Chapter 8 – The Talk

Saturday dawned dry and bright, and surprisingly warm for Spring. The sun shone strongly and although Harry had failed to pack any shorts, in fact he couldn't actually remember if he owned any shorts at this age, he managed to find an old t-shirt of Dudley's that wasn't completely revolting, and a pair of old corduroys that he had to roll up at the ankles to stop from dragging along the ground. As he looked at himself in the mirror before going down for breakfast he could understand why Mrs Weasley had always made such a fuss over him. If one of his children had appeared in the morning wearing the clothes that he was wearing now, they would have been sent straight back upstairs to change and the offending clothes would have been summarily incinerated. Somehow during the summer, Harry decided, he would have to get hold of some Muggle money to buy himself clothes that actually fit.

And that weren't several decades out of style.

Maybe he could steal from his Aunt Petunia's purse sometime during the summer? It was money she was only going to spend on Dudley otherwise.

With that thought buoying his mind he headed down to breakfast, where he noted the look between Mr and Mrs Weasley that was clearly about his clothing. Ron and Neville, who were used to seeing Harry's terrible clothes by now, ignored him altogether, whilst Ginny raised an eyebrow. He shrugged and busied himself by shoving eggs and bacon into his mouth. Ginny rolled her eyes, but didn't otherwise comment.

After clearing up, Ron showed them the field behind the house where he and his brothers, he poignantly ignored Ginny's presence, would practice quidditch. He took them over to the garden shed where four beaten up brooms were piled behind a large roll of chicken wire.

'Dad's thinking of building a pen to keep some chickens in.' he said by way of explanation as he and Harry manhandled the wire out of the way. 'Mad if you ask me. I mean, I like eggs, but you can get them real easy from the shops, you know?'

'They taste better when they're from your own chickens!' Ginny protested. She and Harry knew this, as Arthur had eventually gotten around to building his pen, but only after he had effectively retired from the Ministry. Ron shot her a dirty look, still resenting her presence, but as he had no way of getting rid of her, he decided not to say anything. As space became available in the shed, Neville slipped in and retrieved the brooms.

They were old Cleansweep Threes, and well-used, but Harry could detect nothing obviously wrong with them. He looked to Ginny, who had much more experience than him on a broom after her years as a Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies, although these were a far cry from the Nimbus 3003 she had ended up spending the majority of her career on. She shrugged at him and mounted immediately.

'Only one way to check.' she said softly at his unasked question, then shot off into the sky. Neville yelped as she clipped him on the arm, but neither he nor Ginny ended up on the floor.

Laughing, Harry hastily joined her, ignoring Ron's outraged look and Neville's nervous expression as he shot into the sky after her. On the wind he could just make out her whooping as she corkscrewed through the air – an advanced manoeuvre that he wasn't sure a ten-year-old should be capable of. Thinking that he'd better catch up with her to warn her off any more professional-level moves for the time being, he put on a burst of speed, pushing the old Cleansweep as fast as it could go. Beneath him the broomstick vibrated slightly, and it pulled to the left a little, but otherwise it seemed to cope with his demands as he willed it to catch up the with girl ahead. He shot a look over his shoulder at Ron who was just leaving the ground and Neville, who was holding the broomstick between his legs and seemed to be praying.

In the end he didn't have to catch Ginny as her corkscrew had been seen by her mother, who had yelled at her for at least five minutes. Suitably chastened, Ginny hadn't tried anything else outrageous apart from a few covert tight turns around Harry, laughing her head off the entire time. Her telling off also had the added advantage of cheering up Ron to no end, and once they had coaxed Neville more than ten meters off the ground, Ron fetched a battered old Muggle football to throw about.

Apparently the football had been charmed by Ron's brother Bill to float slowly to the ground, just like modern Quaffles, although hadn't quite got the charm down properly as every now and again the ball would rise in the air instead of fall, but it made for an interesting game that they all enjoyed, even Neville, and it was four very happy, very windswept kids that returned to the Burrow for lunch. Ron in particular, who had finally gotten over Ginny's presence, was waxing lyrical.

'You guys are definitely coming back in the summer!' he was saying, his broom resting casually over his shoulder in a way that he obviously thought made him look like a professional. 'Between the four of us, Fred and George won't know what hit them!'

If Ginny was surprised to be included in that number, Neville was even more shocked with his inclusion. 'I dunno...' he said, 'I don't mind visiting, a-actually, I think it would be fun... It's just, I think I might sit the flying out.'

'Don't be silly, Neville.' Ginny said encouragingly, 'You were great! And the more time you spend on a broom, the more comfortable you'll feel.'

Harry grimaced, 'I dunno, Gin.' he said, massaging his bum, 'I don't think I could spend much more time on these brooms... It's like sitting on a flying brick.' He caught her eye and he could immediately tell from her warning look that she'd also noticed his accidentally use of her pet name. Unfortunately, so had Ron.

'Gin?' he snorted. 'Since when have you answered to that?'

She shot him a dirty look and went on the offensive. 'Oh, shut up, Won-won.'

Harry cracked up and Ginny grinned contentedly, whilst Neville and Ron just looked at each other.

'Those two are weird...' Ron said finally as Harry and Ginny paced away from them towards the house.

Lunch was polished off quickly and before long the four of them emerged back out into the glorious spring sunshine tasked with de-gnoming the garden. Ron showed a mystified Neville and a falsely curious Harry how it was done, and the activity soon turned into a competition. Neville won, although he didn't know much about it, as his throw was more the result of a panicked flick of his hand as one particularly aggressive gnome bit into his finger as it was picked up. They spent the rest of the day lazing about in the sunshine, supplied with copious amounts of fresh lemonade by Mrs Weasley. At one point Mr Weasley appeared with another Muggle contraption – a whisk – which Harry was only too happy to explain the use of. Unfortunately, without a bowl and mixture to demonstrate with, he wasn't sure Arthur truly followed the explanation.

Eventually the chessboard and exploding snap deck came out, interspaced with Ron excitedly showing Harry and Ron his extensive Chocolate Frog Card collection. Harry pretended to be enthralled, especially by the moving holographs, which he remembered used to be a big thing for him. Ron beat him three times at chess, then Neville twice, before being beaten by Ginny on their first game.

Harry managed to keep his mirth contained. Ginny wasn't a particularly bad chess player, unlike Harry, who really was terrible, and whilst in reality an adult Ron would have beaten her easily, she was more than able to hold her own against him at this age. Ron demanded an immediate rematch and beat her, but not as soundly as he wanted, but before he could challenge her again they were called in for dinner.

A particularly young looking Kingsley Shacklebolt popped in briefly during dinner to see Arthur, and although Mrs Weasley valiantly attempted to protect Harry from the Auror, Kingsley had insisted on introducing himself and shaking Harry's hand. Harry found he didn't mind too much, as Kingsley and he had ended up working closely together after the war, when the man had become Minister for Magic, and he had become a good friend. It was strange seeing quite so starkly how much of an age gap there was between them.

After dinner, and Kingsley had left, they once again settled into the sitting room. Harry made a point of sitting away from Ginny for the first portion of the evening, conscious of the fact that he had spent most of the day chatting with her rather than his supposed better friends. She sent him a look that told him in no uncertain terms that she didn't care, but he stuck to his guns, letting Neville beat him at chess twice before even trying. He still ended up loosing the third game.

It was nearly nine in the evening by the time he finally sat beside Ginny on the rug before the fire. She was reading a book he didn't recognise and initially ignored him, on purpose he assumed. After five minutes of silence where she didn't turn a single page, he decided he was correct.

'Mike the Magic Muggle...' he said eventually, leaning over to read the front cover. 'I've never heard of it.'

'It was one of my favourites...' she paused, eyes wide. Checking that neither Ron, Neville or her father, who was sitting in the corner of the room tinkering with an electric plug, had heard her, she continued in a lower voice. 'It is one of my favourite books.' she finished, looking sheepish. Harry thought it made her look especially cute, but knew better than to tell her. 'It's a series of books actually,' she continued, flipping the cover over to show him. 'This is the third one, where Mike goes to a museum and the artefacts come alive and chase him. It's really quite fun.'

Harry chuckled. 'That's silly. I thought you said he was a Muggle. How could he cause all that magic?'

'Oh no, he can't do magic.' Ginny explained, 'That's just the title. In reality he's just really unlucky, and seems to find himself in various magical situations. In another book he ends up in an old castle with suits of armour that come to life, and another one has him getting lost in a pyramid – that one's my favourite.' she looked around cautiously before lowering her voice again. 'I used to get Charlie to read it to me every time he visited from Egypt.' she murmured.

Harry took the book from her and flicked through it. It was written simply, with large fully-colour cartoon pictures that showed Mike's adventures. As with most magical pictures, the brightly coloured images moved to show the story more clearly. 'This is great.' he asked, his own voice soft. 'How come you never gave them to our kids?'

Ginny shrugged, catching his meaning regardless. 'They're not particularly well thought of by some due to their... content?' she wrestled with her words for a second. 'Hermione particularly dislikes them, because they depict Mike as a stupid Muggle who gets scared in even relatively simple magical situations. Every book ends with a wise old wizard saving him too, which apparently, according to Hermione, implies that Muggles are all stupid and weaker than wizards and require saving.' she sighed. 'It's a shame, but most wizarding literature for children is full of the same messages, and you know how Hermione gets. It's just easier to hide them away than fight with her about them. Plus,' she shrugged, 'I can kind-of see her point. I don't want Lily growing up thinking that Muggles are stupid simpletons who require us to protect them.'

Handing back the book, Harry allowed himself a chuckle. 'You really think our kids could ever come to those conclusions? I mean, you read these books as a child, and you ended up turning out just fine.' he nudged her with his shoulder.

'Yeah, but I had good parents, and good friends.' she looked up at the rest of the room where her parents were now talking, in truth arguing, about the electric plug, whilst Ron and Neville sorted through Ron's Chocolate Frog Card collection on the table beside them. 'And you, I suppose.'

Harry laughed, drawing a look from Ron. 'You suppose?' he said softly, keenly aware that their conversation was dangerously incriminating if anyone managed to hear what they were saying. 'And what about our kids then? Are you implying that we're not good enough parents to stop our kids from forming dangerous elitist ideals?'

He had meant it as a joke, but she seemed to consider it seriously. 'I hope not.' she said sombrely, before grinning, 'and I suppose there's always aunt Hermione to keep them on the straight and narrow.'

'Oh, I don't know about that.' Harry replied. 'I hear she was a tearaway back in her school years. Brewing illegal potions in bathrooms, breaking into teacher's offices, traipsing around England on the run from the Ministry with a dangerous traitor? She's hardly the role-model type.'

Ginny grinned stupidly up at him, and not for the first time, he wished he could kiss her. 'You're such a doofus.' she said with a smirk. Her gaze flicked over to her parents, where her mother now appeared to be reading a copy of the Daily Prophet up at the table, but was really watching them surreptitiously.

'Come on,' Ginny said loudly getting up and holding out her hand to help Harry up. 'Let's go guilt Ron into giving away some of his rare cards.'

Harry shook her head at her antics, but accepted the hand.

He really had missed her.

The final day of their stay at the Burrow seemed too short by half, and before he knew it, Harry found himself standing on a stool washing plates as they cleared up from lunch. Behind him, Ron and Neville were collecting up the remaining food for Mrs Weasley to put anti-spoiling charms on, whilst Ginny helped her mother wipe surfaces down. As Harry stacked yet another plate on the draining board beside him, he thought back on the weekend, deciding that it was the best he'd had in a long time.

There was something nagging him though, and as Ginny moved her own stool to step up beside him, he mumbled his concern to her.

'We haven't had a chance to talk about...' he looked over his shoulder at the other occupants of the room. None were paying attention to them, but he decided not to risk it anyway. Being a parent himself, he was well aware that Molly could easily be listening in without showing any outward signs of it, and he couldn't think of a way to talking about killing a Hogwarts professor that sounded innocent, '...you know...'

Judging by her warning look, it seemed that Ginny did know. 'Let's go for a fly after this.' she said by way of answer. 'If we challenge the other two to a race, neither of them will be able to keep up.'

Harry laughed. 'Sure, as long as those brooms don't disintegrate beneath us.'

They finished up with the kitchen ten minutes later, and although Neville seemed less than enthusiastic with the idea of a race, Ron, who obviously considered his chances good, was enthusiastic enough for the both of them. Harry and Ginny volunteered to retrieve the brooms from the shed, giving them an extra window to briefly talk.

'I'm not sure if I can really help you.' Ginny admitted, after Harry explained briefly what he was thinking. 'I wasn't at Hogwarts this year, and I never met Quirrell.'

'No, but you can listen to my plan and pick holes.' He shot her a grin. 'You're usually good at that.'

Ginny laughed. 'That's because your plans are generally stupid. Fine, tell me.'

'Initially, I've been planning to wait until Quirrell tries to steal the stone. I've made sure that the Mirror had been moved down again – I'll tell you another time what I saw in it.' he added, stalling the question that he could see forming on Ginny's lips, 'I'm pretty confident that I'll be able to make it through the tests on my own – the chessboard might be a bit challenging, but if I can't play my way around, hopefully I'll be able to break the charms...'

'Hold on.' Ginny put her hand up, cutting him off. They had reached the shed and she opened door for him. 'You're going to break the charms? Charms put on by Flitwick and McGonagall?'

'Well, only if I can't play my way across...' he replied, leaning in and grabbing the four Cleansweeps. He handed two to Ginny.

Ginny laughed. 'Let's be serious, Harry. You're a terrible chess player. You won't be able to play your way across.'

Harry frowned as they started their way back. He wasn't that bad... 'Well what other choice do I have?'

'Honestly? Even if your knowledge of magic was good enough to break the charms on the chessboard, and I'm not entirely sure it is seeing as your area of expertise is combat and practical magic, not magical theory, we've both noticed an appreciable drop in our magical power. It's not likely you could break McGonagall's spell work.'

'Which leaves me with what?' Harry said, his pride a little hurt.

Ginny patted him on the shoulder. 'Oh, don't look at me like that, Harry. You know I think you're a brilliant wizard, but we have to be realistic here. The only way I can see you getting through that challenge is the same way you got past it last time.'

It took Harry a moment to realise what she'd said. 'Take Ron with me? Gin... He's only eleven!'

'As are you,' she countered, 'and as you both were the first time around. Anyway, that wasn't entirely what I meant either. If I remember correctly, Hermione was with you too.'

Harry shook his head. 'I can't in good conscience take two eleven-year-olds, no matter how brilliant, with me to face Voldemort's shade. Not when there's a chance I could do it all without them. We were lucky last time, and I can't guarantee that we'll have the same luck again this time.'

By then, they had almost returned to where Ron and Neville were waiting. Harry could see Ron trying to explain to Neville the traditional route that the Weasleys used for their races, but Harry didn't think it was going in judging by the look on Neville's face.

Ginny, too, realised that they had run out of time for the time-being. 'I'll think about it.' she said as they approached. 'But I honestly think that's your best chance.'

The race didn't start immediately, as Neville had to be flown around the course to ensure he understood the route, but once they were all back at the start line Harry felt his frustration at Ginny' words turn into competitiveness. He caught her eye as they lined up, and he could see the same thing reflected back. It had been a long time since they had raced using identical brooms.

Ron started the race by simply shouting 'Go!', but naturally set off himself half a second early. Harry and Ginny shot off a moment after him, whilst Neville was left stumbling on the line. Being slightly lighter than Harry, Ginny caught up with Ron first, rounding the isolated ash tree that served as the first corner shoulder to shoulder with her brother. Harry was close enough behind that he could have reached out and grabbed either of the broom tails, but refrained. He'd never hear the end of it if he cheated.

The next leg was a long straight, and Harry eked out everything the broomstick had, pulling up level with Ron's hip. He positioned himself for the next turn well, and after sweeping around the broken-down tractor he was slightly ahead of the boy. He chanced a look over his shoulder and saw Neville following, not entirely closely, but at a respectable speed considering his nervousness in the air. Turning back to the front, Harry gnashed his teeth as he saw Ginny entering the tricky chicane up ahead that marked the middle of the route.

Wishing that he had his Firebolt beneath him, Harry urged the Cleansweep onwards, ducking through the thicket of trees that formed the chicane. He thought he might have heard Ron grunt as he took the tree on the right a little too close, catching a stray branch, but didn't look back.

Harry rounded the next corner at full speed, and as he felt the wind shift around with his new direction, feeling it gust and blow him slightly off course. Correcting, he also saw how it affected Ginny, who was being buffeted even more than he was due to her lack of weight. Sniffing his advantage, he charged around the next corner without slowing, running a bit wide, but keeping his speed. Within moments he was alongside the red-headed girl, and then slightly ahead as he cut through the headwind with his greater momentum.

As the last corner came up fast and Harry shot around it, clipping the shed with his shoulder as he cut it a little fine, but it hardly slowed him and within seconds he was pulling up into the sky to slow himself as he crossed the line. As he levelled out high above the ground, he looked back to see Ron only just approaching the shed. He had been right, the boy had stood no chance against the two experienced flyers, even on the same brooms.

Ginny punched his shoulder as she levelled out beside him. 'I can't believe you won!' she crowed, grinning. Her cheeks were flushed with blood which made her look more alive than Harry had seen her before at this age. It was in stark contrast to the pale thin girl from the Chamber of Secrets that sometimes even now haunted his dreams, his only real memory of her at this stage of her life. 'You just wait until I'm a few years older...'

'Trust me,' Harry said. 'There are plenty of reasons for me to want you older,' he grinned as she went even redder at the thought, 'but so you can beat me at a broom race? Not likely.' He looked back to where Ron was now, streaking towards the finish line. They should have made the race over two laps...

'We don't have much time,' Ginny said quickly, obviously thinking the same as Harry as she tracked her brother's progress towards them. 'But I think I know how you can stop Quirrell getting the stone without putting Ron and Hermione in danger.'

'Oh yes?'

Ginny caught his gaze, and Harry could see the darkness in her eyes that came with the way of thinking that they were being forced into.

'You've got to kill Quirrell early, before he gets to the Mirror, maybe before he even gets to the third floor corridor.'

Harry sighed. 'I've thought of that, Gin. I would reveal myself, my foreknowledge, to Riddle. I can't risk it!'

'Then force it!' Ginny hissed as Ron spotted them and started climbing. 'Riddle doesn't know that your touch will kill Quirrell. Make him angry. Make him attack you!'

Harry went to argue back, but Ron reached them at that moment and he was forced into silence. It would be stupidly dangerous to do that – a fully grown wizard with a dark lord augmenting his powers – Quirrell could kill him easily if he used magic...

But Ginny was right. Voldemort didn't know about the blood magic, and he wouldn't fully understand until Quirrell's demise. It was an important lesson for him, and one he needed to be taught if he was going to make the same decisions again.

So, he pondered as Ron started complaining loudly about how Harry and Ginny had to be cheaters to get their brooms to go that fast, how could he get Quirrell to attack him without giving anything away?

It was going to take some serious consideration.

The rest of the day passed quickly, and before Harry knew it, he was up in Ron's room collecting together his small collection of clothes and toiletries that he'd brought with him. He was just trying to work out where he'd left yesterday's socks when he realised that he wasn't alone in the room. Standing in the doorway was Mr Weasley.

Initially, Harry though that he had simply found him to ask another question about Muggles or their technology, but as Harry finally rediscovered his socks (underneath Ron's bed, of all places), he noticed that Arthur wasn't holding anything, and the usual boyish face he wore when he had a burning question on his mind was missing.

Shoving the socks into his bag, Harry fastened the top and slung it over his shoulder. As he turned, he pretended to notice the man for the first time.

'Oh, hello Mr Weasley.' he said with a smile, 'I didn't see you there.'

Arthur held his gaze for a moment, telling Harry that he didn't believe him, but instead of saying something, he moved into the room and sat on the end of Ron's bed, staring at the orange posters that coated the walls and ceiling.

'I don't come in here that often.' he admitted, 'I'd forgotten that it's so bright.' he attempted a weak smile as Harry agreed.

'Listen, Harry. I wanted to say...' the man swallowed, obviously searching for the right words. A lump seemed to form in Harry's stomach. This was new, this had never happened in the original time-line.

'We know you've been writing to Ginny.' Arthur said finally, and Harry's heart leapt to his throat. They must have found his letters. Mr Weasley looked up and must have caught the expression on Harry's face. 'Oh, don't worry. We haven't been reading your letters or anything...' he smiled weakly, 'It's just that Ginny talks about you quite a bit.'

Harry sighed with relief. That had been close. Then he realised that Mr Weasley still had something to say, and whatever it was, he seemed to think it was quite serious, so Harry let his bag slide off his shoulder and sat on the edge one of the put-up beds that had been set up in Ron's room for him and Neville.

'One of the things she talks about a lot is your aunt and uncle.' Mr Weasley said finally, his eyes finding Harry's. 'Now, I'm sure that she's exaggerating in places, but if even half of what she's been saying is true, and judging by your clothes...' he trailed off, apparently worried about embarrassing Harry.

'What we, Molly and I, wanted to say to you is... If there's anything you need. Anything you want to talk about that you feel you can't with either Ginny or Ron...' he fixed Harry with a look so heartfelt that it gave Harry shivers, 'We're, Molly and I, we're always here. I know we don't know you very well, but we knew your parents, and we... well, we'd feel remiss... that is, we'd feel bad if you didn't know that you could ask for us for anything you need.'

Harry blinked, and it was then that he realised that there was a tear in his eye. He didn't know what to say. He had always known that both Arthur and Molly had worried about him, and that he could, of course, ask them for anything, but they had never said it out loud before. It had always been an implied agreement built on his friendship with Ron and then his later relationship with Ginny, although it had probably started from that first moment in King's Cross when Molly had seen his Dudley-sized clothes. Hearing it expressed, especially from Arthur, who was normally the least emotional of the two...

'I-I...' Harry started, then found that his voice was stuck. 'Thank you.' he said eventually, wiping the rogue tear away roughly with one of Dudley's massive sleeves. 'I don't really know what to say...'

Arthur smiled at him kindly. 'You don't have to say anything.' He reached out and grasped Harry's shoulder in a hand that was larger and stronger than Harry anticipated. 'Just keep in mind what I said. If there's anything you ever need...'

'I will.' Harry said, 'I promise.'

Arthur nodded and let Harry's shoulder go. Rising from the bed he took one last look around the room, as if seeing it for the first time all over again.

'I was always a Tornadoes fan, myself.' he said simply, before flashing Harry a quick smile and walking out, leaving Harry feeling emotionally drained and buoyed all at the same time.

'Bloody hell...' Harry sighed, collapsing back onto the bed. And he still had to say goodbye to Ginny…

The train was due to leave Kings Cross at five o'clock that evening, so they all congregated before the fireplace a little before four. Whilst Mrs Weasley went around the room distributing sandwiches for the train, Harry and Neville made last checks of their bags, ensuring that they hadn't left anything. Naturally, as soon as they were happy, Ginny walked up holding Neville's wand.

'Missing something?' she said with a grin, holding it out to Neville.

'Thanks, Ginny.' he said sheepishly, shoving it into his back pocket. Harry estimated Neville had about five minutes before it fell out again.

Mrs Wesley shuffled over, thrusting extra cheese and pickle sandwiches wrapped in brown paper at them. 'Have everything, dears?' she asked. Neville sniffed the sandwich experimentally, whilst Harry nodded at her.

'Yes, thank you.' he said. With Neville distracted as he found space for the sandwich in his pack, Molly took the opportunity to favour Harry with a significant look. The implied meaning was clear, a follow up to his chat with Arthur. What Mrs Weasley had apparently missed was Ginny standing close by.

As her mother moved on, Ginny pulled Harry aside, out of hearing of the rest of the room.

'What was that about?' she asked in a low voice. Harry sighed, then explained briefly about his encounter with her father. As he came to a finish, Ginny seemed torn between annoyance and pride.

'Did that happen last time?' she asked, her expression puzzled. 'I don't remember you telling me about it.'

Harry shook his head.

'Then why?'

Harry couldn't help but laugh. 'Really? You don't know?'

As Ginny looked up at him puzzled he laughed again.

'Apparently you don't stop talking about me! And it seems you've mentioned my aunt and uncle enough to really worry them.'

'I don't...' Ginny blanched, then her cheeks went scarlet. 'Damn. Maybe I do.' she looked around the at her parents, who were once again discussing something in hushed but slightly annoyed voices on the far side of the room. 'Sorry. I'll try to be more careful.'

Harry shrugged. 'Oh, I don't mind.' he looked across to Ginny's parents, and Arthur seemed to catch his eye for a second. 'It was nice to hear, even if I know that I can't take them up on it.'

'What do you mean? Of course you can.' Ginny frowned, 'You know they'd do anything for you.'

'Yes, I do.' Harry agreed. 'But it doesn't change anything. As much as I'd love to while away the summers here, I still need to spend time at the Dursley's to maintain the Blood Magic that my mother gave me. Without it, I'll die when Riddle destroys the Horcrux inside me.' he shuddered at the thought of the piece of Riddle hiding within him. 'And as for everything else... well your parents have enough children to feed and clothe without adding me to the mix.'

'You should still let them help, Harry.'

Harry caught her gaze. 'You know I will.' he grinned, 'but trust me, I can deal with the Dursleys just fine on my own.'

They left five minutes later, emerging at the Cat and Broom pub a slightly sooty party. This time, both Mr Weasley and Ginny accompanied them, and Arthur used the ten minute walk to the station to ask Harry some final questions about rubber bands that had been bugging him for the last few days. Walking beside them, uncaring about how obviously she was following Harry around, was Ginny, who had to put her hand in her mouth to keep from laughing a few times at her father's innocence.

'...but I've also heard that you can get a 'rubber band gun', what's that?'

Harry shook his head. It was like talking to his son James when he had been younger.

Kings Cross was busy with Easter Sunday foot traffic, and although everyone knew where they were going, it took them longer than usual to get to the barrier portal. When they finally made it through, they had less than ten minutes until the Hogwarts Express was due to leave. Mrs Weasley collected them all together.

'Well, thank you for coming. It was lovely to see you all.' she said, flustering as she looked around at the platform as children were starting to board the train en-mass. 'I hope you had a good time.'

'It was great.' Neville said quietly, and appeared shocked with himself for speaking out.

Harry grinned. 'Yeah, we had a great time. Thank you for having us!'

'You're welcome any time, Harry.' Mr Weasley said kindly. 'You too, Neville.'

The train blew its whistle, and they moved towards a carriage. Ron hugged his parents and avoided his sister, boarding the train first apparently eager to get back to school, which was something Harry thought he'd never see. Harry let Neville say his goodbyes first before stepping up and thanking both Mr and Mrs Weasley again.

'I promise that I'll think on what you said.' he said to Arthur as Molly watched on. He allowed them to give him a quick hug each, feeling a little bit like a fraud, before turning to Ginny. She had no reservations in enveloping him in a hug. Harry thought he might have heard a passing fifth year wolf whistle.

'I'll miss you.' she whispered in his ear. 'I love you.'

Harry, who's head and mouth was clearly visible to Ginny's parents and the majority of the students hanging out of the carriage windows, was forced to reply less emphatically, lest someone lip-read what he said. 'I'll write.' he said simply.

As he got on the train, leaving Ginny on the station for a second time, he felt a heaviness in his heart. He knew, for a certainty, that before he set eyes on his wife again, he would have to do the very thing that had battled against doing for his entire life. A thing that he had only intentionally done once.

He had to kill.