Harry did not expect Lupin to be a more challenging opponent than Sirius. Lupin had always been reserved and calm when he taught at Hogwarts; Harry anticipated that Lupin's demeanor would manifest itself in his dueling style as timidity and, therefore, vulnerability.

When Sirius reenervated Harry four the third time in under ten minutes, Harry was forced to re-think his initial assessment.

"What are you doing wrong?" Lupin asked. He was standing in the center of the room, hardly having broken a sweat. Sirius, meanwhile, was backing away toward the wall, giving Lupin and Harry room to resume their duels.

"Besides losing?" Harry said as he pushed himself to his feet.

"More specifically than that, yes," Lupin said. He was grinning; clearly he enjoyed dueling.

"Every time I try to change tactics, it gives you an opening to counter-attack," Harry said.

"Then why are you changing tactics?" Lupin asked.

"Because I can't get through that bloody shield of yours, otherwise," Harry said. Lupin's dueling style reminded Harry a little of Theo, but Lupin was even more conservative. Lupin refused to attack, and instead was content to rest behind a series of powerful shields. Harry's normal barrage of stunners, disarming charms and disruptive jinxes were completely ineffective, and nothing came close to breaching Lupin's defenses. And when Harry tried a different approach, reaching deeper into his repertoire of spells or changing his tactics, that was when Lupin struck. The older wizard shifted from impenetrable defense to unrestrained aggression; it had caught Harry completely caught off guard in their first duel, and he was defeated easily. In the next two duels, Harry was waiting for Lupin's tactical shift, but even then he was overwhelmed.

"Did you use a full-body bind in that last sequence?" Lupin asked.

"I was trying to figure out whether you were shielding yourself, or using counter-curses and anti-jinxes," Harry said defensively. "It was a reasonable spell."

"Why didn't you try something more… aggressive?"

Harry narrowed his eyes a little. "What do you mean?"

Lupin's face was full of concern when he spoke. "Disarming charms and stunning spells form the basis of good dueling technique, certainly, but not every duel can be won that way. I know you might be reluctant to duel at full strength, Harry, especially after what happened last year at the tournament…"

"You think I'm holding back?" Harry said.

"I know you are," Lupin said. "I know that everybody at Hogwarts teaches themselves spells outside of class. Boys gravitate toward combat spells and dueling spells, especially those who have been sorted into Slytherin. Am I right?"

Harry said nothing, but grinned a little. "Maybe."

"I thought so," said Lupin. "Show me everything you know in our next duel."

"Why are you encouraging this?" Harry said, suddenly suspicious. This seemed like something Sirius might do, but not Lupin, not a former Hogwarts professor, not somebody who was close enough to Dumbledore to be sent as an ambassador to speak with England's werewolves.

"Remus and I are concerned about you," Sirius said. He was leaning against a bookcase, now, with his arms folded. "Death Eaters aren't openly attacking now, but that won't be true forever. When the first attack comes, we'll have no way of anticipating it. You'll need to be ready."

"And I can't tell if you're ready to defend yourself if you won't show me what spells you know," Lupin said.

"And you're sure about this?" Harry asked. "Some of them are dangerous."

"After our last three duels, you doubt my ability to defend myself?"

"Good point," Harry said. He raised his wand to signal his readiness, and Lupin did the same. Harry waited only a heartbeat before firing his first spells.

"Incendio! Incendio!" A pair of fireballs blasted out of Harry's wand, the first aimed high at Lupin's head, the second lower, near his knees. Lupin produced a shield, and the fireballs splashed harmlessly against it, disappearing after a brief burst of flame.

Harry used the cover of the exploding fireballs to drift to his right. His next spell was a non-verbal bludgeoning curse, aimed high at Lupin's head. A knock on the skull would disable Lupin just as easily as a stunner. And, in case it didn't, Harry fired a pair of disarming charms and a non-verbal detonating charm.

Lupin had anticipated that Harry would use the fire for cover, however, and had also begun to move. The bludgeoning curse passed harmlessly over his shoulder, and he deflected the disarming charm, as Harry's remaining spell was off-target.

Harry's blasting charm passed by Lupin and struck the bookcase behind him. The explosion threw Lupin off-balance, and Harry pressed his advantage, firing stunners and disarming charms. Lupin desperately conjured a shield, and managed to prevent Harry's spells from striking home. Harry stepped forward, ready to fire again…

…and then Lupin was on the attack. Harry deflected one charm, then another. Lupin cast his spells without speaking, which meant that Harry quite sure what Lupin was using to attack. Using a shield would be risky; if it was ineffective against a particular spell, then the duel would be over. Harry relied instead on his reflexes, deflecting spells this way and that, dodging to one side or the other when he couldn't manage a deflection.

Then Harry was struck heavily in the back. As he tumbled forward, shocked, he saw the bright red flash of Lupin's stunner, then blackness.

Sirius reenervated Harry for a fourth time.

"What was that?" Harry asked, as soon as he regained consciousness.

"A summoning charm," Lupin said. "Your use of a detonating charm was excellent; it anticipated that I would dodge the spell instead of deflecting it. I used your own tactic against you."

Harry glanced toward the floor; an enormous, leather-bound book the size of Harry's torso was lying on the ground a few feet away. "I should have expected that," Harry said.

"Probably. But that was a much better duel. For a wizard your age, you're remarkably advanced."

"For a wizard my age," Harry said, bitterly emphasizing the words.

"Don't let that discourage you, Harry," Sirius said. "It's a compliment."

"It's just another way of saying I'm not good enough," Harry said. He turned to Lupin. "Let's go again."

"That's the spirit," Lupin said. "But if you want to take a break, we can. Dueling at full strength can be exhausting."

Harry shook his head. "I'm fine."

"Really, Harry, it's nothing to be ashamed of…"

"I'm fine," Harry said vehemently. "I… I need you two to keep this a secret, though." He looked from Lupin to Sirius, and when neither said anything, Harry continued. "Just now… I still wasn't dueling at full strength."

Lupin exchanged a skeptical look with Sirius. "If that wasn't your full power, I'm curious to see what is," Lupin said.

Harry was a little offended that Lupin didn't believe him. It wasn't surprising, though, all things considered. Lupin already thought that Harry was an excellent duelist for his age, and now Harry was claiming to be stronger. It seemed that Harry would simply have to show them.

Harry hadn't planned on making this sort of display. His trance was a secret, and he had kept it a secret for a very good reason: the fewer people knew about it, the fewer people could betray him to Voldemort. The tournament had made Draco privy to every other advantage that might once have had over the Dark Lord, and Harry had no doubt that the information had made its way from Draco to Lucius to Voldemort. The trance, though… that was something that nobody else knew. Yes, Harry had once mentioned the idea to Snape, but it was a passing comment, and Harry was certain that Snape had forgotten by now.

But Lupin and Sirius were worthy of his trust. They had arranged to train with Harry in secret, and they were looking out for Harry's best interests. They cared for him—they only wanted to know that he was safe. And if showing them his true power could reassure them, then Harry was going to do it.

Harry took a deep breath and looked down at the ground. He thought of Umbridge, banning him from quidditch; he thought of Pettigrew, murdering Cedric Diggory before his eyes; he thought of Lucius Malfoy, obsequiously assuring Voldemort that Harry had never been anything more than a pawn… and he slipped into his emerald trance.

Harry looked at Lupin, seeing his teacher through a sea of green. He raised his wand. "Are you certain you're ready?"

To his credit, Lupin treated the duel seriously. "I am."

Harry flicked his wand forward. "Stupefy!" Harry took care to snap his wrist and enunciate the spell; he wanted to make sure his stunner was as powerful as it could possibly get. Lupin and Sirius wanted to see Harry's full power… and Harry was curious to see it, as well.

The stunner sizzled across the room, and Lupin barely managed to raise his shield in time to stop the charm. Surprisingly, however, the stunner did not disperse or deflect off of Lupin's shield; instead, the red bolt of energy hovered in the air, forcing itself against Lupin's shield, crackling and snapping with energy as it tried to drive its way through. Lupin's shield charm began to turn milky white, starting at the point of contact with the stunner but rapidly radiating outward. Harry had only a few moments to see the surprise on Lupin's face before the shield clouded over completely.

Suddenly, the shield disappeared as Lupin leaped aside. The stunner, energy still unspent, flashed through the space that Lupin had just vacated. Harry's spell struck the wall behind Lupin and left a scorch mark almost as large as the hole Harry had created with his detonating charm.

By some unspoken agreement, both Harry and Lupin abandoned their duel. Harry released his Emerald Trance and the room returned to its normal color. He began to walk toward the scorch mark, slowly, hypnotized by its size. Lupin and Sirius joined Harry quickly.

"Nice bit of work there," Sirius said.

"I've never seen that sort of power behind a stunner before," Lupin said quietly.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked. He had known that his trance made him powerful, but… certainly Lupin had seen more powerful stunners in his lifetime. He'd fought in the first war against Voldemort, alongside and against some of the most powerful wizards alive.

"I mean that I'm glad that you decided to use a stunner," Lupin said, "and not a combustion curse." He reached out and touched the scorch mark on the wall, and soot smeared onto the tips of his fingers. "How long have you been able to do this, Harry?"

"I've only learned to control my power in the last few months," Harry said. "And I've never dueled somebody at my full power."

"Does anybody else know?" Lupin asked.

Harry shook his head. "Of course not."

"Keep it that way," Lupin said. "If word got out that you had this sort of power… with the things the Prophet has been publishing about you, the fact that you're a parselmouth…"

"I understand," Harry said. It was part of the reason he hadn't told anybody about his power.

"We should tell Dumbledore," Lupin said to Sirius.

"No," Harry said immediately. "This stays between us. Moody thinks I'm a threat to Dumbledore because of my dream about Mr. Weasley. If Moody even gets a sniff of this, he'll do everything he can to keep me away from Dumbledore. I think he'd even keep me out of Hogwarts."

"That would be Dumbledore's decision, though," Sirius said. "Not Mad-Eye's."

"If Mad-Eye wanted me out of school, he could do it," Harry said. "All it would take was one small word to Rita Skeeter, and poof, I'd be expelled." Harry looked back and forth from Lupin to Sirius. "Please. If I'm attacked, I want the element of surprise to be on my side."

"You've got me convinced," Sirius said. "What about you, Moony?"

Lupin was frowning. "Harry… Keeping secrets from Dumbledore has cost your family dearly. If Dumbledore had been selected as your parents' Secret Keeper, or if he had known about Peter's selection, or if I had told Dumbledore about Peter's animagus transformation… a lot of sorrow and hurt could have been avoided."

"I don't think my ability to cast a powerful stunner is putting us at risk," Harry said. "And I don't think telling Dumbledore about it would unlock his understanding of a vast, undiscovered mystery. These lessons started as a secret, so let's keep them that way."

Lupin sighed. "Very well. I won't tell Dumbledore. But," Lupin added, "I reserve the right to change my mind. I won't keep a secret if it's hurting the Order."

Harry nodded, recognizing that this was the best he was going to get from his former teacher. It would have to do, for now.

*!*!*!*!*

Lupin and Harry dueled for another half hour before the older man called an end to their practice session. Harry tried dueling with both his full repertoire of spells and the full power of his trance, but never both at once. By the end, Harry could see that Lupin was nearing exhaustion. Harry wasn't feeling any ill effects from the extended dueling session, and he wondered if increased endurance was another side effect of his trance.

It was mid-afternoon by the time Lupin said his goodbyes and left, promising to return within the next few days to begin moving into Grimmauld Place. Harry washed up for dinner, while Sirius set off to scream at Kreacher until the ill-behaved house elf produced something edible for their evening meal. Ginny Weasley briefly poked her head through the fireplace to tell Harry and Sirius that the Weasleys would be late, and that the two boys should eat without them. Sirius took issue with being called a boy, but Ginny's head had already disappeared by the time that Sirius was able to raise his voice in protest.

Dinner was a quieter affair than it had been in several days, owing mostly to the absence of the Weasleys. Sirius took full advantage of the quiet time, regaling Harry with tales of Christmases past, spent with Harry's father and mother at their house in Godric's Hollow. "The last Christmas we spent there," Sirius said, "that was when your mother announced that she was pregnant with you. We turned it into a real blowout—your father and I got to the bottom of a bottle of firewhiskey, and Remus had the music turned up so loud on the wireless that the neighbors came over and complained."

When Sirius finally ran out of steam with his stories, he and Harry retired to their bedrooms for the night. Once he had changed into his pajamas, Harry lay down atop his bed and began to page through the book that Hermione had gotten him for Christmas. Some of the defensive charms seemed to be dead useful, certainly worth teaching to the D.A. at some point this semester. Despite that, Harry's eyes kept drifting toward the books Tracey had gotten him. Unable to resist, he grabbed Get That Witch and began to read.

Harry was reading about self-effacement when he heard voices downstairs: the Weasleys had returned from the hospital. The sounds of distant commotion echoed through Grimmauld Place as they knocked about in the kitchen, probably fashioning some approximation of a late dinner. Harry continued to read, half-paying attention to the voices that slowly began to drift upward toward the bedrooms—Fred and George, sounding like a man having a conversation with himself, footsteps almost perfectly in unison; Ron making monosyllabic comments as Hermione spoke rapidly about something only she found interesting; Mrs. Weasley clucking protectively about something and Ginny, slightly annoyed, reassuring her mother.

It was nice having the noise in Grimmauld Place. Harry enjoyed his time with Sirius, but when only the two of them were around, it was apparent that the house was equal parts safehouse and prison. Harry was becoming stir crazy after only a few hours; he couldn't imagine how desperate his godfather was to get out of the house.

Harry continued to page through his book as the Weasleys went about getting ready for bed, and soon the house was once again quiet. Harry glanced at the clock—it was almost ten thirty—and thought that he, too, should be settling down to sleep.

There was a quiet knock on Harry's door.

"Just a second," Harry said loudly. It was probably Sirius come to say goodnight, or Hermione wanting to talk about something that had happened at the hospital, but didn't want to be caught reading Get That Witch by anybody in this household. Harry grabbed Hermione's book and tucked Get That Witch inside, using the larger book of spells to conceal the smaller book of advice. Settling back on his bed, Harry tried to look casual. "Come in," Harry said.

The door opened, and Harry eyes rose as Ginny stepped inside. Of all the people who could have been visiting his room this late at night, Harry would have thought that Ginny was the least likely. She was wearing pajamas with a button-up top, and they were slightly too short at the wrists and elbows.

"I saw that your light was on under the door," Ginny said. "I hope I didn't wake you."

"No, I was just reading," Harry said, lifting his book into the air, turning it slightly so that Ginny could see the title. Harry surreptitiously glanced at the chapter subject—shields and their variations—in case Ginny asked what he had been reading about. "How's your dad?"

"He's doing as well as can be expected," Ginny said. She reached across her body with one hand, and rubbed it up and down her other arm. "The healers still haven't been able to close his wounds or get them to start healing, but he's not in any immediate danger."

"That's better than nothing, I guess," Harry said.

"Anyway, I wanted to thank you for the record player," Ginny said. "I listened to a bunch of the records with my dad today, and it really seemed to improve his mood. He almost started singing along when I played 'She Loves You,' and I had to start talking really loudly so that my mum wouldn't notice."

"Good," Harry said with a smile. "I'm glad to hear that." Harry realized that Ginny was still standing in his doorway, looking as awkward as the current pause in their conversation. Harry recalled his discussion with Dumbledore earlier in the week, and suddenly decided to try fostering his friendship with Ginny, like the older wizard had suggested. "Do you want to sit down?" Harry said, gesturing toward the chair near the end of his bed.

"Thanks," Ginny said. She crossed the room and sat down, tucking her feet underneath her as she sat. "I've never seen a record player like that before—where did you find it?"

"Oh, I knew somebody who knew somebody," Harry said.

"Really? Muggle born and muggle raised, and you knew somebody who could produce a magically powered record player?"

Harry shrugged noncommittally. "So maybe I put a little effort into it. It was worth it to make sure that you got the right gift."

"And I got you a lousy pair of mittens," Ginny grumbled.

"Not lousy," Harry said. "They look quite warm."

"They look quite misshapen," Ginny said, correcting Harry. "My mother is good at knitting charms, but I don't have the same talent."

"That's the good thing about mittens, though," Harry said. "Nobody would ever call them shapely, not even at their best."

"I still feel like my gift was horrible and inadequate," Ginny said. "I want to make it up to you, somehow."

"You don't have to do that," Harry said. "Nobody's keeping score."

"I am."

Harry grinned. "Then you're doing a terrible job of it. I got you the record player to thank you for being such a good friend this year. And trust me, I know something about bad friends."

"So I'm a better friend than Draco Malfoy? Such high praise…"

"I really mean it, though," Harry said. "I'm not the easiest person to be friends with. I attract a lot of trouble, and I can be…

"Moody? A jerk? Easily angered?" When Harry gave Ginny a cross look, she shrugged. "Those were just a few things that came to mind. I'm sure I could think of more, if you gave me a little time."

"No, that was enough," Harry said. "I can be a bit of a jerk, then. I certainly was last year, when it came to you and me and Yule Ball. But you gave me a second chance at a time when I really needed support. That means a lot to me, and I wanted to thank you for it. That's why I got you the record player."

"Well, when you put it that way, I guess you did need to get me the perfect gift," Ginny said with a smile. "In fact, we might not be even, yet. You might still owe me…"

"Let's just call this the last stage of the world's longest apology," Harry said. "Friends?"

"Friends," Ginny agreed. "And now, as a friend, I need your help with something."

"Sure, what is it?" Harry's interest was piqued. Why would Ginny ask him, as opposed to Hermione, or any of her brothers?

"I've been thinking about the night that my dad got hurt," Ginny said. "Professor McGonagall came and got me and my brothers, and brought us to Dumbledore's office. You and Snape were already there when we arrived." Uh-oh. Harry could see where this was going. As Ginny spoke, Harry began to dread her eventual question. "There was no reason for Dumbledore to wake up you and Snape when it was my dad was attacked. Even if Dumbledore did send for you, there's no way that you could have made it up from the dungeons before we came down from the tower. And, to top it all off, nobody has ever told me how Dumbledore knew that my dad had been hurt, when my dad was off on a mission for the Order." Ginny had turned fully toward Harry, now, and was facing him directly. "So why were you in Dumbledore's office, Harry?"

"I… er…" Harry's first instinct was to lie—the fact that he and Voldemort shared some sort of mysterious connection was not a fact that Harry wanted widely advertised. But Harry once again recalled his conversation with Dumbledore at the hospital—Dumbledore had told Harry that he could trust Ginny with anything. It was almost as if Dumbledore had anticipated this exact conversation. And, if he had, Dumbledore was practically ordering Harry to be honest with Ginny. "I had a dream," Harry said, finally. "About your dad. I saw what happened, so I woke up and told Snape. Snape took me to Dumbledore, and you pretty much know the rest."

"You saw it in a dream?" Ginny asked skeptically. "Like, a vision? Divination?"

"No, not like that," Harry said. "I'm only calling it a dream because it happened while I was asleep. But it wasn't a dream—I literally watched it happen, when it happened."

"And you didn't tell anybody you could do this?" Ginny asked. Harry shook his head. "Doesn't sound like you," Ginny said. "I've seen you when you do something impressive. You're usually looking around, making sure that people are noticing how great you are."

"Well, I'm not that impressed by this," Harry said, slightly irritated.

"I'm just…" Ginny huffed. "I'm trying to thank you, okay? If it weren't for you, the last time I would have ever seen my daddy would have been three months ago when he dropped me off at King's Cross Station. I wouldn't have even known it." Ginny stopped and sniffed mightily, rubbing her fist across her face, wiping at her nose and her tears. "Shite."

"I'm sorry," Harry said. "I don't mean to be cross. But these visions, they aren't good. Even the vision of your father… yes, it saved his life, but if we had been a few minutes slower, it would have just been a vision of your father being killed."

Ginny nodded in understanding. "Does anybody know how you can see these things?"

"Dumbledore says that Voldemort and I are magically connected, so sometimes I can see what he's seeing."

"That's… horrible."

Harry shrugged. "It's better than the alternative. Moody thinks that Voldemort has been possessing me."

Ginny was silent for a long moment. "Can you remember everything you've been doing? Have you been blacking out, or losing periods of time?" Harry nodded at the first question, and shook his head at the second. "Have you been waking up places and not knowing how you got there? Are there big blank periods where you don't know what you've been up to?"

"No," Harry said. "None of that."

"Then I don't think that You-Know-Who has been possessing you."

Harry almost fired off a snappy retort—And you're an authority on the subject?—but was able to stop himself. Ginny was an authority on the subject; she was the only person he knew who had actually been possessed by Voldemort.

"Is that what it was like?" Harry asked quietly. "I'd almost forgotten that… you know…"

"Lucky you," Ginny said bitterly. "I lost hours at a time. I couldn't remember where I had been or what I had been doing. Once, I woke up covered in blood and feathers." Ginny paused and looked at Harry. "Have you recently woken up covered in blood and feathers?"

In spite of himself, Harry laughed. "No."

"Then I don't think You-Know-Who has been possessing you," Ginny said firmly.

"Thanks," Harry said. "That actually makes me feel a lot better."

"Good. Maybe now you can sleep at night."

"Who says I haven't been sleeping?" Harry said, feigning nonchalance.

"The light under your door at night," Ginny said. "And the dark circles under your eyes."

"I'm not afraid to go to sleep," Harry said quickly, and Ginny raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I'm not," Harry repeated.

Ginny folded her arms, and her eyebrow arched even farther upward.

"Okay, fine, so maybe I haven't been sleeping well," Harry said. "But that doesn't mean I'm afraid to sleep."

"You said the word afraid, not me," Ginny pointed out.

Ugh. Ginny was insufferable when she was right. "Well, wouldn't you be afraid?" Harry asked.

"I would be. And… I am," Ginny said. She looked away from Harry, and leaned forward. Her arms were no longer crossed in indignation, they were wrapped protectively around her body. "I have dreams about him, too. I can still hear him in my head. Tom. I can hear his voice, like he's standing right next to me, whispering in my ear." Ginny shuddered. "I dream about the things that he made me do. I don't remember them when I'm awake, but when I'm dreaming, I can see myself opening the Chamber. I can see myself giving orders to the basilisk. I can feel his power whenever I cast a spell. And when I wake up… I'm scared, Harry."

Harry scooted across his bed, closer to Ginny, and put a hand on her back. "The diary is gone, Ginny. I destroyed it. He'll never possess you again."

"That's not what I'm scared of," Ginny said. "What scares me is that I dream about that power… and I like it. I wake up, and for the first few seconds, I miss it. I miss that power."

Harry nodded with understanding. He felt exactly the same way when he released his trance. "I know what you mean," he said. "It's like you had the power to do anything you wanted, but now you're suddenly… average."

"Exactly," Ginny said. Then she looked up and met Harry's eyes.

"For one, I don't think you should be worried," Harry said. "It's natural to wish you were stronger. To wish that you could change the things that are wrong in the world."

Ginny shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe I should be worried. Maybe we should both be."

"So you've realized that you're a little more ambitious than you once thought. Trust me; I'm in Slytherin, I know how to recognize ambition." Harry forced a grin onto his face. "You would have done well in Slytherin. And I don't care what Pansy said at the beginning of last year—the green would have looked nice with your hair." Harry moved his hand up slightly, and tugged the tip of Ginny's hair playfully with his fingers.

Ginny pulled away and swatted at Harry's hand. "You are such a boy. It would look terrible."

"I never claimed to have an eye for color," Harry said.

"Obviously," Ginny said with a chuckle. "Do you ever wish you were in a different house? I mean, have you ever thought about it?"

"Well, things would be a lot easier if I had been sorted into Gryffindor, wouldn't they?" Harry asked. "None of this business with Draco, I wouldn't have to put defensive enchantments around my bed every night, the D.A. wouldn't hate me…"

"And I'd probably be dead," Ginny said. "Maybe both of us."

"What?"

"The Chamber of Secrets," Ginny said. "You convinced the basilisk not to attack by pointing out that you were a Slytherin that could speak parseltongue. The basilisk wouldn't attack one of its own. I can't imagine that working if you were a Gryffindor."

Harry nodded slowly. Ginny was right; he had no idea how he would have survived the basilisk if it weren't for being sorted into Slytherin.

"I guess it was for the best, then," Harry said.

"I guess so," Ginny said. "And since you're too blind to see that Slytherin green clashes with my hair, I might as well tell you that it looks very nice with your eyes."

Harry looked at Ginny, trying to make eye contact, but she had turned her face away. Harry could only see the corner of her jaw, but he could tell that she was blushing.

"It's getting late," Ginny said. She stretched her arms out and gave the worst excuse for a fake yawn that Harry had ever heard. "I should get to bed."

"You don't have to go," Harry said. "If you're worried about bad dreams, we might as well stay awake together."

Ginny turned and gave Harry a sly grin. "Harry Potter, are you trying to get me to spend the night in your bedroom?"

Harry felt his own face begin to flush. "You're the one who said it, not me."

"You're going to have to try harder than that," Ginny said, grin blossoming into a full smile. She stood and walked to the door of Harry's room. "I really enjoyed talking to you, Harry. Thank you again for the record player."

"Merry Christmas," Harry said.

"Merry Christmas," Ginny said. She stepped outside and closed the door behind her.

Harry flopped back on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. It was a shame that all of his best flirting with Ginny somehow happened when Neville Longbottom wasn't around to see it. But at least he knew that some of the advice from Get That Witch was worthwhile—the chapter on self-effacement had proved to be rather effective. And who ever said that flirting with Ginny was solely to cause Longbottom anguish, anyway?

For the first time in a week, Harry had pleasant dreams.

A/N: A very active toddler caused a delay in today's post. Sorry. Check back next Friday for a bonus chapter as an apology.