Several hours later, Harry sat on one of the worn and comfortable sofas in front of the fireplace, holding a sleeping Will Weasley. Hermione sat next to him with a drowsy little Molly in her lap. Hermione wasn't saying much. Instead, she was following the very animated conversation between Harry and Ginny, who was seated in a rocking chair across from them. Ginny, despite her life in Paris, didn't fit the Parisian model. She was not uncomfortably thin but athletically built and on the short side for a Weasley. She was wearing Muggle jeans with a hole in the knee, a green t-shirt and sandals. Ginny was relaxed and comfortable at nearly 30, outgoing, without a trace of the childish awkwardness that had been her trademark as a girl.

"No, I don't think it's fair!' protested Ginny. "The rule has been in place for hundreds of years. Substitutions are simply not allowed . . ."

"But all other sports allow them," countered Harry. "Football, baseball, cricket . . ."

"Quidditch isn't all other sports!" exclaimed Ginny animatedly. "Surely you, of all people . . ."

"Girls, Girls, Girls!" said George from across the room. He was sitting at the kitchen table with Fred and the Harrys, testing out some new Wheezes on the young subjects, who were amazingly willing given their prior experience with the twins.

Ginny stuck her tongue out at him and turned back to Harry.

"Next they'll want to bring back the Snidget!" she exclaimed, referring to the endangered little bird that long ago had been replaced by the golden snitch.

Little Will stretched his arms and screwed up his eyes, as if to cry.

"Oops!' whispered Ginny contritely. She'd been enjoying this argument and was reluctant to leave it.

"Why don't you take him for a while?" asked Harry, standing up with the baby and shifting him to his other shoulder.

"Me? Oh, Harry, you know I don't do bab…."

But he had already placed the baby in her arms. She held him awkwardly a moment and Harry sighed and helped her rearrange her arms.

"Better," he said as Will snuggled into his new accommodations and relaxed. "You're the one sitting in the rocker, after all," he added as he settled down next to Hermione.

"You're a much better uncle than I am," sighed Ginny, looking down at the sleeping baby affectionately.

"I hope so," said Harry with a grin. "Considering you're an aunt, not an uncle."

"You know what I meant!" she shot back.

"What are your plans now, Harry?" asked Hermione suddenly.

"Plans?" asked Harry.

"Well, now that you're back home, I mean," she explained. "You'll probably get a few weeks off before you have to accept another assignment, won't you?"

Suddenly, Harry remembered that Charlie worked at Hogwarts. He wondered if anyone besides McGonagall knew of his job offer.

"I thought I'd make a few visits," he said. "Spend a couple days with Remus and Tonks. Maybe go up to Hogwarts and visit …."

Hermione and Ginny looked startled.

"Hogwarts, Harry?" asked Ginny with a bit of alarm.

"Why shouldn't I go to Hogwarts?" asked Harry a bit defensively.

Hermione reached out and put her hand on Harry's knee. "Harry, of course you should go if you'd like. It's just that we all know how it is when you go . . . I guess we just assumed . . ."

"Assumed what?" he asked, locking eyes with her. But try as he might, he couldn't fool her, or Ginny for that matter. Brave front be damned. Both of them knew that the most courageous of the Gryffindors had only returned to Hogwarts three times since he left after the final battle: once for the memorial service honoring the staff and students who had died and were buried on the grounds, once for the dedication of the Hero's Memorial and one final time for the 10 year anniversary of the defeat of Lord Voldemort. And he was a different man when he was there—more haunted than nostalgic, more angry than thankful.

"Well, I guess we assumed you feel like we do," said Ginny quietly. "Like it hurts too much to go back."

"It does," he admitted, leaning back into the worn cushions of the divan. "All these years later it still hurts. But after this time away, it feels like something is calling me home. I know that's silly," he said, looking up at Ginny. "And I know that this is home," he circled his arm around to indicate the Burrow. "But I was thinking of the castle this morning, and the Great Hall…."

"Owl post during breakfast," said Hermione, smiling.

"The Fat Lady," said Ginny.

"Peeves!" said Fred from across the room.

"The sorting hat," said Bill. He'd been sitting on the floor across the room, playing with Jane, Neville and little Fred and George.

"The Welcome Feast!" said Ron. They all laughed. Ron's favorite memories always revolved around food.

"The library . . ." sighed Hermione.

"And besides," said Harry, looking over to the kitchen table. "Marie is already at Hogwarts, and the Harrys are about to go off. I think it's time for another visit, and I'd like to see Professor McGonagall again. . . ."

"I'll go with you," said Ginny unexpectedly.

Harry stared at her. She had a set, determined look on her face, a look that reminded him suddenly of the 14-year old Ginny in the Forbidden Forest, stubbornly insisting that she would be accompanying them to the Department of Mysteries, and riding an invisible thestral at that.

They locked eyes a moment and something passed between them, perhaps a moment of understanding, perhaps a shared memory of courage and daring.

"That would be great," he said finally. "Why don't we plan on Wednesday?"