The occupants of Grimmauld Place settled into a routine. A peculiarity of this routine was Harry. Every day he would disappear and from three to six pm he could not be found. It had been very nerve wracking on the first day this happened. At ten to six Mrs Weasley had called out that dinner was ready. Within a minute of the call every one not in the kitchen was looking for Harry, who had, as the clock struck six, come out of the bathroom and walked into the kitchen.

'Hmmm, that smells great Mrs Weasley. Where do you want me?'

'Anywhere is fine, Harry dear. Now, where are those kids of mine?'

'I'll get them.'

Harry walked into the hall.

'Oy! Weasleys! Dinner is served!'

Mrs Black immediately started screeching again. Harry turned to her with one eyebrow raised.

'Oh, you're still here, are you?' he asked the painting calmly, 'Well, could you kindly refrain from screeching while you're in my house?'

Mrs Black shut up at once, blinked, then started anew with extra vigour.

'Your house! What do you mean, your house! …'

'Knew it wouldn't be that easy,' Harry muttered as he pulled the curtain over the woman and went back into the kitchen.

Ron, Ginny, Fred, George, Charlie and Bill rushed into the kitchen.

'Harry!' Ginny called as she sat down next to him, 'Where have you been! We've been looking all over for you!'

'You have? You should have just called out.'

'Didn't want to wake the old hag,' Charlie said as he sat down opposite the two of them.

'Who? The Screecher? You only have to pull the curtain to shut her up.'

'Yeah, and that takes about five minutes and three people. You'll have lost your hearing by then.'

Harry raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing as Mrs Weasley served dinner.

The incident was all but forgotten, but the fact remained that Harry disappeared every day at three, and reappeared again at six. The only one who found this remotely interesting after three subsequent days was little Ginny Weasley. She kept her search up, but never found a sign of Harry. She tried keeping him in her sight at three, but he would always slip away and when she looked again he was gone. At six he would turn up in the most random places. A bathroom, his bedroom, Buckbeak's room, the attic, anywhere. She wondered about it in bed until she fell asleep.


It was the sixth night since Harry's arrival. He had just woken up from an intense and rather painful meeting with the Death Eaters. Voldemort was not in a good mood as something was not going according to plan. The Death Eater who was supposed to deliver the good had undergone a particularly vicious Cruciatus Curse. Harry had to hand it to the man, he hadn't made so much as a sound as he was tortured. Something about his demeanour was familiar to Harry, but due to the mask he couldn't place a name and face to the voice.

A soft sound caught Harry's attention and he listened carefully. He got out of bed to investigate, sipping from the glass of water standing by his bedside to dislodge the Silencing Draft from his throat.

Ginny shot up from her nightmare as the door opened softly. She turned and grabbed the dim form of her mother in a tight hug. Her mother stiffened, then relaxed as she clung on.

'Ginny?'

Her mother's voice sounded slightly hoarse, Ginny noticed.

'It…it was T…Tom. He said Ha…Harry wouldn't come and sa…save me. He…he said Ha…Harry didn't think I…I was worth it.'

'Sssh Ginny. You were worth it, Ginny. Every single effort, every single scratch I got, Gin, every single scratch.'

A hand closed around her ankle as the other arm snaked around her shoulders.

'Don't ever believe anything Voldemort tells you, Gin. Whether it's as a sixteen year old or as a resurrected son-of-a… Well, just don't ever believe him, okay? You're worth so much, Ginny. So much. I'd die for you. And I will, Ginny, I will.'

Her mother sounded funny; smelt funny too. She…she smelt of…of smoke? Pine? Come to think of it, her mother's form felt funny too. And…and what had she said? You were worth every single scratch I got, Ginny, every single scratch. And had she said Tom's name? Her mother never got a scratch, she had been sitting in Dumbledore's office. So this wasn't her mother? Then who was it? Ron? He had gotten scratches. No, Ron didn't smell and sound like this; he wouldn't say Tom's name either. Then…then this must be… No! Oh Merlin!

Ginny scrambled back and almost fell of her bed.

'Hey Ginny! Watch it!'

Harry grabbed her and to stop her toppling of her bed.

'Harry!'

'Yeah?'

'Oh Gods, Harry! I'm so sorry! I…I…'

'What for?'

'For…for crying all over you! I thought you were my mum!'

'Huh? Oh.'

Harry fell silent and an odd expression flitted across his face. It was gone before she could identify it.

'I'll go then, shall I?'

He stood up and walked out the room, not looking back and closing the door silently behind him.

Ginny leant against the wall.

'Oh Merlin! That was embarrassing! How am I going to face him tomorrow, what is he going to think of me?'

Then she thought about what Harry had said. Did he really mean all that? And…and that he would. Would what?