Ticking Clocks

Ginny couldn't have imagined how good she would feel as she woke on Boxing Day. She was certain she hadn't slept that soundly since the evening she sat Harry down and said the life altering words, "we're having a baby." Taylor had brought back Mrs. Gertrude, who had an uncanny resemblance to Madam Pomfrey in the way she gave orders while healing. "Two ribs broken and another bruised! What in the name of Merlin's beard were you doing?" she asked, appalled.

"Just a typical bar room brawl," Ginny said.

"Brawl?"

"She had a run in with Godfrey," Taylor clarified.

Mrs. Gertrude paled and worked quietly. Her daughter and son-in-law had been killed nearly five years before when they tried to make a stand against Godfrey, though no one could prove his involvement in their deaths. Her house became the headquarters and safe haven of the resistance shortly after, but she never talked about this connection. She was the quiet caretaker, arranging the constant expansion of rooms in the basement of her home for anyone who cared to stay. "Drink this," she told Ginny. "Every last drop. And I'm leaving Taylor with some that you must drink in the morning."

The potion was sugary-sweet and Ginny paused twice while drinking, as it coated her throat to the point she couldn't swallow. "And you need to sleep as long as possible."

Ginny looked at the clock on the opposite wall. It was just past nine. It felt later than that, but she was far too alert to go back to sleep now.

"I said no," Taylor's voice came firmly, articulating every syllable. "She's sleeping."

"Taylor, if you don't move—"

"If you don't back off I'll be talking with Charlie," she cut Peter off.

There was a moment of silence. Ginny pushed herself up. "Don't you threaten me," Peter growled before his voice dipped low enough that Ginny couldn't hear what followed.

She pulled a bathrobe off a hanger and tied it as she left her room. She could see Taylor and Peter at the end of the hallway, Taylor's back towards her in a sentinel position with Peter's tight, reddened face close to hers. He stopped abruptly as he noticed Ginny. His expression softened. "Ginny," he said. "I just found out about last night."

Ginny pulled her hair back and out of her face. "Yes, well I'm doing great now, thanks," she said. She walked down the hall and Peter continued watching her.

"Your potion's on the counter," Taylor said. She stepped back to let Ginny through and then followed her into the kitchen, keeping herself between Ginny and Peter.

"I don't know if I need it. Really, I feel quite well." Ginny rifled through the cabinets, pulling down some tea and grabbing the kettle.

"Yeah, well I don't feel like a lecture later, so just drink it," Taylor said.

Ginny sighed as she started the water heating on the stove and turned to the potion waiting for her.

"Ginny, I should have been there for you," Peter spilled out quickly.

"I wanted to get a drink and be alone," Ginny said pointedly. "So I hardly expected anyone to be there. Though you should know that Godfrey has found a way to do magic."

"You mean Liam? He hasn't been seen in public for ages."

"No," Ginny said. "Leonard."

"That's impossible," Peter said. "You must have been seeing—"

"I wasn't seeing things. He was bragging about it and then used it against the bartender. Seems it's a new development. He called it a Christmas present." She threw back the potion, but started having the same problems as the night before.

"But… how?"

"He showed him something in his right hand, but I didn't see what it was."

"Oh," Peter said. His eyes shifted as he took in this new information.

"If we'd taken care of the compound a couple weeks ago I guess we could've avoided this complication," Taylor said, glaring at Peter.

Color rose in his cheeks. "I certainly can't make decisions based on information we're going to have weeks in the future," he snapped back.

Taylor opened her mouth to respond before Ginny reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. "The point is that at least one thing came out of last night. Take it for what it's worth," Ginny said, then stepped over to the whistling kettle.

"Right." Peter came to himself again. "I was thinking I could make you some breakfast. Er, Taylor too, if she hasn't eaten."

"I'm actually in the mood to cook myself, but if you could let Grant and Colt know I'll be ready for them in an hour—"

"You should rest, Ginny, I don't want you to—"

"I'll be ready in an hour." Ginny's eyes met Peter's, challenging whatever he might say next. Peter finally huffed out a breath and walked out the back door. "Well then," Ginny took on a chipper tone, "pancakes?"

"Yes," Taylor settled into a chair at the table. "I'm starving!"

Apparently everyone had been told about Ginny's excursion. When she went to find Grant and Colt she was bombarded with questions and concerns from every side. "Mrs. Gertrude must be great at healing," Dakota said in awe when Ginny again reassured everyone that she was, by all standards, as good or better than she was before going out for a drink.

"They weren't magical wounds, dear," Mrs. Gertrude said as she pulled a loaf of fresh bread from the oven. "It's much simpler work. You did take the potion again, right?"

"Yes," Ginny said.

"Good, I included juice from Kangaroo Apples in there. Specialty of mine. I find that always speeds healing. I may give you some more tonight, just for good measure."

"There's something I don't get, though," Miles said. "If your jinx bounced back, how were you not hurt by magic?"

Ginny had been thinking about this as well. "When it hit me it dispelled all the transfigurations I had performed," she said. "It was more like… anti-magic."

"You don't think others on the compound can make that happen, do you?" Leiza asked.

Taylor answered this question. "Do you think Godfrey cares about anyone's safety but his own? It's doubtful."

Not everyone seemed reassured by this sentiment, but Ginny knew she had work to do, finding Grant and Colt and taking them outside to start on their lesson. Taylor stuck by Ginny the rest of the day, finding reasons to help with any given task. As night fell, Taylor even hung out in the living room, reading a textbook, as Ginny wrote. Charlie and James didn't come back until nearly ten o'clock.

"It was wicked!" James said. "One of the eggs hatched, and the baby dragon looked like it was made of pearls."

"He lucked out," Charlie said. "Opaleyes are particularly trainable, but the one that hatched was the egg of our tamest dragon. She even laid there, letting James get close enough to pet her baby. Don't look at me like that, I wouldn't have let him do it if it wasn't perfectly safe."

"And then Uncle Charlie took me to a nearby reservation for all sorts of other local magical creatures. I can't wait to write an essay for Professor Hagrid!"

"Well, if that isn't an even better outcome than I expected," said Ginny. "Now, go get your clothes in the wash."

"Can't I go see Imogen first? I have to thank Peter, too. He gave me a brilliant pocket-knife for Christmas. It has a whole set of magical lock picks!"

Ginny took a second to recover. "W-well, Peter may have gone back to his own house by now, but I suppose. Just make it quick. It's late and I don't want you keeping everyone up." He ran off. "Door!" Ginny shouted, but it slammed behind him as usual. She opened James's bag, pulling out the articles of clothing to sort. "So you didn't have any trouble with him, then?"

"You need to tell James," Charlie said, ignoring Ginny's question.

She stopped. "Tell James what?"

"You know what," Charlie said. "You need to tell him about Peter."

Ginny felt her face go red. "He doesn't need to get involved in that."

"God, Ginny, I know you are not this naïve!" Charlie pointed out the window. "He can't get to you directly, so he's trying to manipulate you by winning over your son!"

"I have it under control."

"No, you don't."

Ginny picked up a stack of clothes in each hand, scowling at Charlie and stepped by him towards the laundry basket in the hall. "Do you really need to do this in front of Taylor? Wasn't it enough for you to tell her about my personal business?"

"What are you talking about? She already knew. I thought you told her."

"Like I needed anyone telling me," Taylor scoffed, laying out on the couch. "It's pretty obvious."

Ginny looked at her, waiting for a further explanation.

"Peter was all geared up to make a plan, then at the same time the you two get stiff around each other, he finds excuses to hold off on infiltrating. It seemed damn irrational until I realized he was trying to buy more time with you, Ginny. Of course Charlie asking me to keep an eye on you kind of confirmed my suspicions about that." She turned towards Charlie. "To be fair to Peter, he probably wouldn't have been a problem this time around if Ginny hadn't broken her ribs."

Charlie's eye widened. "We were gone three days! How did you—"

"That is a long story, and beside the point," Ginny cut him off, turning back to Taylor. "And the others know, too?"

"I don't think so," Taylor picked up a nearby magazine, flipping through casually. "They all believe what he says and Peter's fine until you aren't doing what he wants you to do. Like this morning. He's pissy with me because I'm not buying his crap, and he knows it."

"What happened this morning, Ginny?" Charlie's tone was dangerously like their mother's.

She let out a breath. "There was an incident at a pub last night involving Godfrey. I ended up a little worse for wear. As you can see I'm fine now, but Peter used it as an excuse to try and help me out this morning. Taylor all but kicked him out. And I certainly wasn't welcoming."

"I knew I should have taken you with us," he muttered. "Is there anything else I should know about?"

"No," Ginny said. "He's been keeping his distance."

"Except from James." There was a moment of silence. "You need to tell him," this time Charlie's voice was low and demanding.

"I'll think about it."

"Ginny—"

"Charlie, he is sixteen and has been through enough already with his father disappearing. I don't see how adding this onto his plate is going to do anything but upset him unnecessarily."

"Fine," Charlie said sharply. "But when this whole thing blows up in your face—letting James be a pawn in his twisted game—don't look to me for sympathy."

He snatched up his own bag and stormed up the stairs to his room.

Taylor didn't look up, eyes scanning the page in front of her. "He's probably right."

Ginny turned her scowl on Taylor.

Over the next three weeks, Ginny teetered back and forth on the issue. When Peter was here, he seemed to find excuses to sit next to James, patting him on the back, having conversations with him, and giving him special attention. Ginny felt like an angry Veela, certain she'd see molting feathers as nails dug into palms while watching Peter with a hand on James's shoulder and an encouraging smile. Usually she would situate herself to be in Peter's line of vision, giving a warning glance and he would make an exit. Sometimes she'd find reasons to call James away—chores and assignments.

At least a dozen times she was determined to tell James. Then Peter would leave, and James was happy, and her stomach would twist so thoroughly that she simply lost the words. Charlie was terse with her when he was home and witnessing these moments, but as long as the topic didn't come up, they were back on reasonably good terms.

Mostly they talked about plans, as Peter all but halted discussion of how to get into the compound. Taylor, Charlie, and Ginny found themselves huddled around the coffee table late at night.

"So, three groups. And how many can do disillusionment charms now?" Charlie asked.

"Everyone except Colt, Grant, Leiza, and Trenton," Ginny said. "And Imogen still has trouble with it, but she won't be there, of course."

"When we get to the compound, those will have to be lifted so we don't unintentionally attack one another and know when the group has made it to the control room."

"There's a safe area just behind the general cafeteria," Taylor suggested. "Group one and two can uncover there."

"And what about the south side?" Charlie asked.

Taylor's eyes scanned the map she had copied from Peter's papers, a hand pressed on either side of her face, concentrating. "The storage," she said. "Even if there's surveillance, it's gotta be less guarded."

Charlie considered this, nodding. "For now that should work. So, third group goes to south of the storage. Then we attack the main square from both sides. The south group should stay pretty open, but from the north—" he made a mark on the map with his wand "—the first team needs to concentrate on getting into the control room here while the second group covers them. Once we have control of everyone in the square, we can release them from the Imperius Curse and eliminate that source of problems."

Ginny rubbed her eyes. It was nearly one in the morning, since they waited until everyone else was asleep before the discussion could start. These conversations always made her anxious as well; wanting to just get to it and go find Harry. "What do you think the chances are that the others are going to follow us on this if Peter resists?"

"Eben was miffed. He's got a wife back there and believes their relationship was real," Taylor said. "So he's ready for any signal. Ainsley has a brother and, I think, a little niece, which makes her easy to sway. Fritz and Dakota, I'm not sure on."

Peter was now their main roadblock: whether the others would follow through on a plan without him, whether he was withholding information, and to what extent he would stall them. He was still their main source of intel and nothing would change that at this point. And before they broached the topic with him, they wanted irrefutable evidence that action had to be taken immediately. Ginny had been hopeful they had such evidence when Ron sent an owl two days before.

When the letter arrived, she opened the seal only to find two words in Ron's scrawl:

Harry's tattoo

Confused, Ginny tried to decipher it, trying to remember their conversation in Hogsmeade. Did this have to do with the tattoo on Taylor's arm? But other than finding Taylor, what did that have to do with Harry? No, this was more personal. Why would he be so short, even in a cryptic message?

Then she realized: this was a passcode, not the message. She took out her wand, thinking back to school, Romilda Vane, and a running personal joke. She wrote with her wand tip: Hungarian Horntail. The ink dissolved, reappearing as a page long letter.

As Ron had reached out to other law enforcement departments in Europe and North America, he created a network of investigators. They had found over a dozen agents who worked for Godfrey, though no arrests had been made. Ron made clear that everything needed to happen as one—the plan was when one arrest was made, they would all be made to leave no time for Godfrey to clean up after himself. Ideally, their own attack on the compound would align, though Ron emphasized it needed to happen prior to the arrests at the very least. Updike had yet to be pinned down, but Ron assured Ginny they were close.

"We just have to make them see reason," Taylor said with a shrug. Ginny knew that probably included telling everyone the details of Peter's actions concerning her.

Ginny was editing a final draft of an article to send Beth the third week of January when James burst in through the back, soaking wet from the rain. "Make sure you dry yourself before you go on the carpet," she said, not looking up.

"Mum, Peter said he can get tickets this weekend for the Magic Music Festival in Sydney! The Hobgoblins are opening, The-Band-That-Must-Not-Be-Named will be there, and loads of other musicians too… can I go?"

"I thought you were with Imogen?" Ginny asked, irritated that Peter managed to get James on his own without her knowing.

"I was," James said. "He came in, told the two of us he can get a few tickets from work."

"He's going to take Imogen?" Just a week before she and Charlie approached Peter again with a case for sending Imogen to Hogwarts when James went back. He emphatically insisted that for her safety she should remain here until Godfrey wasn't an issue, but now he was willing to risk taking her to a local magic community festival?

"He said if I wanted to go he would find a way to disguise her," James said. "So can I go?"

"No," Ginny said, shaking her head, and looking back at the papers in front of her.

"But, Mum—"

"No," she repeated. "Absolutely not."

James looked hurt and confused. "But… Peter said he could make sure it was safe—"

Ginny looked back up. "I said no. I don't care how safe he thinks he can make it, you aren't going."

"Can't you just talk to Peter first?"

"No." She could feel every moment of anger she had pent up for Peter bubbling in the pit of her stomach and she found it nearly impossible to stop the steam as it built up quickly. "Besides, you need to start thinking about the fact that you have exams in less than six months. Your classmates are probably already spending every spare moment studying and you're in for a rude awakening in six weeks when you go back if you don't start—"

"Go back?" James said, distress layered into his tone. "I can't go back now," he said.

"That was part of the agreement. Number two: you go back in March."

"But that was before Imogen. You can't mean it."

"I do," Ginny pushed aside her writing and stood. "There was no caveat to that condition when you agreed to it. Imogen will still be here for you, but you're going back."

"That's not fair!"

The front door opened and Charlie stepped in. "It's raining kneazles and grims out there right now," he said, walking through the hall. He stopped as he saw James and Ginny staring each other down. "What's going on?"

"Mum is being completely insane!" James shouted. "She's going to make me go back to Hogwarts still! But otherwise, she won't even let me out of the damn house!"

"Woah, hold on," Charlie said, his eyebrows knit. "Can you back up and remind me when you were put under house arrest?"

Charlie's sarcasm only riled James more. "Don't twist my words," he spat at Charlie, then turned back to Ginny. "I've done everything you said and done all my school work. Who cares if I do it here or there?"

"I do! I'm sure most people would think me insane for letting you come in the first place! You belong in school!"

"You don't trust me!"

"James, that's not what she's saying," Charlie tried to intervene again.

"I always have to convince you to let me help! At least Peter sees that I'm useful."

James turned to walk out, but Charlie caught his arm. "Have respect for your mum," he said.

James jerked his arm out of Charlie's grasp and glared once more at Ginny before opening the back door and stalking off.

Charlie looked to Ginny, raising his eyebrows. "I told him he couldn't go to a festival Peter invited him to and it… escalated." His face filled with understanding as he pressed his lips together and nodded, arms folded across his chest. His entire demeanor needled at Ginny even more. "I don't want to hear it." She grabbed her papers.

"I didn't say anything."

Ginny went into her room, spread out her papers on the bed, and tried getting back to work. An hour in and she had made no more progress, having crossed out half of the article, frustrated with every word. Irritation rimmed every thought—irritation that James thought she didn't mean what she had said, irritation at Charlie's smug, knowing look, and, most of all, irritation at Peter for putting her in a position to have a row with James. It worried her, too, that he seemed to be getting cavalier when it came to Imogen's safety… and over what? What was the endgame? Did he know that Ginny would say no and it would be a moot point? Or was Peter legitimately trying to spend more time with James and to hell with precaution if he could make it happen?

"He reminds me of my own son," he had told her.

But James wasn't his son. Ginny violently crossed out yet another line when her bedroom door creaked open. She looked up. James stood there, the fight out of him, eyes red and wet. Ginny thought for a moment of Imogen, over in Mrs. Gertrude's house, wondering if the two had commiserated together on their terrible, impending seperation. He looked up, then back down, and walked over, crawling beside her on the bed. Neither of them said anything as James laid his head on Ginny's shoulder and she reached up, running her fingers through his messy hair.

"I'm sorry I yelled," Ginny said.

"Me too," James replied. "But Mum… I don't want to go back without her."

"I know, love." Once again she almost told him about Peter—right now, before this could go any further—but instead she sat with James in silence, both of them knowing that the issue of James's return to school was likely to come up again.

Peter hadn't been around for two days. Not since his offer to take James and Imogen to Sydney and Ginny's decision to talk to him more plainly concerning James. Then, she thought, she would tell James. She just had to figure out how much he needed to know.

Nearly everyone was in their living room, all furniture pushed back as they practiced disillusionment charms. "Close," Ginny said to Colt. "Keep your wrist a little straighter on this one."

James and Imogen had paired up. Imogen still struggled with this charm so that James was invisible except for his arms, which reached out, picking Imogen up and swinging her around, creating a strange tableau.

"Careful!" Fritz yelled as James bumped back into him.

"Sorry," James said, removing his disillusionment. "I'm sorry."

"That was good, Imogen," Ginny said. "Can you try it again, but without a wand?" Ginny had been in correspondence with McGonagall since Christmas. Even she had never met a witch or wizard who could perform wandlessly. She was insistent that Ginny help Imogen develop this ability and arrange a meeting with McGonagall when possible. Imogen, who had already been quite capable, flourished under this new method.

She placed a hand over James and all but his right hand disappeared. Ginny nodded her approval. "A little more concentration," she said, moving to find someone else to help.

Charlie sat beside Nellie in the kitchen, talking with her quietly. She still wasn't ready to do magic. Nellie never talked about what she had been through, but Ginny suspected it was traumatic enough that Nellie would likely live out the rest of her life as a muggle. The problem was that Colt continued to pressure her to be part of their efforts. Even if she decided today to do so, the chances of her being ready were slim. Hopefully Charlie was talking with her about other ways that she could be of help.

Ginny adjusted Leiza's hand hold as the door opened. Silence rippled across the room and Ginny turned, seeing Peter, his shoulders slumped and his face filled with sad determination. His mood settled over the group as everyone turned to him. The couple times he'd looked like this, it meant bad news. Terrible news.

James stood nearest Peter, Imogen right behind him. "Who is it this time?" Leighton asked breathlessly.

Peter and Ginny made eye contact, but instead he turned toward James, gripping his shoulders. Ginny's hands balled into fists as she refrained from stepping over and ripping his hands off her son.

"There was some tip off they had about your dad's contacts closing in," Peter said. There was a pounding in Ginny's temple. "I'm sorry, son, but your dad... they killed him."

James, shaking his head, pushed past Peter, ripping his hand from Imogen's and dashed through the back door. "James!" Charlie called, following closely behind.

"Oh, Ginny," Ainsley stepped over and wrapped an arm around Ginny's shoulders.

Ginny looked at Peter, though. He met her gaze, eyes full of sympathy and hope. He didn't move, but there was a daring that made Ginny sick. Tears were spilling down her cheeks. She wiped at them and went towards the back door as well. Peter reached out a hand to her back and she shrugged it off violently as she opened the door and stepped onto the porch.

James and Charlie were by the tree. The one where James often stood with Imogen in his arms, swaying. James's head was bent, his hands covering his face, and Charlie held his arms, speaking to him. Ginny couldn't be strong for him in this moment, so she leaned against the porch railing, quietly sobbing. After everything Harry had done, after Voldemort and the horcruxes and decades of fighting dark wizards, all it took was an ambitious, money-hungry muggle. How was that possible?

Ginny was gaining control of herself when Taylor stepped out on the porch, closing the door quietly behind her. She didn't look at Ginny as she sat on the railing on the opposite side of the small space. She looked out at James and Charlie, the latter of whom was now hugging James, patting his back as he talked into his ear.

"My grandma was terrible," Taylor said after a pause. "Emily was only two when we first went, but whenever she cried or misbehaved Grandma would force her to drink this potion and kept her quiet and still—like… catatonic. So I tried to keep her happy so Grandma wouldn't give it to her. She told me my dad couldn't stand me, that's why he left. She told me that no one loved me. I had this aunt—my mom's sister—that I was sure would come and save us, but she never did, so eventually I had to believe my grandma about that.

"When she died a couple years later, I heard someone talking about foster care and adoption, but I knew I wouldn't be with Emily. This woman told me I could meet her at this corner in Boston and we could stay together... and that's how we ended up in the compound."

"Why are you telling me this now?" Ginny asked, looking at her.

Taylor shrugged. "If we're going to share a husband, I think it's about time we got to know each other."

Taylor looked into the window, then stepped over and pulled Ginny into a tight hug. Taylor adjusted herself so she was whispering directly into Ginny's ear. "He's lying. Don't trust him."

Ginny's breath caught at the thought. "Are you sure?" she whispered back.

Rather than answer, Taylor pulled away, holding Ginny at arm's length and gave an almost imperceptible nod before turning and going back into the house.

Ginny knew immediately how to check what Taylor was saying, but she had to wait. It was at least an hour before she got back into her room alone. She first went over to James and Charlie. James threw himself into Ginny's arms, his sobbing renewed as she held onto him. While all these months he'd seemed considerably older, in this moment he reverted to the child she knew he still was.

"He can't be gone, Mum, he can't," he kept saying and Ginny wished she could give him the same hope Taylor had passed to her, but she had to know before telling him. She couldn't make this a rollercoaster ride for James if Taylor was wrong.

Then there was everyone still in the cottage. No one had moved when the three of them came back inside. Imogen's cheeks were tear stained as she stepped back into James's arms. Others were waiting to offer help and condolences. Taylor was the only one who looked both sad and angry.

Eventually Miles suggested they move practice to the lawn, giving Ginny, James, and Charlie a little time alone, and everyone silently agreed, putting the room right as they left. Charlie and James sat on the couch talking as Ginny excused herself to her room. She pulled out the clock, wrapped up and tucked away under her bed. She took a few deep breaths, steeling herself for the worst, but as she pulled away the wrappings, she could see that Harry's hand on the clock was steady—still trained on Mortal Peril, but he was alive.

Ginny packed the clock away again, checking for surveillance charms as she walked out again. A month ago, she would have never suspected Peter would listen to or watch private conversations in her home, but she also wouldn't have suspected Peter to lie about Harry either. As soon as she entered the living room, she walked around, making sure all windows were covered and casting silencing charms on the curtains as an extra measure

"Ginny, what are you doing?" Charlie asked.

She pulled up a chair, her knees right up against theirs. "Harry's alive," she whispered.

Charlie looked concerned, James confused. "Ginny, I know this is hard—"

"I'm not in denial Charlie. Taylor said Peter was lying and she was right."

"How do you know?" James asked.

"I have a clock." Ginny looked to Charlie. "One like Mum's. I hadn't told anyone about it, so Peter doesn't know."

Charlie swore, slamming a fist onto the arm of the couch in frustration.

"B-but… maybe he's just got bad information. Why would he lie?" James asked.

Ginny was quiet, shaking her head side to side. "If you don't tell him I will," Charlie said firmly.

She couldn't meet Charlie's or James's gaze, but she told him. Leaving out the kiss, she explained Peter's behavior since the night in the desert, how he wanted to take Harry's place in the family, and that, perhaps, this was his way of making Ginny think through what he said about imagining a life without Harry.

"He's off his trolley," James said. "Why didn't you tell me?" His question was an accusation and reprimand rolled in one. Ginny couldn't look at him as tears of guilt stung her eyes.

"Your mum didn't think he was capable of this," Charlie said, reaching out and grabbing her hand. "She didn't want to upset you." He squeezed and she felt more gratitude for Charlie in the moment than she'd felt in her entire life.

"We need to tell him we know what he's up to!"

"We can't, James," Ginny said.

"But, Mum—"

"She's right. If we call him out on it, he has all the connections to get a tip to Godfrey, which really would put your dad at risk. Besides, he's been leading this group for ages. Harry's best chance is for us to get there as soon as possible."

Ginny nodded in agreement to Charlie's assessment.

"I just... I want to hex him."

"You can't," Ginny said. "You need to act like nothing is different. And you can't tell anyone else about this. Not even Imogen."

"But—"

"Number four, James."

He took a deep breath. "Fine. But I don't want to see him."

Ginny sighed, looking at him. "We don't have a choice. Not until we get your dad back."