Chapter Twenty-One

A Chat With Bill

The rest of Harry's week was quiet. Nothing happened to the inn, either because of the new spells or simply because whoever was behind the attacks was lying low. Customers gradually returned—many of them urged on by Tony— and by Friday evening there was a nice crowd having a good time in the dining room.

But Harry was uneasy, although as the days passed uneventfully he became more confident that his combination of spells would do the trick. Perhaps he was nervous because the attackers were still out there, probably watching him, maybe waiting for the right moment when his guard was down. But as he thought about it, he found himself hoping that they would come out into the open and reveal themselves. If they did, if it came to a duel, it would be the end of whoever was causing his problems.

There was one unpleasant event on Tuesday evening when Turquoise Southeby came to dinner with one of the young wizards Harry had seen with her at The Three Broomsticks. Harry sipped Potio Vitae and watched them from the bar until Turquoise started casting blatantly suggestive glances at him and Harry left the dining room, telling Kreacher to let him know when she was gone.

That bit of overt offensiveness contributed to a feeling of disgruntlement—Harry didn't like being chased from his own dining room by a tart who wouldn't leave him alone—but something more serious was making him irritable and uneasy: he harbored a sour feeling about the Quidditch tryouts.

He reluctantly accepted Ginny's desire to have him stay away, but it irritated him. He had tried to hide it, but he knew she sensed it. Even though it meant only a single weekend afternoon stolen from Ginny, his loneliness during the week made him long for her company even more, along with the comfort—not to mention the pleasure—it brought. He knew he was being unreasonable, but he couldn't help his feelings.

He only used the Bouquedelle once, on Tuesday night. He didn't sleep well afterward, awakening from dreams about Ginny and reaching for her in the bed. He was tempted to use it again the following night, but realized that if he used it out of desperation it would drive him crazy. He had to husband the magic, not because he would use it up, but because of its effect on him. He knew that there would be times when he would need it to strengthen himself when Ginny was really absent or far away; he didn't want it to become an addiction feeding his moments of weakness.

The Marauder's Map was different; it was a game they both enjoyed. Once, she put her trainers on her hands and walked around her room on both her hands and feet while her roommates gawked. She finally collapsed on the floor in hysterical laughter. That happened on Tuesday night, and on Wednesday morning she sent Harry a note asking if he had noticed anything different. He wrote back that he had been startled to see two dots on the map with her name next to them; he didn't know what to make of it, and was glad to learn he was not going nutters.

She put the shoes on her hands again that night and asked Christina to pick up her legs and move her around the room like a wheelbarrow. This time Harry wrote that the map showed her dot moving around with Christina's. Ginny concluded from all this that the map's magic worked by detecting something touching the floor inside the castle, and she proposed, in her next owl, that she and Harry co-author a learned paper for the Annals and Proceedings of the Wizengamot. Since the map was supposed to be a secret, Harry declined.

He enjoyed this playfulness, but it also drove home that Ginny was there, and he was here, and he was alone.

On Thursday morning Ginny owled him saying she wanted him to meet her at the castle after her last class on Friday and walk back to Hogsmeade with her. Harry's spirits rose, but he still couldn't shake the mood of unhappiness that dogged him and sometimes made him react testily to Stan or Winky. He thought hard, but couldn't figure it out. It wasn't Turquoise—even though she had come back Wednesday evening, she had not been so obnoxiously whorish, and Harry was pretty sure she would leave him alone when Ginny was around, now that Ginny had confronted her; and it wasn't the inn—business was picking up and he felt more comfortable every passing day about the double spells that protected the building.

He needed someone to talk to, someone to answer the question which he could not seem to find the answer to: why did he have these depressing feelings when everything he had ever wanted was now his? He was free from the pain in his scar and the presence of Riddle in his mind, free from the burden of the Prophecy. He had the girl of his dreams who loved him and willingly shared his bed. He had good friends who would do anything for him, and he was surrounded at the inn and in Hogsmeade by grateful people and creatures.

These thoughts went through Harry's mind on Thursday as he stood in front of the fireplace in the flat, holding Ginny's message about Friday afternoon. He had just sent Bailey back with an enthusiastic reply, when his arm accidentally knocked over the photograph of his parents that stood on the mantel. He picked it up and thought for a moment as he looked at their faces, then put it back and went into the bedroom, got out another piece of parchment and a quill, and sent McPherson off to Gringotts. By the middle of the afternoon, Bill had replied, telling Harry to meet him at Shell Cottage.

An hour later Harry Apparated into the back yard of the little house by the sea. He spent a few minutes standing at Dobby's grave before walking around to the front and looking out over the ocean, feeling the salt breeze in his face and remembering the walks on the beach that he and Ginny used to take. He turned when Fleur opened the door. She gave Harry a dazzling smile that immediately dispelled his lingering bad mood.

"'Arry! Bill sent a message zat you would be 'ere! 'Ow good to see you. Is everyt'ing okay?"

"Hi, Fleur," he smiled back. "Everything's fine. I just wanted to talk to Bill about a few things."

She moved aside to let him in. "I am so glad you t'ought of zat, to talk to Bill. 'E loves you and Ginny so much. I'm sorry zat zere are problems."

Harry suddenly felt embarrassed, and wondered how Fleur knew why he wanted to talk to Bill. "It's nothing, really. We had some good talks last summer, so . . ."

Fleur smiled again, but said nothing and led him into the kitchen. She put out a kettle, cups, and croissants, and they drank tea at the small table and talked about last Saturday's party and the news that Molly Weasley was working part-time at St. Mungo's as Hestia Derwent's assistant. Fleur didn't mention Harry's "problem," and after an hour Harry realized that he was laughing and feeling better than he had all week, aside from the moments when he was reading Ginny's letters.

Bill arrived in the late afternoon. He kissed Fleur, greeted Harry, and went upstairs. In a few minutes he was back wearing jeans and a tee shirt, and he and Harry sat down in the parlor.

"So what's up?" Bill asked. "Are you and Ginny okay? Are there still problems at the inn? I heard all about the Dark Mark and the chimney from George, but Ron told me that you repaired it."

"Yeah, it's fixed. I also learned a new protective spell, and I think it'll be safe, at least for a while."

"That's good. So why did you want to see me?"

Harry's hands fidgeted in his lap, then gripped the arms of his chair. "Sometimes I think I'm going crazy," he said as he looked into the cold fireplace.

"What makes you think that?" Bill said quietly.

"I don't know. On the surface, everything is great. It's just that, if I have everything I always wanted, why am I miserable whenever I'm alone? My scar never hurts, I'm not looking over my shoulder for Riddle's Killing Curse, I have Ginny . . ." He looked quickly at Bill, who just smiled. "Sometimes . . . sometimes when I think about Ginny, I feel like . . . like she's a goddess and all I want to do is make her happy. She makes me so happy." Again he glanced at Bill. "But when we're not together, and I'm doing stuff at the inn or just sitting around up in my flat, things . . . gnaw at me. I can't figure it out."

"What things?"

"I don't know!" Harry hit the arm of his chair with his fist and glared at the fireplace, then sighed and looked at Bill. "Can you be in love with someone, but your feelings about them change all the time?" He looked back into the fireplace. "There are times when I don't feel like she's a goddess, but I don't stop loving her. Maybe it's loving her in a different way. I don't know." His fingers were twisting in his lap again, and he kept his gaze on the hearth.

Bill shifted in his chair. "I think that's exactly what it is," he said. "Love changes. It doesn't go away, but the more you get to know someone, the more ways there are to love them. Ginny's like Fleur in many ways." He chuckled. "That's why she looks so beautiful when she wears that necklace. Fleur told me before we gave it to her that it would have that effect. But you have to be careful around a woman like that. Ginny is so strong, and when she decides what she wants, there isn't much that can stop her. Fleur's like that too." He chuckled again.

"I can see that, about Ginny, I mean. In a way it makes me love her even more. Being with her is like a ride on a broomstick."

Bill laughed. "That's the best I heard anyone describe her. But," he became serious, "you've also got to see your life with her from her point of view. Why does she love you? I don't mean, what are the specific reasons. What I mean is that she loves you because of who and what you are, for you, yourself. What I think is happening has more to do with you than anything else. Your feelings about something have changed, and you're afraid that you and Ginny will stop loving each other. If you two are at all like Fleur and me, then that will never happen. It's just like you said, you'll find new and different reasons to love her."

Harry put his hands behind his head and leaned back in the chair; he felt restless, unable to hold still. "When we were at the Burrow during the summer, I only wanted to be with her. Now, I still want to be with her, but when I'm not, I feel like I'm not really doing anything. I feel useless. She's got interesting classes, friends with her all the time, Quidditch . . . All I've got is that damned—"

He stopped and frowned at Bill. "I've got the inn," he finished, and his hands gripped the chair again.

Bill looked at him sympathetically. "That's what has changed. We talked about it, as I recall. What you've got to do is figure out what it is you want. I said before that I wondered if running an inn is the right thing for you. And so have lots of other people."

"I know," Harry said, "I had lunch with Kingsley a few days ago."

"And I can imagine what he told you."

"Actually, it was Saliyah Ushujaa who said it."

"Whoever. But it's your decision, you bought the inn, you decided to live there so you could be near Ginny. Listen," he said before Harry, clearly nettled, could speak, "I know exactly why you did that. Can you imagine what it's like to have a veela say that she loves you? It's almost impossible to resist." He smiled and got a dreamy look in his eyes. "Not that I tried very hard."

Harry didn't smile; he put his hands behind his head again and sighed. "I understand what you're saying, but if I didn't live in Hogsmeade, where would I go? Grimmauld Place? That would be like living in a mausoleum. And I do want to be near Ginny." He dropped his hands and fidgeted with them again.

"Well, you'll have to work that one out for yourself. Just remember two things. One, you have a lot of friends who would do anything to help you. And two, you have a girlfriend who will do the same. But think about it, would you want her to do something that was not true to herself? I have a feeling that Ginny knows better than most people that the most important thing is to be herself."

Harry remembered what Ginny had said to him after Dumbledore's funeral, when he had told her that they could not be together. He smiled. "That rings a bell."

"And you have to want the same thing, you have to be true to yourself. You'll never be happy otherwise, even if you're with Ginny. You are with Harry Potter more than you're with Ginny Weasley."

Harry was silent for several moments, then he glanced at the clock on the mantel. "I guess I should be going. I don't want to leave Stan alone for the dinner hour. Thanks, Bill, I feel better."

Bill looked a little surprised at the sudden end of the conversation, but he smiled. "Any time you want to talk, Harry, just owl me. And if you and Ginny want to spend some time here again, you're always welcome."

As they got to their feet, Fleur came out of the kitchen. "So 'ow did ze boys' chat go?" she grinned. "You should be careful of Bill's advice, 'Arry. Remember, 'e works in a bank, for goblins, no less. 'Ow can you trust zat?"

Bill laughed. "We were talking about love—" Fleur smiled at Harry's blush "—so anything I said I learned from you."

"Ahh," Fleur's eyebrows rose, and Harry wondered if he had ever seen a woman's face look so fetching. "In zat case, I know you gave 'im good advice, because you 'ave become very good at love." She kissed Bill, and took Harry's hand. "I will tell you one t'ing. Ginny loves you more zan her own life, and you love 'er ze same way. And zat is 'ow it should be, because zen you will grow old togezer and die 'appy."

Without realizing what he was doing, Harry hugged Fleur, but quickly let go as she laughed. "Goodbye, 'Arry. You and Ginny must come for dinner. I will send you an invitation, okay?"

Harry returned to Hogsmeade just as Kreacher and Stan were starting to serve dinner. He felt better for having talked to Bill, but he wasn't sure that he had got answers that would make things better. He was still stuck alone in the inn after closing time, and he still felt there were parts of Ginny's life he was excluded from. He even couldn't help thinking that someone as pathetic as Turquoise Southeby could get a date and not be alone just by winking at a wizard in the street.

Harry also felt a little embarrassed for ending the conversation so abruptly. Bill had noticed, but he had said something that made Harry uncomfortable, something about being himself. People were pushing him to sign up for the Auror training program, but that was exactly what he did not want. He had done his part, now let someone else do it for a while. It had made him angry, and he did not want Bill to see that, so he had decided to end the chat before Bill could mention the program; hopefully Bill would forget about it.

As he served customers, his thoughts went to what Fleur had said about him and Ginny. He knew it was true—he would stand in front of a Killing Curse to save her—but he still wondered how he was going to get through the next nine months before they would be wholly together, like they were during the summer. He wondered about his fear, his anger, his frustration, his dissatisfaction. How bad would it get? Only one thing was keeping it all at bay, and she was not here.

That evening he sent a packet of chocolates to Ginny, but no words except "Love" which he wrote on the red ribbon he tied it up with. She sent the ribbon back, tied around a few strands of her hair, and Harry's resistance crumbled. He got into bed with the lock of hair and the Marauder's Map, put the Bouquedelle to his lips, leaned back, closed his eyes, and let his mind go where it would. After a few minutes he looked at the map and saw Ginny's dot in bed. He smiled; her theory was wrong: her feet were not touching the floor, yet the map knew where she was.

# # # #

Harry was in the entrance hall at four-thirty the next afternoon. He stood at the foot of the marble staircase and peered up each time someone came down. For some reason he was nervous, as if he was going out with Ginny for the first time. When she did appear, carrying her satchel and a book bag, his pulse quickened and he ran up the stairs and took the bags from her.

"Hi," he said as she stood on the steps smiling, "you look beautiful."

"Well, thanks, so do you."

They walked out with Ginny holding Harry's arm. They were both silent as they walked down the drive and into Hogsmeade. Ginny's grip on his arm tightened and her breathing became quicker when the inn came in sight. They climbed the stairs with Harry's heart pounding, and when they entered the flat Harry dropped her bags and they stared at each other. Suddenly they were down on the floor and Harry was pulling off her clothes.

"Harry," she laughed, "wait! The bed. Your floor is hard."

Later they lay close together inside the warm coziness of the four-poster with the covers pushed back. Ginny's eyes were closed but her finger was making circles on Harry's chest; his arm was around her back, holding her against his side.

"This is the best," she said in a dreamy voice. "If this was the only place in the world, I could be happy here."

"I am happy here," Harry kissed her forehead. "Are you sure you are?"

Ginny opened her eyes and blinked. "Yes. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, I don't know. You have a lot of other things going on."

She sat up on her elbow and looked at him; her hair hung down on his face and he smiled and blew a strand out of his mouth. His hand caressed her breasts.

"Other things?" Ginny said, puzzled. "What do you mean? Quidditch?"

"Well, yeah, but that's fine. I just want you to be happy here. This isn't my place, it's our place."

"I know that, and that's why I love it, because you wanted it to be ours, and you made it ours." She shook her head so that her hair swished across his face, and Harry giggled. She kissed him and he started to pull her down, but she lifted her head again. "Of all the things I have 'going on' this is the most important. I would give up everything if I had to, but not this."

Harry pulled her down and they kissed; his arms were around her back and he held her tightly. "I don't want you to give up anything," he whispered into her ear. "I love you." Ginny moved on top and their bodies were connected from their mouths down to their feet and they were both in heaven.

For dinner in the parlor that evening there was a juicy, thick-sliced London broil with baked potatoes and a string bean-and-almond casserole, illuminated by veela candlelight. Harry was thirsty, and drank two bottles of Potio Vitae, while Ginny stuck with butterbeer. They went down to the dining room afterwards and were greeted by Tony and other villagers. Harry and Ginny sat with a group of their friends near the bar, and they passed the evening with good conversation and Winky's excellent desserts.

The Hogwarts memorial service started at ten o'clock the next morning. Harry and Ginny walked to the castle, Harry wearing his academic robes. The Hogwarts Express had just pulled in carrying magical people who wanted to travel with friends and family rather than arrive via magic, and Muggle parents who were joining their magical children for the service. Some people were climbing into the horseless carriages, and others were walking up to the castle. Harry saw Andromeda Tonks pushing Teddy along in a pram and he and Ginny went over to them. Andromeda looked around when he called her and smiled.

"Harry! And Ginny! You're both looking very well. How is everything?"

"Okay," Harry replied, gazing down at Teddy; the infant was sleeping with a pacifier in his mouth. Ginny squatted down and adjusted his blanket.

She smiled at Harry. "He's beautiful, isn't he? How are you doing?" she asked Andromeda.

"We're fine. This is the first we've traveled anyplace. He's still too little to Portkey or Floo. I came with your parents, but I think they've gone on ahead. I had to change him." She laughed.

Harry offered to push the pram, and they walked up the lane together. Harry kept glancing at his godson, telling himself that he should visit them sometime. But Andromeda didn't mention it, and when they arrived at the castle and Harry carried the stroller up the stairs, Andromeda went ahead into the Great Hall while Harry and Ginny went upstairs to the common room. Harry waited while Ginny changed into her robes, and they returned to the Great Hall.

The tables were gone and rows of chairs faced the platform on which the staff table usually stood; that table was gone too, but the chairs were still there and a large black curtain hung on the wall behind the platform. Harry and Ginny found seats next to Ron and Hermione, near Molly and Arthur. They saw all of their friends: Neville was sitting with Keesha next to Luna and Dean; Bill, Fleur, George and Percy were sitting together with Lee Jordan; every member of Dumbledore's Army was there, most of them together near the front.

A shadow passed over a window, and they saw Grawp peering inside. There was a stir in the back and everyone turned at the clopping of hooves as a dozen centaurs entered and stood along the side of the room. Officials of the Ministry and the Wizengamot sat in their formal robes, looking properly somber. Several ghosts floated overhead; Ginny looked around in a moment of panic, but thankfully Peeves was nowhere in sight. Tony Trostle and his entire crew were there, and Ginny did a double-take when she saw Elizabeth Derby's parents walk in. She scanned the Hall but did not see her uncles.

She turned to Harry, but a door opening in the side wall caught her eye; Hagrid was there, gesturing. She nudged Harry. "I think he wants you."

"I was afraid of this," Harry muttered. He shook his head at Hagrid, who nodded, pointed at Harry, and jerked his thumb backward. Harry sighed and stood. "I'll see you later," he said in resignation. Ginny squeezed his hand, and Harry excused himself down the row and walked over to Hagrid.

"Mornin', Harry," the gamekeeper said as he pulled Harry through the door and closed it behind them. "Perfessor McGonagall and the Minister was wonderin' if yeh wouldn't mind sittin' up on the platform with the staff. They don't want yeh to say anything, but they figure that yeh should be up there, considerin' it was you that killed You-Know—I mean, killed Riddle and all. Yeh don' mind, do yeh?" He peered down at Harry.

Harry sighed. "I really would rather not, but I know you won't let me go, so . . . what do I do?"

"There," Hagrid grinned, staggering Harry with a pat on the back. "I told 'em yeh'd be happy to do it. Come on, they're all waitin' back here."

He led Harry through a short corridor into a crowded room. All the teachers were there, plus Argus Filch in his best moth-eaten, ancient suit, together with a half-dozen people from the Ministry. As Harry stood there, he heard a bullfrog voice and, to his utter astonishment and delight, saw Kreacher talking to Professor Flitwick; the locket of Regulus Black hung from his neck. Harry started to walk towards the elf, but Kingsley Shacklebolt intercepted him.

"How are you, Harry." He looked grim, and took Harry's arm and pulled him into a corner; Saliyah Ushujaa followed and stood between them and the rest of the room. "We don't have time to talk a lot," the Minister said in a low voice, not letting go of Harry's arm, "but I just wanted you to know that we have definite word that eight of the Death Eaters who escaped are back in England. Umbridge is still abroad, though. She was spotted in France just yesterday, and we're tailing her. She probably knows that, so we don't expect her to try to return. But we are aware of the problems you've had, Harry, and we don't want you to think we're ignoring them."

Harry glanced at Morequest Pester talking to Professor Slughorn. "What about him?" Harry said tightly. "Isn't he supposed to be keeping his eye on things?"

"Don't worry about Professor Pester," Shacklebolt said. There was a small edge to his voice, but it softened as he continued. "Just keep your own eyes open, and keep up those spells you put on your inn. They're excellent ones, and," he smiled, "an indication of your talents."

He let Harry's arm go. "Sorry about being pushy like that," he said cheerfully. "Someone in my position is always supposed to have an agenda. You know what mine is as far as you are concerned." He laughed in his booming voice, but quickly stopped and looked guiltily at Minerva McGonagall who was frowning at him.

In a few minutes the Headmistress led the assembled teachers and officials into the Great Hall. Harry sat between Hagrid and Professor Sprout, glad to be in the former's shadow. He looked out over the Hall and smiled when Ginny blew him a kiss. He was also glad to see that two dozen house-elves had come up from the kitchen and were standing in a group along the wall.

There were speeches from Shacklebolt, McGonagall, Firenze, Slughorn, and a short one from Kreacher, who kept his hand on the locket while he spoke. There were several moments of silence, the last one accompanied by the tolling of the school bell fifty-four times, once for each person killed during the battle. When the final stroke sounded, the black curtain behind the platform rose to reveal a large, dark-gray memorial tablet, about fifteen feet square, attached to the back wall, holding the names in brass letters of the dead. Next to each name were their year of birth and the year of their death: 1998. Above it was the seal of Hogwarts, and at each corner of the tablet was the coat of arms of one of the founders.

Harry rejoined Ginny when the ceremony was over; she was standing with Ron and Hermione, and they—or at least Ginny and Ron—were discussing Quidditch. They stopped when Harry arrived, and he said, quietly, "I found out something I need to tell you. Let's go outside." They made their way into the entrance hall, exchanging greetings with others along the way, and walked outside and a few yards down the lawn. No one else was near, and Harry told them what Kingsley had said.

"So why didn't they arrest them as soon as they came back?" Ginny asked. "Unless they still don't know where they are?"

"They probably don't," said Ron. "From what I've heard, Kingsley is swamped with running the Ministry and the Law Enforcement office. He's trying to find someone to take it from him, but, in case you hadn't noticed, all the best candidates are dead—Moody, Tonks, Scrimgeour, Amelia Bones. He wants to keep Saliyah as Head Auror to make sure that office stays up to snuff."

Hermione frowned. "So things are slipping out of control."

"Yes, I think that's what's happening. If it comes down to it, I suppose he'll promote Saliyah, but then he'd have to fill her job."

"Merlin, you don't think he'd give it to Pester, do you?" Ginny asked.

"Everyone would resign if he did that. Why do you think he sent the blighter up here?"

"Wait a minute," Harry said, "are you telling us that he sent Pester up here just to get rid of him?"

"No, no." Ron waved his hand. "McGonagall asked for help, and Kingsley saw a chance to keep the peace in the Auror Office and satisfy her at the same time." He grinned. "Shacklebolt's no slouch as a politician. He survived both Fudge and Scrimgeour even though both of them suspected he was in the Order. He's pretty slick. I really like him."

"So everyone in the Ministry hates Pester," Ginny mused. "I'd feel sorry for him if I didn't feel sorrier for myself for having to take his class."

"Okay," Harry said, "but what about the Death Eaters. If no one knows where they are, then they could be in Hogsmeade just as easily as anywhere else."

"That's what I think," said Hermione. "Harry, you need to be careful. They're powerless to do any real damage, except for an act of revenge. You've said that you think someone's out to make your life miserable. I think that's exactly what's happening."

"Revenge?" Ginny looked at Harry in alarm, but Harry shrugged.

"I've protected the inn as best I can, and I'm not going to stop doing what I want, especially after everything I went through last year." He looked at Ginny. "And what I want is to be here."

"I want you to be here too."

"I have another question," Ron put in. "What about the toad?"

"That is a good question," Hermione said. "It almost sounds like she's directing the whole thing from France while the others come back to do the dirty work."

"As far as I'm concerned, " said Harry, "the only questions are, what is the dirty work, who's doing it, and what will their next move be?"

After a moment while they all considered this, Hermione spoke. "I don't think anyone can say. If they can't directly attack the inn itself, it could be anything."

"You're right," Harry agreed. "And since there's nothing to be done, let's go eat."

They trooped back into the Great Hall. The four tables were set up again and were becoming crowded as students, parents, and other visitors sat down for lunch. Ginny saw Emma and Claire sitting between two Muggles, obviously their parents. The twins both waved, then spoke to the Muggles who turned and nodded to Ginny. They continued to look towards her, but after a moment Ginny realized that they were staring at Ron. He already had five empty serving dishes in front of him, and was reaching across Hermione for another; his prodigious appetite must be a wonder even in the Muggle world.

The four finished eating and left the Great Hall. Ginny had begun to grow nervous about both the tryouts and Harry's state of mind; he hadn't said anything about going back to Hogsmeade, and he seemed quiet. She told herself that his mood could have been caused by his conversation with the Minister, but just to be certain, she pulled him aside while they were standing inside the great oak doors, and asked him how he was doing.

"I'm fine," he assured her. "I'll go help Stan get ready for the dinner crowd. Do you still want to go into London tonight?"

"Yes, I do. Have you mentioned it to Ron yet?"

"Yeah, and he said they found a great Muggle restaurant that they want to take us to. When do you think you'll be done with the tryouts?"

'I'll be back by five." Then she smiled. "I'll be back home by five."

"Good." He kissed her. "I'll be waiting." He waved at Ron and Hermione as he passed them and went quickly out the doors and down the drive.

Ron watched him and turned to Ginny. "Where is he going? Doesn't he want to see the tryouts?"

Ginny hesitated. "Um . . . no. He has things to do at the inn. I told him I'd be back by five."

Hermione looked at her questioningly. "Harry doesn't want to watch Quidditch? That doesn't sound like him."

"Well, that's what he wants. I have to go change and get my broom. What are you going to do?" She looked at both Ron and Hermione.

"I thought we'd watch the tryouts," said Ron. "You didn't say anything about closing them."

Ginny didn't like this. She didn't want to have another argument about the tryouts, this time with Ron, but Harry was bound to find out if Ron was there. At the same time, she saw no reason to keep Ron out; she would not be intimidated by Ron's presence like she would by Harry's. The only reason for barring Ron was because Harry might be upset.

"They aren't closed," she replied. "Just keep your opinions to yourself, got it?"

"Got it," Ron laughed. "I don't want to end up on the same list as Turquoise."

"I'm sure you don't. I'll see you down there." Ginny didn't smile or laugh, but turned and walked away. Hermione watched her go up the stairs.

"That was a little odd," she said to Ron. "I think they had a disagreement about something."

"About what? Harry's not the captain any more. He knows that."

"Ginny may be insecure about her position. She seemed a little defensive."

"That's impossible. She's never been defensive about anything in her life."

Hermione laughed. "Okay, big brother, if you say so. Let's go watch the tryouts. Maybe I'll Confund someone again."

"Oho! It finally comes out. You had the hots for me even then."

"In your dreams, Weasley," Hermione laughed again; she took his arm and they walked down to the Quidditch pitch.

Half of the Gryffindor students were in the stands when Ginny walked out onto the pitch, and the other half were gathered in a crowd near the center circle with their broomsticks. She stood in front of them and looked them over.

The first ones she noticed were Emma and Claire; they were holding fifteen-year-old Comet models that they must have dug up from a forgotten broom cupboard somewhere. Ginny wondered if they had even had any flying lessons yet. Two other first-years also looked nervously back at her. Dennis Creevey was bright-eyed and hyper, bouncing on the balls of his feet, anxious to begin. The rest, except for the veterans, stood in a cluster with uncertain looks, and Ginny hoped fervently that at least a handful of them could challenge the likes of Ritchie Coote and Jack Sloper.

"All right!" she said in a loud voice, deliberately glaring at them. "We have work to do. First, I want everyone to shut up." She glowered at Jimmy Peakes who was whispering to his fifth-year girlfriend, Cindy Snow; he stopped talking and looked at Ginny.

"Sorry," he said. "Go ahead."

"Thank you, Jimmy," Ginny growled, "I appreciate having your permission. Now listen, everyone." She looked around the group. "This team has lost a lot of talent over the past two years. Last year was a waste for the whole school, so every House team has problems this year. Gryffindor was the best team in the school when—" She stopped; she hadn't meant to say that Harry had made it the best team, even though it was true. They needed to move past him, past having an unstoppable Seeker.

"We were the best for six years," she continued, "but it'll be a challenge to keep it up. This is my last year, and I really want to keep the Quidditch Cup in Professor McGonagall's office."

People stirred and shifted. Emma and Claire smiled at her, and Dennis's bouncing became so vigorous that Demelza Robins had to put her hand on his shoulder to keep him in place.

Ginny raised her Firebolt over her head. "First-years, I want you to mount your brooms and circle the pitch. Everyone else, sit."

To Ginny's surprise, the twins weren't bad. They wobbled and had trouble turning so that they tended to bump into each other and the other first-years, Tommy Sobolow and Brian Hancock, but they managed to stay in the air for a complete—if slow—circuit of the pitch. Ginny thought there was a future for them on the team, but not this year. She thanked them and they left the pitch in good humor, and joined the rest of the House in the stands.

The tryouts for the Beaters went well. Jimmy and Will Reynolds—a sixth-year—beat out Ritchie, Jack and Andrew Kirke, the only Beaters who also had experience; a half-dozen rookies were completely inept, and Ginny wondered what such a shallow talent pool augured for next year's team. But those worries were swept aside by worse ones when the Chasers took to their brooms against the lone tryout for Keeper, Dennis Creevey.

Demelza was a better than average Chaser, and she was clearly the best of the lot. But even the others had no trouble scoring against Dennis. He knew nothing about playing Keeper, and even though he was quick, he was never in position, and on the few occasions he guessed right, the Quaffle always passed just out of his short reach. The thought briefly occurred to Ginny that she might have to play Keeper. After she picked Frances Spangler—a fourth-year—and Meeta Bharathi—a sixth-year—as the other Chasers, she called a break and walked over to Ron and Hermione, who were sitting in the first row of the stands near the announcer's box.

"We have a problem." Ginny leaned on the railing and looked back at the teammates she had selected; they and Dennis were sitting on the grass in the middle of the pitch comparing brooms. "Did you see Dennis? The only thing I can say for him is that he's not throwing up like you used to do."

"I could give him some pointers if you want," said Ron. "His big problem is that he's always out of position, and that's something that can be coached. Puking, however, cannot be coached."

"Ha, ha, very funny." Ginny felt a tightening in her gut. She wanted to say yes, she knew that she should say yes, but she knew that it would hurt Harry. She thought for a moment, and again made a quick decision. "I don't think I have a choice. Unless someone else wants it, he's our Keeper, and if he can't play any better than that, we're dead."

"No, you're not," said Hermione. "You're the best Seeker in the school. If you catch the Snitch every time, you'll win all your matches."

"Not if they score twenty goals against us first," Ginny grunted. "Oi, Dennis!" she yelled. He looked up and she waved to him. "Over here!"

"I know I can do better," he said when came over, and before Ginny could speak. "It's a lot faster than I thought. I just have to get used to it."

"You need to anticipate where the shot's going," said Ron. "If you—"

"Ron's going to coach you," Ginny interrupted, scowling at her brother. "You don't have a problem with that, do you?" Dennis shook his head, and Ginny turned to Ron. "How often could you come up here?"

"I can be here almost every weekend. We were more or less expecting to be here, or you and Harry being down with us on weekends, so I can spend an hour or so at the pitch without changing any plans."

"And if I have something that I need to do," Hermione added, "I can just join you all later."

Ginny looked at Dennis. "If that's all right with you, then you are the Keeper, but you have to be available for Ron when it's convenient for him. Okay?"

Dennis nodded enthusiastically. "Okay! Thanks!" he pumped Ginny's hand and Ron's, and ran off the pitch waving his broom over his head.

Ginny put her hand on Ron's, which was resting on the railing. "Thanks, Ron, I appreciate this." Hermione looked at her closely, but didn't say anything, and Ginny walked back out to the team. They scrambled to their feet.

"Dennis is Keeper," she said; they glanced at each other and Jimmy scowled. Ginny ignored it. "We don't have a choice, unless one of you wants to try out for it. And my brother Ron will coach him." They all looked a little relieved—even Jimmy. "I'll let you know about the first practice," Ginny said, and smiled. "I think we have a pretty solid team, especially if Dennis improves."

She walked with Ron and Hermione back to Hogsmeade, silently hoping that Harry would understand why she had asked Ron to help, but the closer they got to the inn, the more doubts she had about the wisdom of her decision. She could have asked for more people to try out for Keeper; she could have asked one of the players who had made the team to switch; she could have postponed the tryout for Keeper. But she had wanted to get it over with and push ahead, since the team would need as much work as it could get. So she had let herself be hurried along by Jimmy, and now she was afraid that, in her haste, she had made a bad decision. She was angry with herself for that, but it was now too late to change it.

Harry was sitting at the bar drinking Potio Vitae. Ron joined him, and before Ginny could say anything, he picked up a butterbeer and spoke.

"Well, mate, just in case I flunk out of Auror school, I've started my second career. You are looking at Gryffindor's Keeper coach."

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "Keeper coach? What do they need a Keeper coach for?" He looked at Ginny and back at Ron.

Ginny pushed between him and Ron. "Harry," she said quickly, "we need to talk. Let's go upstairs."

Harry got off his stool without a word and walked out of the dining room. Ginny followed, but not before seeing Hermione put her hand over Ron's mouth and Ron sputter in surprise.

Upstairs, Harry did not look at Ginny, but walked to the picture window, watching shadows of clouds moving across the hills in the distance. Ginny came and stood next to him.

"It's a nice view," Harry said.

Ginny took his arm and leaned her head against his shoulder. "Harry, I'm sorry. I probably did the wrong thing. Ron wanted to come to the tryout, and, well . . ." She chuckled. "It's not that hard for me to tell him to shut up if I have to, so I didn't see any reason to say no. And then Dennis was dreadful, and Ron offered to coach him, and I said yes. That's what happened."

Harry nodded without looking at her. "I understand." He turned to her. "I really do, Gin, and it's okay. It's just that . . ." He turned back to the view out the window. "Oh, for God's sake, there she is again."

Ginny looked out and saw Turquoise Southeby sauntering across the field towards the High Street; she looked, from a distance, like she was dressed for a big night in the village, wearing another short, tight dress with a low-cut bodice. Her long, blond hair fell in waves around her shoulders.

"If she's so bad off, where does she get all those clothes?" Ginny said. "That stuff doesn't look cheap, even if she does."

"The hell with her." Harry turned to Ginny. "Gin, I feel like I'm stuck in this place. I don't like being alone here. I want to be with you."

He looked out the window again, but Ginny turned him to face her, and she saw the frustration in his eyes. She put her hand on his cheek.

"Love, I'm sorry. I want us to be together all the time too. All week I thought about being here with you." She took his face in her hands. "I love you. You're the most important thing in my life."

He looked down at the floor. "I dread Sunday night."

"Harry, I can't stay. I'll get detention, and if I do it again, they might take the team away from me."

"I know." He took her and gently rubbed her back. "It's my problem. I'm sorry for ruining your weekend and your tryouts."

"You didn't ruin anything." She pushed away and looked at him fiercely. "Don't say that! The tryouts went okay, and we'll be together tonight and all of tomorrow." She smiled. "I only have a little homework, so we can be lazy all day."

"That sounds nice." He pulled her back and did things with his hands as he kissed her.

"Harry," she gave a little moan, "Ron and Hermione are waiting for us."

"That's right."

They were back downstairs in half an hour. Hermione observed them as they sat at the table with her and Ron. "All set for an evening on the town?"

"I'm up for anything," said Harry, leaning back and putting his arm on the back of Ginny's chair. She turned a slight shade of pink and closed her mouth to suppress a giggle.