Harry awoke to the pattering of a gentle summer rain on the windows of Ron's attic room and the feel of Ginny's lips against his. Not fully awake, he fully enjoyed the sensation, thinking that he was having an especially wonderful dream. He kissed her back, and he felt her sigh softly against his lips. "Wake up, sleepyhead," she said.

He bolted upright, banging his head against hers. "Ow! Wha – Ginny!" Eyes wide, he looked over at the cage that held Scabbers (also known as Wormtail). He appeared to be sleeping, but who knew how often the traitorous bastard faked sleep in order to eavesdrop? Not daring to say anything, he just stared at her.

"It's all right, Harry," Ron said from the other bed. He sat cross-legged and looked fully alert.

"I dosed him with the Sleeping Draught Dad made for Mum the night after you two and the twins got back with the car," Ginny explained, smiling smugly. She threw a glare at the rat. "He's lucky I didn't give him the Draught of Living Death."

Harry flopped back down on his camp bed, nerves still jangling. "Sorry," he covered his eyes with his forearm. "I know you wouldn't give us away, I was just surprised." He eyed her. "Care to start over and wake me up again?" She laughed, and pecked him on the cheek.

"First I want to hear – did Dobby come to visit?" she asked.

Harry nodded, and grinned. "He did indeed. He warned me about the 'dire things to come' and then had his fun with the Dursleys. I wish I'd had a better sense of humor about it last time. Even more, I wish I'd had a camera to capture forever the look on Uncle Vernon's and Aunt Petunia's faces when they saw the cake go spat! all over the client's wife."

They all laughed appreciatively. Ginny curled up next to him on top of the covers, and he placed a hand in her hair, stroking it. Harry was in a very good mood. They had a bit of a break this summer, before they had to return to school and deal with the Horcrux waiting for them. He intended to enjoy it as fully as he could. His encounter with Voldemort had been made public, and Dumbledore had assured him after the Leaving Feast that already suspicions amongst the staff (of which Harry had had no idea) had been laid to rest. Professor McGonagall had apparently been especially proud, though he had to trust the headmaster on that one, since she'd looked much the same as always. Gryffindor had managed to win the House Cup; and, best of all, Mrs. Weasley had treated him with all the warmth he remembered when he'd arrived at the Burrow four days previously.

"Mum has completely come around, I think," Ron informed him, apparently following Harry's train of thought. "She almost drove me nuts when I first got home, asking questions and clucking over me like one of the hens in our yard," Ron looked very pleased with this.

"And she was ever so worried about you after she heard what happened," Ginny told him, patting his knee. She paused, "what I want to know is how Neville got tangled up in this."

Harry told her. "So we let him; I couldn't say no, and I didn't even want to," he finished. "He was helpful, too – he figured out the Devil's Snare before Hermione would've."

"Good for Neville!" Ginny said.

"Did you know that he spent all of first term, and most of second – until the dragon – with Professor Sprout in the greenhouses?" Harry asked her. "You were closer to Neville, did he ever tell you that?"

"No, but it doesn't surprise me," replied Ginny. "I don't think he had very many friends before Dumbledore's Army."

Harry had had a thought of beginning the DA anew in the coming year during his incarceration at the Dursleys. Professor Lockhart was just as useless as Umbridge, after all, and Harry could use his experience with Voldemort to explain away what might be viewed as advanced paranoia. But he'd discarded the idea almost as soon as he'd had it. He was heading into some murky waters what with everyone going to be sure that he was the Heir of Slytherin. He didn't want to muddy it up even more by starting an army.

"Well, that's about to change," Ron said. "We'll introduce him to Luna. Explain to me again how she found out?"

Ginny opened her mouth to speak, but Harry spoke before she could. Thinking about suspicions reminded him of something. "Hold up, I almost forgot." He leaned over, trying not to dislodge Ginny, and rummaged around the open trunk next to him, and finally found an old issue of the Daily Prophet.

"Dumbledore gave this to me," Harry explained. "It's the article that Dumbledore, Snape, and your mum mentioned."

"You kept that quiet!" Ron accused.

"I forgot," Harry said honestly. "I really did, what with the dragon and the Stone and everything."

"Makes me wonder what else you've forgotten," Ron muttered. Guilt surged up inside Harry, but he forced it back down. Ron and Ginny, heads now bent over the slightly yellowed parchment, did not notice.

Ginny finished first, her face flushed with anger. "I want to hex the person who wrote this," she bit out. "He or she wrote this when you were only seven!"

"Barely, he was almost eight," Ron said, tapping the date on the cover. "It's dated the thirtieth of July."

"Do you honestly think that matters, Ron?" Ginny asked. "It's worse than what I expected. No wonder Mum was suspicious; she'd read this piece of rubbish! And who knows how many other people read it and took it to heart? If Mum reacted to it – and you know how soft-hearted she is – then you can bet that some people are already preparing for the day when you're the new Dark Lord."

Harry thought her reaction was a bit much, and was just about to tell her so when Ron spoke. "She's got a point, Harry. I don't know who wrote this, but whoever it was is not on our side."

"Dumbledore doesn't think it was a Death Eater," Harry told them. Then he thought about what Sirius' head had told him in the Gryffindor common room about how good and evil was not necessarily divided between Death Eaters and non Death Eaters. He'd been talking about… "Umbridge. Do you think it might be Umbridge?"

Ron and Ginny looked stunned and then thoughtful. "I reckon that's a good idea," Ron said slowly. "I'd place my bet on it."

"I would too," said Ginny. "It makes sense."

"You know she'd do anything to discredit you," Ron added.

"But she hasn't met me yet… maybe she's trying to get a head start?" Harry asked. "She already sees me as a threat to her precious Ministry?"

"The Ministry has never wanted to believe that Voldemort would one day return. Dad said – last time, right before we left for Grimmauld Place – that Minister Fudge has always spoken of him as though he were dead, and refused to hear otherwise," Ginny said.

"Do you think he's in on it, too?" Ron asked.

"No, too subtle," said Ginny. "But I'll bet he was relieved when it happened. Umbridge probably did it to put him in a better position or something. Maybe she even told him after the fact, and that's why he trusted – will trust, damn, I'm getting my tenses confused – her."

"Oi!" Ron, who had been lounging, sat upright, and swung his legs off the bed. "Ginny, we forgot to tell him about the other article!"

"Another article?" Harry asked wearily.

"Yeah, it came right after I got here," Ron opened the drawer on his nightstand, revealing a very messy pile of parchment and old quills. "It's not… bad. Compared to some of the stuff that came out last time, it's almost nice."

Harry took the offered copy of yet another issue of the Prophet. His eyes widened when he saw the headline.

HARRY POTTER ALLEGEDLY MEETS YOU-KNOW-WHO AT HOGWARTS

"Allegedly?"

"Keep reading."

In a statement last Friday night, Albus Dumbledore, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, 111, said that Harry Potter claims that he rescued a Philosopher's Stone from falling into the hands of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. "Harry Potter has met [sic He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. [sic You-Know-Who had possessed Professor Quirrell, and had it not been for Harry's timely reaction, would have once again restored himself to life." The Stone, formerly owned by renowned alchemist Nicolas Flamel before it was destroyed, had been placed under Dumbledore's protection after it was nearly stolen at Gringotts. It is undeniable that Harry Potter and three of his fellow first years (Donald Weasley, Ned Longbottom, and Hermione Granger, a muggle-born) did indeed meet a dark wizard who sought eternal life and unlimited wealth. Other sources allege that it was not in fact You-Know-Who (dead for ten years), but one Professor Quirrell, who taught Muggle Studies at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Harry Potter's claim that he met You-Know-Who is undoubtedly due to the fact that he suffered extreme magical exhaustion which caused him to be in the hospital wing for several days. Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, said, "Oh, yes, Mr. Potter slept for days after he rescued that Stone from You-Know-Who. He nearly died." While there have been rumors that You-Know-Who has not been defeated – Albus Dumbledore has always said that he would someday return – there is no conclusive evidence that this is true. It is very admirable that Mr. Potter, a first year, managed to stop a fully-grown wizard at all (although in his case there appears to be precedent). Yet it must be pointed out that the strain, and the magical exhaustion, may have led to the belief that Quirrell had been possessed by a wizard who is almost certainly dead.

Harry Potter himself was unavailable for comment, as he is enjoying his holiday at an undisclosed location.

"It could be a lot worse," Harry said objectively when he finished reading. "I could be an attention-seeking liar."

"That's what I thought too," Ron said. "Glad you're not mad. I'm a bit hacked off that they didn't get my name right. Fred and George didn't stop calling me 'Donald' for weeks."

"I'm not," said Harry, surprised by the truth. "Not this time. I think if this had come out when I really was eleven, I would've been. But we already know that they aren't going to believe me when he really does come back."

Ginny reached up and entwined her fingers with his. "They'll have to believe, in the end," she murmured.

"I know," he replied, a little note of sadness in his voice.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Luna wandered into the kitchen of the Burrow the day before their trip to Diagon Alley looking as though it had happened quite by accident. Harry was the first to see her. If she knocked, Harry didn't hear it, and he had to duck underneath the table to hide his grin. She looked much the same as a child as she had in her older years: long, straggly blonde hair, bulging blue eyes, and a distinctly dotty air. She was shorter and smaller, but that was about it.

He nudged Ginny, who sat beside him picking tiredly at her breakfast. She blinked blearily at him, and he motioned to Luna with his head.

"Luna!" she cried, more awake than she had been moments previously. Ron nearly fell off his chair. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley did not react; presumably this had happened before.

"Hi, Ginny," said Luna. "I'm happy to see you again, I didn't know if you'd want me here since your brothers are home on holiday."

"Don't be silly, dear," Mrs. Weasley chided, already grabbing an extra plate and piling it high with eggs, sausage, bacon and toast. "We're always happy to have another girl in the house. Especially when all of the boys are home." She looked over at her sons; four was quite a lot, even with Bill and Charlie missing. Ron and Harry were grinning, but the other boys were in various states of shock.

"Mum! We're not dressed!" Harry did not think that he had ever seen George Weasley embarrassed. His face was flushed bright red, and his mouth slightly open. Harry couldn't blame him. He and Fred had staggered into the room five minutes ago wearing boxers and nothing else.

"Serves you right," Mrs. Weasley pointed at him. "I've told you a thousand times not to come down in your underwear, and you never listen!"

Luna watched with mild interest as Fred and George, who were speechless and several shades of red, scampered out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Ron and Percy laughed loudly, while Ginny covered her mouth to hide her snicker. "Daddy says that twins have spots on them from when they pricked each other with their nails before they were born. He was right."

"I think they're just freckles, dear, I'm afraid all of us Weasleys have got them," Mrs. Weasley said with equanimity. Ron howled with mirth.

"Ginny… you were right…" He wiped his eyes, and stuck out his hand. "Hi, Luna, I'm Ron. And this is Harry."

"I know," Luna said, returning his handshake. "Ginny told me all about you. You're the youngest, and you just finished your first year at Hogwarts, and you've got a long nose."

"Uh, thanks," Ron said. The twins, returning with more clothes on than was necessarily warranted for the warm summer day, were still so embarrassed that Luna had seen their bare chests that they did not even try to torment their younger brother.

Luna then looked at Harry, eyes traveling from his untidy hair to his scar. They lingered there for a while. "What does You-Know-Who look like?" she asked after a minute of silent staring.

Ginny and Ron snorted, and then there was dead silence. Harry felt uncomfortable as he realized that everyone in the room was staring at him, waiting to hear his reply. "Uh," he stalled, hoping that Mrs. Weasley would save him from answering this question. "Well… I dunno if I really know what he looks like" – he saw the snakelike face and the red eyes in his nightmares at least once a week – "Since he was stuck on the back of Quirrell's head. His… nose was shaped funny, like slits."

"You really met him then?" Fred spoke up. "When Quirrell was trying to get the Stone? You-Know-Who was what he was hiding under his turban?"

"Young man!" Mrs. Weasley flared up. "You are out of line!"

George was outraged on behalf of his brother. "You didn't mind when Luna asked him!"

"Luna is not my son!"

George and Fred muttered mutinously together, but the conversation turned to lighter things. Luna ended up spending the day with them. They did not get a chance to speak to her about the time travel, but she did not let on by word or gesture that she knew. The twins, having gotten over their embarrassment and taken off one of their sweaters, suggested a game of Quidditch, which turned out to be several games, with Fred, Ron, and Luna on one team, and Ginny, Harry, and George on the other. By the time it was too dark to continue playing, George had told Harry thirty-one times that he ought to try out for the House team, and Fred had told him seventeen times (with increasing annoyance that Harry always caught the apple Mr. Weasley had charmed to make fly) that he would make a decent Seeker.

"Mum, can I walk Luna home?" Ginny asked after dinner.

Mrs. Weasley looked uncertain. "I don't know if it's safe, dear, your father and I thought we'd take her Side-Along Apparition again."

"Luna walks over here all the time!" said Ginny.

"Not at night, just in the mornings," Mr. Weasley replied. He and his wife exchanged a look that Harry took to mean that they did not approve of such a young girl walking such a long way by herself at anytime of the day – they just couldn't prevent it from happening.

"What if Harry and I went with them?" Ron asked, his mouth full of treacle tart. "Then there'd be four of us."

"We could go too," Fred said, indicating himself and George.

"Absolutely not," Mrs. Weasley said. She had found their most recent owl order purchases in their room while they'd been playing Quidditch, and she had yelled at them for over an hour before dinner. "You're just lucky I'm letting the two of you go with us to Diagon Alley tomorrow. What do you think, Arthur?" she asked her husband.

Harry crossed his fingers under the table.

"I can't see the harm," Mr. Weasley said. "It's a pretty safe trip, especially if there are four of them. And we'll keep an eye on the clock."

"You three come straight home," she ordered. "Tell Mr. Lovegood that you're not to linger. We're getting up early tomorrow. And take a lantern."

"HA!" Ron shouted once they were out of earshot, and he punched the air in triumph. He grabbed a bemused Luna into a tight hug and spun her around, while Harry and Ginny looked on and laughed. "Luna, how did you know?"

"Yeah, Luna," Harry said. "I've been wondering since we got Ginny's letter."

"I dunno," she shrugged. "Ginny looks older than ten—"

"I'm eleven now," Ginny informed her.

"—And so do the two of you," Luna continued as if she had not been interrupted. "It's obvious," she cocked her head. "So if you're older than you look, then you must've come from the future."

"It's that simple?" Ron asked. "You see three people who look older than their age and you automatically assume that they're from the future?" Harry could tell that he was impressed.

"Daddy knows a lot about it, and I've read some of his books," she said tranquilly. "Do you know that the spell and potion you used came from Merlin? He traveled through time, too. Daddy reckons that he still is. We just don't know it because he knows how to disguise himself. 'Be kind to strangers, they may be Merlin' he says."

"How did you know about the Tears of Merlin? Did Ginny tell you?" Harry asked. He walked ahead a little, and pushed away some of the branches so that the girls did not walk into them.

"No, she guessed that, too," Ginny answered.

"It's the only way you could've done it," Luna said. "Other ways leave you with the same body."

"You know, Luna," Ron said seriously. "I think I appreciate you even more now. I'm beginning to suspect that some of your strange ideas were true after all."

Luna turned around and walked backward so she could see him. "I think you're Lancelot," she announced. "And Harry is Arthur, and Ginny is Guinevere. They were told that they were going to get a second chance, and I think you're it."

"The thing is, Luna," said Harry. "This already is our second chance."

"And wasn't Guinevere in love with both Arthur and Lancelot?" Ginny asked. "I'm not going to fall in love with Ron. Ew."

"Which is why things will work out this time," Luna smiled.

Harry could not help but think later, as he crawled into bed, that today had been the last day of the holidays no matter that they still had a week until September 1st. Tomorrow they would go to Diagon Alley and they would return home with a Horcrux. Already, his thoughts were turning to the darkness ahead, both this year and in the distant future he was trying his hardest to prevent. He suspected seeing Luna had made the memories – dormant these few months – return again with a vengeance.

Harry stared down in shock at the small figure of Luna Lovegood, whom he'd thought had been in Azkaban for well over a year. He'd had to carry her out of Malfoy Manor while Ron carried an unconscious Hermione. The cellar had been dark, and the extent of her injuries unknown. She had spoken to them; she'd helped them find the nail, and had cut away the bindings herself. But now, Harry saw in the light of the full moon that Luna bled deeply from a hundred different cuts. He could not understand how she was breathing.

"BILL! FLEUR!" He shouted. He dropped Kreacher's hand. Ron had already run in with Hermione, who had been tortured with the Cruciatus Curse before Bellatrix had thrown her unconscious body down the stairs.

Luna's face was so pale that she looked translucent. Amazingly, she opened her eyes. "Spell… preventing me from escaping," she said weakly. "Did this… every night… or every week, can't remember. Healed me… cut me… healed me… cut me… can't stop the bleeding."

It took a second for what she was saying to penetrate his tired mind. He nearly dropped her. "Luna… they did this to you every night? And made it so if you escaped, you'd bleed to –" But he couldn't finish.

"Death," Luna whispered.

"No," Harry said forcefully. "No, you aren't going to die." It sounded like a lie even to his own ears.

But she did an hour later, lying on a bed in one of Bill and Fleur's spare bedrooms. Fleur could do nothing; she didn't know of nothing that might save her. Molly arrived, summoned by Patronus, and was just as helpless. If Harry had had one bit of hope that the Healers at St. Mungo's would not turn them over to Voldemort, he would have taken her there and damned the consequences. In the end, all any of them could do was hold her hand while the white sheets were stained scarlet with her fleeing life.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry played with the small coin he had enchanted to connect to two others. The Protean Charm had been a difficult bit of magic, and it had taken several tries before Harry had done it right; and he did it several more times after that to make sure it was perfect. They weren't the same as the ones they had used to start an army underneath the Ministry's nose. Those had been spelled to change the date and time. This one was a little different. As soon as Ginny tapped hers with her wand and muttered – of course – always and always, Harry's and Ron's would vibrate and grow uncomfortably warm. Harry had been tempted to also make it so that a piercing whistle came from it, but he realized that he was being paranoid. When Ginny finished writing in the diary, she would repeat the words, and all coins would go back to normal.

Harry did not like this plan. He'd said so, many times. He'd been shouted down each time. It was Dumbledore's portrait who had convinced him that these things needed to play out. They needed the sword. And after what Harry and this Dumbledore had gone through to destroy the ring, he reluctantly agreed. That did not mean that Harry was not allowed to brood over the decision, as he had told Ron earlier that morning. Harry had gotten very little sleep the night before, and Ron had noticed.

Neither one of them are worried enough, Harry thought sourly.

"Get moving, mate," Ron broke into his thoughts. "Mum's in a fury – you're not even packed?" He gaped around the room, seeing Harry's things still strewn all over the place. "What've you been doing? You missed breakfast so you could pack!"

"It'll only take five seconds," Harry said irritably. And then he proved it, using the same spell that Dora Lupin had used when the Order of the Phoenix had sprung him from the Dursley prison.

"You could have done that and had time for breakfast," Ron told him. Together, they lugged Harry's trunk down the stairs.

"Better take that to the car, boys," Mrs. Weasley stood beside the front door, hands on her hips. "We're already late. GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY, GET DOWN HERE NOW!"

Harry and Ron obeyed, and Harry soon found that only Ron's trunk was in the boot. Percy came out, dragging his and panting heavily. Ron and Harry ran over to help him. With a grateful sigh, Percy rubbed his back, and said "They'd better get out here, Mum's in a state."

It took them another half hour before they were on the highway; the twins had everything they'd forgotten, and Mrs. Weasley ranted in the front seat. "I told you to pack last night, obviously I should have checked to make sure of it," she kept saying. "And Ginny, the first day of school is not the day to have a lie-in!"

"Sorry, Mum," Ginny said. She sounded tired, as though she'd gotten as little sleep as Harry had. He stared at the back of her head. He'd have to ask her if she had any misgivings. If she did, they could put a halt to this right now. They'd figure out how to get Gryffindor's Sword some other way.

Harry occupied himself with these thoughts the rest of the way, only breaking out of his reverie when Harry and Ron were alone, staring at the barrier that led to Platform 9 ¾.

Ron looked at it. "Do you reckon we should even try it?"

"Yeah," Harry said. He smiled for the first time that day. "I don't think we should crash headlong into it again, if that's what you're asking," he proved this by placing his hand against it. "Yeah, it's definitely solid."

"Let's go to the car and wait for Mum and Dad, then," Ron said.

They hurried through the station, rushing passed staring Muggles, out the doors, and into the sunlight that seemed especially bright after the shadowy station.

"I have something to say to you," Ron said, after they had reloaded the trunks in the boot, and put Scabbers and Hedwig in the backseat. "Muffliato," he waved his wand. "Before Mum and Dad get here. You've got to stop brooding about things."

"Yeah? Well, I wish you'd worry a little more!" Harry said at once, frustration bubbling up inside him. "We're letting him – "

"I know what we're letting him do," Ron said. "Remember control. Isn't that what you told me when I was worried about Hermione and the troll?"

"It isn't the same."

"No, it isn't," Ron admitted. "Don't you think I'm worried too? But I trust you, Harry. Listen, even though I knew that things would work out the way they did last year, what you did was still pretty damn risky. Everything we're about is risky. But Ginny knows what she's doing, and so do you. And trust me, Harry, you ought to worry about yourself."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked blankly.

Ron laughed shortly and rumpled his hair. "Talk about having to point out the obvious, Harry. How many times are you going to have to escape Voldemort?"

"But that's different, that's me –"

Ron gaped at him. "Are you mental? If you think that Ginny wasn't going spare with worry about you last year with the Stone, you're mad. She loves you just as much as you love her. The difference is that she trusts you."

Harry sagged against the car. "I do trust her," he said in a low voice. "But what if I'm not fast enough? What if everything goes sideways?"

Ron shook his head firmly. "It's not going to. You saved her when she was just my little sister to you. You'll die before you let anything happen to her. You're the only one who doesn't know that. Pull it together."

Harry mulled that over in his mind, trying to find an argument. Ginny was well aware of the risks. She was the one who had spent four months fighting about this, and Harry had – with the help of the portrait – finally decided that she was right. It was difficult to hold on to that resolution in the here and now. He hated the idea of placing her in danger. But realization slowly dawned on him that he was being awfully patronizing. Harry needed her at is side fighting; it wasn't fair to her to want to lock her up somewhere safe. The woman he loved would never stand for it, and if he loved her he would trust her. And himself.

"You're right," he said reluctantly.

"Merlin's pants, that took long enough," Ron blew out a deep breath. "You're lucky you agreed. Ginny planned to hex you tonight if you hadn't. And she wasn't going to be nice about it."

"Thanks, Ron," and Harry did not mean that he was thankful for being saved from something painful.

"No problem, mate," Ron said easily. He gazed at the car with longing clear upon his face. "Are you sure we can't do it again?"

"No," Harry said forlornly. "We've got to talk to Dumbledore and Snape before the rest of the students arrive…" Despite the fact that it had been a great deal of fun, stealing the flying car was more trouble than they could afford.

"WHAT ARE YOU TWO DOING OUT HERE?!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked.

Harry turned to her with a sigh.

As Ron explained the solid barrier to his incredulous parents, Harry, despite his more positive outlook of the last few minutes, could not help but feel that he had forgotten something very important.

HPHPHPHPHPHP

"Yes, we're sure," Ginny said firmly. "We have got to get Gryffindor's Sword," she explained. "You don't have any idea how much we need it."

"If Fiendfyre can be used to destroy the Horcruxes – " Snape began, but Ron cut him off.

"Can you control it?" He asked. "Dumbledore here is the only one who can make it come and go as he pleases."

"And even then it takes quite a bit of control," Dumbledore nodded. "It will destroy Horcruxes, but if they find themselves needing to destroy it alone – for example, when they break into Gringotts – they will need the Sword. Unleashing Fiendfyre is remarkably dangerous; yes, Severus, even for me."

"I wouldn't unleash Fiendfyre if someone paid me a million galleons," Ron said. "We've seen too much of the destruction it brings. Even at the hands of our allies."

They all turned to stare at the diary Ginny held in one hand.

"You look unhappy about this, Potter," Snape observed.

"I am unhappy," Harry said quietly. "But," he met Ginny's eyes, "we desperately need that sword. Not just for the cup. I'm thinking about the snake, Nagini. And this is the only sure-fire way I know to get the sword."

"You said that Neville Longbottom – loathe as I am to believe it – also acquired the sword after you thought it lost in the hands of a goblin," Snape pointed out.

"He did," Harry agreed. "But I think that the sword only comes when you're in mortal danger. You've got to need it badly enough. You just saw it – we all put the Hat on and asked for help. No sword."

Snape's lips twisted, and glared at the offending object. They all knew that whatever the Hat had said when he had placed it on his head had annoyed him a great deal. "I should have known that Godric Gryffindor had a vile sense of humor."

"To be perfectly honest, Severus," said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling. "I don't believe that Gryffindor placed the enchantments as he did merely to vex us."

"Be that is it may, Slytherin would never have required this of those that came after him," Snape said.

"No," Ron said slowly, as though speaking to a small child. "He just left a Basilisk in the school, hoping to get rid of all the muggle-borns."

"Use that insolent tone with me again, Weasley, and you'll find yourself with a month of real detention," Snape threatened. "Though I do see your point," he added grudgingly.

"Professor," Ginny piped up after a long moment of silence. "Will you check my Obfuscomency shields? Ron taught me how to do it, and I've been working on it all summer, but I don't know if I'm doing it right at all."

Snape consented. Dumbledore, Harry, and Ron watched closely as Snape and Ginny stared at one another. "It is a good effort," Snape finally said. "But, as Potter and Weasley know, the true Obfuscomency shield will be a complete spiral. Your true memories and that which you want to keep hidden are still reachable. Keep working on it, and I will…" he took a moment to think. "I will check it every Friday during your Potions class. If I think you need more help, I'm sure I can arrange to place you in detention."

Ginny grimaced. "I'll work on it every night. I don't think I've got time to be in detention."