Harry sat in one of the many drawing rooms at Grimmauld Place, gazing absent-mindedly at his transfiguration text book. It had been several days since his departure from number four and the effects had nearly worn off â“ he had been so exhausted that he had slept through half the day, and when he woke up, his left wrist and the left side of his face had been sore and aching; they still were, though his leg seemed to be immediately better.
He hadnât explained much of what had happened to Bill and Charlie, despite all of their concerned curiosity, but Hermione and Ron deserved the full story. He had found it hard to talk about at first, but eventually it had all spilled out. They had been angry with him for not telling them, and furious with the way his uncle had treated him. Harry hadnât dared explain some of the things that had happened when he was younger; he couldnât bring himself to make Hermione shout any louder. If that was actually possibleâŚ
Harry didnât like keeping secrets from them, but what was he supposed to do? Pour out a âtragicâ childhood like the star-struck attention-seeker he reputably was? Fat chance. In fact, Dudley-sized chance, hah. Anyway, what could they do to change it? Not a thing. So there was no point in telling them. Right.
Although it was harder now. Old images and vivid memories flickered back to life as though he had unlocked a door in his mind. He could still hear his uncleâs drunken shouts and curses echoing, could still see the beast of a man coming at him, distorted into a raging monster by the half-light of the kitchenâŚ
*
Dinner was rather awkward, as it had been for the past few days â“ with Ginny, Harry, Ron and Hermione all remarkably silent, each for their own reasons, the mood at the table was stiff and the normally extensive conversations quick to fall into the silence. But it passed quickly enough and everyone trouped towards the sitting room â“ except Ginny. She slipped out, into the hall and up the stairs before her mother could call her back. Reaching her room, she opened the window and sat on the sill, her heels tapping the outside wall of the house with every swing of her legs. It was a clear night â“ a full moon. Ginny felt a flash of empathy for Remus, who had gone away to stay at a hostel or something, a place for werewolves to transform without harming others; a grim place, by all accounts. Slowly, she drifted into reverie, but a soft knock on the door pulled her back to reality. She looked around.
âWho is it?â
âItâs me.â Harry. Oh, Merlin. She paused, but could not think up an excuse. Maybe it was time to talk.
âCome in.â
He came in slowly, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkened room. As she watched him shut the door, she moved along the windowsill so that there was space for two.
He joined her. They sat in silence for several minutes, letting the cool summer air wash over them. Harry was the first to speak.
âWhatâs wrong?â
Ginny stared out into the square.
âItâs not you.â Ok, thatâs a big fat lie. âAlright, it is.â Harry looked bewildered, and for a moment Ginny felt an irrational urge to burst out laughing. He was so sweet when he was confused.
âI justâŚthat day, when you told me we couldnât beâŚâ she searched for the right word; âtogetherâ seemed to insinuate far more permanence than she wanted to admit to thinking about â“ at least for the moment.
âTogether.â Harry spoke quietly, as if reading her thoughts. She swallowed and nodded, taking care not to look at him. She knew that if she did, she might forget what she wanted to say, and this was too important to be left unmentioned.
âWell, you said what you said, and I wanted you to be happy â“ I thought it was the right thing to do. Then I realized â“ what about me? I just â“â she faltered, losing her thread, but rallied again.
âI realized that letting you go off and save the world, letting you leave me behind like some pathetic, soppy fairytale princess in her tower, was the wrong thing to do. Because Iâm not a princess. Because this isnât a fairytale. And because â“ because â“â she took a deep breath. This is it. âBecause I really like you, Harry. And itâs not some silly eleven-year-old crush any more. Itâs real.â She faltered, not quite knowing what to say next, or even if she should say anything at all. Beside her, Harry found that his mouth had gone so dry he could barely speak. Thoughts suddenly spiralled into the forefront of his mind â“ possibilities, plans, futures. If she meant what she said...maybe things didnât have to be this way, maybe he didnât have to be lonelyâŚ
But before he could say any of this out loud, Ginny swung herself back inside the room, looking away.
âBut if you donât feel the same way, it â“ it doesnât matter. Just donât go off and laugh about it with whoever.â She spoke quickly, not wanting to be stopped, feeling as though her world was dangling by a thread about to break. She was going to cry, she knew it. The best thing she could do would be to get away. Next to her, Harry put a hand on her shoulder.
âIâm sorry â“â he started.
âForget it.â
âNo! I meant - Iâm sorry I gave you the wrong impression.â Ginnyâs world, about to be shattered forever, froze.
âWhat do you mean?â She looked around.
He coughed, went red, and said, nervously,
âI â“ I really like you too, Gin.â
âDo you mean it?â She hardly dared to breathe.
âYes.â She could hear the strength in his voice; he looked at her and their eyes met, brown on green. âYes. I was wrong to push you off like that. It was stupid. Iâm sorryâŚâ His voice faded away. Harry swallowed, and continued, ââŚI shouldnât have done that to you.â He was aware that he was repeating himself and stopped. He realised that Ginny was biting her lip, trying not to laugh, and began to smile reluctantly.
âItâs okay, Harry. Just âŚoh, never mind.â
âWhat?â
âNothing.â
âWhat nothing?â
She looked at him sharply, and saw he was teasing her. She started to giggle. He laughed too â“ and she knew that she had made the right decision.
*
A week or so passed.
They visited Diagon Alley as a group, all of them cloaked, hooded, and the youngest â“ Ginny, Harry, Ron and Hermione â“ supervised at all times; the necessities for the next school year were bought, as well as several carefully planned purchases, secreted in the bottom of various bags. Ginnyâs birthday was early August, and Harry had been determined to get her something that she would like. Luckily, he had seen the perfect thing in the corner of Madam Malkinâs â“ a cobwebbed black scarf with the different colours of the rainbow woven into it. He had wrapped it up, and it now sat hidden in the bottom of his trunk, next to his new school books.
After much discussion, he, Ron and Hermione had decided that it would be safest to attend Hogwarts â“ there simply was no way they could excuse not being there. Ginny was going, so Ron couldnât claim that his parents wanted him to stay at home; most of their housemates knew Harry hated living with his relatives, and as for Hermione, well, no-one could imagine Hermione Granger skipping her studies, no matter what the situation. Ginny had pointed this out, much to Ron and Harryâs amusement. Also, it would be easier for them to get in and out â“ even with the extra precautions, Hogwarts couldnât compare to Grimmauld Place.
Ginny joined them most of the time now. It had been just Ron, Harry and Hermione for so long that it was hard to come up with anything new; but Ginny brought a fresh perspective on every discussion. Now, Harry found it hard to believe that theyâd ever shut her out before. Bill and Fleurâs wedding had passed quickly, in a blur of lights and music. He remembered dancing with Ginny, her red hair coming loose from its pretty bun and her face glowing in the candlelightâŚ
âCheckmate.â
Harry looked back down at the chessboard with a start. Ron and he had started playing about an hour ago; Ron seemed to be taking so long to make his move that Harry had gotten lost in thought. Now his best friend was grinning happily at the board, and at the complex arrangement of white pieces surrounding Harryâs black ones.
âOkay.â They were just starting to pack away the pieces when Hermione stuck her head around the door and whispered,
âThe meetingâs finished.â Harry and Ron quickly put down the pieces they were holding and followed her out to the landing, where Ginny was dangling four extendable ears down the stairwell. She looked annoyed.
âHurry up! Theyâre almost gone!â The other three grabbed an ear each and leant down carefully to see what they could make out, which turned out to be the closing of the front door.
âDamn it, theyâre getting quicker every time,â Ginny said quietly, and Harry nodded in agreement. The four of them hadnât been able to listen to the meetings themselves since Mrs Weasley had taken to regularly using several charms in combination on the door â“ ones that even Fred and Georgeâs âMark IIâ could not penetrate - but sometimes the Order members would still be talking about the meeting as they came out. Lately this had happened less and less, and Harry was beginning to wonder if they knew that they were being listened to. He pulled up the extendable ear and carefully rolled it back up as the others did the same. They looked at each other and Hermione sighed.
âThis is ridiculous. Itâs not working.â Ron rolled his eyes and muttered, âGenius.â Harry nudged him. Ron and Hermione didnât need to fall out now. Again.
âLetâs go downstairs,â Ginny suggested, âMumâll have dinner ready soon.â Ron nodded and they began to make their way downstairs. As they reached the kitchen door, someone spoke.
âOh, Mr Potter â“ could I have a word?â Harry turned around, and saw Professor McGonagall looking at him.
âOf course, Professor.â He kept his voice and face neutral, wary. He knew that she â“ and every other Order member, probably â“ was still curious about what he had learnt from Professor Dumbledore. She however, smiled wryly at this reaction and walked away from him into the sitting room. Harry looked at Hermione, who shrugged.
âSee you in a bit, then,â Ron said, as Harry followed McGonagallâs lead. The room was empty except for Professor McGonagall, Harry and, for some reason, Charlie Weasley, who was watching the other two carefully. Professor McGonagall began at once.
âAs you may or may not know, Mr Potter, I have been placed in the position of new Headmistress at Hogwarts.â Harry nodded. Her promotion had been in the Daily Prophet the day before. âIt has therefore fallen to me to arrange the staff for the approaching school year. I have found a suitable candidate for each empty position but feel that there is one professor who need not remain at the school, particularly since the subject she teaches is not obligatory.â Harry guessed she was talking about Trelawney; he knew she had never particularly liked the over-dramatic Divination professor, and no doubt had always wondered why Professor Dumbledore allowed her to remain in her position. âI understand that Professor Dumbledore had a reason to keep Professor Trelawney at the school. I wish to know if you are aware of what this reason might be, and if it still stands.â She was watching him carefully, and Harry realised that she was unsure of what his answer would be. He thought it through for a moment and decided to answer her question as honestly as possible without breaking his promise to Professor Dumbledore.
âProfessor Trelawney was the one who made the prophecy about me and Voldemort.â He spoke quietly and kept his eyes on Professor McGonagall, but in the corner of his eye he saw Charlie sit up and start paying even closer attention. Professor McGonagall returned his gaze and for a moment said nothing â“ but then she seemed to visibly crumple.
âVery well. Thank you, Mr Potter.â She reached inside her bag and brought out a sealed scroll of parchment.
âProfessor Dumbledore left this to you, Mr Potter.â She smiled thinly at his puzzled face and handed him the scroll. âMy apologies that it has taken this long for it to reach you.â With this, she swept gracefully out of the room. Charlie remained where he was.
âYou all right, Harry?â he asked cautiously. Harry pulled his eyes from the scroll and glanced up.
âIâm fine.â
*
He didnât get a chance to look at it until much later, when he was back in the room he and Ron shared. He sat down on his bed, broke the seal and began to read.
A brief note for you, Harry. I believe you will already have as much information as you need, but I have one final piece of advice. There may come a time when you will be required to trust whom you would loath to. I understand your feelings on this matter but urge you to realise that this is neither the time nor the place for personal vendettas. Learn to focus your anger on the one who began it all and him alone.
P.S; I would recommend a book by the title âDestruction of Destructionâ for your reading.
He had just began to reread it, hoping for a greater understanding, when Ron, Hermione and Ginny came in. Both Ron and Hermione looked remarkably red in the face, as though they had been arguing, but Ginny appeared quite pleased about it â“ Harry wondered if she had started it. Heâd noticed that Ginny often would deliberately comment on something in a way that would irritate the two of them, but had not yet worked out why.
âHi Harry!â Ginny said perkily, sitting down next to him. She had her hair up in two pigtails which bounced as she moved. As she turned, one of them brushed against his shoulder and he hoped he wouldnât go red. Ron and Hermione seemed to have forgotten their argument â“ Hermione was looking curiously at the parchment in Harryâs hands.
âWhatâs that, Harry?â
âYeah, we were talking downstairs and we realised you werenât there.â This was Ron, grinning sheepishly.
âActually,â Hermione started, âI think youâll find it was me who noticed he was gone â“â
Ron turned to argue back but Ginnyâs expression stopped him.
âGo on, Harry.â
âProfessor Dumbledore left this for me.â
Hermione and Ginny glanced at each other.
âWhat does it say?â asked Ron. Harry passed him the letter, thinking. Maybe there was something heâd missed â“ maybe Dumbledore was being deliberately cryptic. Frustrating not to know, he thought, but hopefully Dumbledore would have had a good reason. One piece of advice stuck, though: âKeep your friends close, Harry.â He knew he would â“ the Dursleyâs had never been a family to him, but they had. He smiled. He didnât need his Aunt and Uncle anymore. Perhaps he never really had.
*
A day or two later, on the morning of Harryâs birthday, the Weasleyâs and Hermione got up a little earlier than usual. They came quietly downstairs in ones and twos, adding a present to the little pile on the kitchen table. The last one in was Ron, yawning and nodding to say that Harry was still asleep. A few quiet minutes later, they heard footsteps on the floor above, but jumped when the owl tapped loudly on the kitchen window. Charlie quickly let it in, and the owl deposited a copy of the Daily Prophet into his hands. He looked in horror at the blazing headline:
Charlie turned, shocked, to see a white-faced Harry standing in the doorway, his eyes wide and aching with lack of sleep. For a moment no one said anything. Then Harry spoke.
âTheyâre all dead.â
*
Reviews are both appreciated and answered - thanks for reading.
Hazel