t that what they say? I wanted a life where I could make my own choices, but I forgot to ask for the rulebook on how you’re supposed to make them! “I’ll send an owl tomorrow morning.”
***
Hermione and Ginny were having a similar conversation. Until Hermione’s news, Ginny had been unable to come up with a reason to return to Hogwarts that outweighed being apart from Harry for a year. For another year, she reminded herself.
But if he was going to be there, well, that made the choice simple. Even better, she’d be in the same classes as he.
“I wouldn’t be so happy about that,” Hermione said, mock-seriously. “He’ll only try to copy your homework.”
“Or maybe I’ll be trying to copy yours,” Ginny laughed.
They debated that point for a while. Despite having been at the top of her class her entire life, Hermione was worried, she confessed to Ginny. There was so much she had forgotten. She was out of practice in essay-writing. She hadn’t even thought about Arithmancy in a year. The list of concerns went on and on.
Ginny countered by pointing out that, in fact, she and her classmates had learned very little last year. “Well, some of them got quite good at the Cruciatus Curse, but I don’t think that’s going to be part of the syllabus anymore,” she noted. There was also the little matter that she, along with a lot of other students, had hid out the last few months of the term without attending classes at all.
“Besides, you’re probably going to buy all your books first thing tomorrow morning and spend the rest of the summer studying,” Ginny remarked. If she hasn’t ordered them already, that is.
She had. Hermione admitted that, while she’d been in the bathroom, after she’d gotten Professor McGonagall’s letter, she’d written two hasty letters of her own. One was a reply to McGonagall, gratefully accepting her place at Hogwarts. The other was to the Owl Order Desk at Flourish & Blotts, with a list of all the books she knew or believed would be part of the seventh year curriculum.
“While you were in the bathroom?”
Hermione nodded.
“Seriously?”
She nodded again.
“Even for you, that’s crazy,” Ginny declared. From the embarrassed half-smile that Hermione gave her, she could tell that her friend didn’t really disagree.
***
It had been only a few weeks since Harry had last set foot in Diagon Alley, but it felt to him that the visit to Gringott’s had happened a lifetime ago. It had been colourless and haunted that day; today it was, if not completely restored to its former vitality, at least a far more welcoming and lively place.
There were hastily and inexpertly made signs and posters adorning many of the businesses; the majority of the shop owners had, Harry guessed, opted to advertise their return to normal business as quickly (and brightly) as possible, rather than wait until truly professional displays could be produced. Harry agreed with the sentiment completely. He also noted, to his great satisfaction, that there didn’t appear to be any posters advertising him as “Undesirable Number One.”
Ginny had noticed their absence as well. “It’s a shame all those posters of you are gone. I could have taken one and had it framed for your wall,” she said with a smirk. “It would’ve saved me buying you a birthday present.”
Harry was distracted from responding by a commotion just a few shops down the street “ in front of Gringotts. He saw a trio of blond people in black robes emerge from the bank, too far away to hear what they were saying, but close enough to recognize them. From this distance the pointed chin and haughty glare of Draco Malfoy and his father were unmistakable. It was their voices that Harry heard. Narcissa Malfoy rounded out the trio; she watched mutely as her husband and son argued, a pained expression on her face.
Instinct compelled Harry to try and creep closer to the Malfoys, to hear what they were saying without drawing their notice. Ginny followed along; Harry knew she had good reason of her own to want to know what the Malfoys “ especially Lucius “ were up to.
Harry knew that the Ministry had made no decision about the Malfoys yet. They had been the topic of more than one of his days in Kingsley Shacklebolt’s office, but the new Minister was taking things very slowly. He had made it clear that there would be no repeats of the rapid and sometimes unjust trials that had marked the end of the first war. There was the practical difficulty as well: there would be no more Dementors guarding Azkaban, which Harry heartily approved of, but there was also, as yet, no adequate long-term replacement for them. “It’s difficult, not to mention dangerous and draining, to try and imprison a wizard for any length of time,” Kingsley had said. “Why else do you think the Dementors were put there in the first place?”
Harry and Ginny were not quite close enough to hear anything clearly, when further distraction presented itself: a tall, straight-backed, red-haired distraction. “It’s the middle of a workday! What’s Percy doing out of the Ministry?” she whispered.
“No idea,” Harry answered. He agreed it was curious, more so seeing Percy’s purposeful strides “ he seemed to be a man on a mission.
“I’m going after him,” Ginny said. “You see what Malfoy’s up to.” And she was off.
In the moment that Percy had passed by, the argument between Draco and Lucius looked to have ended. Draco was stalking off, while his parents stared after him. Lucius appeared to be in shock, while Narcissa was on the verge of tears. Harry hung back, watching to see where Draco went.
He didn’t have to wait long; Draco walked past a few shops and ducked into a very old building, one that Harry had never paid any notice to before. He held back a little while, seeing his chance as a gaggle of passers-by made their way up the street. He sidled into the little group, avoiding the eyes of Draco’s parents.
A moment later, he was standing in front of the building Draco had gone into. It was not just old, but ancient; the stonework was chipped and discoloured in places. The words carved into the façade were faded and difficult to read. Harry could just make them out:
HALE, HOLT & HARDWICKE
SOLICITORS at LAW
Below that, in a slightly less faded script (probably carved only a couple of hundred years ago, Harry thought), had been added:
SERVING THE NEEDS OF THE MAGICAL COMMUNITY SINCE 1622
Harry could think of any number of reasons that Draco Malfoy would want legal assistance; he was very curious which was the correct one.
***
Ginny followed a few paces behind her brother. He was walking straight ahead, paying no heed to anything around him; it was not difficult to remain unnoticed. It quickly became obvious where he was heading “ a boarded-up shop that she knew very well.
She backed off, watching from across the street as Percy knocked, knocked again and then began to hammer at the door. The window rattled, and passers-by stared, but no answer was forthcoming.
“Oh, very well,” Ginny heard Percy sigh, “Alohomora!”
To her surprise “ and Percy’s, judging by the way his eyes went wide “ the door swung open. I know the protections they put on the shop, Ginny thought, then corrected herself, some of them, anyway. Alohomora should never work!
Percy went in, and Ginny heard a shout of “Get out!” before the door slammed shut. She could hear nothing more for a few moments, then there was a series of bangs and thuds. She was momentarily at a loss; on the one hand this was clearly something that was just between the two of them and sticking her nose in was unlikely to help matters. On the other hand one or the both of them could be injured, and she was not about to stand quietly outside while George or Percy lay inside bleeding…or worse.
The Ministry doesn’t have to know, she reassured herself, turning on the spot and vanishing from the street…
…and reappearing in the storeroom of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. It was a complete disaster: tables were overturned, shelves smashed, merchandise of every kind strewn on the floor. In one corner, a dummy with one arm ripped off faded in and out of view, the Vanishing Hat it wore slowly failing. Ginny saw the missing arm sticking through a wall across the room, just above several empty bottles of Firewhiskey.
She wanted to believe that it had been vandals who’d done this, or Death Eaters, but she couldn’t deceive herself. Now we know what all that banging around that Dad heard was all about. She tip-toed to the door that led out into the shop, careful to avoid any items that were still magically active.
Ginny pushed the door open; thankfully, George and Percy were too focused on each other to notice. Both were breathing heavily, but “ thank Merlin! “ neither appeared to be hurt. Yet. “Didn’t anybody ever tell you that if you’re going to point your wand at someone, you’d better be prepared to use it?” George said, glaring at his brother.
“I am prepared, if it’s the only way to make you see reason.”
There was silence for a moment. Ginny saw that the shop was every bit as much of a mess as the storeroom. George had been…what? Smashing anything that has any connection to Fred. Which was everything in the shop. He might as well have burned the place to the ground and gotten the job done in one go. Except…the answer came to her suddenly, hit her like a punch to the stomach… It wouldn’t hurt as much that way. He’s destroying everything one piece at a time so he can keep feeling the pain over and over.
George was holding his own wand at his side. “I don’t want to hurt you, Percy,” he said, but from his tone, Ginny thought he wouldn’t have any problem whatsoever doing just that.
“You do, George. Because I’m here and Fred is gone, and you wish it was the other way round.”
Percy was wrong, Ginny thought. We all were. She had thought, along with the rest of her family, that George coming home two nights ago was the start of him getting back to…what? Normal? No. Maybe getting back to a new normal. But it hadn’t been.
Ginny could see that the muscles in George’s right arm were twitching, he was gripping his wand so tightly. “You’re wrong. I came back home, and the first thing I did, I cracked a joke, and someone threw a pie at me, and everyone was laughing. I was laughing.” Ginny had never seen so much intensity in her brother’s eyes as she did now. “I wasn’t thinking about him. It was the first time since…”
There was a blast from under a pile of debris in the corner, with a yellow flash and the sudden sound of chirping; it had to be a box of Canary Creams setting themselves off.
Percy wasn’t backing off. “Since what, George?” Usually, Ginny had very little patience for dancing around the hard truth, but there were occasions when it was for the best. I think this is one of those times.
“Damn you!” It wasn’t just anger in George’s voice; Ginny heard real hatred there. “You made me forget him! All of you!” Now he was pointing his wand at Percy. “I won’t let you do it again. Get out! Now! And don’t come back!”
Percy made no move; it was clear that he wasn’t going to go without a fight. And just as clearly, George was out of control. He really could kill Percy! She could think of only one thing to do. Before George could act, she pulled her own wand and cried out: “Stupefy!”
***
An hour later, George was still unconscious. Ginny had gone to the Apothecary and bought some Sleeping Draught, and Harry caught up with her just as she got to Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes. She told him everything that had happened. It had come as a shock; he’d thought, just as Ginny had, that George’s return to the Burrow was a good sign.
Between the three of them, they hadn’t come up with any idea what to do about George. The Sleeping Draught would keep him out for several more hours, but none of them were very confident that a good answer to their dilemma would present itself even if they had several days to think about it.
“There are only two choices, aren’t there?” Harry said. “We take him home to the Burrow…”
“Where we’ll have to keep him prisoner or sedated so he doesn’t try to fight his way out of the house,” Ginny replied. She’s right. That’s exactly what he’ll do.
“Right,” Harry went on. “Or we leave him alone.”
“So he can get on with killing himself,” Percy added. Harry and Ginny gaped at him. “You don’t think so? What did you expect he was going to do once he ran out of stuff,” Percy gestured to the mess all around them, “to smash up?” Looking at what had become of the shop, Harry couldn’t disagree. Percy kicked a box of Ton-Tongue Toffees away from him and went on. “Or he’ll start attacking other people’s stuff. Or other people. And then the Magical Law Enforcement Squad will come after him, and he’ll fight them, and…we know how that will end up. Or he’ll just skip straight on to hurting himself physically, and we know how that will end up as well.”
Harry desperately wanted to tell himself that Percy was wrong, that George wouldn’t really do those things, but he knew better. “Well, what do you suggest we do, then?”
“We take him to St. Mungo’s. They have Healers who work with illnesses of the mind. At the least they can keep him from hurting himself or anyone else.”
“He lost his twin, Percy! Even you aren’t cold enough that you can’t understand what he’s going through. Grief is not a mental illness, you know,” Ginny said angrily.
Harry put an arm around her. He could feel her anger subside “ just a bit, but enough to be palpable “ at his touch. It rose again, though, a moment later with Percy’s next words.
“No, and I am grieving for Fred too. We all are. But none of us are destroying every item in our home with our bare hands, and none of us are threatening to curse the rest of us.”
“You just did, before I Stunned him!”
“That was different, Ginny.”
“He’s right,” Harry said, very reluctantly. “You told me yourself.” Ginny glared at him, fire in her eyes, but he went on. “You said you thought he might kill Percy. He’s wrecked the shop. I don’t think any of us can get through to him right now.”
“So, what? We stick him away in St. Mungo’s forever so we don’t have to deal with him? Maybe get him a room down the hall from Neville Longbottom’s parents and visit him twice a year and pat ourselves on the back for ‘solving the problem?’ He’s our brother!”
By the time she finished, she was in tears. “That’s not what this is about,” Percy said, his voice starting to crack. “But I would rather have him hate us for putting him in St. Mungo’s, temporarily,” he continued, “than mourn him because we left him alone and he killed himself!”
There was a very long silence. Harry, Ginny and Percy stood there in the wreckage and stared down at George, all of them wishing that some miracle would allow them to avoid doing what they knew had to be done.
“Percy, why don’t you go back to the Ministry and bring Dad here?” Ginny said at last.
“We’ll stay here and watch him,” Harry added.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Percy answered. His eyes darted around the room; after a moment they settled on a pile of violently pink robes. Percy ruffled through the pile, pulling out one that was more or less intact. He carefully folded it, and then went over to George, gently lifted his head and placed the robe under it as a makeshift pillow. “He’ll be more comfortable this way.”
Harry was touched by Percy’s gesture. “It’s a good thing you came here today,” he said. “George is lucky he’s got you for a brother.”
Ginny nodded her head in agreement. “You know what the trouble with you is, Percy?” she asked.
Percy didn’t.
“Not a thing,” she said, giving him a barely perceptible wink. “Hurry back, please?”
Percy walked over to Ginny and Harry, leaned down and kissed her forehead, then shook Harry’s hand. And then without a further word, he was off.
Harry Potter and the Castle of Dreams by starkllr
Chapter Notes: Thanks to loonyphoenix for beta-ing.
The plot's starting to move a bit now. We'll be at Hogwarts pretty soon!