Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, J. K. Rowling does.

Harry sat in front of his window, looking over Privet Drive, as the sun rose on another torrid Sunday in the middle of July. It wasn't uncommon for Little Whinging to be so dull around this time of year. As the temperatures rose, most of the neighbourhood would seek refuge in the city centre, where the air-conditioning of one of the many malls and restaurants would keep their body temperatures at an acceptable level. Meanwhile, Harry was being boiled and bored alive in his pathetic excuse of a bedroom. He could even see the heat waves billowing up from underneath Privet Drive's hot tarmac. Yes, this street, and village for that matter, were and would always remain extraordinarily ordinary. As long as the Dursleys left him alone and didn't interfere, he was fine with this, but considering recent events at Hogwarts, he really wouldn't mind some distraction.

If the setting had any kind of effect on Harry's mood, it was definitely for the worse. He barely slept, ate only what was necessary to stay alive and spent the rest of the day huddled up in his filthy bedroom. When even Uncle Vernon begun to show concern for Harry's health, although still in his own prickly demeanour, it meant Harry really wasn't looking well. His constant sullen look and bags under his eyes were partially to blame for this, although his cheek- and collarbones were definitely more pronounced than they had been a month ago. His Uncle wasn't genuinely worried for Harry's health though. The main reason for concern was that Harry wasn't bundled in the family health insurance. He'd have to pay every single penny of the doctor's bill should Harry fall ill, not something Vernon was looking forward to.

Harry gazed outside once more and spotted Miss Figg. She was always out at the crack of dawn, accompanied by two of her cats on a leash. It had been one of the only remotely interesting things to happen all summer long. He'd first noticed her peculiar habit after he'd heard Aunt Petunia throwing a tantrum downstairs. At least the cats seemed to enjoy their time outside at this hour. Something that could not be said when she took them for their second walk, at noon. He couldn't quite remember which one was Mr Paws or Mr Tibbles, not that he cared one bit, it only served to take his mind of more important matters. Miss Figg's catwalks had been the one and only thing that put a ghost of a smile on Harry's lips these last few weeks. He was very thankful for that. Still, he was left wondering why she suddenly decided that taking her cats on walks was a good idea.

He yawned and removed his glasses so he would be able to rub the sleep out of his eyes. He did not want to fall asleep. Sleep and Harry had never been the best of friends and he didn't think that would ever change. Since he'd returned from Hogwarts, his frequent nightmares had slowly transformed into permanent ones, to the point where he was even afraid to blink. This left Harry with no other option than staying awake as long as he could manage and then buckle down, taking all possible precautions for a nightmare-filled sleep. He tried to plan his sleep sessions when no one else was present in the house, but sometimes that wasn't possible. His nightmares had also begun to plague him when he was awake, in the plump form of his cousin Dudley. In an unfortunate turn of events, Harry had drifted off to sleep while writing a potions essay and Dudley had overheard him talking about Cedric in his sleep. Off course Dudley brought his name up in every possible situation and only drove Harry further into madness. He'd have to take more drastic measures if he'd ever wanted his cousin to shut up about it.

Harry was shaken out of his thoughts when he heard a knocking sound coming from his window. He raised himself up from his bed as two owls emerged on the other side of the glass. The old and scrawny one on the left couldn't be anyone but Errol, the Weasley family owl. Next to him, in pristine condition, sat Hedwig. Harry reached for the window and opened it to let the pair in. It felt as if he was opening an oven. The two owls immediately dashed for the water in Hedwig's empty cage, she easily overpowered the older owl and gulped down beakfuls of the stuff. Errol realised he'd lost the battle, made his way over to Harry's bed and extended his foot, revealing several scrolls in the process.

He quickly undid the poor owl of its many burdens and shooed Hedwig away from the water, so there would be some left for Errol. He was about to unwrap the first letter when an annoyed Hedwig bit him right in the fingers. Off course it wasn't a hard bite, but it still served to show him how annoyed she was at not being allowed to drink any more. "Hey!" Harry shouted at her. "It's not because you're being selfish, that you have to bite me in the fingers for it." She sensed that Harry wasn't in the mood for an argument and backed out of the fight. She hooted silently and looked at Harry's bedside cabinet, on which a letter now rested. Harry nodded curtly to let her know he'd understood and she scurried of to her cage, where she waited patiently for Errol to finish drinking.

The pair had brought four letters in total. Errol had carried three scrolls with him, two normal-sized ones and one that was so small it roughly resembled a post-it. Hedwig had brought only one letter. It would have been difficult for her to carry any more, as it was quite a bulky envelope. As he looked down at all of these letters, a warm glow flared up in his stomach. He may have been through a lot, but his friends were still there for him and they would always be. Harry was sure of it. He got up to retrieve Hedwig's letter from the cabinet. It looked very formal and tedious, not unlike the Hogwarts letter he received on a yearly basis, only without the crest that was always embedded in the purple seal. He broke the seal and opened the letter, the small and precarious handwriting immediately gave away the author, not that there had been that many options in the first place. Harry was left wondering why Hermione had sealed it this way, however.

Hey Harry,

How are you doing? I hope you're all right, although I'm positive you'll be isolating yourself because of Cedric's death and that really isn't a good idea. If I'm right, then please listen to me, stop blaming yourself for what happened to him. You did not cause his death, all you wanted to do was share your glory with him because he helped you out. There's nothing wrong with that, in fact, it's a very noble decision, one that only a selfless and good wizard would make. We are all dying to see you again, Harry, and I'll be damned if that isn't weeks before school kicks off again. That means you'll only have to spend a couple more weeks in that hellhole. I'm sorry for starting this letter of like this, but I don't think it was a bad idea. To be frank, I really wouldn't appreciate you being a sack of bones when we meet again. I'm sure Mrs Weasley would wholeheartedly agree with me.

You'll probably be wondering why I put this letter in such a weird envelope and sealed it with wax. That's because I'm on vacation in France at the moment and the scenery here is absolutely beautiful. I figured you would welcome some distraction, so I decided to put a couple of postcards inside the envelope. I even made one myself. It was my first time developing a moving photo, but I think it looks all right. Maybe the setting will keep your mind of the more serious matters for a bit.

Harry hastily reached for the bin beside his desk, in which he'd already thrown Hermione's empty envelope. The postcards she had mentioned were still inside it and she hadn't been exaggerating. The French countryside really looked astounding. There was one picture of a mountainside completely covered in lavender. He could almost hear the bees humming about in scores and smell the lovely scent of thousands of flowers. He wanted to go on a trip like that sometime, after all this nonsense was over. He'd never done something like it in his life and he longed to do it with his friends one day.

The second postcard showed an ancient mill, complete with wooden wings and an ancient and mouldy oak wood door. It stood in the centre of a vast tree plantation. Harry reckoned they were olives, since they were all stumpy and looked nearly as old as the mill itself. The last picture of the lot, was one of Hermione. She was standing on a white, sandy beach and the wind was whipping her hair while she frantically waved at him, a bright smile plastered on her face. The sea in the background shone in an incredible azure blue colour. Harry always told people his favourite colours were crimson and gold, but he had a secret crush on blue. Not this kind of blue though. He preferred an even darker shade, like dark-indigo.

Hermione's waving figure put a bright smile on Harry's lips. He noticed that even though it had only been a couple of weeks, she seemed to have matured. Her face looked less childish and more focused than before. He slipped all three postcards back into the envelope and put them in his drawer, where he kept most of his valuable possessions Uncle Vernon hadn't taken yet. When the cards were securely hidden in his drawer, Harry continued on with the letter.

Since I'm so far away from home and from you, it might be difficult to correspond next week. So, please don't take it personally if you don't receive another letter of mine. I've managed to persuade Ron. He said he'd be available if you ever felt like talking to someone while I'm away. I know he's not much of a talker, but I managed to convince him, so don't hesitate to make use of it if you want to. All in all, I'm all right, although I really miss you and Ron. I'll definitely be back in England by your birthday, so you don't have to worry about your gift not arriving on time. I think we'll be leaving for the village any minute now, so I have to round off my letter. I can't wait to see you again and don't forget: There's always light at the end of a tunnel, but if you don't look, you'll never find you way out." You can frame that in if you like, just don't forget to look for the light.

Love, Hermione.

P.S. I hope you don't mind me borrowing Hedwig for this. I don't think Errol would survive the journey and I'm not sure where I can find a suitable post office near here.

As was tradition, Hermione's guesses about his psychological welfare were completely correct. He was sure Mrs Weasley would be furious at his current state and stuff him full with all the food she could get her hands on. Maybe he should eat a bit more, he felt weaker than ever before and, truth be told, he didn't like it. Besides, it's not like eating more would bring back more nasty memories or require him to be around his relatives more often. He always had to cook breakfast for them anyway. At night, he could continue skipping dinner and quietly slip out of his room to plunder the kitchen when everyone was asleep. It wouldn't worsen his nightmares either.

He folded up the letter and put it in the drawer together with the postcards, although he knew he'd never read it again, he just didn't have the heart to throw it away. Harry was pleased to hear that Hermione was enjoying herself. She'd badly been in need of a good break from school, even if she'd never admit it herself. She'd made it into a habit to buy all her books right after arriving back at King's Cross on the Hogwarts Express. How she knew which ones she needed? Harry had no idea, although she probably haunted the teachers until they eventually told her. This habit of hers meant that she never took the time to sit down, relax and enjoy a well-deserved holiday. Instead, she spent her time studying until the early hours and making an excessive amount of facultative assignments. She was unable to continue her endless schoolwork this time around and Harry was grateful for it. This finally brought some peace and rest to her summer, something she deserved more than anyone else he knew.

He closed his drawer and directed his attention at the other letters he'd received. He couldn't resist the childish desire urge to open the biggest one first, so he grabbed the largest scroll Errol had delivered and quickly unwrapped it. Just the sight of the messy writing managed to paint yet another smile on his lips. He always expected Ron's letters to be amicable, but brief. His best friend wasn't a man of many words, especially when writing. Not that he never talked. In fact, Ron probably spent more time socializing than Harry and Hermione combined. He was just quite shallow and preferred to stick to the surface when in conversation. Harry didn't mind, it just felt weird to talk about his emotions to his best friend. However, he was amazed to find Ron's letter was nearly as long as Hermione's. She probably forced him to write something more elaborate and he silently thanked her for it. Anything to keep his mind of Cedric.

Hello Harry,

Hope you're okay there at the Muggles. They better not be putting you down too much. Hermione reckoned that reading and writing letters would allow you to keep everything that happened out of your mind. I really want to help you out, so I figured I should write a longer letter than usual. Even if there's only a remote chance this actually helps, I'll do everything I can. That reminds me of something else that might cheer you up. I asked my Mum and she said you can come and spend the last 3 weeks of the summer with us at the Burrow. Mum and Dad are dying to see you again and so am I. Hermione told me you'd fancy some distraction to get you through the next couple weeks and since she's usually right, I've been digging through the house, looking for stuff that might help you out. I think I got a couple cool things you'll enjoy. I'll send them along as soon as Errol returns. I don't think he would survive the letter and gadgets both. Like I said before, if you're looking for someone to write, I'm always available, just let me know. I know I'm not a pro like Hermione, but I reckon I'll do fine. I'm sure you'll be blaming yourself for everything that goes wrong in the world, but you should really try not to. You're not responsible for someone else's actions Harry, never forget that. I'll be in touch soon! – Ron.

Harry pondered Ron's letter and realised he desperately wanted to share his feelings with someone. He just wasn't comfortable telling Ron. He trusted his best friend with his life, but talking about feelings would just be too awkward. He wished Hermione wasn't three thousand miles away right now, so he could tell her about it, but even that didn't feel right. She would fuss over everything he did on a constant basis and he wasn't in the mood for that. Suddenly it hit him, he needed a confidante, someone he could tell everything and not worry about them telling anyone or incessantly reminding him of his perils. He was faced with a true dilemma, what he really needed was a parent.

Last year's events had driven a wall between him and his best friends. It would take a lot of effort to tear down that wall, allowing him to talk to them about his feelings once again. He felt bad for them, since they did nothing wrong to deserve this. Neither was Harry mad at them. They just didn't understand what he'd been through.

He grinned when it dawned on him that the only person he felt comfortable sharing his feelings with was Sirius. His godfather was the closest thing to a parent he'd ever had and Harry knew Sirius would give him all the advice he needed without all the fuss that came with Hermione. Even though his godfather had only been in his life a bit longer than a year, against all odds, he had managed to win over Harry's unconditional trust in that brief period of time. Life can be weird like that sometimes.

When he unfolded Errol's second scroll and spotted the Weasley surname at the bottom, he quickly reasoned this could only be Arthur and Molly's doing. The letter itself didn't contain any more information, it only confirmed what both his friends had told him earlier. The Weasleys had invited him to spend the last three weeks of the summer with them at the Burrow. It was the best news he'd received all summer. He scribbled down a brief but genuine thank you and tied the note to Errol's foot.

The old owl was clearly disappointed he couldn't stay any longer. Harry was weary of Errol's exhaustion, but when he realised he could fly home without taking any more detours, he looked happy to fly out again. He reopened his bedroom window and watched the owl become smaller and smaller until he disappeared from sight completely. Harry wished he could have gone with Errol, he wished he could spend all his summers at the Burrow. Surely it wouldn't be such a strange thing to do, but when he'd asked Dumbledore that same question before leaving Hogwarts last year, he had only received a vague and deceptive answer. He knew he wasn't being told the entire truth, still he accepted Dumbledore's judgement. The man was a brilliant wizard after all. "They might not look the part, nevertheless they protect you in a way that exceeds the physical, Harry." He could still hear the headmaster's words resonating in his head. He had no idea what it meant. In times past, he would have gotten frustrated with the old headmaster. Now he realised that, if Dumbledore wasn't presenting him the full picture, there was always a good reason for it. Most likely to protect him. Who was he to go against Dumbledore's wishes anyway.

He looked down at his desk and remembered the small note Errol had also brought with him, it was still there. His constant thinking had made him forget all about it. The note was so small, he'd have trouble writing a single sentence on it, so it couldn't contain any useful information. It was taped shut at the top and bottom, as if the author didn't want it to open accidentally during Errol's flight. Who could this possibly have come from? It had to be a Weasley, or at least someone who had access to their family owl. Maybe it was Fred and George, but they had never sent him a letter before, so why would they start now?

All these thoughts floated around in his head as he carefully unwrapped the scroll, making sure he didn't rip the note in the process. To his utter surprise, a powder-like substance fell out and spread all over his desk, filling all the nooks and crannies. He wanted to curse whoever was responsible for the pathetic joke, he'd be dusting his desk for hours if he wanted all the sand gone. Harry opened the note to see who his target would be. Whoever it was, he or she was a skilled writer, since they'd managed to fit three full sentences on the miniscule piece of paper. It was written in such a small handwriting that he had to squint his eyes to be able to read it. The name was easily decipherable, although Harry did a double take when he saw Ginny's name scribbled down neatly at the bottom of the note. Why would Ron's sister send him something like this?

Harry,

I really need to talk to you about something important, please get to your fireplace as soon as you can. I hope the floopowder I put in the scroll didn't confuse you too much. I just thought you may not have any spare lying around there at the Muggles' house. – Ginny.

The note wasn't exactly enlightening, if anything it confused Harry even more than he'd been before he read it. At least it did give a good explanation for the sand, although Harry thought she should have written something on the outside of the scroll to warn him. Ginny had never spoken more than five words to him, nor had she ever expressed the need or want to, except when she had a crush on him during his second year. He decided to go downstairs and check out the situation nonetheless, it couldn't hurt after all.

Harry had a silent but steady tread, because of the frequent walks he took around Hogwarts at night. He did have his invisibility cloak on those occasions, a luxury he wouldn't have today, since lifting the creaky floorboard it was hidden under would make way too much noise. It was early in the morning and the Dursleys were all still asleep. Harry thought going downstairs wouldn't raise too many issues. Even if it did, he probably wouldn't have been able to supress his urge to uncover the mystery of it all.

He got up and contemplated how he was going salvage enough floopowder. It wasn't a simple task. Most of the dust had settled in the many small crevices that littered his desk. He managed to recover a handful of the stuff by using his hands, blowing softly and using an old sock he'd found lying on the floor somewhere. He swatted the powder of sock number one and quietly slipped it on, then he scanned the room for number two. The socks would make his tread nearly impossible to detect. He quickly found it and after putting it on as well, Harry was ready to go. He carefully pushed down the door handle and used his shoulder to put pressure against the door; it slid open. Harry quietly shuffled towards the stairs. He opted to leave the door open, that would be easier when he came back later. Experience had taught him that the third step, counting upwards, was the one that creaked the most. He skipped it with ease and noiselessly found his way to the living room door.

When he looked through the glass panes in the door, he already spotted something out of the ordinary. It was still early and the houses at the opposite side of the street blocked the sunlight from entering the living room, it should have been dark inside. When Harry looked at the sofa however, there seemed to be a faint glow on the other side. It looked like the fireplace was lit, only not working at full power, as if the charred embers of a long-gone fire were still shimmering. He used the same technique he'd used for his bedroom to enter the dully lit living room, only he closed the door behind him this time. Harry headed towards the glow to examine it. He gazed behind the sofa and it confirmed his suspicions; the fire was burning, only the flames seemed a bit surreal, magical even. He stood there for a minute, mesmerized by the magic, then he came back to his senses and threw the powder into the fireplace. He hoped a handful would suffice.

The embers shifted and rumbled until a giant, green burst of flames shot out of the ashes. He took a step back, anticipating the heat, but he felt none. Harry slowly stretched out his arm and touched the flames, they were icy cold, as if he'd plunged his arm into a bucket of cold water. When the flames reached as high as his eyes, they begun to swirl and spin, until they slowly took the form of a person. The figure reminded him of one of those ancient Roman statues he'd seen in a museum once or twice, although all the limbs were still intact. When the figure finally took form, he found himself face to face with none other than Ginny Weasley.

He looked at Ginny and she stared back at him. She was green and made of flames, but it was still Ginny. She perked up when she noticed she wasn't alone and the room and called out to him. "Harry!"

Harry quickly put his finger to his lips, hoping it wasn't too late already. She clearly understood, because she remained silent while he shuffled closer to her and sat down in the armchair by the fire. "Hello, Harry." She spoke up again, though notably in a quieter fashion.

Harry was still puzzled at her sudden appearance. He opened his mouth, but no noise came out. He had no idea what to say.

She took one look at Harry and a small smile formed on her lips. "You must be so confused." She deduced correctly.

"You can say that." He responded.

"I'm sorry to bother you this early and in this way. I could only do it now, when everyone's asleep." Her eyes scanned the living room as she spoke.

"Do what?" Harry asked, still very confused at her intentions. "And you don't have to feel sorry, I couldn't sleep anyway."

Ginny narrowed her eyes and looked him up and down. "You have to sleep Harry, you can't function without it and it isn't healthy if you stay awake all the time." She stated boldly, she sounded a lot like Mrs Weasley as she told him off.

Harry didn't see this sudden change of topic coming, nor was he in the mood for it. All he wanted were answers to the many questions burning in his head. "I will." He reassured her. "But why are you here Ginny? Why did you do all this," He motioned to her flaming figure: "just to talk to me?"

"Listen." Ginny shushed him. "I don't think I'm supposed to tell you this, but there's been a lot going on here. Dumbledore has visited us multiple times and I've stopped counting the number of witches and wizards I've never even seen that have come by the house this summer. Strangest of all, they're all whispering about you."

Harry didn't think too much of the statement. People had always talked behind his back. He was one of the most famous wizards alive and his opinion about Voldemort's return didn't exactly coincide with most of the wizarding population's. He'd been on the front page of the Daily Prophet every day of the summer, being called a liar and an out-of-control kid in need of some attention.

"I'm used to that Ginny. I've always had people talking about me behind my back, I've learnt to accept it and move on." He said.

"This is different!"

"Can you please stop shouting Ginny." He motioned her to be quiet and listened intently to make sure she hadn't woken anyone. Ginny crossed her arms and frowned at him, clearly mad at him for not understanding.

He was growing impatient, but if she'd gone through all this trouble to talk to him, then surely something had to be wrong. "I'm sorry, Ginny." He apologised. "I just don't understand what's so special that you had to talk to me right now, and what do you mean this is different?"

She sighed. "Harry, I know the difference between someone who's gossiping about you and someone who's conspiring against you. Besides, it's not just random people on the street. It's mum and dad, Ron, even Fred and George. They're whispering in corners when they think I'm not looking and every time I get near them, they act like nothing's amiss."

Harry was a bit baffled, but he could still think of possible explanations. "Maybe they're just planning for when I come over the last three weeks of the summer?"

She glanced upwards, right at his eyes. "I know about that Harry, so why would they be so secretive about it?" She paused. "There's something else." Ginny blushed and averted her eyes to the ground when she realised she'd been staring him in the eyes for way too long.

The new information concerned him. "I... I've picked up some bits and pieces and I think I have a good idea of what's going on." Ginny continued her story. If anything, this confused Harry even more, why hadn't she told him this in the first place?

"Have you ever heard about the Order of the Phoenix?" She enquired. When she saw Harry's confused look, she went on. "They're a secret association, founded by Dumbledore in the First Wizarding War. Their main objective was to fight You-Know-Who and his Deatheaters."

Harry had read many books about the First Wizarding War, he'd even played a pivotal role in it when he was a baby, but he'd never heard of a secret order led by Dumbledore. "Are you sure? Because I've nev- "

"That's because it's a secret association Harry, it's not mentioned anywhere." She interrupted him.

"How come you know so much about it then?"

"Umm… Trade secret?" She tried.

Harry was having none of it. He wanted answers from her and if she wasn't telling him everything, there was no reason to believe her. He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off once more. "It's hard to explain, Harry, but I'll show you when you come here in August." The defiant look in her eyes showed him he wasn't going to get any more information out of her.

"Okay, but why does that matter?"

"Because I think Dumbledore has reassembled it and my whole family is in now: Fred, George, Mum, Dad, even Ron. That's probably why I'm not allowed to hear everything they're saying, because they think I'm too young to be involved." Harry agreed with the Weasleys, Ginny wasn't even fifteen years old, she had no business being in secret associations combatting Voldemort.

"How is that a bad thing?" He interjected her. Dumbledore leading a secret association against Voldemort was a great idea. If anything, Harry wanted in.

"It is, but…" She paused and her eyebrows furrowed together, as if she was thinking hard about something. "Do you know where Hermione is at the moment?"

Harry frowned. "Somewhere in southern France, she sent me some postcards earlier, why?

"Because she isn't. She's here. I saw her yesterday, I think she's at the Order's headquarters and I expect we'll be going there too sometime soon." She looked at him.

Harry was baffled at what he'd just heard, so Hermione wasn't in France? It angered Harry that one of his best friends would blatantly lie to him. She'd been so supportive of him, sending a letter all the way from France and buying those nice cards. "Why did she lie to me then?" He asked curiously. Maybe there was a good reason for it.

"I think Dumbledore is making her, but I'm not sure." Ginny fidgeted with her feet while Harry let all the new information sink in.

"Are you sure it was Hermione you saw?" Maybe Ginny had made a mistake. That could explain all this.

"I'm sure Harry."

He felt like another load of bricks was thrown onto his back. He carried so many already and he wasn't sure how many more he could take before his knees would buckle under the weight.

"I don't think she wanted to lie to you, Harry!" Ginny tried to reassure him, but it had little effect. Harry only shook his head.

"She's my friend. She should know better. Even if it would have been dangerous, she should have told me something, or at least tried." A silence fell after his words. Ginny clearly wanted to comment on what he'd said, yet she didn't.

"Maybe she's just biding her time, waiting for the right moment to tell you. It's not like Hermione to go running off into danger unprepared." Ginny tried again.

Harry mulled this over in his head. Maybe she was right about that. Hermione wouldn't just abandon him, she was probably waiting for a good moment to tell him all about it. Ginny watched Harry closely. She was happy that she hadn't broken Harry even more than he had clearly already been.

"The Order is planning something. I'm not sure whether it's bad or not, but it's to do with you." Ginny looked him in the eyes. "I just couldn't let them do something like this without telling you. I know that all you'll want is to fight alongside them, but I'm not sure they realise that. I think they're trying to protect you by not telling you anything and keeping you out of the loop. You don't deserve to be left out, Harry, that's why I decided to tell you about all this. It's the least I owe you." She looked content, happy that she'd gotten everything she wanted to say off her chest.

He gave her a quick smile to show how grateful he was. Harry hated it when people didn't tell him everything, especially to protect him. He'd come to expect and accept it from Dumbledore, but he didn't want any more people standing between him and Voldemort. Harry was sick of people getting injured or dying to protect him. He didn't want to be responsible for more deaths.

"Harry, I'm sorry." Ginny looked at him, the compassion showed in her voice. She felt bad for hurting Harry. She knew it was the right thing to do, but it bothered her nonetheless.

"What do you mean, you owe me?" He asked suddenly. Ginny blinked twice, this wasn't the piece of information she had expected Harry to ask questions about.

"Well… I, umm." She didn't know what to say. Harry had an idea about what she'd meant and her sudden stutter confirmed his suspicion.

"Ginny that was ages ago. You should try to forget about it, and stop thinking you owe me for it." Her eyes dropped to the floor as she nodded softly.

Suddenly, Ginny nearly jumped out of her skin and turned her head at the soot-covered wall behind her. "I think someone's awake." She whispered. "I have to go before I get caught." Harry nodded in response.

"We could meet again tomorrow morning, same time." She suggested. "We can talk some more if you want and I'll see if I can gather some more information by then." She spoke so quickly, he had trouble understanding what she was saying.

"That's fine, just go now." He finally managed. She laughed at his confusion and quickly bid him farewell. "Ohh… and Ginny." Harry added quickly, causing her to turn her head once more. The flames were already starting to swirl and Harry hoped she would still be able to hear what he was about to say. "Thanks."

Harry wasn't sure. It might have been a stray strand of hair that whipped past her face, but he thought he'd seen a brief smile on her face. The flames assumed a funnel-shape and slowly disappeared back into the charred embers of the fireplace. It reminded him a bit of a bath being drained. Ginny was gone.

Gone with her was the faint glow the fireplace had emanated earlier, making it a lot harder for Harry to find his way back upstairs into the smallest, foulest room in the house.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is only a pilot chapter, I'm testing the waters and so far, they seem favourable. Future chapters will be bigger in both content and size. Please do forgive me for any spelling mistakes you might come across; English is not my mother tongue. I know it's been a while since any updates were made to this story, but I'm now recommencing it and am in the process of writing new chapters already. If you've read the pilot chapter and enjoyed it, feel free to leave support or constructive criticism. I'm always open to suggestions and the support means the world to me. Thank you.

- iWrites.