It was excruciatingly late when Ginny and Harry had the chance to talk again.

"They're going to find him." Harry said firmly. He held Ginny closer, and the comforting cushions of the lounge combined with his bodily warmth made her feel safe.

Ginny nodded against his chest. "You know… we haven't considered what's going to happen afterwards."

"Afterwards…" Harry repeated slowly, a furrow coming over his face.

Ginny sighed and pulled back. "When we get him back… what are we going to do? Are we going to stay here, at the Burrow, and keep him in my bedroom? Do we go and live at Grimmauld Place? And… what do we even do with a baby? I have no idea how to look after one… do you?"

Harry swallowed and readjusted his glasses. "We can… hmm." He frowned as he thought it through. "I… don't know."

Ginny bit her lip. "Well, we need to figure it out rather quickly because the Aurors are locating him tomorrow."

Harry nodded slowly. "I suspect… that we're going to need help, at least in the beginning."

Ginny leaned into Harry's side. "Mum and Dad spoke to me earlier… they offered to help us out in any way we need."

Harry leaned his cheek on top of her head. "We're not going to become experts overnight, but slowly I'm sure that we're going to be able to create a… family, together. Having a family is all I've ever wanted." He said quietly. "Having one with you is nothing short of a miracle."

Ginny smiled up at him for a moment, then gently placed her hand on his cheek to pull him down for a kiss.

Harry sighed as he pulled away. "I don't want to bring the baby back to Grimmauld Place. It's a dark and depressing building, it could still be dangerous, and it's no place to raise a child." He stroked her back. "If we're going to be parents, then let's be parents. We're going to bring this baby home and learn how to look after him. We can stay here for a while, then find a place of our own to live. I have the money… we can afford to move out together wherever you want."

She put both hands on his shoulders. "This doesn't feel real." She admitted, as her stomach swirled nervously. "It's like… an illusion. Like some twisted game of the mind."

"It's real, Ginny." Harry said confidently. "This is really happening."

She rubbed her eye with the palm of her hand. "I know, it's just… I so desperately wish that I could, just… picture what he looks like, or feel his warmth in my arms… and just… remember him. I want to remember my baby—"

Ginny felt the sensation of spinning and spiralling sideways. Her mind was sucked back into a vague memory so abruptly that her head couldn't keep up with the unclear and hazy vision.

But there was something that stood out like a flame in the pitch black darkness.

The face of her mother, staring worriedly at her as she held her hands. And Ginny's own voice, sounding far higher pitched than it had for several years saying: "It doesn't matter if my memories never come back, Mum. Because I know I won't ever want to remember this."

There was another flash of clarity in the hazy field of static – the crushing feeling of pain, and fear, and an infant with dark hair and brown eyes staring up at her.

Then Ginny felt more than heard herself saying softly: "She's so beautiful…"

And there was that Obliviator again, wand pointed to her head and speaking in his calming and transient tone:"You will not remember the baby unless you want to remember…"

When she came back to reality, Harry was crouching before her on the lounge. She was shaking, and sweating, and nausea rolled in her stomach before she leaned over the arm of the lounge and promptly threw up.

….

"Are you sure you're okay?" Harry asked worriedly as Ginny wiped her face with a wet rag.

Ginny swallowed back the nausea. "I'm okay, Harry… that vision just… surprised me, is all."

He nodded and took her hand as she leaned against the bathroom sink. "Do you… remember any of the vision?"

She chose her words carefully. "I can remember… flashes of the baby. But I think…" She swallowed. "It was all very confusing." She admitted, and held the cold cloth back up to her forehead.

Harry accepted her explanation and calmed down once she decided to head to bed. But all night, she lay awake considering the vivid and confusing vision.

Ginny's first rationalisation was that maybe she had been confused. Perhaps she'd misheard herself saying 'she' when she looked down at her baby. Or maybe at the moment of his birth, she'd merely mistaken him for a girl… somehow.

But then, of course, there was the matter of her mother.

Molly Weasley had been there, with the Obliviator, as the green-eyed man had erased and altered Ginny's memories. She'd known that Ginny had given birth, and yet… she'd been surprised by the news that Ginny and Harry shared a son.

Except… she hadn't been confused, not at first. She'd been… expecting Ginny to come to her, with the revealed memory that she'd given birth… she knew Ginny had a child.

Ginny groaned and rolled over. It was too much to think about, there were too many variables, too much uncertainty, and she needed to focus on the baby that made sense to her. By the end of tomorrow, she may very well have a son relying on her… and that was what she needed to think about.

…

All thoughts of strange visions and uncertain hallucinations about her mother went out the window as Ginny and Harry reached out to the old gumboot Portkey that would take them to France, and to the orphanage that housed their son.

While it was stressful, and Ginny felt nervous when looking at the stoic expressions on the Aurors' faces, Kingsley was calm and authoritative, and Harry held her hand to keep her relaxed.

There was basically no trouble with the Muggle receptionist who greeted them at the entrance of the Orphanage. One of the Aurors spoke in fluent French to the woman with a soothing and calm cadence, and Ginny watched as the woman's eyes glazed over. Ginny wondered, vaguely, whether Kingsley had used the Confundus charm or the Imperius curse on the unsuspecting receptionist.

It was difficult to care, however, because only minutes later a Muggle caretaker of the orphanage came out holding her son.

Ginny held him tight to her chest, and smiled down at him even as the tears flowed down her cheeks. As Harry wrapped his arms around them both, Ginny felt another minor memory; this one of her arms holding the very same infant – he was significantly smaller in this memory, and was covered in blood and gunk, but still, he was the most beautiful sight she could ever envision.

And even as she shook the memory away, she recognised the baby, and she knew he was hers. Harry smiled down at her, and muttered some nonsensical words about how in awe he was over the situation.

But even as she leaned into Harry and kissed the baby's cheek, she knew with absolute certainty that this wasn't the same baby she'd seen in her memory the night before.

Because where that baby had dark hair and brown eyes… this baby was decidedly a red-head, and when he opened his tiny little eyes and stared up at his young mother, Ginny noted with startled clarity that he had bright emerald eyes, just like his father.

"He looks kind of like both of us, don't you think?" Harry whispered quietly.

Ginny was still a little shell-shocked by the whole affair, but she smiled as she nodded. "Yeah…"

"We need you both to sign some documents for the Muggles." Kingsley said smoothly. "They've got his birth certificate and health records, which we will have transferred to your usual healer."

"What's his name?" Ginny asked quietly, not taking her eyes off the baby.

Kingsley looked expectantly at the French-speaking Auror, who promptly asked the dazed receptionist a question in the foreign language. He turned back to Ginny and said in a thick Scottish accent: "Henry Arthur Prewett is the wee lad's name."

"Not… Potter?" She looked up at gave Kingsley an alarmed look.

"It makes sense…" Harry reassured her. "You went to so much trouble to hide him here… giving him my name would have put a target on his back, if any of the Death Eaters ever figured it out. But Prewett is still a family name, it's your mother's maiden name… you were smart about naming him, Gin."

Kingsley agreed. "In any case, changing the child's surname won't be an issue when we send the documents to the Wizengamot. But that can be sorted out when we get back to the UK."

September 1st, 1998

It was with a wistful feeling of nostalgia that Ginny and Harry waved off Hermione as the bright young witch boarded the Hogwarts Express.

Fixing up the school had been a months-long process, that most people in the Wizarding Community had volunteered to assist with. Harry and Ginny had been among the first to sign up, and used the cleanup as a distraction from the stress of searching for their son.

And even after they were reunited with the small boy, they still made the occasional trip to Hogwarts with Henry to assist with fixing up various places in the castle – though usually, one of the doting parents would bring Henry down to see Hagrid rather than risk bringing him too close to the cursed rubble.

Hermione and Ron had located Hermione's parents within two weeks of being in Australia, and had remained there almost until the school year returned. Hermione had restored their memories, and despite the emotional reunion and promises that everything in England was now safe, Hermione's parents decided that they wanted to remain in Australia.

Hermione had been upset, according to Ron, but when she'd tearfully said that flying back and forth to Australia to visit her parents was going to be too expensive to be frequent, Ron had merely stared at her and said: "Are you a witch, or what? Portkeys, Mione. We can come back and visit them any time you want…"

And so, with one final kiss to Ron (which instigated a round of wolf whistling for the students peering out of the train windows) she jumped onto the train and smiled as she waved the Weasley's goodbye.

Harry readjusted Henry against his shoulder, and held his hand gently to help the six month old baby wave back at Hermione. Ginny smiled up at both of them, and held her left hand out to take Harry's…

Life over the previous three months had been… crazy.

From the moment they brought the baby home to the Burrow, Harry and Ginny had been swept up in a whirlwind of activity. They truly had no idea what they were in for; it took Henry several weeks to settle into a routine, and having Mrs Weasley in the house proved to be the only thing that prevented them from becoming completely overwhelmed.

But being parents to a baby boy was overwhelming.

Harry was allowed to sleep in Ginny's room now, with Henry snuggled under his blanket in his small crib beside them. Mr and Mrs Weasley had been initially horrified by the news that they truly were becoming grandparents, and neither of them were particularly happy with either of the teenagers. Ginny was still underage, neither her nor Harry could go back to Hogwarts to get their NEWTs, and they were woefully unprepared for the responsibility of a child.

And yet, both of the Weasley parents had been supportive of the young couple. Mrs Weasley stayed up late the first few weeks with the exhausted parents to show them how to soothe the small infant. She taught them how to charm the baby's bottles to stay warm throughout the day, and Mr Weasley taught Harry a charm that would vanish the contents of the baby's nappies.

They offered suggestions, and advice, but neither of the Weasley's imposed on the parenting decisions Harry and Ginny made for Henry. Bill and Fleur were the most excited for Harry and Ginny, and Fleur showered the infant with well-received affection whenever the two visited (which was often). Charlie and Percy were a little more reserved, and more than once Harry feared he would be on the receiving end of a jinx for impregnating their sixteen year old sister. But they kept their thoughts to themselves, and remained outwardly supportive of the young parents.

George was… dull, in general. But even he offered a warm smile to Henry and clapped Harry on the back the first time he saw the baby.

Henry seemed to fit into the Weasley family like he'd always belonged there.

But Mrs Weasley was visibly upset when Ginny admitted she and Harry were going to start looking for a house to move into before the end for the year.

"There's no rush, Ginny… we love having Henry in the house." She said as she charmed her kitchen knives to chop onions. "You and Harry are still so… young, dear. And you're not even married…"

"We're parents now, Mum." Ginny said meekly. "And in four weeks I'm going to be seventeen. I'll be an adult, and it's time I started acting like one. We can't just stay here forever and put more pressure on you and Dad…"

"Ginny, dear… that's not… there's no pressure, love. We've had seven kids, we can handle a few more nights with a crying baby. He's getting older, he won't be so fussy soon."

"That's the point, though, Mum. He is getting older. And me and Harry are responsible for raising him – you've helped us find our footing, you've showed us the way to take care of him… we need to start doing it on our own, now."

Mrs Weasley sniffed. "Oh, these onions…" she said vaguely, and moved to wipe her eyes on a tea towel. "I've rather gotten used to having you three in the house… I'm going to miss you all…"

"Oh, Mum…" Ginny said, swallowing as her throat constricted with emotion. She pulled Mrs Weasley into a tight embrace, wrapping her arms securely around the woman as she, too, held back tears.

Mrs Weasley eventually stopped her sniffles, and pulled away to focus on her cooking. As she did so, Ginny heard the echoing sounds of Henry's laughter. Harry had been feeding him in the lounge room, and Ginny smiled as she realised he must now be playing with their son. Harry was often out of his depth and relied heavily on Ginny for guidance in parenting Henry, but he was a loving father, and despite the sleepless nights and tired days… Ginny was happy.

But there was something that still nagged her mind, something that – on the rare moments both Harry and the baby were sleeping soundly in their room – Ginny lay awake and thought about a little girl with hair the colour of the night sky, and eyes as brown as a chocolate frog…

Ginny was a woman of action, it was something that she prided herself on. She'd pondered and moped about the topic for long enough, and it was time that she did something about it.

"Mum." She asked quietly, and waited for her mother's nonchalant "yes, dear?" to continue. "Are you hiding anything from me?"

Mrs Weasley paused for just a moment too long. "Whatever do you mean, dear?" She said casually, but her pleasant tone was forced.

Ginny sighed. "When I first told you about Henry… before I'd even explained myself properly, you acted like… like you knew I had a baby." Ginny walked closer to her mother and stood beside her as the older woman stared out the window and into the garden. "But you couldn't have known about Henry… nobody did. I made sure of it."

"Ginny…"

"And now, I keep having these dreams, these visions of a baby girl. Who, mind you, looks nothing like Henry, so I know I'm not mistaken." Ginny squared her shoulders. "And I know that you know what I'm talking about, because some of these visions… well, you're in them Mum."

Mrs Weasley bit her lip anxiously as she stared out into the garden.

"Please, don't lie." Ginny said seriously. "Whatever it is… I can handle it. If I have another child out there somewhere, I want to know."

Mrs Weasley finally turned her face towards her daughter with a solemn expression. She wiped her hands on her apron and sighed. "I think you'd better sit down for this, my dear…"

Ginny did so, and Mrs Weasley sat beside her at the dining table. Anticipation and sickening nerves both reared in Ginny's stomach, but she kept her cool.

"When you were twelve…" she began, and took a deep steadying breath. She reached out to take Ginny's hand, and Ginny felt a foreboding doom settle into her bones. "Do you remember, on the train to Hogwarts your second year…"

Ginny's eyebrows knit together. "Yes… but, what has that go to do with…?"

"I'll get to that." Mrs Weasley sighed. "You had some… terrible memories. You were inconsolable on the train, and then again hours later when you tried to sleep. Professor McGonogall took you to see Madam Pomfrey so she could give you a sleeping draught."

Ginny blinked in confusion. "I don't remember that part…"

"No, you wouldn't… because a highly trained Obliviator erased and altered most of your memories from the first and second terms of your second year." Mrs Weasley squeezed her daughter's hand. "Madam Pomfrey performed a spell, just a simple check-up on your health, you see… it was her standard procedure. And she discovered that you were five months pregnant."

To say she was shocked would have been the greatest understatement of the century. It would be like saying Harry got a little bit stressed sometimes, or that the gnomes in the vegetable patch outside were kind of annoying.

But even so, though the details were even worse than Ginny had imagined… she was hardly surprised at all.

"I was pregnant… in second year?" Ginny's heart was racing fast, and her heart was turning cold… "But, how? How could I have been…"

Mrs Weasley continued. "Professor McGonagall contacted me by flu, of course, but she explicitly urged me to come alone. This is a mother's business, she told me. So already I knew that it would be a womanly issue, though I'll admit I arrived at Hogwarts under the impression that you'd come down with a case of Cramping Curse. It's not uncommon in witches on our side of the family, and it's incredibly painful though it is easily treatable."

"But…" Ginny prompted quietly.

"But I was very wrong." Mrs Weasley admitted. "I'll admit, while we were in Egypt, you were rather ill. I put it down to the new foods and all the excitement of the trip… I would never have assumed you were pregnant. You were twelve. The thought didn't even cross my mind."

Ginny swallowed back her fear. "Who was the father?" She practically whispered. "Did I… know? Did I tell you?"

"Yes." Mrs Weasley said mournfully. "I don't think you really understood what happened at the time… but you remembered it. And it… traumatised you. You'd tried to block it out, but the dementors brought back all the awful experiences you had with… with…" Mrs Weasley's voice shook as she forced the name out: "Voldemort."

Ginny felt like her brain was slowly turning into the consistency of mud. "Voldemort is the baby's father?!" The words slid from her lips without her permission. "How?! He was… he was a memory."

"He was a… dark, dangerous magic. And from what Dumbledore could gather… he'd drained enough of your life force in the Chamber of Secrets, had absorbed just enough of your soul and energy that he'd become a… physical entity." Mrs Weasley sniffed. "And… he had you down there… all alone…"

Ginny pulled her hand away from her mother, and leaned back against the chair. She placed both her hands onto her face and let out a single cry. "Merlin… of all the possibilities I imagined…"

"I'm sorry." Mrs Weasley said quietly. "I'm so sorry Ginny… you were so young. Basically still a child… you wanted nothing to do with the baby, and I didn't blame you for one second. You were panicked and hysterical, and you only calmed down once Madam Pomfrey explained that she was trained to remove it, if that was what you wanted."

"But… I gave birth to her… didn't I? I had… Voldemort's daughter…"

"You had your daughter." Mrs Weasley said fiercely. "You agreed to the termination, but then you asked Madam Pomfrey what would happen to the baby once it was removed. Was it going to be okay? – and several more questions of the likes of that…" she sighed. "I told you that a baby couldn't survive unless it grew inside its mother first… maybe I should have worded myself better, but that was enough to make you change your mind." She patted Ginny on her knee. "I thought about having Madam Pomfrey perform the spell anyway… but you were already so distressed, and you made it clear that you didn't want the baby to die… I couldn't take that choice away from you."

It was all too much for Ginny to hear, but she pulled her hands away from her face and stared determinedly into her mother's eyes. "What happened to her?"

Mrs Weasley sighed and leaned back. "We decided that we'd conceal your pregnancy with charmed robes, and Professor McGonagall was the only teacher who knew about it. Over the Christmas holidays I took you to the Maternity Healer and she delivered the baby. You surrendered the baby to a Wizard orphanage, and Dumbledore paid for the Obliviator to change your memories. You were… Ginny, I hated to take your memories, but you weren't coping emotionally. The… trauma left you deeply disturbed, and in the end it was your choice to have them erased." She reached for Ginny's hand again. "I don't regret allowing you to give the baby up, nor do I regret the Obliviator. You were still my baby, and though I felt for the infant, you were my priority. The Obliviator changed your memories just enough that you wouldn't have to deal with the grief of giving up the child, but the memory charm also dulled most of your… depression, and anxiety. You started to get stronger, healthier, and I'm really proud of the woman you've become. Who can say for sure how things could have turned out? I'm just happy that in the end, you were able to overcome it all."

"Does… does Dad know about this?" Ginny asked her.

She shook her head. "You begged me not to tell anyone, and it felt wrong to betray your trust over something so serious."

Ginny took in several deep breaths. Disturbing as the story was… Ginny didn't necessarily feel traumatised by it all. She still had the dark and disturbing memories of Lord Voldemort possessing her… but the trauma that existed in relation to her… daughter – well, it was as if it had never existed in the first place.

"Whatever happened to her?" Ginny mused, her voice thick with emotion. "Did she get adopted by a nice family? She'd be… what, four years old now? Almost five? She's… well, she's a little girl now, not a baby at all…"

Mrs Weasley remained still for a moment before she finally answered. "No… she was never adopted. She's still at the orphanage."

"How do you know? Have you… visited her?"

Mrs Weasley audibly swallowed. "It does get rather… lonely around the house sometimes, with your father at work and all you children grown and off to school and jobs. On occasion I go to the orphanage and help out the caretakers with cooking and laundry… I do check in on her."

Ginny felt a tear welling up in her eye. "What is she like?"

"She's… quiet." Mrs Weasley explained. "Ginny, dear… she is well looked after by the caretakers. I assure you of that. I always… wondered about her. She's still my grandchild, not matter how she came into this world. But I never would have forced you to see her, or visit her. She doesn't know who I am, she's just… a child, living in an orphanage. A magical one, at that. They entertain those children with all kinds of whimsical magics… it's not a terrible place to grow up. It was then, and still is, the highest quality magical orphanage in England."

It was an hour later when Ginny finally built up the strength to talk to Harry.

She was drained emotionally, and her thoughts were running in and out of her mind faster than she could process them.

Harry was laying in the bed, holding Henry to his chest and rubbing his back as the baby slept. His little cheek was smushed against Harry's shirt, his lips slightly parted as he breathed softly.

Harry opened his eyes and looked up at her as she walked in. "Hey, Gin… sorry, I would have put him in his crib but the second I move he—" he paused and assessed the gaunt look in her eyes. "Hey, what's the matter?"

Ginny swallowed. "We need to talk about something…" she said slowly, and moved to lift Henry off of Harry's chest and into her arms. Henry stirred, and she cradled him gently as she rocked him back to sleep. "Actually… I need to tell you something…" she explained as she settled Henry into his crib.

A week later, Ginny was fairly certain she'd recovered from the news of her oldest child. She could comprehend that the girl existed, and lived somewhere (Ginny was sure she'd actually been in the same building as the little girl, when searching through the only two magical orphanages that still existed in England). The fact that she was so close… that was the fact that left Ginny feeling somewhat unsettled.

Two weeks before Ginny turned seventeen, Harry proposed.

While she hadn't been expecting it, she knew he was thinking about asking her to marry him. In fact, they'd had the conversation several months earlier. They loved each other, and the Wizarding War had proved to them both that life was too short. They had a child, and Harry wanted nothing more than to make their little family 'official', at least in the legal way.

And he was set to start training with the Aurors… if anything ever happened to him, he wanted to make sure that Ginny and Henry would be entitled to his money. They'd be looked after for life; Harry and Ginny didn't even need to work, but Harry was determined to bring the remaining Death Eaters to justice, and Ginny supported whatever career path he chose. Without NEWTs, it was unlikely he'd ever get the opportunity to join the Auror's ranks again…

Being a sixteen year old mother who wouldn't be finishing her NEWTs limited Ginny's work prospects… but she had skills that couldn't be taught in school, and when Henry got older, perhaps she, too, could branch out and find her dream job… whatever that was.

Ginny knew her parents would never nag her about getting married to the father of her son, but she knew they wanted more for her. More financial security, for both her and Henry. Not that they didn't trust Harry – they knew how much he loved Ginny, and how deeply he cared for and loved their grandchild. But they were old fashioned, and truthfully – so was Ginny. She and Harry quickly made the decision that she would stay home with Henry while Harry worked; it was an easy decision, though she suspected Hermione would disapprove.

Not that it mattered to Ginny.

They already had a baby, they'd bought a house, and once the repairs to the kitchen were complete (the house had been infested with Fire Slugs), they were moving in. They were already a little family – and whatever misgivings Ginny may have had about being a young bride went out the window the second she laid eyes on her son.

Harry did surprise her with the ring…

"I have an early birthday gift for you." He said, and his face paled nervously as he stood before her.

She smirked as she placed Henry in his crib, then turned back to face him. "Is it a ghost? Because you look like you just saw one…" she joked.

He huffed out a laugh, and when he looked into her eyes, some of the colour had returned to his cheeks. "Close your eyes." He said mysteriously.

After rolling them, she did as he asked.

"Okay," he said nervously, "you can open them now."

When she did, it took her a moment to realise he was kneeling before her. She gasped and brought her hands up to her mouth.

"Ginny…" was the only word he got out as he held up the gold ring before she'd tackled him to the ground.

Her family was both thrilled and unsurprised by their engagement – Harry had asked both her parents permission, and Mrs Weasley spent the entirety of the next day weeping with joy.

Barely a week before her birthday, Ginny lay on Harry's bare chest late into the night. Her head was spinning, and her senses were heightened with nerves, but her mind was made up.

"I want to see her, Harry." She whispered against his neck. "I need to see… my daughter."

Harry wrapped his arms around her tighter…

The next day, Ginny and Harry asked Mrs Weasley to look after Henry while they 'sorted out paperwork for the house'. She'd been all too willing, and fifteen minutes later, the newly engaged couple stared up at the large sign that hung above the orphanage.

St Hedwig's Home for Children

It was strange to be back at the orphanage, searching once again for a child… but this time, they knew who they were looking for. Or at least, they knew that when they walked inside the building, they'd have an answer – they'd know the child they wanted to see would be inside.

The care taker greeted them in the waiting room, and recognised the pair of them instantly. Mostly because of Harry's fame, but also because they'd spent almost an hour searching through records to try and find Henry.

"I heard you found your son." Margaret, the bubbly caretaker said with a smile. "That must have been such a relief."

"Yes, we did." Ginny said calmly. "But… how did you know?"

"Oh, it was in the Daily Prophet this morning." She said casually, and proceeded to lift a newspaper up from behind her desk. "Rita Skeeter wrote quite the informative article."

Harry frowned as she handed him the Newspaper. Indeed, the front page held several updates about the arrests of several Death Eaters, and a the bottom of the page was the title: Harry Potter's Secret Love Child – full article on page three.

Harry groaned. "Of course Rita Skeeter can't help herself…"

Ginny took the paper from his hands and grimaced. "We knew it'd get out… we've been taking him with us to Hogwarts…"

"Sorry to be the barer of bad news." Margaret said softly.

"It's fine." Ginny said wistfully, and handed her the paper. "We've actually come today for a different reason. There's another child in this orphanage… she'd be four years old, black hair… brown eyes."

Margaret nodded. "We have… unfortunately acquired several orphaned children since the war ended. A lot of young ones lost their parents over the last year. We were stretched rather thin, but Minister Kingsley has given our home a substantial grant and sent several more staff to care for the young ones… he never fails to respond to my owls." She said casually. "What's the child's name? Are you looking to… adopt another? Or is this ministry business?"

In hindsight, Ginny probably should have asked her mother that key detail. But it was too late for that now, so instead she sighed and swallowed her pride. "Actually… this child, she's been here since her birth. Since I… gave birth to her."

Margaret's eyes widened, and her face paled a little. "Four years old, you say?" She said, and eyed Ginny with a confused look. "I have to admit, I only took on this position a year ago. I'm unfamiliar with the birth parents of most of the older children…"

"We have plenty of time to go through the records." Harry said hopefully.

Margaret sighed. "Yes, well… we're going to have to do this the Muggle way again, unfortunately. Our records are protected from magical summoning, as I'm sure you recall. I'd love to be able to wave my wand and collect your daughter's file, Miss Weasley. But we do value our children's privacy… you wouldn't believe how many unsavoury characters we have coming through those doors."

It took less time to uncover the child's documents than Ginny had expected. There were sixteen girls under the age of five currently residing in the orphanage, and within twenty minutes Margaret had located the file of a young girl.

Margaret opened the file and pulled out the baby's birth certificate.

Ginny Weasley held the paper in her hands delicately and stared down at the name written on the page.

Name: Amia Marvella Prewett

Born: 21st December, 1993

Hair Colour: Black

Eye Colour: Brown

Mother: Ginevra Molly Weasley

Father: Unknown

The document was stamped and signed in gold by Minister Fudge, and resembled the new birth certificate they'd been issued for Henry – whose surname was now recorded as Potter.

"Ay-mee-ah..." Ginny whispered. "I've… never even heard that name before."

"It's pronounced Ah-my-ah, actually." Margaret corrected gently. "We have several more records in her file. Healer's reports, incidents she's had with other children… we have a handwritten letter here too, from her… well, from you, I suppose."

"Indeed…" Ginny said weakly.

Harry wrapped his arm around Ginny's waist. "Is there any chance we can see her?"

Margaret swallowed. "Yes, you can come through the play room now, if you'd like. However, I'd like to caution you… Miss Weasley, please don't let her know you're her mother, at least for now. These children all dream of the day their parents will return, and they hope that somebody will adopt them. It would be damaging for her, emotionally, if you were to identify yourself and then leave. We've been working on her emotions lately… I wouldn't want her to have a set back."

Ginny swallowed, worry building in her gut. "Of course. We just wanted to see for ourselves how she's doing."

Margaret nodded, and retrieved Amia's birth certificate. She placed the documents back in the file and briskly stored them away. "Follow me, please."

The playroom in question was… lively.

Some children played alone, but several were running circles around their caretakers and each other. There was bustling activity, and glittery, enchanted butterflies danced along the wallpaper. Ginny counted thirty children among the group, and felt a pang of sorrow for all these parentless children.

"This is Amia." Margaret said quietly, just loud enough for Harry and Ginny to hear.

Ginny's heart raced as she gazed down at the small girl.

She had that same dark hair – only now it hung in loose curls down her back. She wasn't paying any mind to the children around her, so focused on her crayons and paper as she drew a rather colourful snake across the page. Another child wandered over to Amia, and Ginny got a glance at her deep brown irises. She stared blankly at the blonde child when he asked her for the purple crayon, and took a moment to respond.

The words they came from her mouth were a feral, unintelligible hiss.

Ginny gave a horrified look to Harry – but Harry's face was merely curious as he stared back at Ginny.

The blonde boy's eyes widened, and he let out a fearful cry as he turned to Margaret and lifted his hands up to her.

Margaret sighed and crouched down. "Come now, Lance. There's nothing to be afraid of. You're a big boy now," she said as she wiped the tears off his cheeks, "Amia is sharing her crayons with you… aren't you, Amia?"

Amia merely stared at Margaret, then looked back down to her paper.

Lance settled down, but gave Amia a nervous look as he retrieved the crayon and hurried back to the adjacent desk.

Margaret stood up and spoke to Ginny. "She does that quite often… she was born with the ability, and we like to think of it as her special gift – though unfortunately the other children often don't react well to it."

A look of realisation came over Harry's face. "She's a Parselmouth?" He asked, and Ginny raised her eyebrows at him.

"You didn't hear it?" She asked incredulously.

Harry shook his head. "Parseltongue just sounds like the Queen's English to me."

"You can speak Parsltongue, Mr Potter?" Margaret asked, her eyes widening in surprise.

"Yes…" He responded. "I too was… gifted the ability." He muttered, but Ginny could read between the lines – he wasn't born with the ability to speak Parseltongue, he'd acquired it after having lived with Voldemort's soul inside him for almost seventeen years. "She asked Lance if he wanted to draw with her."

"Oh, indeed?" Margaret said, surprised. "I wouldn't have ever known… I'm sorry to say, but I find the language can sound rather… aggressive to the other children and staff."

Ginny stared back down at the little girl. She'd seemingly recovered from Lance's mild outburst, and quietly hissed at her paper. "Harry… what is she saying?"

Harry cocked his head to the side. "She… singing, I think. Or saying a nursery rhyme. I wish I was a silly snake. A slithering, slippery snake…" Harry repeated.

"Oh, I taught her that one." Margaret said with surprise. "I didn't realise… she's never repeated the rhyme in English before…" Margaret cleared her throat. "She does have a fondness for snakes. She keeps a soft snake toy in her bed."

Harry took a step towards the girl. "May I…?" He asked Margaret, and the woman nodded enthusiastically.

Harry knelt before the girl, and almost immediately he too was making the hissing, stuttering noises that she had been. Ginny's eyes widened as Amia looked up at Harry and smiled wide. She lifted the paper up to show him, and repeated the hissing language of Parseltongue.

Ginny watched them both. Parseltongue was an aggressive, guttural language. One that had dark undertones… growing up she feared the language, until Ron told her Harry could speak it. It was still a great taboo, and Ginny's chest squeezed as she imagined the little girl struggling to reach out to the other children… being held in fear and distaste.

Amia abruptly stood up from her table and looked up at Margaret. "I need to go potty." She said in perfect English. Her voice was high pitched, and lyrical… and Ginny found herself staring down at the child in awe.

Margaret nodded. "Let's go!" She took Amia's hand and gave Ginny an apologetic look. "I'll be back momentarily… feel free to stay, or I can meet you back out in the waiting room."

"Thank you." Ginny said, nodding.

As Amia led Margaret towards the opposite door, Ginny watched as Harry stood up straighter. "What was she telling you?" She asked, feeling distinctly breathless.

"I asked her what she was drawing." He said quietly. "She started listing the colours of her rainbow snake. It's name is Seven, apparently. She's going to give it to Margaret when she finishes colouring it."

Ginny swallowed, and she felt her eyes beginning to water. "Harry… didn't you mention that Voldemort grew up in an orphanage?"

Harry sighed and started leading Ginny back in the direction of the waiting room. "Yes, he did. But Ginny, Voldemort was born without the capacity for regular human emotion. He didn't become what he was because he was raised in an orphanage… it was much deeper than that."

Ginny kept her eyes straight ahead as they made it to the waiting room. Harry closed the door behind them, and Ginny finally voice her thoughts. "I can't leave her here, Harry."

Harry placed a hand on her shoulder. "Gin, you don't have to feel obligated to take her back."

Ginny shook her head. "It's not that." She said honestly. "Amia… she's different. She's quiet. The other children are scared of her. She could be… lonely."

Harry rubbed Ginny's shoulder. "The caretakers look after the children here, Ginny."

"I'm not doubting that." Ginny said, and felt the heat in her eyes reaching their limits. A few tears escaped, and she quickly wiped them away. "She doesn't have anyone… but Harry, she's my daughter. I gave birth to her… I can't leave her in this place."

Harry stewed on his thoughts for a moment, and finally placed his hands back by his sides. "Then we won't."

Ginny wound her hands around him, and took comfort in the feel of him gently rubbing her back.

Ginny was sure. She felt it in her heart – she wanted this child. She wanted to bring her home with them right then, whisk her away from this orphanage and raise her herself, with Harry by her side. It was such a strong desire, such a deep feeling of surety, that Ginny told Margaret of her wishes the second the woman returned from the children's playroom.

"I'm sorry, Miss Weasley, but I'm afraid it won't be that simple." She said solemnly, genuine apology on her face.

Ginny frowned as she took a seat in front of Margaret's desk. "Why not? I'm her mother. She's not an orphan… I'm sure it would be a weight off all your shoulders to have one less mouth to feed."

"Oh, it's not just that, I'm afraid." Margaret said. "I'd love to just hand her over to you and let you take her home today. Sometimes, I do fear that only a mother could truly love that child properly…" She swallowed, and folded her hands together atop the desk. "But legally, I can't just give her back to you." She opened Amia's folder again, and pulled out another document. "You relinquished your parental rights to her when you surrendered her, Miss Weasley."

Ginny took hold of the document. It was a verified letter, stamped and dated by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement… and signed by Ginny herself.

This letter is to clearly and lawfully state that one Ginevra Molly Weasley, aged twelve on the date of surrender, has hereunto surrendered Amia Marvella Prewett into the care of the Ministry of Magic.

There were several more lines of information stating that Molly Weasley was a witness, that Amia's father was listed as 'unknown', and that Ginny was relinquishing her parental rights with sound mind, and without coercion. Ginny swallowed as she read the document in its entirety.

Margaret continued. "In any case, Miss Weasley, you're underage – it's against the Ministry's policies to give custody of orphaned children to underage parents."

"Ginny's seventeen on the eleventh of August." Harry pointed out.

"Even so, Amia is still a ward of the Ministry." Margaret said. "You'll need to get permission from the Wizengamot to assume custody, and that won't be easy. They'll look into your home life, and your age will definitely be considered… I'm not telling you this to upset you, it is, unfortunately, the current state of our laws. Please understand…"

Ginny nodded sadly. "I do…"

Harry put a supportive hand on her knee. "What options do we have?" He asked in earnest.

"You'll need to consult with Magical Law Enforcement, at least to start with." Margaret said honestly. "I can give you the name of a woman who often works with prospective adoptive parents."

"That would be helpful, thank you." Ginny responded.

"And honestly, Miss Weasley, Mr Potter…" Margaret said. "I do hope it works out in your favour. Amia is a sweet child, really. She's just… oft misunderstood. She would thrive with the kind of affection and attention that regular parented children receive." Margaret offered them both a small smile. "In saying that, I can assure your that she's in good hands at St Hedwig's."

Ginny nodded, and her eyes glanced down to the file. The letter she'd apparently written Amia stood out, and Ginny wondered, again, what she could have written to her daughter before giving her up…

… and so, weeks later, as Harry and Ginny finally waved goodbye to Hermione as she disappeared in the distance, Ginny felt a renewed determination overtake her as Harry squeezed her hand.

"You ready to face the Wizengamot?" He asked her calmly, a small smile rising over his face.

Ginny gave him a hard, blazing look. "I'm ready if you are."