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The New Hiding Place

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Soon upon his arrival at the doorstep to the new Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, Harry realized that his worries were mostly unwarranted. The moment the compressing darkness finally released him, he was surrounded by his friends and handed down from embrace to embrace in an ear-splitting noise of celebration.

Harry would have understood the clamour if he just killed Voldemort and not the apparent opposite (which was something he still could not properly wrap his mind around). Guilt gripped him at the sight of their happy faces covered in dirt and sometimes even in blood.

Ron and Hermione were clinging to his neck the most and he reciprocated, trying to push all the dark thoughts to the farthermost corner of his mind. Fred then came around and hugged him twice, joking that he stood in for Charlie, who had to return to Romania and George, who also would not miss a chance for a prank, tried to kick Harry's butt as in for traitorous Percy. His plans were, however, thwarted by Molly Weasley, who saw right through him and screamed at him for a good minute before hugging Harry as well.

"Harry," she said tearfully before pulling away a bit, then holding him at the arm's length and watching him from head to toe with an assessing gaze. "You're so thin! Come … hurry inside, the dinner is ready."

Harry muttered his thanks distractedly, still looking around, unable to think of any food now, even though he had been starving throughout the last week.

He only managed to take a brief glance at the mansion, which looked barely habitable from the outside, before Ron and Hermione maneuvered him inside. Fortunately, the interior was not half as bad which meant that the shabby design was probably a part of the camouflage.

"It's amazing that you're still in one piece, Harry," Tonks smirked at him as she joined them. "Considering that you've been You-Know-Who's prisoner for almost nine days!" she shook her head and her hair turned from soft purple to bubblegum pink.

"Vol- he," Harry corrected himself quickly as he met her cautious glance, "Luckily, he was really motivated not to hurt me."

"And how did you accomplish such a remarkable feat?" she asked, incredulous.

Harry rubbed his eyes under the glasses and sighed.

"He's probably the most self-centered person in the universe. Therefore, he had this - reluctance - to hurt someone who looked just like him."

Tonks exchanged a quizzical look with Lupin before she gave Harry a doubtful smile.

"Well … Harry, I hope you won't be too disappointed when I say that I see no resemblance."

"Harry took Polyjuice Potion," Hermione said quietly. It was the first time she had spoken since their reunion and she seemed a bit pale and her voice was a bit off. Harry was strongly reminded of the moment when she sat by Ron's sickbed after she learned he was inadvertently poisoned by Slughorn's mead.

"And then he looked truly hideous. Exactly like him, trust me," Ron gestured wildly and shuddered. "Sorry, mate, but it's true."

"It was an odd experience," Harry said distractedly. His scar began to prickle uncomfortably and he was trying in vain to suppress it. "Not entirely bad, I suppose, for it saved my life at least once and provided some really convenient information about how vastly advanced all his senses are, but still…"

"…horrible in the end," Ron finished for him.

"You … you seriously polyjuiced yourself to look like You-Know-Who?-!" Tonks gasped. "How did you – I mean, where could you possibly obtain a piece of him?"

"We had a - wrestle - in Malfoy Manor quite recently. And I got his fingernail," Harry shrugged. "Not much to start with, but it worked."

"The best part of it was when Harry punched his balls straight into his brain!" Ron said excitedly. "I wish you all could see it! He went down the same way as if he were AKed right between the eyes!"

The following deaf silence said it all, in Harry's opinion.

"You did – what?-!"

Tonks apparently refused to believe her ears.

"Nothing - absolutely nothing." Harry refused to spare a single thought to the only moment when he was allowed – well, not allowed – to touch Lord Voldemort's privates. He'd better not give himself a reason to think about it.

"I remember Ron talking about it back at Bill and Fleur's. So, he was not exaggerating after all... Anyway, Harry, stealing You-Know-Who's identity was a very reckless idea," Lupin said while watching him intently. "I believed you're clever enough to know that attacking such a dark wizard without a proper plan and a contingent of Aurors in your back equals a suicide!"

"It's not like I had another option! By the way, I'm a bit surprised that you don't know about it already."

"We know almost nothing," Lupin sighed and turned to Harry's best friends. "Ron and Hermione were very close-lipped about everything concerning you and the Hufflepuff's cup. We don't even know why you needed to steal it in the first place. Hermione only said that Dumbledore entrusted you with a certain secret..."

A warm hand suddenly touched Harry's healthy shoulder.

"Harry."

Harry's breath died in his throat at the sound of the familiar voice. Lupin disappeared into blur as a sea of red hair filled Harry's vision and a pair of cool lips touched his face.

"Ginny...," he croaked out, completely unprepared to meet her.

She was as beautiful as ever, he realized as he sucked in a dose of fresh air filled with her scent. It only made him feel dirty and blemished beside her perfection. He needed to get rid of that grime that got stuck under his skin, but something was telling him that no matter how long, hot or steamy his bath would be, he could never remove that stain from himself. And even smaller part of him argued if he really wanted to. He was an erring man after all and not some faultless hero. If she could accept his flaws, then he would know … he would be absolutely sure that she was the one...

He looked into her eyes, wondering who she saw. The Boy-Who-Lived or Harry Potter?

"Ginny," he repeated softly.

Her smile was striking. Amazed, he entwined his fingers in her long red hair and pulled her closer. Red like flames … like the fire in his eyes...

Another throb in his scar made him grit his teeth.

How could he deceive her with him willingly? How could he enjoy it even for a second, how could he ask for more when this lovely girl was waiting for him here? Maybe his uncle was right when he told him that he was a horrible freak.

He let her kiss him, but could not return the favour properly. He pulled back rather fast and looked around to mask his tremor. Everyone else headed further inside the house, giving them as much privacy as they could.

"So…, he cleared his throat when they were alone, "this is the Order's new hideout, right?"

"We had to leave the Burrow," she whispered, taking his hand into hers and leading him down the hall after the others, "and move to Aunt Muriel."

"What are you saying?-!" Harry exploded instantly, making everyone ahead turn back to them.

"Didn't Ron and Hermione tell you that the Death Eaters are monitoring this place?-!"

"Even if they are, we..."

Harry did not hear the rest because a sudden, searing pain shot through his lightning scar. He felt Voldemort's anger and fear rising and spiking inside him like a tsunami. The images of the golden cup bleeding a dark, tarry liquid from a deep crack over the badger flashed behind his closed eyelids. For a few seconds he was lost in that blinding sea of rage, but eventually he began to resist that invasion and regained control over his mind. He needed to know the answer to his question first; it was a matter of existential importance.

"What did you say?" he asked breathlessly, leaning against the wall and rubbing his searing forehead wildly.

"Harry - are you all right?" Ginny asked, noticing his sudden indisposition.

"I am fine - just tell me … tell me why you stayed here."

"Ron and Hermione informed us, of course," Kingsley, who in the meantime returned to them, replied. "But since the Death Eaters cannot lay a hand on our Secret-Keeper, it is still the safest place to hide. Besides, Hermione mentioned that the Death Eaters were ordered not to attack us," he added with a small smile. "We didn't know what she meant until now. It was your order, right?"

"But that can be changed by Volde-"

"Harry!" Ginny gasped, but Harry blatantly continued.

"-mort's single decision. Apropos, stop worrying about the Taboo. He removed it."

"How do you know?" Lupin, who still waited for them at the end of the hall, asked firmly.

With the burning pain still wrecking his brain, Harry had no energy left to explain it.

"I just do, trust me."

The scarred face of Harry's ex-teacher reflected deep worries and even Kingsley's expression wasn't much calmer. They motioned him to follow them.

"So, you were in contact with the Death Eaters?" Lupin finally asked as they entered a large, dark and dusty sitting room.

"Mostly Snape," Harry said, his head spinning from the constant throbbing of his scar.

"Harry," Kingsley said slowly after taking a seat in one of the large armchairs. "I understand that you probably don't want to talk about it right now, but we need to know what exactly they did to you. I didn't want to ask you that when you were under the Veritaserum with everyone listening but … did they place an Imperius Curse upon you? I guess someone had to do that, otherwise why would you - I'm sorry for the choice of my words – warn You-Know-Who and protect him from harm?"

Harry heard Ginny's surprised gasp and felt how she briskly removed her hand from his.

The sudden chill on his fingers was nothing compared to the stiff silence which filled that dim place. Everyone was there, watching him intently. He could see Tonks cradling little sleeping Teddy in her arms, Arthur dragging his feet and pulling at his beige, thick, hand-knitted sweater, Fred and George's curious, inspecting gazes, Bill with his arm wrapped around his tired wife, Aunt Muriel standing at the top of the stairs, rapping her fingers against the banisters and Ron and Hermione sitting at the very bottom of that staircase, holding their hands. He met their eyes, feeling that the world was expanding around him. Or maybe he was shrinking; he wouldn't be able to tell the difference...

Of course they noticed. How could he think, hope even for a second, that they would not…

A new surge of guilt followed another piercing prickle in his scar. He rubbed it mindlessly, searching for the right words.

"He betrayed us," Muriel snorted loudly, watching him over the smoke of her pipe. "Like everyone else would have after a few hours under the Cruciatus Curse."

"For one last time I did not!" Harry cried out, scratching his scar furiously now. A little longer and it would start bleeding.

"I wasn't under the Imperius Curse. I did it to protect you," he snapped before turning on his heel to face Kingsley. "You bewitched the cup somehow, right?"

"Yes," Bill responded with a curt nod. "I did it. I've been studying Egyptian curses for many years now. I also learned a lot when I worked as a curse breaker for Gringotts. There are many curses which are tremendously cruel, dangerous and essentially unbreakable, not only the famous Unforgivables. I must admit that the one that I used was … particularly nasty. Please, believe me that I felt really bad about performing that really dark and awful magic, but as you can imagine, most of us believed that you're dead and that all You-Know-Who wanted was to deceive us and murder us. That object was meant to be our one last chance."

"Only he wouldn't have died even if he touched it," Harry returned with a sigh. "His body can be destroyed, true, but that's all. He would survive it like the last time. Nevertheless, if the Death Eaters saw it happen, if he collapsed before them, they would throw a fit. None of us would survive the massacre. We would be all dead by now."

"And why do you think the Death Eaters were holding back on us, Harry?"

"We are all here, aren't we? Everyone survived, right? So either all the Death Eaters forgot how to use the Killing Curses properly, or he told them to hold back on us – in order to protect the cup." Harry said firmly.

"I rrreally don't get it," Fleur shook her head, her long blond hair spilling around her face like a halo. "Why eez that cup so imporrrtant? Ron and Herrrmione never explained to us why You-Know-Who was so eagerrr to exchange it forrr you."

Harry looked at his friends a nodded a little.

"They couldn't tell you because they are following Dumbledore's orders. And so am I."

"Still the same Dumbledore's orders?" Molly breathed in disbelief.

"Yes."

"Maybe it's time you finally told us what he wanted from you."

"It's my mission," Harry said tiredly. "And I have Ron and Hermione's help. Dumbledore thought that it should be enough."

A mission which was already doomed to be a failure, he thought gloomily. Any attempt to destroy the remaining Horcruxes would be a suicide mission since they were all now under Voldemort's constant protection. He was the only one who could still hypothetically succeed since Riddle no longer wanted him dead, but he found it immensely difficult to even imagine himself killing Voldemort after he … after they…

Touched…

Kissed…

No, Voldemort did not kiss him, not even once. His lips only grazed his forehead one time in an invitation for his other half to return … home.

That invitation remained ostentatiously ignored.

Harry felt shivery; his scar was still aching, he felt almost feverish.

His friends, on the opposite, looked relieved as if he just gave them a new hope. He did not have a heart to take it away just yet.

"I need to know more about that curse, Bill," Harry said when he composed himself a bit. "What does it do? I saw Bellatrix touch the cup and she … she immediately disappeared."

Bill appeared to be very self-conscious at that point. He looked at his wife a couple of times and bit his lip hesitantly before finally meeting Harry's eyes briefly.

"I must repeat that what I did doesn't make me proud," he said and Harry nodded in confirmation.

"It's all right."

"Basically, that curse sucks out your magic and locks it inside the object upon which the curse had been placed. It's a closed cycle during which the curse becomes stronger and more potent. It may take some time before it kills you, but it is inevitable in the end. Really dreadful stuff..."

"So it draws out your soul?" Harry gasped, exchanging quick glances with Ron and Hermione.

"No, of course not. Nothing can draw out your soul, Harry – except for a Dementor's kiss," Lupin said quietly, but Harry looked back at his friends, since they all knew better about how far the soul magic could go.

"How long does it take for that curse to, you know, drain someone to death?" Harry asked, feeling some dark premonition rise inside him. His head was still spinning from the constant headache and the flashing images which entered his mind whenever he closed his eyes. From what he saw and felt Harry presumed that the curse somehow affected Helga's cup in the end. He could tell so much, because Voldemort was beyond furious now.

What could possibly happen when such a horrible dark curse met an equally ugly one which was already placed upon that cup?

"Hours, maybe even days," Bill told him quietly. "No one really knows for sure, but it presumably depends on the wizard's or witch's stamina."

Harry stopped listening to him for his head was swarmed by questions which popped one after another. Could this curse kill the piece of Voldemort's soul inside the cup? If yes, his friends broke the treaty and Voldemort would surely take revenge upon them. And even if not, he still lost Bellatrix - one of his best followers. Harry found himself dreading the consequences.

"I believe that's enough," Molly interrupted them vigorously. "You're talking and talking while all Harry needs is rest, medicine and some substantial dinner. And the rest of you as well!" she added, raising her voice as she looked over the room.

Harry was then led by her to the dining room, where he ate the meal rather mechanically. He felt that Ron and Hermione were watching him and he understood their silent curiosity. They wanted to know everything what happened, but he was not sure if he could tell them. On the other hand, he could not solve this puzzle without their help...

Ginny sat back next to him, but Harry barely registered her. He was hoping to get to the bed soon and sleep for ages. A shower or a bath first would also be nice. Just not to think about anything for a couple of hours…

It was when he felt his shirt slide down his left shoulder that he realized her surreptitious way of undressing him.

"G-Ginny?" he stuttered out, suddenly awake from his stupor. The dining room was almost empty if he didn't count his best friends who looked at each other before smiling knowingly. Harry looked back at Ginny, his eyes wide in surprise.

"You were bleeding," she said matter-of-factly and started applying a thick amount of healing salve on his sore.

"Um, thanks, but I really..."

She silenced him with her intent gaze. Right, there was no point in arguing about this, Harry agreed. He closed his eyes and let her warm, nimble fingers dance on his skin while he waited nervously for his body to respond to it.

Curiously enough, it did not. His manly pride remained mostly uninterested during whole the procedure. Eventually, he ascribed this apparent malfunction to his ultimate physical and mental exhaustion.

"Whose shirt is this?" she asked a moment later, pulling the fabric down a little more. "It doesn't fit you very well."

"Rather don't ask," he muttered under his breath.

That comment stirred curiosity of everyone in the earshot.

"It's really not yours?" Ron asked immediately, his eyes growing big as saucers.

"Of course it's not, Ron," Hermione admonished him. "Don't you remember what Harry wore last time we saw him?"

"Oh, right," Ron muttered. "How could I possibly forget?"

"It's Malfoy's," Harry eventually admitted with a sigh.

"LUCIUS MALFOY'S?"

"No, not that Malfoy, Ron! It's Draco's. Narcissa gave it to me on Riddle's orders."

"Well," Ron harrumphed, trying to keep his face even. "How thoughtful. Draco must have been thrilled."

His lips twitched a little.

"Imagine his dear mom telling him that You-Know-Who decided that his twenty galleon attire falls into property of Harry Potter…"

Hermione chuckled, keeping her fingers pressed to her lips. Ron sniggered as well, but quickly caught himself. And then, Harry did not even know who started it, they all laughed openly until they could barely breathe.

It was Ginny, whose mirth ran out first and her face hardened almost instantly.

"What's wrong, Ginny?" Harry asked lightly, although a hint of worries seeped into his voice.

She said nothing, only raised her hand and grazed the newly bared skin between his shoulder blades. Harry naturally could not see what she saw, but he felt that the place was rather sensitive to a touch.

"Fingernails," she said in an empty voice. "I can see their marks all over your back."

The scar on his forehead prickled lightly again as if in response to the copious amount of blood rushing into his face.

Harry licked his dry lips quickly.

"Really?" he said lightly though his own voice sounded false to him. "That's … that must be from the battle," he lied, his heart sinking. "I had a very unpleasant encounter with Bellatrix."

"Very unpleasant," she repeated and got up, leaving the dining room without another word.

Harry stared after her for a while and then he looked back at the empty bowl in front of him. He would not mind to slam his head against it right then and shatter it in half. If he broke his head as well, it would only serve him right.

"Excuse me," he muttered, avoiding Ron's and Hermione's gazes, and set out to follow Ginny to the upper floor. He stopped on the first step, though, suddenly losing his motivation.

He was not a fool to think that more lies would make him or her feel any better.

But he just could not leave it like this...

"Harry?"

He turned around to face Ron, frowning.

"I must explain to her that ... that I…"

"Nah, not now, mate. Let me show you to our room. Leave everything for tomorrow, okay? I'm sure Ginny will understand."

"But..."

"No buts."

"I need to talk to you too. Both of you," he added and turned to Hermione. "It's important."

"And it cannot wait till the morning I suppose," Hermione whispered.

Harry shook his head.

"Okay," Ron said under his breath. "You're the boss. I only hope my mother won't see us."

They sneaked quickly and quietly to the upper floor and then locked in Ron's tiny bedroom which was temporarily equipped with a smaller, additional bed. Ron quickly took a seat on it as if to give Harry some notion of comfort by surrendering his old bed to his use. It was funny, since Harry was the last person to care about such a thing.

He made no comment though, except of expressing his thanks. He had more pressing matters on his mind.

Hermione took a seat beside Ron and for the first time Harry really noticed how very close they sat to each other.

"Erm …," he cleared his throat, watching his friends attentively. "Maybe you would like to start with the news first," he suggested.

"Oh … are we really that obvious?" Hermione blushed and cast a quick glance at Ron.

Harry, contrary to how he felt, smiled a little.

"It comes as no surprise," he shrugged. "Congratulations, anyway. It took you some time, I must say."

"We're together only thanks to you, Harry," Ron muttered. "We thought that you're dead … and that everything's lost and … well it was a turning point for us all."

"I'm really glad for you – because if my capture didn't do it, I don't really know what I would do next. I was running out of ideas..."

Ron's uncomprehending stare was interrupted by Hermione's quiet giggle.

"You really must be fine, Harry," Ron said, when he got the point, "joking in this situation."

"Sometimes I surprise myself."

"But that's not what you wanted to tell us, is it?"

Harry's compelled joviality flattened like a punctured tire.

"No…," he breathed out.

When he did not say anything for a while, Hermione nervously budged up.

"You wanted to talk about … You-Know-Who? Did you figure out what went wrong with that Polyjuice Potion?"

"Yes," he said slowly. "I have an idea and I'm positive that it wasn't your fault, Hermione. There's, however, a lot of other things that you need to know first. For example, Voldemort's reclaimed his last Horcrux. It was in Hogwarts. I knew it. I knew it all the time!"

"In Hogwarts?" Hermione gasped. "I can't believe he'd really been hiding a Horcrux right under Dumbledore's nose!"

"He was convinced that not a living soul knew about his secret, remember? He also believed that no one else knew Hogwarts as well as he did. I bet that was the reason why he hid Rowena's 'lost' diadem in the Room of Requirement. He placed it on a dusty old wig – ironically, the very same wig under which was a cupboard where I hid Snape's old potion book."

His friends appeared to be scalded by the news.

"If this is another joke, I'm not laughing," Ron said solemnly after a while.

"I wish."

"That's a … disaster," Hermione admitted hollowly a moment later. "We were so close and now…"

"Don't even remind me that," Harry gritted his teeth.

"Do you have any idea where is he hiding those items now?"

"I'm sure he keeps them as close as possible, which means they must be somewhere in Malfoy Manor."

"No, no way we are coming back there!" Ron said resolutely and got up. "Especially not now when he's waiting for us! Moreover, we don't even have the sword anymore! We've got nothing!"

"Look, I don't want you to tell me your suggestions now," Harry shook his head. "I told you that because I want you to think about it. Riddle's got all the remaining Horcruxes under his protection. We cannot follow the old plan. We have to make a new one or fail horribly," he finished heavily.

"Okay," Hermione nodded slowly. "I'll consider our options. But … it seems to me that there's still something else on your mind, right Harry?"

"Yes," Harry breathed. "Quite a lot. Voldemort's an Animagus, for instance."

Ron winced at the name, looking around as if expecting to see that tall, dark figure standing behind him.

"Calm down, Ron. I already told you that his name is no longer a Taboo."

"He could put it back on. Please, Harry, don't say it."

Harry nodded jerkily, trying hard to resist the absurdity of the situation. Apparently, he could have sex with the Dark Lord, yet he still could not say his name. On the other hand, his thoughtlessness drove him and his friends to the mortal danger more than once. There was no reason to repeat it again.

"So, You-Know-Who's an Animagus," Ron mulled it over aloud and sat down again, seemingly mollified. "Not a big surprise considering what a sneaky wizard he is. What form does he take on?"

"You can guess twice."

"A snake," Hermione said without thinking.

"Definitely an unregistered one," Ron filled instantly.

"Got it at once."

"That's really useful information for the Order, Harry," Hermione said appreciatively.

"Well, I wouldn't say so."

When he met their questioning gaze, Harry had to wonder how to explain what he wanted to explain … without getting some hysterical reactions – especially on Ron's side.

"He … I'm sure he doesn't use that form very often."

"Err … any idea why?"

Ron's eyes were widely dilated, eager to learn more. Hermione, on the other hand, looked rather contemplative.

"Basically," Harry tried to speak as fluently as he could, but since he was getting to the critical point, it became more and more difficult. "It's because of … his snake. Nagini."

"Err …You lost me, Harry," Ron muttered, scratching his head. "Any reason why? Does his snake attack him … or something?"

Harry tried his hardest not to blush.

"Yeah … you could put it that way."

"All right," Ron nodded. "That's all very interesting … but how is that any important to us? Furthermore, how come you know about it?"

Harry watched him nervously, silently hoping that if he figured it out by himself, maybe it would not be such a shock for him. But that was just a speculation.

"I know it because … I … I turned into that snake."

"AGAIN?" Ron sputtered out.

"Quiet, Ron!" Hermione shushed him instantly.

"No, not Nagini. It wasn't like the last time when I only had a vision and you woke me up," Harry said, rubbing circles into his temples. "This time I turned into a snake for real. It actually saved me from a certain death."

Ron and Hermione stared at him, speechless.

"Look, I'm pretty sure that I'm not an Animagus. So it had to be him," he concluded, his eyes nervously meeting Ron's and Hermione's in turns.

"There must be some other logical explanation which does not involve You-Know-Who…," Ron began shakily but Harry shook his head.

"No. I tried it later on again … and it worked. I'm afraid it could possibly work even now, if I was willing to try – which I'm not."

"And you are absolutely sure that you weren't dreaming," Hermione spoke calmly, straightening her spine a little.

"Positive."

"And you did it repeatedly and you believe it's his doing."

"Yeah … kind of … yeah."

"Do you know what it means Harry?-!" she said, aghast now. "He possesses you!"

In that second Harry could swear he heard a surprised gasp at the doorstep. He hurried over, opened the door, but saw no one. He closed it again then, turned back to his friends who looked completely terrified, and sank back into the cushions on his bed. In that moment he doubted his decision. How would they handle the truth which is even worse than that? But he went too far, he had to finish what he started…

"No," he said. "He possessed me two years ago, remember? I believe that in that moment he felt even worse pain than I did. It was unbearable."

"Then … how can he control you? What exactly did he do to you, Harry?"

For some reason, the way she worded her question made Harry vividly recall the white, long-fingered hand sliding down his bare chest before winding around him and burying its long fingernails into his sweaty back.

He shuddered.

"He's not controlling me, Hermione. The night when I was just a baby he came to my parents' house to kill me," he began quietly, "and his Killing Curse backfired on him. It should send his soul straight into the afterlife, but since he could not die, the curse shattered his soul apart instead. As he fled, he unknowingly left a small piece of himself behind."

"Seriously?" Ron yelped, jumping up from the makeshift bed. "Where did he leave it?-! Do you know where it is?-!"

Harry slowly pointed his finger at his pink hurting scar.

"It's here. It's always been here … living with me."

For a moment Ron appeared as if he just suffered a heart attack. He scrambled backwards from Harry, groping his pockets for his wand while his mouth opened and closed helplessly like a fish thrown onto a dry land. Hermione, fortunately, astounded as she was, kept her wand in the pocket at least.

"He was with me when I asked your mother to show me the entrance to the platform nine and three-quarters," Harry spoke quietly to Ron. "He was with me when you joined me in that compartment and I bought us chocolate frogs. He was with me when I saved Ginny from the Basilisk or when I fought the Dementors. He was also there when I dueled him at the graveyard – and Vol…You-Know-Who did not suspect anything! He did not know who he was trying to kill; he doesn't feel his Horcruxes anymore! The only person who knew the truth was Dumbledore, but he decided to keep me in the dark - for my own good, I suppose. He probably thought I wouldn't be able to handle the truth, but I have to handle it. The question is, if you can handle it too."

Harry got up, slowly approaching his best friend, who still retreated from him, but lowered the wand which shook in his hand. "Look, he was with me, Ron, even when I saved your life after you drank Slughorn's poisoned mead. I'm still the same person. I'm Harry Potter. The only difference is that … that V… You-Know-Who knows the truth as well."

"And that's why he didn't kill you," Hermione concluded calmly, once again in her analytical mode. And Harry was really grateful for her ability to keep her strictly logical approach at any situation. Luckily, she always dealt with a crisis this way and her understanding and support felt even better than Ginny's healing salve.

Ginny…

"Yes," he said, watching her hopefully.

"That's good news actually," she said then.

"GOOD NEWS?-!" Ron cried, visibly shaking.

"Quiet Ron! Fortunately, I used the Muffiato Charm… Anyway, what I meant is that it confirms that Harry was not forced to betray the Order and neither is he used to spy on us in any way."

"Having a fucking piece of You-Know-Who's soul inside him is NOT a good way how to spy on us?-! Excellent thinking, Hermione!"

"He cannot see my mind, I told you!" Harry snapped back, reaching the limit of patience as well.

"Well, it could be that way before, but now that he KNOWS…"

It was ultimately surprising that Ron, who seemed to be only warming up suddenly fell into a petrified silence.

"G… Gi?" he stuttered out helplessly. "What are you doing here?"

Harry spun around on his heel and his heart stopped.

Her beautiful face was like a wax, her bright brown eyes filled to the brim with tears and her hands helplessly opened and closed.

"Ginny!" Hermione jumped to her feet, more scared than in the moment when Harry told her that a part of Voldemort lived inside him. "How could you hear … you weren't listening, were you?"

She didn't respond. She still watched Harry, who was rendered speechless.

Finally, she seemed to find her lost voice. Her mouth curved into a grimace as she raised her accusatory finger at him.

"Y- YOU DISGUSTING FREAK!" she screamed and with a heart breaking cry she ran out of the opened door.

R&R