Lord Castlereagh's response to the accusations in The Quibbler was short, but intense. "Yes, I've read the thing," he'd replied in the Daily Prophet. "And no, I'm not worried. Need I remind you that Potter is a wanted man? He wants to evade justice, and this plot to get me out of the way is obviously a part of this. Don't be fooled by these tactics, and don't be surprised if more of his manipulations come your way. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a session with the Wizengamot to attend."
That was a week ago. And then a strange sense of normalcy descended over Grimmauld Place 12. Ginny's sick leave, or so she had called it to explain her absence to the others, ended, and she once again went to the Harpies for training. Harry and Lydia were forced to remain behind under the Fidelius Charm, and for good reason. The Floos of Luna, Ron and Hermione and The Burrow were now being monitored, or so Hermione told them. When they looked outside through the windows of the hallway, they saw an Auror stationed at the small square in front of the house. Harry was painfully reminded of the time of Voldemort, thinking back to his, Ron, and Hermione's stay at Grimmauld Place after Voldemort had taken over the Ministry. In that exact same spot used to stand a Death Eater. The only difference was that the square looked a lot more dilapidated back then. The area had been gentrified since then.
Lydia didn't show herself much outside of mealtimes and when Luna visited, and that left Harry to brood on his own. He slept poorly as well, often waking up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night. He felt for his left arm, but there was nothing there.
Ginny sensed his discomfort after almost a week, and when she got home on a Thursday, she sat Harry down across her at the dinner table.
"Right, tell me what's wrong," she said. "Your mind was a million miles away when I came home just now, and you've been awfully quiet as well these days."
Harry chewed on his tongue and squashed the initial urge to fib her off.
"I can't handle this," he admitted, and once those words were out he was committed to sharing his frustrations with Ginny. "I'm inside all day, Lydia never shows herself, and meanwhile Lord Castlereagh is reversing pretty much everything Kingsley and us had achieved over the past decade, and Yaxley is out there somewhere, doing God knows what. Hermione gets to sneak behind everyone's back and look for Damien's past, Ron gets to supply the protesters at Diagon Alley with things from the Wheezes shop at their next protest tomorrow, you're training for the match, Luna is collecting more background information on Lord Castlereagh, and I?" He took a breath and spread his arms. "I'm doing nothing! I can't even visit my own Godson who I haven't seen in a year and a half because he's at Hogwarts!"
Ginny didn't reply immediately, and he dropped his hands back on the table.
When the silence dragged on, Harry grew increasingly uncomfortable by her compassionate gaze.
"Harry–" she began.
"This is exactly what Sirius went through," Harry interrupted her.
Ginny opened her mouth, but then closed it again.
"But no one listened to him," he continued. "And he got more pent up and frustrated, and then came that fight at the Department of Ministries."
"He would have gone there either way," Ginny said softly. "He loved you, Harry, he was always going to come along."
"I know," Harry said, his throat constricting at the way she talked about him. "But… d'you think he would have been that careless if he hadn't been locked up for so long before it?"
"Are you saying you're going to do something stupid?" Ginny challenged.
"No!" he called. "Yes. Maybe… I don't know." He sighed and dropped his head in his hands. "I just… I've been locked up in here for not two weeks, and I'm already completely sick of it. Something big is coming, Ginny, and I can feel it. But I'm afraid that… well… I'm not the most careful person in the world, and…"
"Maybe not," Ginny said, the corners of her mouth twitching. "But I don't think it's going to come to a fight or anything like that," she continued. "We've got a plan for Lord Castlereagh, and if Yaxley stays put, we'll be able to let him be for now, and deal with him afterwards."
"Maybe," he reluctantly said. "I wish I had your confidence."
"Hmm. But you do trust me, don't you?"
"With my life," Harry replied readily.
Ginny's compassionate gaze disappeared and made way for a blazing look that Harry loved so much. They leaned across the table and their lips met. One of Ginny's hands snaked around his head and ran through his hair and he mirrored her movement, relishing the feel of her long red hair in his hand. It was awkward, leaning over so far to kiss her, and he wanted to feel more. He reluctantly tore his lips from hers and stood up, his chair almost toppling over behind him. He moved around the table in a few quick strides, but when he made to kiss Ginny again, she put a hand on his chest, stopping his advance.
"Harry," she began, and she took a step back. "There's something else that's bothering you, isn't there?"
Harry breathed out shakily and met her gaze. "I thought I gave plenty of reasons for me to be frustrated," he said.
"You did," she replied, her eyes boring into his. "But you're distracted as well as frustrated, and those two things are not the same. When we kiss and make love, it's almost like…"
"Like what?" Harry asked, feeling worried now. "I thought it was fine… great, even… erm, last night, that is."
"Oh, it was," she said, and they couldn't help but grin at each other. "But…" her grin faltered. "I don't know how to say it, really. You rub your left arm a lot. And that's where…"
"The Elder Wand used to be," Harry mumbled, ducking his head as he felt heat rush to his cheeks.
"And… well… You don't still have it, do you?"
Harry's head whipped up again. "What?" he exclaimed. "No! No, I don't have it anymore! How…" But he faltered. He wanted to ask her how she could think that of him, but then the shame of lying to her for months rushed back to him, and he could no longer finish the sentence. "It's… It's hard to explain," he said at a more subdued tone, once again looking down to inspect his feet.
"Then try," she said in a small voice.
Harry clenched his jaw as he thought back to the moments in the middle of the night when he woke up, expecting to feel the ice-cold weight of the Elder Wood touching his naked skin. He hooked his foot behind the chair that stood behind him and pulled it towards him. He sank down, his eyes still downcast.
"When I still had it," he began slowly. "I could feel it. It was cold and heavy. It felt like… you know when you have these moments where you can feel the blood rushing through you? When you're more aware than usual of the processes going on inside your body?"
"Yes."
"I felt something else as well at those moments," he said. "I felt the link of the Elder Wand, travelling through my arm…" He traced his index finger along his forearm, to his elbow, to his shoulder, and then to his chest. "… to here. It was part of me, well and truly, even though I was only rarely truly aware of it. And sometimes that feeling would be stronger. When I hadn't used it in a while, I would feel that link more strongly. And at some moments it was unbearable, it was so strong…"
He trailed off, thinking back to that moment in Belfast, when Lydia had turned her back to him and the toxic urge to hurt her had welled up inside him. He shook his head and looked up. Ginny had sat down as well and looked at him without blinking. He realised now that even though it had felt like he'd told her everything on the day he first woke up here, he'd still left out this bit about the effect the Elder Wand had on him. He briefly wondered what else was lost on him that day, but he forced that thought down for now.
"And now that you don't have that wand?" she asked softly.
"Only now do I know how… how present the thing really was," he said. "Now that the link is gone, I only feel much more intensely that it's not there." He swallowed and looked deep into her dark brown eyes. "I miss it," he whispered, his fists clenched as he forced the admission from him. "I can't imagine what would've happened if I'd actually used it as my normal wand. If I'd become truly addicted to it." He thought back to the heroin addict that had attacked him upon his arrival in Belfast, remembering the man's withered look, smell, the gurgling sound of his rotting breath…
"I can," Ginny spoke up, wrenching Harry from his recollection.
"What's that?"
"As soon as you… left," she said. "I started looking for things that could help me find you. And I found some books on the Elder Wand in the attic. I suppose the Black family dismissed them as useless fairy tales. One of them actually was a collection of tales, but, looking back on it, I suppose they were more true than everyone gave the author credit for, because the way he described the effects of the Wand on its users is eerily similar to what you described."
She took a deep breath and reached out to clasp his hand. "It turned people into monsters," she said, her thumb stroking the back of his hand. "People went mad because of it, one by one, until they couldn't live anymore. Then they would die, and the Wand would find a new person to latch onto." Her grip on his hand tightened. "I was so worried that it would do that to you as well," she continued. "But it didn't, Harry. It didn't get to you. You're stronger than that. We're stronger than that. So, whatever is left in there of the Wand, it won't get to you. It didn't before, and it won't now."
Harry breathed in shakily. He tugged their clasped hands towards him, pulling her into his lap, and he threw his arms around her.
"I love you," he whispered, burying his head into her hair.
"I love you too," she murmured.
As if it were a coordinated move, they turned to each other, and their lips met in a slow kiss. It was not needy or desperate as it was before, but tender, and Harry closed his eyes as he felt his heart wash over with emotion. He closed his arms tightly around her, running his hands over her back, revelling in the feeling of her pressed so close to his lips, chest, and groin, and marvelling at idea that she was here, she was real, and she wanted him.
They eventually remembered to move upstairs to their bedroom, where they wouldn't have the chance to be interrupted by Lydia.
The days went by at a sluggish pace and turned into weeks. News reached Grimmauld Place that the protests in Diagon Alley, that happened every Friday now, were steadily growing in size. Aurors hadn't intervened yet, nor had Lord Castlereagh said anything more on the matter, but that only increased Harry's nervousness. There were people in there who he went to Hogwarts with: Dean, Seamus, Lavender, Dennis Creevy, and many others. And they were joined by people who were sympathetic to either them or Harry Potter. "Potter for PM" was a common slogan written on the many protest signs as they walked up and down the long avenue, from the Leaky Cauldron to Gringotts, and then back again.
Someone – Harry had a strong suspicion that it was Dean – had come up with a logo that depicted the silhouette of the Minister as he was struck by lightning. One cold Monday morning, Diagon Alley had woken up to see that logo plastered on almost half the shopfronts. Aurors had removed the posters as soon as they were alerted to the situation, but not before news of the incident had spread around like wildfire.
The protesters had taken to handing out free copies of the interview with Harry all over the shopping street to passers-by. But shopkeepers quickly had enough of them and threatened to call the Aurors if they didn't leave. That was where George and Ron stepped in, and they welcomed the protesters to their front entrance at all times. It was hard to get inside the shop now, Ron had enthusiastically said to Harry, but that didn't matter, because the commotion attracted such a big crowd that it still brought many more visitors into the shop.
That conversation had happened on one of his regular visits to Grimmauld Place with updates on the situation outside. The fact that he started doing this the day after Harry had shared his frustrations with Ginny did raise Harry's suspicion, but he chose not to bring it up to her later. He had other ways of showing his appreciation.
"It's getting more chaotic out there," Ron had said on a Saturday afternoon four weeks after the interview had been published. He was slightly flushed and utterly failed in keeping a grin off his face as he settled in the chair across from Harry at the dining table. "If more people join next week, they'll block the whole road with their group! We figure that might be the point where the Aurors and Hit Wizards come in to restore order, so George had the idea to send them to Quidditch matches instead before that could happen. They liked that idea so much that they'll be at the Harpies tomorrow when they play Puddlemere!" Then his grin faltered. "You can't go, I suppose?"
"What do you think, Ron?" Harry asked despondently.
"Not even… you know, with the cloak?"
"Yaxley has the cloak."
"Oh… Right."
Harry felt a spark of irritation at his friend for forgetting about that, but it died down as quickly as it came when he realised how quiet the news had been around the fugitive Death Eater. Harry had all the time in the world to mull everything over until it drove him mad – Ron didn't.
"You noticed the lack of response from Lord Castlereagh as well, right?" Ron asked.
"Yeah, apart from his initial response to the interview in The Quibbler," Harry said.. "Strange, isn't it? I expected him to be a lot more aggressive."
"Me too. It worries me a bit. Kind of feels like we're waiting for something bad to happen, doesn't it?"
"Yeah," Harry said. He rapped his fingers on the wooden surface of the table. "Especially with the protests, you know. If something happens to them…"
"They know full well what the risks are," Ron said. "I've asked Dean and Seamus about this as well. They know the risks, they're prepared for things to turn grim, and they say that it won't stop them. How it pans out in reality, we'll have to see."
"I hope we won't have to," Harry murmured.
Hermione continued her search in the abandoned archives for Damien's past. She picked irregular times to do so and now and again skipped her lunch break to sneak off, but it was a sluggish process. She had found a few Auror documents referring to Belfast, particularly notes of arrests when they captured a gang member. She'd also found the decree of Barty Crouch, head of the DMLE at the time, giving Aurors free reign to do anything they deemed necessary to stop the violence and potion trading in the streets, in 1975. That was useful, because it marked the boundaries of her search. But references to Damien or anything related to him were not yet forthcoming.
And then came Sunday, and Ginny and the Harpies smashed Puddlemere United 320-70 in a resounding victory that left the commentators hoarse from their shouting. The already raucous mood inside the stadium reached fever pitch midway through the game, when the Harpies Ultras ("The Hags" they called themselves) unfurled a giant banner of the very same art piece that had been spread around all over Diagon Alley: the silhouette of Lord Castlereagh being struck by a lightning bolt. "Voldemort is dead – Let his ideals die with him", it said underneath it. The banner was met with some booing here and there, but that was quickly drowned out by loud cries of approval all throughout the stadium. The commentators desperately tried to ignore it in an attempt to keep the broadcast neutral, but were forced to abandon that when the ultras began chanting "Down with the Lords – Down with the pedestal – Listen to the hordes – Make Ministers electable!"
Harry, who had been listening rapturously along on the Wireless, wasn't adequately prepared when Ginny got home not too soon after the match, dumped her bag in the corridor and dragged him onto the couch, draping herself over him as she covered his face in kisses.
"Ginny–" Harry began, but he was silenced when she placed a finger on his lips. She lifted herself up, straddling him at the hips, and unceremoniously pulled her shirt off.
"I've got a great idea," she whispered. There was no bra underneath the shirt, and Harry's brain screeched to a halt.
"What's that?" he squeaked. He reached up to cup her breasts, but she slapped his approaching hands away and dragged him up by his shoulders to pull his own shirt of as well. His thoughts caught up to the adrenaline racing through his body once the shirt was halfway over his head, and he helped tear the thing from him faster.
"Ginny," he breathed. "What if Lydia walks in?"
"Wouldn't that be something?" she asked, her eyes twinkling. She bent over to kiss the tip of his nose, the she slipped off his lap, and she sunk to her knees on the floor. "Don't worry about that, love," she purred, her hands starting to work on his belt now. "Stand up."
Harry, guessing where this might be headed, shot up from the couch. She undid his belt and tore open the buttons of his fly, then yanked his trousers and boxers down in one forceful movement.
She wrapped a hand around his half-erect member and stroked it a few times as it hardened. A moan escaped his throat when she opened her mouth and licked the underside of his helmet. His hands shot to her hair, which was still wet from the shower after the game, and he brushed it behind her head as she closed her mouth around him.
"I agree," he grunted. She moved her head forward, her lips sliding further along his length. "This was a fantastic idea."
She pulled her mouth from him and looked up as she stroked him more quickly now. "It is, but I wasn't referring to this," she said, grinning up at him.
"Then what… oh God!" he moaned when she wrapped her lips around the tip of his member, silencing him before he could ask more.
He slowly drifted to bliss as she continued to pleasure him with her mouth. Eventually he stopped running his hands through her hair, and he pulled himself from her. She looked up at him, her lips slightly parted and saliva sticking to her chin. Lust rushed through him at the sight, and he bent over to pull her up.
"Your turn," he said, his voice husky. He spun them around and deposited her on the couch. Her pants were off in a frenzy of clammy hands (Harry briefly noticed that there was no underwear either) and he brought his lips to the small tuft of red hair, plastering the warm skin there in kisses. He ignored his screaming instincts for now, and instead of travelling down, he traced kisses upwards, up to her belly button, prolonging the moment of pleasured anticipation. Her belly moved jerkily when he arrived at a particular point underneath her button where she was sensitive.
"Get to it, Potter," she growled. Harry grinned against her skin. She never had the patience for this. He moved his hands up her legs and placed them around the sides of her hips as he went further down, towards her folds. Ginny's belly gave a jolt when he encountered her clitoris. He felt two hands on his scalp as he closed his lips around it.
"Harry," she breathed. Her nails dug into him, and the pain added to the swirling torrent of lust that coursed through him. He stuck out his tongue and gently flicked it against her. Her sweet taste entered his mouth. He heard her breath coming out in rasping pants, and her legs squirmed against him. "Yes," she panted, the sound turning into a drawn-out hiss.
He traced his hands against the delicious curve of her bum, and placed one at her entrance, rubbing his index finger against it as his other hand danced across as much naked skin as it could find.
He slipped a finger inside her, and her legs clenched more against him. He wanted nothing more than to get up off his knees and bury himself inside her, but the way she moaned in appreciation at his caresses and kisses was too intoxicating to stop. He gently pushed his finger inside her, and after a while of more teasing and licking, he pushed further inside, and then carefully curled his finger up. Ginny gasped more loudly, and her breathing quickened more and more, and he felt her growing wetter. He lapped it up with his tongue and continued teasing her as her gasps grew louder and more desperate. He added a second finger, and her hands, previously dancing across her skin, shot down to the couch, and she sank her fingers deep into the cushion.
"Don't stop," Ginny whispered, her squirming growing into jerking, trashing movements against him. "Don't stop!" He moved his eyes to look at her face as she clenched up, her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth half open as she froze, all muscles tensed. She tightened around his fingers, and he tasted more of her wetness as she spasmed against him, her hands pushing against the couch as an orgasm ran through her.
Then she gasped in a faint, high note, and the tension left her body. Harry removed his finger from her, and she looked at him through half lidded eyes as he stuck it in his mouth to taste more from her. He moved up and slid up next to her on the couch, embracing her in the tender afterglow of her peak. Their lips met and she pressed more tightly against him, rubbing herself against his erection. Harry placed his hands on her waist and she ended up underneath him, her legs spread for him. He broke their embrace to lean back, and his eyes never left hers as he grabbed himself and eased himself into her.
The frenzied passion of before was gone now, and it was replaced by an intoxicating sensations of tender love that he felt for her as their bodies pressed together. He leant down again to capture her lips.
"Love you," she murmured against his lips after they broke their soft kiss. Her legs closed around him, and she pulled him closer to her, deeper into her.
Ever since Harry had come home again, he'd found it hard to accept this new situation. It had all felt so unreal after all that time spent on the run or in the company of people he had to hide his true identity from. But as he lay there, body and soul intertwined with Ginny, he knew that he could finally accept it now as a reality. This was where he belonged, and the realisation sunk down into him like the warm feeling of Firewhisky slipping down his throat.
"I love you too," he whispered, pushing himself into her anew. "So much."
She threw her head back, and he kissed her exposed throat eagerly, cupping her breast as he supported himself with his other hand. Their movements sped up. The sound of their skin coming together got louder. Excitement shot through him and he began pressing into her more roughly.
"Yes, Harry!" she moaned, her hands dancing over his back and bum.
"Ginny," he panted, tearing his lips from her throat as he felt his climax approaching. "I'm gonna…"
"Come for me," she said, locking her eyes with his. "God, yes, come inside me!"
Harry grunted and clenched his belly. He thrusted into her erratically as white-hot lust overcame his whole being, and finally he pushed himself deep into her, and stilled. Gasps, moans escaped his throat as he emptied himself into her and vaguely he heard her calling his name, felt her clenching, tensing around him. He felt her arms on his back, her legs wrapped around him, and her breasts squished against him as he pressed as much of his naked skin against hers as he could.
And then his orgasm subsided, and he let out a shaky breath into her hair. He heard her do the same, and her limbs that were draped over him relaxed and slid off.
"That was…" Harry said, still breathing roughly, "… amazing."
She sighed contently, but then tapped his sides.
"You're kind of heavy," she said, her voice muffled against his shoulder.
"Oh, sorry." He pushed himself up, his arms still trembling from the aftermath, and pulled himself from her. He looked down at her. Her hair was a tangled mess, her skin was flushed from her cheeks down to her chest, and his cum slowly dripped from her, flowing onto the couch.
"That match really got you in the mood, didn't it?" he asked, grinning at her.
"It did," she said, mirroring his grin as she sat up. "That, and I had a great idea. It's going to make a lot of people very angry, it's definitely very illegal, and it made me so… so thrilled."
"What is it, then?"
She stood up and pecked him on his lips. "Got to use the loo first," she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
After they got dressed and thoroughly cleaned the surface of the couch, Harry went upstairs at Ginny's request to fetch Lydia.
"You're done shagging, then?" Lydia asked when he entered her bedroom.
"Erm, yeah. Sorry," he said, feeling a tinge of heat rise to his cheeks. "Ginny wants to tell us something."
"Right." She stood up from her bed and followed him out the room. Ginny was waiting for them, seated at the dining table, and he and Lydia sat down opposite her.
"Right," she began without preamble. "We've agreed that the interview we did in The Quibbler was not enough to deal with Lord Castlereagh. It's been over four weeks now. While the protests are an amazing thing, we still need a bit extra to really make him feel the heat." Her lips curled up. "And I know how to do that."
Harry and Lydia exchanged a look.
"What's the most important task of the Ministry?" Ginny continued.
"To uphold the Statute of Secrecy," Harry readily replied.
"Exactly. So what if we make that particular task a lot harder for the Minister and his goons? They'll fail at the most essential thing that they have to do, and I don't think that will make them look too competent. Moreover, it will add an acute threat to Lord Castlereagh's reign if there's a chance the Statute of Secrecy gets breached on a massive scale."
"What do you propose?" Harry asked. He noticed that Lydia sat up straighter in her chair next to him.
"You know that logo Dean made?" she asked.
"Oh, so it was Dean who did it!" he exclaimed. "I knew it!"
"It's an idea that we got during the year at Hogwarts when Voldemort ruled," Ginny said, smirking. "And my idea is roughly the same: I propose we spread that logo to the Muggle world. We spray it on the walls here and there, and mostly near the Leaky Cauldron, the entrance to St. Mungo's, King's Cross…"
"Places where are a lot of Magical folk congregate," Lydia filled in. Her eyes lit up and she leaned forward. "It's brilliant," she said, grinning. "Oh, this'll cause so many squeaky bums at the Ministry!"
"Exactly!" Ginny said.
"It's a fantastic idea!" Harry said, the tempo of his heartbeat increasing. "But there's just one thing: the Ministry will blame the protesters for this, and we've been talking a lot about our fears that things will turn grim for them. Don't you think that this will endanger them?"
"Of course I've thought about that!" Ginny replied. "But I figured that if it does look like the Ministry is going to take it out on them…" she paused and averted her gaze, "then I'll step forward and admit that it was me who did it."
Silence hung between them after that.
"No," Harry then said. "No way. It's bad enough that Lydia and I are prisoners in our own home, and you're not joining us."
"I didn't realise that it was a private party here," she tersely replied.
"It's not like that, and you know it," he said. "It's awful, being trapped here while the world is moving along outside, and I don't want you to have to go through that as well."
"It's not up to you to decide for me," she replied. Then she sighed, and her rigid pose deflated. "To be honest, I think it's a matter of time anyway."
Harry's eyebrows rose up. "How so?"
"My teammates and the coach already guessed that you're here, and we're living together again. It's pretty much a public secret within the club, and that extends to fitness staff, administration, and so on. I wouldn't be surprised if the interns know as well. And judging by the guards that are stationed outside our home at all times, I think it's pretty clear that the Ministry are onto us as well." She fidgeted her hands. "You might not like it in here, but believe me, the stress of going to training, media events and matches while you know you're being watched by Castlereagh's goons is not fun either."
Harry swallowed and looked away briefly. "I'm sorry," he said. "I suppose I didn't think enough about how all of this makes you feel."
"All the more reason, then, to speed our plans up," Ginny said.
"Agreed," Lydia readily said. "Let's do it tonight."
"I was just about to say the same," Ginny replied, smiling at the other woman.
Harry wanted to object, say that it was too soon, but the prospect of actually doing something was too enticing. Lydia and Ginny looked at him expectantly, and he grinned. "Then let's stir some trouble, shall we?"
In the end, the process of painting the logo on walls in Muggle London was almost anticlimactic. It was a miserable, rainy night. It was midway through May, but the nights were still far too cold for Harry's liking. Ginny, Lydia and Harry cast a Disillusionment Charm over themselves as they apparated in an empty alleyway near the Leaky Cauldron, but it proved to be unnecessary. The streets were empty, as it was the middle of Wednesday night. They could simply walk up to the storefronts around the dingy pub, press a cutout of the logo to the wall, and then conjure a thick blob of black paint to splash against it.
They repeated this process a few times, and then apparated to another part of London, to where the entrance to St. Mungo's was. Here they did the same, but they had to pause when a police car turned into the street. The Disillusionment Charm's only weakness was that you would shimmer if you moved around, so all they had to do was stand still and wait for the car to pass before they could continue covering the walls and windows in copies of the logo.
Their last stop was the phone booth entrance to the Ministry at Whitehall, and this proved to be the hardest part, as it was in the touristic centre of the city, and police were more present here. They had to cut their session short because of this, because after placing the first few logos on the walls of the stately white Westminster buildings, a passing policeman had spotted their handiwork. He stopped before one of the logo's, inspecting it closely, and then said something into his walkie-talkie. Harry, standing a fair few feet away from it, reached out beside him and brushed against Ginny.
"He's calling for backup," he whispered to her. "Tell Lydia, we're getting out of here."
"Got it," she whispered back.
Harry waited for the sound of two pops, watching as two other policemen approached the scene, before Apparating away as well.
Back home, they spent a short time warming up again with some hot chocolate, and they shared many self-satisfied smiles, sharing their expectations with one another on how the Ministry would react come morning. But fatigue overtook them and soon they went to bed. Harry, even though he was jittery with anticipation, fell asleep as soon as he sank down next to Ginny and his head hit the pillow. Pandemonium would break loose at the Ministry merely a few hours later.