"Harry."
He was pretty sure he could hear someone calling his name. However, it was hard to tell because his head fell like it was floating in the clouds, and the voice sounded far off in the distance.
"Harry."
There it was again. This time it sounded slightly closer.
"Harry!"
His eyes suddenly snapped open, and the cloudiness was gone. Replacing it was an instant, excruciating feeling of pain that rippled throughout his entire body. He groaned as he felt his right side throb. So lost in the battered state of his body, he almost forgot that someone had been calling him. Turning his head, slowly, to the left, he was suddenly looking into the bright, albeit clearly concerned, brown eyes of Ginny Weasley. Her red hair was tied back behind her head, and she was wearing one her older brother's Gryffindor shirts and gold pair of shorts. On her lap she held some sort of container that he couldn't quite make out.
"Ginny?" Harry managed to gasp out. "What are you doing here? Actually, where is here?"
Looking relieved that he was finally awake, Ginny sighed and settled back into the chair she was perched on. "We're in Fred and George's joke shop in Diagon Alley...well, more specifically their flat above it."
"Fred and George have a joke shop?" Harry asked, confused. "How long have I been out?"
"Not that long," Ginny responded, "only an hour or so. You scared me half to death crashing through the wall like that. When I saw you, I thought you were dead."
"Uh. I feel slightly like death right now," he grimaced, trying to sit up. As he did, he realized he was laid out on a couch.
"Don't joke about it, Harry," Ginny chastised. "I did my best to heal the gash on your shoulder, but I'm afraid I'm not very good with healing spells. It's probably going to scar. And don't joke about adding another scar to your collection."
"Wasn't going to," Harry denied, though truthfully, something similar had been on the tip of his tongue.
"Mmhmm," Ginny sounded rightfully doubtful. "Anyway, as for the bruises everywhere, this is the best I can do." She held out the container. "It's bruise-healing paste. Fred and George test most of their products on themselves, so they've invested in a large supply of it. The smaller bruises will probably go away quickly, but those ones on your ribs will probably take a few days. They're quite bad."
Harry looked down for the first time and saw his bare chest. There was barely a spot of unblemished skin left anywhere. The bruises on his side were so intense that they were almost black in color. He was almost lightheaded just looking at them.
"Did you take off my shirt?" Harry questioned, looking back up at Ginny. The girl immediately turned a very impressive shade of red as she looked everywhere but Harry's face.
"Well yes," she finally answered, her voice rushed. "There was blood all over it, and I needed to see what was wrong, and-"
"Ginny," Harry exclaimed, putting his hand over hers to stop her rambling. "It's fine. Thank you for taking care of me, really."
"Of course," she nodded finally glancing at him. "Here, you should put this on now, before the bruising gets worse."
Harry swung his legs off of the couch and sat up. He took the container of paste from her and opened it, revealing the yellowish salve.
"I'll go nick a clean shirt for you to put on when you're done there," Ginny stated, standing up.
She began walking away before Harry's next question stopped her. "You sure you don't want to help me rub this on?" Why had the words left his mouth? Harry asked himself, and could not come up with a single logical explanation that made sense. He didn't say things like that. Innuendo was definitely not something he did. Ron, yes, Harry, no. He tried to sink back into the couch, but looked up to see Ginny's reaction. She stood still where she had stopped, and Harry knew that she was completely crimson, though he could not see her face. He wasn't sure, but he could've sworn that she began to take a step backwards towards him before she finally scurried off without a word to find him a shirt.
"Smooth, Harry, really smooth," he cursed himself, as he began to spread the paste onto his skin. The poor girl had barely been able to manage a squeak in his presence for four years, until last year when she had become a real friend. The girl had risked her life for him, and here he was trying to mortify her. Though, he had to admit to himself, making her blush now brought a different feeling to him than when she had been a small first year. Shaking himself from those much too complicated thoughts, he focused back on the task at hand.
As he carefully placed a layer of the paste over his wounds, he took a better look around his surroundings. The Twins' flat wasn't anything fancy, but it probably suited them well enough. There was a small kitchen and dining table, sitting area, and what looked to be doors leading to two bedrooms and a bathroom. Fred and George had littered the place with all manner of magical objects and decoration, half of which looked like it could explode at any moment. They seemed to be putting his personal investment in their future to good, dangerous use.
Finally, Harry turned and saw the location where he had made his not so grand entrance into the flat. There was a Harry-sized hole in the wall and a pile of broken wood lying beneath it. Putting down the paste, he walked closer, and was shocked to find his Firebolt lying beneath the rubble, a little worse for the wear, but still intact. He picked it up and wiped away some of the dirt and dust that covered it. Holding it in his hands, he felt a sense of relief that Sirius' gift to him had survived.
"How in the name of Merlin, did that broom make it through the wall in one piece?" Ginny asked as she came back into the room, the promised shirt in hand.
Sitting the broom next to the couch, Harry gratefully took it from her and slipped it on, wincing as it pulled on his injuries. "If I had to guess," Harry began, "I would say that I tried to turn at the last minute and came through the wall sideways. Which would also explain why my ribs look like they do."
"Well, better your ribs than your broom."
"Said like a true quidditch player," Harry grinned, moving over to take a seat at the dining table.
"Would you like tea?" Ginny asked. "I put the kettle on before you woke. Then maybe you could explain what exactly happened tonight?"
Harry nodded. "Sure, that sounds fine."
Ginny pulled two giant mugs out of a cupboard and poured them both a generous amount of tea. She put one in front of Harry, then took a seat across from him. "So..." Ginny prodded.
"Right. Well, I can't say I really know much other than Death Eaters showed up in Little Whinging tonight. They destroyed the neighborhood where my Aunt and Uncle live. The whole place was on fire."
"That's awful," Ginny commented, hugging her mug close to her chest.
"A lot of people died," Harry sighed.
"How did you end up here, though?"
"My cousin was away from the house when the Death Eater's arrived. I had to get passed Tonks, but I managed to save him before the Death Eaters could finish doing the same horrible things they did to Dudley's friends. By the time I freed him, the aurors had shown and the fighting was too intense to get back to my relatives. I intended to come to Diagon Alley, but my broom had been damaged. Thus my dramatic arrival."
"I'm glad your okay," Ginny spoke, her eyes soft.
"I wish I could have done more," Harry frowned. "I killed people tonight, Ginny. I know they were Death Eaters, but still. I hadn't really thought on it until now, but it's just sort of hitting me. It's got my stomach in knots."
Ginny sat her mug down, and scooted over so that she was sitting in the chair right next to him. She reached out and sat her palm over his hand. "It isn't your fault Harry. Those people made their choices, and forced you to make one as well. I think it's normal that you feel remorse over it, but you shouldn't be ashamed of it either."
"Thanks, Ginny," he said, placing his other hand over hers. "I don't regret it. Between the last couple of years, and now this, I think I've started to realize that this is where everything is headed. We're going to be living with this sort of thing everyday now that Voldemort is back."
"It kind of sucks, doesn't it?" Ginny agreed.
"Yep," Harry exhaled. "So now that I've explained how I got here, what are you doing here? I figured you would be at the Burrow.
"Kind of a long story," Ginny frowned. "Bill's gone and got himself engaged to that French hussy, Fleur Delacour."
"Fleur?" Harry asked, surprised. "Triwizard Tournament Fleur?"
"Could there be another?" Ginny drawled, dramatically. "Well, she's been staying at the Burrow, apparently to get to know her future Husband's family better. She's driving me absolutely barmy, Harry. She criticizes every little thing she can find inadequate, comparing it to how much better it is in France. I've had to stop myself from cursing her on multiple occasions. It also doesn't help that your best friend follows her around like a little puppy. It's disgusting."
"That I can believe," Harry laughed, picturing Ron following the beautiful French woman around the Burrow.
"Anyway, Fred and George have let me help out here when I manage to escape from Mum. She can't stand Fleur either, so she uses me as a human shield."
"Do you usually stay the night here, too?"
Ginny shook her head. "No, tonight wasn't ordinary. Apparently the Death Eaters attacked other places as well tonight. It must have been really bad, too, because everyone from the Order was called. That includes the Twins now, too. They had to leave quickly, so I was stuck here. They don't have a Floo connection, so I couldn't go home without going to the Leaky. I thought it would be safer to stay holed up here, but had I known reckless Gryffindor flyers were on the loose, I would have left."
"Reckless, fearless, whatever you want to call it," Harry clarified.
"You know, the Order is probably going spare trying to find you."
"Probably," Harry confirmed. "Problem is, we have no idea where anyone is, or when they're coming back."
"You could send a letter with Hedwig," Ginny suggested.
"I could, if she was here. However, last time I saw her she was back at Privet Drive."
"Well, you might want to turn around, because she's behind you sitting in the brand new window you created earlier."
Harry swung his head around, and sure enough, Hedwig was sitting on a protruding board that had managed to survive his collision. "You scare me sometimes, Hedwig," Harry muttered as he stood up. "Do you have parchment and a quill, Ginny?"
"One second." She went over to the counter in the kitchen and rooted through a pile of odds and ends until she found what she was looking for. Ginny handed him the writing tools, and Harry scratched a quick note to Dumbledore letting him know where he was.
"Here girl," he said, attaching the parchment to Hedwig's leg. "Take this to Dumbledore as quick as you can." The white owl nipped his hand affectionately, then took off again into the night. He watched her until she was no longer in sight. Turning back around, he saw that Ginny had curled herself up in the corner of the couch. "You should get some sleep," Harry encouraged.
"I could say the same for you. I'm not the one who was fighting Death Eaters tonight. I don't think I could sleep now even if I wanted to. It's not easy being stuck here, while your whole family is off fighting. Well, except for Ron and my former brother Percy, the arse."
Harry eased himself into the opposite corner of the couch from Ginny. "I don't think you'll be sitting on the sidelines for long. I have a feeling we are all going to be fighting soon enough. Tonight was just a taste of what's coming."
They lulled into silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Eventually, Harry felt his head settle back into the cushions, and his eyes close...
"Well isn't this the sweetest thing you've ever seen, George?"
"I do think it is, Fred."
Harry's eyes snapped open. Looking to the left, he saw a haggard looking Fred and George Weasley standing before him, arms crossed, but with their normal, perpetual looks of mischief still present.
"Mate, you wouldn't happen to know why we have a brand new scenic view in our flat do you?" The Twin on the left asked.
"I didn't feel you were getting enough natural light in here," Harry explained, sitting up. Ginny was still across from him, still groggily waking up. At some point during the night, they each had spread their legs out on the couch, so that they were lying side by side.
"Well, in the future, please try to run all future interior design suggestions by us before executing them."
"Not that we don't enjoy our new, jagged hole, right Fred."
"Right George."
"Could we save the decorating discussions for later," Ginny asked urgently, finally fully awake. "What's been happening? Is everyone alright?"
"Calm down, little sister," George placated. "Everyone's fine, at least from the Order. Couple minor scrapes and scratches, but everyone should be right by tomorrow. Can't say the same for the aurors and muggles though."
"Death Eaters hit two muggle towns, including Harry's, and then went after our now former Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge," George continued. "Killed Fudge's whole family by the time anyone could get there. It was gruesome."
"First it was Amelia Bones, now Fudge. They're going after Ministry officials," Ginny commented.
"I'm not sure why they wanted Fudge dead," Harry added. "The man was just sacked and he did more to help Voldemort in the passed year than anyone else."
"I don't think he cares about reasons anymore," Fred stated. "He killed over a hundred muggles tonight for no other reason than he could."
"One hundred?" Harry asked, his breath catching at the amount. He had seen the destruction, but the true scale of the carnage was now real.
"At least," George nodded. "We were still trying to put fires out right before we left. The Ministry is in full-scale damage control now. It's going to get harder trying to cover these things up now."
"Did you see Dumbledore?" Harry inquired. "I sent him an owl last night to let him know I was safe."
"He received it," George answered, going over to a cupboard and pulling down what looked like a bottle of firewhisky. "He was thoroughly relieved. Poor Tonks was mid panic attack. She thought she had let you run off to your death." George, neglecting to even grab a glass, pulled the stopper out of the bottle in his hand and took a swig. He grimaced as smoke began to puff out of his ears. "As I was saying, Dumbledore told us to come back and see that you stayed put. He said he would be by as soon as he could get away."
"Is it safe to stay here?" Ginny asked. "Isn't there a chance of more attacks?"
"Likely, but I doubt they try anything for a while," Fred continued, swiping the open bottle out of George's hands. "We gave as good as we got. They'll probably be licking their wounds for a few days. We introduced the Death Eaters to some of our more intense creations.
"Mmm, yes. We left some lasting impressions, shall we say," George boasted. "Adding the alligators to the portable swamps was especially inspired, if I do say so myself... and anyway, the Ministry has tripled security around the Alley."
"I'm not sure how much longer the Ministry is going to concern them," Harry warned. "How many sympathizers do you think work there? How many old families on the Winzengamot? He could just install someone like Umbridge to do his bidding and not have to worry about the Ministry at all."
"Scrimgeour's apparently a competent fellow. He was an auror for years. I doubt he'll let the Ministry go without a fight," George concluded.
"Correct you are Mr. Weasley." All of the occupants of the room turned to see Albus Dumbledore standing in the middle of the room. "Rufus is a powerful wizard. He's let his new position go to his head slightly, but outside of Madame Bones, he was the most qualified to replace Cornelius." Dumbledore walked closer to where the other occupants in the room were gathered around the couch. It was clear that the man had been busy that night. His deep blue robes were singed in spots, and he looked every bit his age. Harry stared curiously at his right hand, which was tinged a sickly looking shade of black.
"Are you alright Professor," Harry wondered.
Dumbledore looked down to his hand, the focus of Harry's attention. "Ah, yes, nothing to worry about. It's a story for another time. Now, I would ask you the same question. How are you, Harry? You had us worried when we couldn't locate you in Little Whinging."
"I'm fine, Professor. A little banged up, but I'll live."
"Excellent," Dumbledore declared. "I would like to hear your version of the night's events, but perhaps when everyone has had some time to rest and recuperate."
"Of course, Professor," Harry nodded, thankful for the temporary reprieve. "Do you know if my relatives are okay?"
"Indeed they are, Harry. Your Aunt and Uncle required a mild sedative, and we found your cousin wondering the woods muttering about pigs, but otherwise they are safe. Now, I promised Molly I would see to it that you all came to the Burrow so she could see you were all safe with her own eyes." Dumbledore pulled out a quill from his robes and tapped it with his wand. "This is a portkey. If you would all gather round, we will be at the Burrow and tucking into Molly Wealsey's excellent cooking in but a moment."
Harry stood up, making sure to grab onto his Firebolt as he went. He debated asking Dumbledore if he could try to fly to the Burrow, remembering his last less than ideal experience with portkeys. He stood next to Ginny, who he could hear muttering forlornly under her breath about having to be in Fleur's presence again. Reaching out, he placed a finger on the quill, waited with bated breath, then felt the telltale tug behind his navel. A few seconds of being squeezed through a magical tube, and he was staring up at the morning sky from his back. Sitting up, he breathed a comforted sigh as the whacky architectural wonder that was the Burrow appeared before him.