A/N: Hm. So I uploaded this chapter last week, I thought. Apparently, it didn't taken. It was probably my shoddy internet connection (oh, college). Woops. I'll try to stay more on top of those little nuances in the future. Speaking of future, I have the next chapter written; I just want to edit it one last time. It should be up soon. Enjoy!

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The next night, Harry walked through Ginny's hall quietly, humming softly under his breath a lullaby that came naturally; he liked to think it might have been a tune from his long ago family. Passing Ginny's door, he drew his fingers across the wood, drumming three times in succession. Only a listening soul would have heard his actions. Luckily, Ginny sat waiting against her door. She felt his taps run down her spine rather than heard them.

Less than a minute later, Ginny appeared down the hall. Harry leaned against the shadowed corner, already waiting her arrival. He grinned at her cheekily. "Evening, Miss Weasley."

"Hi, Potter," Ginny answered back quietly. She grinned as well. Ginny was so much like her older brothers (minus Percy and Ron) in that she always felt a certain thrill at pulling off something big under someone else's nose. She was bouncing on her feet in excitement as they walked.

They traveled the rest of the hall in silence, coming to a door at its end. Harry opened the door for Ginny after a backward glance and ushered her inside. He waved his hand over the threshold carelessly, erecting both privacy charms and a Forget-Me-Not charm; they were quickly topping his list of Most Used Spells. Harry was quite pleased to have stumbled onto the Notice-Me-Not charm during his summer reading.

"So, what are we doing?" Ginny asked in normal tones after the door clicked shut.

Harry twirled his wand over his knuckles. "Over the summer, I had a lot of time to think about this upcoming year. I developed a couple of theories I couldn't very well practice on my own."

"Because you had no other wizard to cover your magical Trace," Ginny incorrectly finished for him. Harry chose not to correct her.

"I'll explain as we go," Harry offered, kindly and tactfully steering the conversation around his power. He waved his wand-yielding hand thoughtlessly; the beaten wardrobe at the room's end levitated several feet from the wooden flooring. Harry set it down lightly in the middle of the room.

Harry gestured for Ginny to draw her wand. "Cast a blasting hex for me, Gin."

"Which one?"

"I'm impressed you know them both," Harry answered with a nod. "You know the school only teaches Confringo."

"Which is interesting as it seems to be the less destructive of the two." Confringo blasted apart its intended target with the combusting power of heated air, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Expulso, the other curse under examination, used only sheer air power to tear through its target without a flaming trail. "Also interesting is how you, Potter, know of a spell not taught at the school, and specifically know that it's not taught." Ginny shot him a grin before continuing. "Heard about it from the twins. They were trying to develop a makeshift grenade safe for child's play. Ideally, it would blast children off their feet, but softly enough for no physical pain; Fred and George know their market. Of course, you can't do that if your faux grenade catches on fire."

"They know their audience," Harry laughed appreciatively. Ginny nodded in conformation. "Well, pick your favorite one."

Ginny quirked an eyebrow, but turned to face her inanimate object. She took a deep breath, raising her wand to just under shoulder height. There was a moment's silence before, "Expulso!" echoed across the walls.

The wardrobe burst into pieces, splinters flying in every direction, excluding Ginny; Harry erected a quick shield to protect himself. Before the dust even settled, he waved his wand toward the largest piece of wardrobe he could find and the chest reassembled itself.

"Powerful," he mused.

Ginny blushed uncharacteristically at his comment. "Thanks."

She watched him carefully as he approached her, coming to stand behind her. He positioned his feet on either side of hers, and Ginny felt her breath hitch as his chest pressed against her spine. Harry took her wand hand, raising it once again to shoulder level.

"Try again," he spoke quietly in her ear. Ginny took a moment longer than before to compose herself; she thought she had conquered her childhood crush on The Boy Who Lived. It seemed some feelings died hard.

She breathed deeply; Harry felt her hand clench tighter around her wand, and knew he registered her magic a moment before she cast. "Expulso!"

The wardrobe before them once again blast into splinters, but with more force than Ginny had been prepared for. When the door burst opened and flew into thousands of wooden pieces at her shocked expression, she was saved only by Harry's hastily built shield. The wood bounced away harmlessly, coating the room in a full layer of dark dust.

Other wooden bits flew unceremoniously throughout the air, coming to stick firmly into the drywall and ceiling.

"Harry," Ginny exhaled quietly. "That was – wow. What was that?"

"Theory I had," Harry answered calmly, still holding his companion against him. Only when the dust settled did he remove their protective shield and step away. Ginny shivered, registering the sudden lack of body heat.

"Care to explain, Mr. Vague?"

Harry grinned. "Like the saying goes, two heads are better than one. I thought there was a small chance that our magic together might be stronger than your magic alone."

Ginny stared at him for several moments before stating the obvious. "You weren't holding a wand."

"Tricky witch," Harry muttered. But he wasn't done yet. "Take a couple of steps to your right."

"I'm not getting an explanation yet, am I?" Ginny asked. She rolled her eyes, but obeyed.

"Levitate the chest," Harry dictated. "Keep it floating."

"Wingardium Leviosa," Ginny cast quickly, a very faint blue spell shooting from her wand to the chest. Harry was happy to see she needed little effort to refocus her magical train of thought; he hoped it was a sign she would be able to quickly pick up on compartmentalizing her magical and mortal thoughts as he had taught himself.

Harry stepped several feet away and raised his wand. "Windgardium Leviosa," he said, purely for show.

Harry's similarly blue spell struck the chest in the same point Ginny's magic channeled, lifting the chest several inches higher. Ginny and Harry together watched with wide eyes as their spell's Trace aura began to glow faintly; Ginny's a faint gold, and Harry's a faded blood red. The auras stretching from wand tip to the chest slowly drew together, and the two magical ropes wound around one another.

When all was said and done, their magic twisted together in a faintly glowing double helix; the wardrobe lifted farther from the floor, although neither willed it to do so, stopping its ascent only when its top bumped the ceiling.

After a moment's more awe, the two lowered it together.

"What just happened?" Ginny breathed, staring transfixed at the now quite ordinary wardrobe.

"The first time, we cast together; our magic origin, the tip of your wand, was the very same. Our spell began as one," he offered, purely theorizing. "Just now, we began as two separate forces, but I willed our magic to become one; the spells intertwined together to become a single unit."

"You willed that?" Ginny asked breathlessly.

Harry smiled at her astonished features. "I didn't realize it would be so visually stimulating, but yes; I willed our powers to come together."

Ginny whistled low. "I could feel that. The power. After your spell contacted mine, it was like mine traveled back to me. It didn't hurt, but the energy that I cast toward the chest reverberated back to me."

"I felt it too," Harry offered. "You know what this means?"

"Together we're more powerful than alone," Ginny answered philosophically.

Harry nodded again. A heavy, contemplative silence settled between them. It took Ginny several minutes to remember her original question. "Harry, how did you –" she paused for a moment, searching for the correct word. "— will your magic through my arm?"

"Practice," Harry breathed. He stared hard at Ginny before deciding she was friend enough, trustworthy enough, and certainly brilliant enough to share his secret with; as a contemplative, quiet, observant character, she was perhaps Harry's best vault in which to store a secret. Harry waved his wand over his head with a murmured cleaning spell to dispel the dust from the air. He indicated the couch in the room with his wand. "Let's sit."

Harry and Ginny sat down on the old couch together, Ginny waiting patiently for him to begin. Harry twirled his wand over his knuckles, trying to decide where the best place to start was. "You know that in the final years at Hogwarts, classes such as Transfiguration, Defense and Charms begin teaching non-verbal casting. It gives you the element of surprise and stealth, most notably, but it also teaches you to compartmentalize your thoughts, both magical and not. If you're preoccupied emotionally, your non-verbal casting will suffer."

Ginny nodded, leaning forward on her elbows to survey him.

"It takes a fair amount of discipline. Rather than deciding what spell you wish to use by the end product you wish to obtain, you have to think about the magic itself; each spell has its own feeling, strengths, and other magical properties. Magic isn't innately part of our being. It's a separate entity that we have been given the power to mold and manipulate; the more confidence you have in yourself as a crafter, the more casting abilities you can open yourself to." Harry ran a hand through his hair as he looked out the dusted window. "One of those abilities is wandless magic. I think I've seen Dumbledore do it before."

Ginny nodded. "He always shuts his door without a wand. I just figured it was a really simple spell, and he could do it because he's so powerful."

"Yes and no," Harry answered slowly. "It's not that Dumbledore, or even Merlin or Voldemort, have more magical power from which they draw; it's that they have organized their mind so tightly that they can control the magic they have access to with a higher degree than most. You've seen that for yourself, I'm sure. If you've ever tried to cast a spell you're normally proficient at when you're tired or worried, the results are sloppier. The reason those three wizards are powerful is because they are capable of focusing their magic even under emotional turmoil or mortal peril. Non-verbal casting takes a concentration of the mind, but wandless casting takes a total understanding of the body.

"Magic itself has its own trace. You just saw it, when our spells intertwined – that faint glowing in the air was a magical residue left by our spells. The initial casting was blue, but the color disappeared when the spell struck the chest, the magic flowing into the chest; the spell had its own blue aura. The red and gold colors, though, were our own auras; our own magical traces. That was a physical manifestation of our power; it's the first time I've ever seen something quite like that. With wandless casting, you must find and hold on to that aura; you must mold it to your liking before it leaves your body; you have to have absolute control of your mind to be able to find your magical reserve, though."

Ginny was still watching him carefully. "How do you know this, Harry?"

Harry raised an eyebrow, turning back to look at the red head. "I've got another secret." Ginny nodded her head for him to continue. "That's what I've done with my summer. I wanted to see if wandless magic was a path I was able to pursue."

Ginny was quiet for a moment as she watched him; Harry watched her back. He calmly waited for her reaction, but he couldn't help the nervous feeling that twined over his spine. After their adventure twenty minutes prior, Harry wanted her approval.

After a long minute, Ginny nodded her head. "That's impressive magic. I don't even know if Dad can do non-verbal casting. Not that I've asked, but you know." She paused here, looking at her lap for a moment. "Could you teach me?"

Harry's face split into a wide grin, and he nodded enthusiastically. "I was hoping that would be your reaction. Of course! I don't know how much you heard of the dinner conversation the other night, but I don't plan on sitting on my hands this year. I want to do something, but I won't stand a fighting chance if I go after him with the spell arsenal of a fifth year."

Ginny nodded enthusiastically as well. "Can I help?"

Harry grinned, reaching forward and taking her wand from her lap. He pushed it back into her fingers. "Cast Lumos." Ginny muttered the spell, the tip of her wand throwing shadows over their faces in the dim room. "Try and feel for the magic. I can feel mine through my palm and forearm. Especially at the crook of my elbow."

Harry used his fingers to trace over the areas on Ginny's arm as he spoke. She tried to focus on the magic and his words, but she was also forced to devote a portion of her mind to suppressing her shivers. She shut her eyes, trying to pull back her focus and ignore The Boy Who Lived completely.

After a full minute of quiet, Ginny made a noise. "Should it feel like a really faint tickling?"

"Yeah!" Harry answered in excitement. "That's great! It's even harder to feel with a wand, because you're focusing your energy into the wand. When you cast without one, it's just you and your magic. You can feel it more distinctly."

Ginny took another moment to commit the feeling to memory before extinguishing her wand. She looked eagerly to Harry. "How do I do it without the wand?"

Harry took her wand and gingerly placed it on the seat cushion next to him. He held his hands out to her with his palms facing the ceiling. "Start like this. Shut your eyes. You have to push aside every emotion, doubt or outside thought. Even something as simple as a ticking clock can distract you. You have to really discipline your mind. When you feel calm, try gathering that feeling again. You might start trying to find it in your elbow or your forearm; whichever works better for you. Try it."

Ginny sat with her eyes shut for over three minutes. She looked to be in some sort of meditative state – very peaceful and serene. Harry found himself taking time to study her in her most open state; he had to admit that the summer months had done Ginny well. She had grown a bit and filled out in all the right places while losing weight in several others. Her hair had also grown, encircling her head like a halo of fire. Harry was curious if it was as soft as it looked, but he didn't want to distract her. She didn't look like Ron's little sister anymore; now, she was Ginny.

"I think I feel it," she finally spoke, pulling him out of his teenage boy musings.

"Good," Harry answered quietly, not wanting her to lose that feeling. "I want you to start with Lumos. Visualize what you want to do exactly. Don't forcefully try to bend your magic; if you're focused, it will twist itself in the correct orientation."

There were another several minutes of silence. Harry watched Ginny's hands, noting their small, feminine build. She had small calluses from Quidditch.

"Have I done it?" Ginny asked quietly, keeping her eyes shut. "I can feel it."

Harry extinguished the overhead light, immersing them in darkness. The room almost completely black, he reached out his hand for hers. Centimeters from her fingers, a faint glow illuminated Harry's palm, and he grinned.

"Don't lose your focus, but try to open your eyes, Gin," Harry spoke quietly.

She did as bade, blinking to adjust her eyes to the dark. She looked down at her own hands and gasped, seeing the almost ethereal glowing coming from her fingers to illuminate Harry's hand.

"Lumos is interesting," Harry told her calmly. "There's no wand to project the light source from, so the spell changes mildly. I'm going to move my hand, and watch what happens."

Harry took away his hand, and again the room became completely black. Ginny made a small noise, shifting in her seat. Of her own accord, she moved her hands, bringing them over her jeans and casting them in light. With the small amount of light returned, Harry saw her eyes widen. "Whoa."

"It's also easy to cast for your first wandless spell because the magic continues until you choose to extinguish the spell. You should still be able to feel the tingling in your fingers. In casting spells like Confringo, you'll feel the magic initially, but it will dissipate more quickly. Lumos is different. Try to extinguish it."

Ginny shut her eyes again, and moments later, the glow over her jeans disappeared. She whistled low. "That was incredible."

Harry flicked his finger, relighting the candles in the room to give them some light. He nodded. "I know. It's a weird experience."

Ginny looked up at him hopefully, chewing gently on her lower lip. "Could we keep doing this? I really want to learn to control it; with harder spells, too. I don't know that many spells that would be worth anything in a fight."

"I wouldn't think of saying no." Harry grinned; he hadn't expected anything less. "I've been doing some training over the summer, as well, to work on stamina. Fighting's both physically and magically tiring. If you want, you can join me for that as well. We can kick your butt into shape."

Ginny raised an eyebrow at the insinuation she was out of shape. "You're on, Potter."

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7.

Harry had been staring at that number for a very long time. "Seven," he whispered into the quiet night air of the Black family library, hoping that voicing it would give him some understanding as to its significance. It did not. He made a mental note to ask Hermione if the number held any significance in the magical world; she would surely know.

Curled into a comfortable chair in the dead of night, Harry was studying an old, worn page of the smallest book he had picked up over the summer. The bloodstained journal had become something of an enigma to Harry, always provoking more questions than it answered. He sighed, abandoning the number for the time being and reading lower.

Beneath the heavily written number, which had been circled several times for good measure, the keeper of the journal had jotted in quick curly script, Horcruxes – 6 or 7 artifacts?, as if it was an important thought he had wanted to write before he lost it.

Harry studied that line for several moments longer. Horcruxes? In his five years in the magical world, he had never once heard that word. He wanted to ask Hermione of this too, but he had a strange feeling it was not something she would understand either. Looking around the library, he noted the number of Dark books, with tattered spines and bloods spatters on the covers; perhaps his answer lay somewhere within?

Harry shrugged, giving up on that particular note for the time being.

The page concluded with a list. The writer had numbered seven lines, one through seven. On the first line, the name Slytherin had been written with a question mark. After, the word locket was written in different ink. Ravenclaw held line two, again with a question mark; Hufflepuff and Gryffindor took spots on lines three and four, respectively, their question marks making an appearance, as well. The remaining three lines only held question marks. On the eighth line, another question mark was circled, although it lacked a number. Harry stared at the list, reread the entire page, and ground his teeth in confusion.

When the clock on the wall chimed two in the early hours of the morning, Harry jumped from his chair. He yawned, realizing he very much needed sleep. He looked around the large library before pocketing his journal, and deciding the search for the mysterious word Horcux could certainly wait for another night.