Chapter 10: Beetle Attack

The sight that greeted me when I got home from my training camp wasn't the welcoming image I had conjured in my mind during the exhaustion of the last two weeks. I'd expected a welcome committee at the very least, but instead what I got was:

'Oh, Ginny. Good, you're here. Could you help get this stuff over to the floo? I'd never have thought one person had this much stuff.' Mum bustled through the Lounge on her way to the kitchen, carrying what seemed to be a really strange bunch of things.

'Stuff? Is someone moving out.' My eyes narrowed as I watched a very familiar bedspread join the pile, and I noticed a few more odds and ends that had, until today, sat in my bedroom. 'That's Harry's stuff. What's going on, Mum?'

'Oh, Harry and Ron have got a flat together, dear, and they need to move today. Or ... well, they've decided that it has to be today.' Mum absent mindedly wiped her hair off her face, leaving a trail of dust smeared on her forehead.

'They're leaving? Why?' I could feel panic rising in me and tried to push it away and act rationally about this when what I really wanted to do was run howling upstairs and demand from Harry what in the bloody hell he thought he was doing.

'Ron says they got a good deal on the rental for it, love.' Her brow wrinkled a little. 'They swear it's not because they're sick of me.'

I grinned at her, trying to ignore the weird swirls roiling around in my tummy. 'Of course they're not sick of you. And you know they'll be back for food and laundry as soon as they know what living alone is like.'

I looked at my pack and at the large piles of things lying around cluttering up the area. 'Just let me put my bag away and I'll be right down to help.' After I find Harry and make him explain this lunacy I added in my head.

I took the steps two at a time, and flung open the door to my bedroom. Sitting on my bed with a sheepish expression was a certain black-haired young man. I glared at him.

'You've heard, then?' he asked.

'Um, yeah. It was a bit hard to avoid what with the enormous piles of your stuff lying all over the kitchen floor.' I was trying very hard to keep the accusation out of my voice but I'm not certain I was completely successful. 'I just wish you'd told me yourself, rather than letting me be blindsided by Mum when I got back here.'

'You're not mad?'

'Not mad, exactly. I think ... I guess I'm a bit hurt you didn't say anything to me but I understand why you're moving out. Actually, scratch that,' I glared at him again, still standing in the doorway with my arms crossed in front of me. 'I'm really hurt you chose not to talk to me about this, and if you don't have a good excuse I will be bloody angry.'

He looked panicked, and rushed out his explanation so fast it was almost impossible to make out the individual words. 'I was going to say something last night, but I didn't want to ruin your party. Then today it all happened so quickly.' He stopped, hesitated, then added, 'I did think – you might come too.' His eyes as they met mine were beseeching

I relented and smiled at him, sat down on the bed then took his hand. 'I can't. You know it would kill Mum to have too many of us leave all at once. Besides, I've lived with Ron. Without Mum's input he's terrible; you'll be begging to come back here in days.'

His face had fallen when I said I'd be staying at home, but he dragged a smile onto his face when I said that last part.

'He wasn't so bad at school,' he said, then added in a softer voice, 'I'll miss you.'

'Should have thought of that before you came up with this fool plan,' I teased, then laughed at his expression. 'Don't be an idiot. I may stay here with Mum and Dad, but I'll still visit you --lots.'

He grinned, reassured. 'This doesn't get you off the hook for not telling me though,' I added with a wink. 'I'm going to take a look at George's new products I think. Find something suitable – something that will hurt, I think.' The panicked look on his face almost made not being told worth it and I grinned at him as I left the room to help Mum.

In a surprisingly short time the boys had all their things in the kitchen and were ready to send them to their new place. Harry and I went through the floo and waited for Ron to send their belongings through after us. At first glance the place was pretty ugly, and it was far smaller and dingier than I knew Harry could afford. I glanced at him, shocked at the home he had chosen to live in, but he was lit up as he stared around at it.

'Isn't it brilliant?' he asked happily. He took my hand and dragged me further into the room. 'Look, over here we'll have the table, and here we can keep the couches. I got a great deal on one that's just like the ones in the old common room, and here ...'

I grinned at his enthusiasm even as I was being pulled around all the empty spots. Seeing it with his eyes it really wasn't that bad. It did have the same sort of shabby coziness that the Gryffindor common room did, and I could understand why that would appeal to Harry. It appealed to me too.

'It's nice, Harry. Real, um ... homely.'

He laughed. 'It's not much, and it's a bit dingy but it suits us. Besides, you know it's going to be orange within an hour of Ron getting here.'

I giggled, imagining the chaos when Ron had a whole house to paper in Chudley Cannons colours. Just then, the pile of things I had last seen in Mum's cheerful kitchen appeared in the middle of the Lounge. If I had thought that it was small before, it was nothing to what it looked like now that the boys' things were taking up all the available space.

There was a heavy knock at the front door and I squeezed my way past the mound to answer it, since Harry was busy flicking his wand and sending things flying towards one bedroom or the other. The man on the other side of the door was surrounded by a mountain of furniture.

'Delivery for a Mr Potter,' he said, consulting a shabby piece of parchment in his hand.

'I'll be right there,' Harry called, and I began to help the delivery man bring the furniture inside. By the time we had manouevered the first couch around the corner into the Lounge Harry had got all the clutter out of the way and spaces ready for the new arrivals. Ron had appeared in the floo, and altogether the space looked even smaller than before. The delivery many looked around him doubtfully before levitating the couch into the position Harry indicated by the wall.

Around the time that the last bed was in and Ron called out, 'Harry, where do you want these kitchen things to go?' the delivery guy, who had told us his name was Mike and kept up an almost incessant chatter as he worked, realised whose house he was in. I saw his eyes flick up to Harry's hair line; the scar happened to be visible because his hair was stuck together with dust and sweat from the moving. Mike's mouth dropped open and he turned to look at me with a glance that was calculating. Harry saw the look and his open manner immediately became frosty, and he quickly came and stood next to me. Mike looked between us, gulped a little and handed over a parchment for Harry to sign off on the delivery.

I knew that either Mike must have remembered the old stories about me or that someone was raking it up again. I didn't keep track of every time Rita Skeeter's old articles were dragged up, but I could always tell because I started getting those little sideways glances again. I didn't let it worry me; the comments were usually innocuous and it always blew over pretty quickly. That afternoon as I was walking past a wizarding newsagent, however, I saw something that made my mouth drop open in horror.

I stared, ashen faced, at the newspapers lining the newsstand, then apparated quickly to Harry's flat. I found him there with Ron, both looking furious as they read a copy of the Prophet I had just seen. Harry looked up as I arrived, and immediately came over to me.

'You've seen it, then?' he said, taking my hand and leading me back to the couch. Ron was perched on the arm looking somehow both angry and anxious.

'Just the headline. It was enough.' My voice was hollow and I sank down next to Harry. The paper was lying on their coffee table, the headline blaring its message for all to read. Potter Connection Almost Costs Harpies' Newest Player.

'That's such crap. How would you cost the team a player?' My voice was plaintive again as I asked the question because I suspected what the answer would be.

Ron rushed in to say, 'Well, um ... Ginny, they ... er, mentioned those articles from Witch Weekly.'

'What the hell does that have to do with the Harpies?' I demanded, looking at Harry. 'How does me being with you affect the way I play?'

He glanced at Ron, and I knew he didn't want to answer me, but finally he said, 'It doesn't ... but it does affect your reputation and the team's reputation for choosing you.'

I stood up and started pacing, nervously running my fingers through my hair. 'Those bloody vultures. It's all bloody lies and yet it almost cost me my dream. I thought this was over, Harry. I thought we'd got past this. And ... oh, Merlin what is Gwenog going to say? She specifically said I was to keep out of the papers for this sort of thing.'

'I'm sure they'll understand. I mean, this isn't new ... and it's not like it's your fault.'

Just then an owl arrived with an official-looking letter on Holyhead stationary. I cast Harry an 'I told you so' look before accepting the letter. The contents were much as I expected, telling me that I had agreed to keep my reputation blameless and that if something like this was to happen again I would be called to a disciplinary hearing with the team bosses. I shuddered at the idea of facing them all while trying to make this whole fiasco look reasonable. I sighed. I needed to find and talk to Gwenog and explain this whole thing to her. Next time I was at headquarters I was going to have to track her down. Harry read the letter over my shoulder and his lips compressed in what I had learned was his determined, angry look.

'I'm not taking this lying down. I couldn't get hold of Rita last time – she scarpered. But this time I know where she is and I am not leaving it like before. They are not getting away with doing this to us – to you.'

He grabbed my hand, pulled me to my feet, and we apparated away from a startled Ron right into the back yard of the Leaky Cauldron.

I had regained some of my humour again. 'You're hunting that Skeeter woman in a pub? I like a drink as much as the next girl, Harry, but don't you think this is a bit much?'

He grinned and dragged me inside. 'She comes here every day at this time for her lunch. I bet, since she's not the author of this article just the reason for it, she won't be hiding from me this time. By the time she realises what's going on it'll be too late.'

By the end of this speech we were in the pub, and the dim mustiness and warm beery smell had already begun to calm me down. As my eyes grew accustomed to the light I spotted the over-coifed platimun blonde hair we were looking for. I took a deep breath, composing myself, and Harry led me towards her.

'Rita!' He grinned savagely as he spoke to her and she recoiled a little. 'It's real full in here, Rita, so we'd like to sit down with you if you don't mind.'

I'm sure Rita was less than thrilled with the idea, but she was also always after a new story so she held out a chair in a welcoming gesture. I was still wondering exactly what Harry was going to say to her but went along with him. I'd been longing for months to give this woman a piece of my mind and now it looked like I might have a chance.

Rita began right away. 'Harry! It's been far too long since we talked; I'm fascinated by your rise among the aurors. How would you like to schedule a little interview? We could run a series: Potter's post-You-Know-Who life...' Her eyes went misty as she thought about the possible length of her series of articles.

'I don't think so, Rita. See, when you messed with my girlfriend, you messed with me. I don't like it when people mess with me and my friends.'

'Oh, that silly little thing. No-one takes those things seriously you know.'

'You evil, lying cow,' I finally broke in. 'You knew that stuff was crap and you wrote it anyway, and a lot of people took it seriously enough. You almost cost me my career!' By the end I was almost shouting at her, and she looked a little taken-aback. Some of the other patrons were turning interested eyes in our direction. Maybe Rita had dismissed me as some spineless bimbo caught by Harry's fame, but she would learn. Harry squeezed my hand, and I forced myself to calm down again, though the eyes I kept on Rita glittered with hate.

'I write what the public wants to hear. They wanted a juicy story on Harry and I gave it to them. If you want the other side out there, grant me an interview and I'll tell your side.'

'Not bloody likely,' I ground out.

'You won't be writing anything else about me or Ginny, Rita,' Harry said in a low voice.

'I'll write whatever the public wants to read, Harry, and you can't stop me.' Rita's voice was sweet and light but there was an undertone of menace.

'I think I can, Rita. See, I'm friends with the Minister for Magic and people in Magical Law Enforcement. You might remember my friend Hermione Granger; she's working in that department now.' Rita shuddered when he mentioned her name, and Harry smiled. That smile is one of the most menacing things I've ever seen on his face. I know if I was Rita I would have been shaking just from looking at him. He carried on, 'I think the Minister would be really interested to hear about your animagus status. Or have you remembered to register yet?' The smile on Rita's face that had been fading through Harry's whole speech now vanished completely. 'I didn't think so.' Harry leaned back in his chair. 'I think we understand each other Rita. If you publish stories about me or Ginny again you won't like the results.'

Rita looked sick as we got up from the table. Harry made one last point. 'Another thing ... you really don't want to mess with Ginny. She's a bit like me – got a temper on her. But unlike me, she hasn't got many qualms about hexing people who get in her way.' He took my hand, and we turned to leave.

As we left, I looked back at Rita. She was sitting at the table and looked somewhat diminished from the person who had been there when we arrived. I felt a small stab of guilt. After all, she was just doing her job, but then I reminded myself that she had single handedly caused a huge scandal in my life, alienated half the school and almost cost me the career I so desperately wanted. All she had to do to avoid any unpleasantness was to register as an animagus, but I was pretty sure she wouldn't. So, all in all, Rita had pretty much brought it on herself. I smiled at her and gave her a small wave as she watched us leave the pub.