A/N Thanks for reading. If you have the time, please leave a review. Comments always make me think, allowing me to improve the later chapters. Hope you enjoy.

The sun now reaching its zenith warmed the Scottish countryside. Cloudless days like these were rare this far north. Standing there, it felt strange to Harry to see the school from this distance. It was almost as if it had only been yesterday that he had stood studying the battlements of the old structure. The tall towers that soared into the sky had once impressed him with the images of power that they portrayed. Now they seemed inconsequential compared to some of the castles he had seen. The most breathtaking of all was the city of Tar Valon that held at its centre the White Tower that stretched into the sky, dwarfing the structures around its base. Hogwarts seemed aged and uncared for, almost primitive. All the same, Hogwarts was still his home.

"Are you coming?" Moiraine's voice broke through his stupor.

"Yes," Harry replied, forcing himself to follow her up the narrow winding path that led to the school. Being back felt surreal, so much so that he was sure it was a dream. The familiar rocky path meandered past the lake and even Moiraine took a moment to study the smooth surface of the water that reflected the bright blue sky above and the trees on the opposite bank. "It is good to be back," Harry said softly to himself. He was standing straight with his head held high, an image of poise, but inside he wanted to huddle into a little ball. Ginny's presence had truly confused him.

"I suppose it is," she replied before moving off again. Continuing up the trail, they eventually reached the school itself.

Once inside, they were immediately confronted by the small but imposing figure of Professor McGongall. Careful not to show any signs of recognition, he allowed her to introduce herself. He supposed one of the multiple wards that they had passed through had alerted her to their presence. It was odd seeing the weaves of the numerous wards surrounding the school – those woven of saidin at least. Moiriane had pointed out various ones woven from saidar that he had could not see. Putting both sets together, he began to understand why Hogwarts was deemed such a secure place.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," the woman began. Her voice betrayed a bit of irritation at being disturbed and he thought a bit of nervousness as well. Harry was slightly startled by her appearance. He could not recall ever seeing her flustered or nervous. Then again, he supposed that he had become much better at reading people and listening to the smallest nuance in a voice for signs of emotion and weakness. Knowing if someone was being dishonest could make the difference between life and death. "I am the Deputy Headmistress, Professor Minerva McGonagall," she continued. The tension in her voice subsided slightly with the second part. Her eyes were still slightly narrowed suspiciously, her lips thin.

"Thank you. I am Moiraine Damodred," Moiraine replied, before gesturing towards Harry.

"Hello, Professor, I am Rand," he added quickly, before Moiraine would have had to introduce him. McGonagall glanced at him curiously, but nodded all the same before focusing on Moiraine again.

"I know that it is only a few days before school starts, but I would like for him to be enrolled here for the coming year," Moiraine continued.

McGonagall eyed Harry carefully for a second time. His erect posture and steady gaze almost made her falter, but she nodded after a while. "I will take you to see the Headmaster." Her voice was slightly calmer than before, but her lips remained pursed. Harry was relieved that she had relented, even though she had no real reason to deny them an audience with the Headmaster.

Again his forewarnings about things like moving and talking portraits paid dividends as Moiraine remained unflustered at passing them. The gossiping between the various portraits increased steadily the closer they came to Dumbledore's office. They made little effort to conceal their blatant study of the pair following McGonagall.

"This is a fascinating school," Moiraine said aloud. Harry gave her a quick look, but nodded in understanding. It would seem strange if they did not comment on the school, seeing as neither of them were supposed to have been here before. It might have been true for her and she did indeed look fascinated by it all.

McGonagall took the comment in her stride, almost as if she expected it. "The school is well over a thousand years old. Built by the four founders for the sole purpose of teaching young minds the fine arts of Magic…" she continued to go into some detail about the four founders and the school houses. Moiraine listened with rapt attention. He had told her about some things, but McGonagall's refined, well practised, summary filled many of the gaps. He, on the other hand, just studied the school, remembering past memories. To his surprise a large number of corridors and corners held memories of him with Ginny. Not only memories of his last week, but images going back all the way to her first year. Thinking about it made him realise again just how much he had always liked and later loved her.

Ginny had looked good back at the Windswept Broom. Not that he should have been surprised, but seeing her now as a young woman instead of little girl had been a pleasant surprise. Knowing that she still held onto the hope of seeing him again created a warm feeling inside him. The warmth melted some of the coldness about his eyes. He wanted to hit himself, he had to stop thinking about her. Yet, he could not get the image of her deep brown eyes or the sound of her voice out of his mind.

He felt disgusted with himself when they reached the Headmasters office and he still had not managed to stop his musings. He barely glanced at the Gargoyles before they moved aside and McGonagall led them up the stairs. He had not heard her repeat a password.

They entered the office. Harry wanted to grin at seeing everything just as he remembered it. The strange contraptions filled the room and the multiple portraits of the old headmasters were feigning sleep as usual. "Professor Dumbledore, I would like you to meet Moiraine and Rand Damodred," the elderly professor said before turning to leave. Her exit was rather rapid. He watched her descend the stairs.

"Afternoon, Mrs Damodred, Rand. Please excuse the professor, she is rather pressed for time at the moment," Dumbledore said in greeting. His bright blue eyes sparkled as usual. Rounding his desk while he spoke, he extended his hand.

Moiraine shook his hand and so did Harry. "Thank you for seeing us, Professor Dumbledore," Moiraine replied. The slight tinge of annoyance in her voice belied her calm exterior. Greeting someone with their title while withholding hers, vexed her. She was a proud woman who grew up in a strict social structure – a structure in which she was very high up indeed.

"It is a pleasure," Dumbledore replied, with a shake of his head and a chuckle. "Please sit down. Make yourself comfortable. " Moiraine and Harry complied and settled down into the two soft chairs in front of the Headmaster's desk. Dumbledore seated himself on his chair again. It was subtly higher than theirs, ensuring that his guests always looked up at him. That was something that Harry had never noticed before. It was subtle, but effective in providing a subconscious air of superiority.

"Sweet?" he asked holding out his usual bowl of sugary sweets. Both declined. "What might I be able to help you with?" he asked after he took one for himself.

"We have just arrived in England and I thought that it might be nice for Rand to attend Hogwarts so that he could get up to speed with his studies." She had remembered well, which had not been a concern, but it was good to hear her say the words effortlessly.

"We do not often take older students…" Dumbledore began.

"I just turned seventeen. I believe that means that I should be a seventh year," Harry interrupted Dumbledore. A flash of indignation passed over the Headmaster's blue eyes at being interrupted. When it passed, Dumbledore began to study Harry carefully. A tinge of nervousness fluttered in Harry's stomach. Even though he had changed his appearance, he still held most of his features. The only major change had been his hair and eye colour.

"You look much older. I apologise," Dumbledore said finally. His eyes swept over Moiraine and Harry was sure that he was recalculating her age as well. His brow creased slightly and Harry almost laughed.

Aes Sedai had ageless faces. At first glance they appeared no older than twenty-five, look again and you would say that they have aged to a very good forty. Only then would you notice some gray hairs or some other distinctive feature. Some Aes Sedai were well over 300 years old and the only sign of age would be their gray hair. They called it slowing. When a woman began to channel, her ageing slowed and her features began to morph into the pure, creaseless face that held no age.

"What is your current level of knowledge?" Dumbledore asked. Just being seventeen would not ensure his immediate placement into the final year of NEWTS.

"He has been home schooled. Defence and Potions should be easy for him to learn the prescribed material, he is quite proficient in those two. I have not taught him any Runes, but he might manage, if he so wishes. Transfiguration and charms should be a breeze as well, all things considered," Moiraine said calmly. Harry nodded as well.

Dumbledore did not look impressed or pleased. "Can you perform a few basic spells for me to see?" It was not a question but a very subtle demand. Of course the man would demand proof.

Getting to his feet, Harry removed his new wand from his pocket. His old phoenix core wand was inside a small compartment on the side of his scabbard. The Headmaster was one person who would instantly recognise his old wand. Dumbledore eyed the new wand carefully and then turned his eyes onto Harry, who was satisfied that Dumbledore did not recognise the wand.

Embracing saidin, Harry's features morphed. His expression became blank as he slipped into the void. However, his eyes held a touch of pleasure at being able to hold onto the One Power. Gripping his wand tightly he wove weaves of air, earth and water, creating a small metal cup on the desk. Keeping his eyes on Dumbledore, he was pleased to see the Headmaster blink in confused surprise. Conjuring a metal goblet like the one he did was tricky. Doing it without an incantation was rare, even among adults. Dumbledore's fingers stroked his beard thoughtfully.

With flows of air Harry began to manipulate some of the objects on the desk by animating them. Again this was done silently. The main reason for doing so was not to impress him with his abilities. Rather it was because he did not know the incantation. He had given it some thought over the past few weeks and decided that it would be better to display an uncanny ability with non-verbal spells than to spout strange words.

"Very good...Rand," Dumbledore said, slowly leaning back into his chair. "That will be enough," he added, placing his fingertips together in thought. "It appears that you are very talented. Even if your wand movements are not very precise, the outcome is." His speech was slow with his mind busy. Like Ollivander earlier, Dumbledore had noticed oddities that could not be explained. As far as Harry was aware, no one knew about the One Power or how to channel.

Looking into the calculating eyes of Dumbledore, Harry knew what the old man was thinking. The Headmaster's first thought was probably if they were Death Eaters sent to infiltrate the school. He probably shrugged that off quickly. Harry was sure that Voldemort already had more than enough spies in the school. Secondly, the crude wand movement with near perfect results pointed strongly towards wandless magic. Yet, that in itself was preposterous. How could a young, magically undeveloped child perform such powerful magic? The simple answer was that according to modern magical theories, he could not.

With those two questions asked and dispelled Dumbledore made a decision. "If you will follow me." Standing he led them towards a secluded corner where an ancient looking book sat carefully on a small wooden pedestal. It was open and a long list that contained the names of all the current and former students could be seen. Every name written in the distinctive green ink of Hogwarts.

Moiraine said nothing, but Harry was sure that she was comparing it to the book of novices back in the White Tower. Studying the book, Harry missed Dumbledore's wand movements. The quill that was lying next to the book lifted into the air and pricked Harry, drawing some of his blood.

Harry did not flinch, but he could see the impending disaster. With his blood, the quill was bound to write down the name he was born with. His skin tingled and goosebumps erupted on his skin under his long robes. The quill gave a slight jerk so faint that only if you had known what was happening would you have seen it.

As the quill tried to write, Moiraine bludgeoned it into writing his alias. Slowly the quill moved along writing with clear precise strokes, "Rand Damodred." For the first time in a while, a genuine smile broke out onto the Headmaster's face. He believed that the quill could not be tampered with. Harry was who he said he was.

The most obvious answer was always the one that no one ever saw. People had probably tried for ages to get the quill to lie, while all that they had to do was force it will flows of air to write what they wanted it to while the quill was merrily writing something else.

"I think that settles your acceptance into Hogwarts," Dumbledore said, rubbing his palms together, eager to have a talented new student under his rood.

"Thank you, Headmaster," Harry said, extending his hand to shake Dumbledore's, careful not to reveal the Dragon tattoos on his forearm. He should probably place a weave around them as well.

"Yes, thank you," Moiraine said decidedly, deliberately not using any titles. She was touchy when she wanted to be.

"You will have to board the Hogwarts Express that leaves at nine am from Platform 9 ¾ on the Monday," Dumbledore added, handing him a letter of acceptance and a ticket. Harry stared at the ticket and wondered why they were given them. He had never used it before. The thickness of the envelope told him that the list of required supplies would be inside as well.

Taking the letter and saying their good-byes they left the office and retraced their steps back out of the school grounds. "That went as well as could have been expected," Harry said when they finally stepped through the wards by the gate.

"I suppose. Fighting that quill was unexpected though," she replied, but her dark eyes glinted. She had obviously enjoyed it.

"That was well done, Moiraine Sedai," Harry complemented her.

"Thank you, Harry Sedai," she added with a smile. With a grunt Harry turned to weave another gateway once they had disappeared from view.

Emerging back at Diagon Alley, Harry and Moiraine made their way back to the Windswept Broom. He had noticed that the pub had a few rooms to rent and they required a place to stay for the night. Outwardly calm, he was a ball of tension inside, wondering if Ginny was going to be there. Each step closer made another knot in his stomach.

With a sigh of frustration and relief, he spotted her cleaning the counter behind the bar when he entered. "Hello there miss," Moiraine said, drawing Ginny's attention to them. Harry would have given her a pointed glare if he had been able to take his eyes off Ginny.

"Hello," she replied, her cheeks tinged a little at seeing Harry again. The colour brought her freckles to life.

"We would like to rent a room for the night, if that is possible." Harry kicked her gently without drawing attention. "Sorry, two rooms, if that is possible."

"Two rooms," Ginny repeated opening a small book that listed vacancies. "We have two rooms available that are next to one another," she said, checking the book meticulously. "There is no door joining the rooms," she added with concern.

"Thank you, that is quite alright. Rand here doesn't need to be tucked into bed each night," Moiraine replied with a mischievous grin. Harry's face flushed partly with anger, the rest came from Ginny's laugh and shy looks.

Before she could embarrass herself further, Ginny ducked behind the counter and rummaged for the keys. When she disappeared from view, Harry rounded on Moiraine. He could tell that it took all the woman's self control to not burst out laughing. Muttering under his breath about revenge, he turned away from her, crossing his arms indignantly. The bags in his hands protested at being squashed together.

Seeking the void, he poured his emotions into the flame. His eyes grew colder, he could see her chuckle but it did not affect him any more. His breathing eased and his heated cheeks cooled. Satisfied that he was in control again, he let go of the void, allowing some warmth to return to his features.

After a lengthy search which Harry was sure was due to her trying to wait for her own blushes and laughter to subside, she eventually emerged from underneath the counter holding up a pair of keys. Her eyes sparkled and she looked beautiful as the soft light that shone through one of the windows bathed her body. Her red hair dazzled, showing off the multitude of shades that it possessed as if to show him just how pretty she was. Sadly, she moved away from the light, leaving him with only a memory. Moiraine brushed past him, tapping him gently on the head to wake him. Closing his eyes he exhaled before following.

Entering the first room, Harry noticed that it was sparsely decorated, but it held a double bed. The theme of the restaurant was continued in the rooms. This one was decorated in the colours of the Harpies with a signed jersey hanging above the fireplace. "This is the larger of the two rooms," Ginny said, her own eyes studied the room almost in envy. Moiraine took half a step to leave, but was stopped by Harry. Being the mother she could take the all-witches room.

"It is rather quaint," she said, studying the decorations, her voice faint. Her nostrils flared slightly in distaste, but for a room this was more than adequate. Taking her bags from Harry she began to unpack.

Ginny moved out the door and Harry followed. It felt odd being nervous. He had trained himself to be calm. Even before a battle he had been more calm. Oddly, Ginny turned back in the direction from which they had come before stopping at the first door they met. She looked only a bit abashed. "This is your room," she said softly, keeping her eyes fixed on her hands as she fumbled to open the door.

Eventually getting it open, she stepped inside and he followed her. Harry wanted to scream in horror at the orange colour that attacked his eyes. Squinting, he managed to find a single bed in the one corner. When his eyes adjusted to the room, he noticed that it was indeed much smaller than Moiraine's, but large enough for him. After all, he would only be sleeping inside the room .

"It is nice, thank you," was all that Harry could think to say while he walked towards the bed to place his bags on it. The fact that he wanted to redecorate the room was left unsaid.

"If that is all, I best be getting myself back downstairs," Ginny replied, biting her lip again before she turned to leave.

Harry stroked his hair nervously with his right hand, struggling with himself as he watched her leave. "Wait!" he called out just before she could close the door. "Um… what time do you finish?" he asked. He found himself standing a few feet from her. The tension in the room was palpable, to him at least.

She glanced at her watch quickly, "About another hour…at four... Did you get into Hogwarts?"

Harry's hand worked through his hair again, his left hand was clenched tightly behind his back. "Yes… yes, I did," he sounded almost relaxed now. An easy smile formed on his face when he noticed her entire face light up with joy.

"That's… good," she replied, smiling shyly again. Her eyes, downcast, stared at her hands.

"Would… I mean… I need to buy some school supplies. Would you be willing to help me around Diagon Alley?" he asked hopefully. For a moment, her face was radiant. Then she frowned, shaking her head.

"Sorry, but… you know the unrest and all… I have to go straight back home after work," she said despondently. Her smile disappeared and Harry could feel his heart sink.

"That's okay, I am sure that I will manage," he tried to remain upbeat, but it proved difficult.

"Well good-bye then…" she paused, waiting. The silence stretch for a few seconds. He did not want her to go. To his surprise neither did it look like she wanted to leave.

She began to turn, her hand closed around the handle of the door. "Rand… Rand Damodred," Harry said, supplying his name to her at last. He was desperate for her to stay.

Halting, she beamed back up at him. "See you on the train then, Rand," She replied.

"Good-bye, Ginny." He did not add a last name because he could not remember whether she had given it earlier.

Then she was gone. The door was closed and his life felt empty again. Falling back onto his bed he wove a strong privacy ward and screamed. He needed to release all the tension that had built up inside him during the day. Coming back had been much harder than he ever thought possible. Being in a foreign world where he held positions of rank and power, it had been easy to remain calm and in control of his emotions. It was expected of him. People looked up at him for leadership and support. Being back in England around Ginny, all those barriers of control vanished. Even the empty feeling left after the death of... No, he could not think about that yet. Nevertheless the pain had receded upon seeing Ginny. Alone in his bed, the painful void in him returned.

With his eyes closed and most of the tension out of his body, he began to feel uncomfortable. The scabbard on his back was pressing into his skin. Sitting up, he removed it and placed it next to him on the bed. Lying back down, he closed his eyes and tried to find the void so that he could pour his emotions into it.

He needed to keep himself focused on the task at hand. He was here to find and kill Voldemort. That was first and foremost. When that was done he could think about Ginny and his friends. It proved impossible. Try as he might he could not detach himself from his feelings for Ginny. The harder he tried, the stronger they became. Even hearing the voice of Ron haunted him. His friend had sounded so much older and wiser. He still teased Ginny, but he had not heard any malice in his voice.

Fighting the urge to go downstairs to see Ginny proved to be a losing battle. After just thirty minutes, he found himself sitting in the same corner again with a cup of red wine in his hand. He had grown use to drinking wine. Taking a sip he found that it was not half-bad, though it was not quite what he was used to.

Ginny eyed him askance whenhe ordered the pitcher of wine. "I am of age," he had said with a smile, while his chest nearly exploded with desire. So much so that he was convinced that she heard his heart beating in his chest. "I have grown used to having a glass or two, but no more," he had added and was graced with a pleasant smile.

"Wine is not really that bad I suppose," she had said, just before walking away, causing him to laugh. Growing up with Molly Weasley would force most people into becoming conservative. Ginny had an adventuresome spirit, abandoned dark corridors had proven that. Nonetheless, some preconceived ideas of proper behaviour had still been drilled into her.

He had not eaten in hours. His empty stomach allowing the wine to go to his head. It felt good to be relieved of some of his tensions, the wine helping to soothe him. Perhaps that was the reason for his occasional glass. Being careful and staying true to his word, he only drank two glasses of wine.

While he sat studying Ginny without her noticing, Moiraine joined him. Taking the second glass that Ginny had left for her, she poured herself some wine. When Ginny looked towards them again, she seemed to relax. He supposed that she was worried that Moiraine would be angry with him for drinking. Seeing her enjoying a glass with him soothed her.

"How are you holding out?" Moiraine asked while she was studying the contents of her cup. Breathing in the aroma she took a small sip. Tilting her head slightly to the side she seemed satisfied with the quality of the wine. "This is not bad," she continued, still waiting patiently for Harry's reply.

Leaning back in his chair, Harry studied her. "It is a lot harder than I had thought. Ginny…" He paused and his eyes darted towards her before settling back onto the red liquid inside his glass. Lifting it, he took another sip savouring the taste. He said no more, he did not need to.

Moiraine understood, losing Lan to Nynaeve had been hard on her. She had confided as much to him when he asked her why she wanted to come. She had come to like her Warder, even if he never returned her feelings. Seeing them together and knowing that she would never be able to make him smile the way Nynaeve did was difficult. Her only escape was with Harry, where she would perhaps find happiness.

"It is alright to feel this way, Rand. Even during the wars we fought, people had still loved. There is no point in pushing her away. Even Lan found love during the most troubled times, and that was far worse than what you are facing now," she continued to talk but he could not listen to her any more.

Could he really love her, could he place her in danger? He was not Harry Potter the Chosen One at the moment. He did not have a large target painted onto his back. Perhaps he could allow himself to grow closer to her. It had been a mistake two years ago to be with her. Maybe it was not one now.

"Perhaps," Harry said softly. They said no more. Each sat in silence, their own troubles haunting them, as the minutes ticked by.

Harry watched as Ginny said farewell to the owner who handed her some coins. Even from here he could see that it was a meagre amount. For a Weasley, however, it was more than they would get in a year. The memory of all the gold in his vault made him nauseous. With the money she had received in her pocket she stepped towards the fireplace and vanished in a flash of green flames.

"Gone to the Burrow," Harry said, sounding depressed. "I need to go," he added hastily, getting to his feet after he handed Moiraine a handful of galleons. She gripped his hand, pulling him back down again.

"Wait," she hissed. "I will join you. You can't really intend to leave me here alone."

Nodding in agreement, he left the proper amount on the table and left with Moiraine in tow. Finding their usual alley, he formed a gateway and stepped through.

Emerging on the other side he stared out at the valley stretching beneath them. They were on top of a small rise that overlooked the small town of Ottery-St-Catchpole. The afternoon sun bathed the entire area in its warm orange glow as it began to descend. The town was not the reason for him being here. What he wanted to see was just on the other side of the crest, the Burrow.

Climbing the last few meters to the crest of the rise, he lay down on the ground so as not to form a silhouette against the sky. Upon reaching the ridge, he inhaled deeply at the sight below. The Burrow was situated in a quiet secluded little nook where it was free from disturbances and prying Muggle eyes. The place looked strange, just as he remembered it, as if the various pieces were held together only by magic. Each piece attached haphazardly to the one next to it.

Ron and Hermione were sitting outside on the lawn, her head rested on his lap while she read a book. Ron was studying a magazine that could only have been about Quidditch. Seeing his two best friends confirmed his suspicions about Ron. He had matured and Hermione was the reason for his emotional growth. Hope blossomed in Harry.

A familiar flash of red in the house caught his eye. Ginny was pacing about in the sitting room before she disappeared. Probably to her room on the other side of the house. Harry's hiding place was some distance from the house, but even from here he could see the anxiety in her movements.

Mrs Weasley was in the kitchen, busy preparing dinner. The wonderful smell of her cooking reached them on top of the hill. Breathing in the scent deeply, he allowed himself to remember all the dinners that he had shared with them.

A few faint noises came from the shed outside the house. Mr Weasley was tinkering with Muggle objects, as usual. Lying there on the hard ground he could only imagine what mundane object was fascinating Ginny's father at the moment. It could be a plug or even a toaster. Maybe he had found something actually worth investigating.

Easing himself away and downhill again, he rolled on to his back and almost cursed. His sword pushed painfully into his back. With a grimace, he settled onto his side, staring out over the countryside. He longed to just walk over to them, but he couldn't. If no one knew that he was here, then no one could betray him, willingly or unwillingly. Who knew where rats like Pettigrew lurked these days?

"Find what you were looking for?" Moiraine asked next to him.

"Yes," he replied, not bothering to face her. He had found what he wanted. The Burrow was still standing and the Weasleys still looked relatively happy. The twins were not there, but he felt sure that they were still alive and laughing somewhere in the world.

Harry and Moiraine returned to Diagon Alley. It was getting rather late, but they managed to purchase all the items that he required for his upcoming school year. Fortunately they had decided to visit the bookstore last. The decision was made mainly because it was one of the last stores to close. Moiraine lost herself among the multitude of shelves filled with books. The libraries of the White Tower were vast. It was not the amount of books that captivated her, rather it was the variety of subject matter in areas that she knew nothing about, but wanted to study further. With a guilty look on her face, she asked if she could borrow some money in order to purchase some books.

A good hour after entering the bookstore they finally left, Harry with his hands full with NEWT textbooks and Moiraine under a pile of books ranging from healing to defence. Entering the Windswept Broom they received a number of curious stares. Harry just faked a smile before disappearing up the stairs.

After dinner they separated into their rooms. She was eager to dig into the subject matter that she had purchased. Harry did not mind, he wanted some time alone to think about what had happened during the day.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, he removed his Heron-marked sword from its scabbard, allowing the last light from the setting sun to shine upon it. Holding it loosely in his hand, he moved it around in a few controlled arcs. The balance and weight was perfect. Even though he had used his other sword for almost two years since Lan gave it to him, this one immediately felt a part of him.

While playing with the sword, he began to think about Hogwarts. He was eager to go back to the school. His friends would be there, even if they did not know him. He would be happy in the knowledge that they were safe. If he was lucky, then he might make friends with them again. Things were already looking positive with Ginny. At least she was not hexing him, he gulped, yet. What would she do to him when she found out that he had lied to her? Would she be angry or just relieved to have him back? He was hoping for the later.

Voldemort did not feature in his thoughts as the sun descended, leaving him in complete darkness. If it wasn't for the sudden crash of a few plates downstairs, he would not have realised that he sat in the dark. Getting to his feet, he turned on the light before sitting down on his bed again.

Thinking about moving about in the dark at night made him consider that maybe he could pull a few pranks this year at Hogwarts. He sat up straight at the thought. He had always used his invisibility cloak when he gallivanted around the castle at night. The problem being that he did not have his cloak. He had left it inside his trunk. His eyes widened even further.

Without taking more time to think it over, he sheathed his sword before attaching the scabbard to his back again. He snatched his cloak from the chair and pulled it over himself. Embracing saidin he wove a gateway. On the other side a familiar set of trees came into view. Striding through, he emerged outside the Burrow. This time, however, he was well within the wards. The house stood a short distance away. His presence was well hidden by a row of bushes and a number of trees. The night air was getting chilly, but he did not let it bother him. He stood motionless and listened for any sounds of movement around him.

The faint glow of lights and the lit fire that shone through the windows of the house were the only visible signs of life. It was late and it appeared that no one was outside. Pulling his black cloak tightly around his body, he moved out from the thicket towards the house. Careful all the while to remain out of the light, he approached the nearest window.

Ensuring that he did not make a noise, he dared to peek through the glass window to see what was happening inside. A warm fire was blazing in the hearth, in front of which sat Ginny, playing a game of chess with Ron. Mr Weasley was sitting on his usual chair reading, while Mrs Weasley was busy knitting a pair of socks. None of them were laughing, but they did not look depressed. Harry sighed in relief again. He was sure that they would have shown signs if one of the elder boys were dead.

He could not be sure, but he assumed that his trunk would be up in Ron's room. He was also sure that he would find it at the foot of a bed that was ready for him in case he returned. Weaving a complex flow that imitated the ones used by wizards to Apparate, his body began to shimmer silently until it winked out of existence outside the house.

Upstairs in front of Ron's bed, his body took shape again just as quietly. His manipulations of the weave had enabled him to slow the disappearance enough not to disturb the air so rapidly. The result was near silent Apparation, even if it took slightly longer.

The room was still the same. The Chudley Cannons posters and shirts still adorned the walls. Ron's broom was propped into one of the corners. What caught Harry's undivided attention was the second school trunk in the room, his trunk. Dropping to his knees, careful not to thump the floor, he opened the lid.

His relief was audible this time. Lying on top of the pile of clothes inside was his invisibility cloak. He quickly snatched it out and threw it over himself. His body vanished underneath it, throwing the hood over, so did his head.

The second reason for his coming here lay neatly tucked away in one corner. The Marauders Map. With it, Ron or Ginny would have discovered him on the first day. He was not going to believe that they had never dared use it themselves while he was gone. He actually hoped that they had. It would have been a waste to not put it to good use.

The sound of feet thumping up the stairs reached him. The foot falls were too quick to be Mr Weasley, and to loud to be Ginny. Grabbing the map, Harry threw down the lid of the trunk and shimmered out of existence just as the light from the hallway spilled into the room.

Outside below the window, Harry listened anxiously for the ensuing panic. It remained quiet. A few minutes later he heard Ron descending the stairs. Glancing through the window cautiously again, he watched as Ron settled down onto the couch, one of his Wizarding chess books in hand. Ginny still sat in front of the chess board studying her pieces. Her face was a picture of concentration as she replayed the last few moves on the board. Harry grinned. She had received another good old Ron thrashing.

The minutes ticked by and still he found that he could not leave. Even though he was standing outside, he still felt like he belonged. The homely feel of the Burrow enveloped him.

"Looking forward to your work-free day tomorrow?" Mrs Weasley asked Ginny when her husband and Ron had left. Something in the way that Ginny had just been sitting there had made Harry think that she had something on her mind.

"It will be nice to just have a peaceful day tomorrow," Ginny said with a sad smile.

"But..." her mother urged her onwards. Harry silently prayed that she would continue. The sound of her voice melted away the pain he felt.

"Its... nothing," Ginny finally managed to say.

Glancing at Mrs Weasley, he noticed the knowing smile that she gave her only daughter. "You would have liked to see that boy again," she stated. Ginny's head shot up towards her mother. She bit back a grin and nodded.

"Is it... you know..." the words could not come and her whole expression seemed confused.

"Wrong? No, it is not wrong," Mrs Weasley said softly.

Ginny sat back thinking. "But, Harry..."

"Has been gone for two years," she cut in. "You will always have a special place in your heart for Harry."

Ginny sat still. With the experiences that he had had, he could clearly see the internal struggle that she was having. Was she going to give up on Harry and move on or was she going to live in hope? "I..." her lips trembled as she spoke.

"You don't have to make a decision tonight."

"There is something there... I can tell," she said at last. It was undeniable, even Moiraine said as much. Forces much greater than them were working within Ginny and Harry.

"Follow your heart," Mrs Weasley said, getting to her feet. After hugging Ginny good night she left to go to bed.

The urge to run inside began to build. Visualising a flame in his mind, he began to pour his emotions into it. He had to keep his thoughts clear. Voldemort was the main objective. Find and kill Voldemort. When that was done, he could drop his disguise and hold her in his arms as Harry.

The last of the light in the room began to dim and still Ginny sat. Sometimes her lips moved silently as if she were speaking to herself. As time passed, her body began to turn in on itself, until she was huddled into a small ball. Her knees pressed against her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs. Though soft, he could hear the almost silent sobs that shook her body.

Even if he could not hold her, he would look over her. Guilt was all he felt. Leaving her in a state like this, he could not help but feel like a jerk. The suffering finally ended when she drifted off to sleep. Her body relaxed. Seizing saidin, he listened closely to her breathing. It was deep and steady.

Knowing that she was asleep, he gave the room one last glance before turning to leave. A gateway formed in front of him. The bold orange colours of his room came into view and he stepped through. Even before the weaves dissipated he had removed the two cloaks that he had worn. Throwing the black one over the chair, he sat down studying his father's old invisibility cloak. It felt strange in his hands and he marvelled once more at its perfection.

The map lay abandoned on his bed where he had thrown it down upon entering. There was little use for it now except to stare. He did not feel like looking at it. The memories it would bring were too much for him to cope with now. Memories of Remus and Sirius caused him to wonder where they were. Grimmauld place seemed like the obvious answer, but how much had changed over the course of two years? The Weasleys were back at the Burrow, that was a good sign at least. Ginny had been working in Diagon Alley during the summer, another positive. All in all, the Wizarding world seemed like a much better place than it had been when he left.

Removing his sword from his back he entered the bathroom and turned on the shower. The warm water cascading over his body helped him to relax. He had forgotten how good a shower felt. Steam tents and baths were all that he had known recently. Feeling refreshed, but drowsy, he slipped on a pair of boxers and pulled on a shirt before collapsing onto the bed.

Sleep would come easily, he knew. The day had been long and taxing. Seeing so many people that he knew and not being able to tell them that he was back had drained him emotionally. Or maybe it was just the fact that he had been so close to Ginny. With one last loving thought of Ginny, he fell asleep.