- Chapter Four -

Happy Times of Peace

It had been two months since the memorial service, and Harry had kept his small vow to think no more of the Diggories or any other crippled family. As selfish and cruel as this decision seemed to him, his days were much calmer than they had ever been, and he felt that he deserved it, whatever his conscience might say.

He and Ginny were lying on the beach, side by side, looking at the blue sky and the seagulls, listening to the waves. As they lay there, their bare arms and legs touched, and Harry could feel the cold sea breeze giving her goose bumps. It made him realise that the weather was indeed getting cooler – in the West, storm clouds were gathering from the ocean, promising a heavy summer shower.

'We should go back,' said Harry.

'Mmmm...' the girl mumbled in reply and closed her eyes, 'Mum must be tearing her hair out wondering why we are late with the fish...'

A few steps away, a large basket full of eels was left on top of a large rock. They were preparing for the 'Weasley dinner', which had become a tradition in recent months, which meant that all the family members visited the Burrow to discuss the events of the past few weeks. Harry loved these evenings, when all his friends were together: all the Weasleys, Fleur, Percy's girlfriend, Penelope Clearwater, Charlie and his fiancée, who had moved here from Romania. Sometimes Kingsley Shacklebolt would drop in for a visit, and even Hagrid would come for dinner.

Mr Weasley, Percy, Bill and Charlie were still at the ministry, so it was up to Harry and his friends to prepare dinner. Hermione set up the big tables outside and Ginny took on the fishing, for which she insisted up Harry's help. Ron couldn't support because he had worked in the magic shop with George every day since leaving school, as he had done at the end of the previous summer as well as during the Christmas and spring holidays. Everyone knew, but no one spoke loudly about it: Ron felt it was his duty to be with his brother, to make sure George was never alone, to have someone from the family with him at all times.

Together, they apparated to the beach – Ginny leading Harry – a stretch of coast that was more or less sheltered from Muggle eyes by the overgrown bush and rugged cliffs. Here they stood on the edge of a rock overhanging the sea, set the basket down beside them, and with their wands, one by one, they plucked the fish out of the water, which flew straight into the basket. It was filled in a few minutes, but as Mrs Weasley had given them half an hour, they felt they must make the most of the precious time while they were alone.

In the distance, a freighter floated on the water, seagulls flew overhead, occasionally swooping down on the fish. They would have targeted the basket like locusts had Harry not hidden it from their eyes with a simple, Disillusionment Charm.

'There's going to be a storm,' Harry said again, after he had bent over and looked far out to sea.

'Yes, I can feel it,' Ginny replied, her eyes still closed, stroking her arms. She, too, sat up and they looked at each other – Harry grinned, reminding Ginny of a happy little boy opening Christmas presents.

'What?' she asked him, and started to smile, too. Harry kissed her as an answer.

'Let's go,' he urged, then stood up and helped her up.

They grabbed their clothes and Harry was floating the basket off the top of the cliff when he remembered something.

'Wait a minute,' he stopped suddenly, and Ginny looked at him questioningly. 'What could that clock be pointing to now? The one on the wall in the Burrow...'

Ginny stared at him for a moment, puzzled, then laughed out loud. She took the fish basket from Harry and started up the sandy grassy hill, still laughing. Harry spread his arms and ran after her. 'Seriously, Ginny! What did it show?'

A winding path led back to the house, its crooked tower could be seen from a distance, but Harry and Ginny were in no mood to walk the nearly two kilometres between the beach and the Burrow, so instead took each other's hands and disapparated directly into the backyard of the house, next to the rusty, leaky cauldrons.

'There you are!' Mrs Weasley greeted them with her hands on hips. 'What took you so long?'

Hermione appeared, with a pile of floating plates and cutlery behind her, which she pointed at the huge dining table set up in the courtyard.

'They must have been twitching too much,' Hermione remarked half aloud, then giggled to herself. 'The fish, I mean...' she added, grinning in satisfaction at the reddening faces of her friends.

Harry and Ginny took the fish basket into the kitchen and set it down by the stove, where a large pot of water was already boiling. Mrs Weasley ignored Hermione's comment and just started to prepare the fish for frying.

'There's a storm coming,' Ginny said to her mother. 'We should set up the pavillon.'

The pavillon had been used two years ago for Fleur and Bill's wedding, which the organisers had set up in the courtyard, but the chaotic events following the wedding had left the scaffolding and the tent with them, packed up in the shed where Mr Weasley used to assemble the flying car and now stored Sirius's motorbike, which he had been repairing with Harry's help in his spare time.

Mrs Weasley wasn't happy about the storm, but there was nothing to be done – too many people were coming for dinner to fit in the dining room. Harry and Ginny unloaded the packed pavillon from the shed and set to work in the courtyard putting it together. It wasn't that easy, even with magic, it took a good half hour to get the scaffolding up.

Harry was clearing the folded tarpaulin of two-year-old dirt with one or two dust-sniffing charm when, amidst a great flapping of wings, four owls descended on the large table.

'Owls,' Harry said unnecessarily as he looked at the birds. 'Four.' Each one had a leaf attached to its leg. 'Uh-oh...' he groaned in nervousness.

They all knew that the exam results were due any day now, but Harry had somehow forgotten about it, and now it was a bit sudden. Ginny didn't flinch, she calmly walked over to the owls and detached the letters from their feet while Harry was still eyeing them.

'Hermione!' shouted Ginny into the house. 'Our letters have arrived!'

The next moment there was a loud scream and clatter and Hermione ran out into the courtyard. She tore the letter from the redheaded girl's hand so hard she nearly ripped it.

'Ouch!' Ginny rubbed her sore fingers where Hermione's fingernail had dug in. 'Thank you very much!'

Hermione didn't even look at her, as she opened the envelope with trembling hands. Harry, however, stood still, like a man who'd been hit on the back of his head with a bludger bat. Ginny glanced at her own report card and smiled, considering the matter closed. Following Hermione's big scene, Mrs Weasley came out into the courtyard.

Harry was restless. The letter was full of surprises because, in addition to his exam results, it immediately told him whether he had achieved the necessary score to be admitted to the Ministry. In March, Harry, in keeping with an old dream of his, had submitted his application to Professor McGonagall to the Auror Headquarters' training programme, together with Ron. Hogwarts didn't just let its students go after the seventh year: it helped those who wanted to get started on the bumpy road ahead by contacting the institutions where the students wanted to work, whether it was the Zonko's Joke Shop or the Ministry of Magic.

'Darling, let me see those marks!' said Mrs Weasley to her daughter. Ginny grimaced and handed her the letter – Harry knew she hated it when her mother called her "darling" – and instead leaned on his shoulder, waiting for him to open his letter.

'But Ginny, that's wonderful!' said Mrs Weasley, holding up the letter in disbelief. "Nine Outstandings and three Exceeding Expectations!'

'Yes, it is wonderful,' she said pointedly, 'If you had read any of the letters I sent you from Hogwarts, it might not have come as a surprise to you...'

'What are you talking about? I read your letters!' Mrs Weasley cried, and her face flushed. Ginny was unmoved.

'Sure, of course. Then don't let it come as a such a shock to you that I've outperformed your favourites... Bill and Percy,' she said with a caustic sneer. Mrs Weasley put her hands on her hips and gave her a dirty look.

Harry finally opened the envelope, but he was so nervous that on first reading he didn't even understand his exam results, so instead of trying a second time he impatiently put the letter aside and picked up the admission paper instead.

Dear Harry J. Potter.

We are pleased to announce that based on your N.E.W.T. exam results you have been accepted for a three-year training programme at the British Ministry of Magic's Auror Headquarters. At the end of your training you will have received full preparation and, upon successful completion of the exam, immediate admittance into the Auror Office.

Welcome to the Aurors! We wish you a successful and enjoyable preparation!

Sincerely,
Gawain Robards, H. A.

'I got hired,' Harry muttered, looking at Ginny. 'I got accepted.'

'You have become an Auror!' she clapped happily, then threw herself into his neck and nearly strangled him.

'Not yet, three years to go...' moaned Harry, throwing off her arms at Mrs Weasley's approach.

'Which you will certainly manage successfully!' she encouraged him, and he hugged her.

Harry finally calmed down, feeling himself deflate like a punctured tire, and had to sit down on one of the chairs. Now, with a calm heart, he went over the N.E.W.T. results again, among which the worst was quite surprisingly not Potions but Herbology – he got a weak 'Acceptable'. Hermione told him not to take that subject lightly either...

'Hermione?', Ginny tapped the shoulder of the girl who was looking through her own letter, 'Would you be finally willing to tell us where you've applied to?'

'Mh?' she looked up from her letter, chewing her nails.

The girl, for some reason, had made it a big secret and told no one, not Harry nor Ginny, where she had applied. Ron was the only one who knew about it, but not a word of it could be got out of him. Hermione had asked him not to talk about it, and he was only willing to say that he was afraid of being made fun of.

'Well... Department of Magical Creature Regulation,' Hermione shrugged and handed the letter to Ginny.

'How the hell did you get accepted to the MCR if you didn't even have a Care of Magical Creatures exam?' she asked her.

'I didn't apply for the beast division, I applied for the subclass of intelligent beings,' Hermione replied in a matter-of-fact tone. 'For that you only need History of Magic.'

Harry and Ginny looked at each other.

'Spew!' they said at the same time. 'I knew that was in the background!'

Mrs Weasley also congratulated her on her successful acceptance, but did not let the matter pass without comment.

'Darling, don't you think that with your brains you could have applied for a much higher department? They'd take you anywhere with, erm...' here she glanced at the letter Ginny was holding, 'eleven Outstanding N.E.W.T.s?!' she sniggered completely dumbfounded.

'That suits me perfectly well, Mrs Weasley,' Hermione said modestly, but the woman just shook her head, along with her daughter.

Soon after Mrs Weasley went back into the kitchen, the garden was filled with delicious smells, the sound of sizzling oil and soup simmering on the stove. Unable to resist the smell, they left the half-finished gazebo and went into the living room. They sat down on the sofa, and then Harry glanced at Hermione's letter.

'But good for you, you don't even have an internship year. You can start working right away...'

Hermione just smiled, but then she suddenly jerked her head up,

'I just don't understand why you didn't apply to the Daily Prophet?' she turned to Ginny. 'I thought you wanted to become a journalist.'

'I did,' she muttered, unenthusiastically, 'It's still in my long-term plans... However, for now I'd like to work in the shop for a while.'

'In the magic joke shop?' Hermione asked with a face as if doubting her sanity. Ginny nodded firmly.

'Yes. Because of George. If Ron goes to the Ministry with you, he'll be alone, poor thing.'

'I'm not sure if Ron also...' Hermione began, but then realized and bit off the sentence instead.

Meanwhile, Harry had already opened his friend's letter and read the first line of the notice.

'''We are pleased to announce...''' blah blah blah... They hired him,' he announced. Ginny nodded.

'See? George would be all alone. He needs someone, I don't think it would be good for him if everyone left him.'

Hermione continued to sticking to her guns: 'But Lee Jordan also works in the shop...'

'Only part-time. He also has his father's restaurant.'

'... and Katie Bell, I think she's his girlfriend now.'

Ginny just shook her head.

'Hermione, you have to understand, he needs a sibling, I... I just feel that way, that's all. I'll have the time to look after myself later. I'd hate to think of him sitting alone in his shop on a weekday night, staring at the four walls. You can't understand what it must have been like to lose F-Fred... It didn't even... It didn't even hurt Mom as much as it hurt George.'

Ginny and Hermione were careful to keep this part of the conversation between six ears, having experienced Mrs Weasley's crying seizures whenever she thought of poor Fred over the last year. Ginny rarely allowed tears to fall, but when it came to her twin brother, she couldn't hold back either. Harry was used to her not needing comforting hugs and words of reassurance in those moments – her tears were not rolling down her cheeks to feel sorry for herself, they were only for her brother.

In the silence that fell, the clicking of the Weasley clock seemed louder than usual: the hand with Mr Weasley's name on it turned to "on the road", and after a second, to "home". The next moment the door to the garden swung open and the panting head of the family burst through.

'Molly!' he cried, looking around the living room for his wife. 'Molly, we must go at once!'

Mrs Weasley poked her head out of the kitchen.

'Why, what happened?'

'Just now...' panted Mr Weasley, wiping his sweaty brow with his dotted handkerchief. 'Just now the baby is coming!'

Mrs Weasley dropped her wand and put her hand to her mouth, but she still managed to let out a huge scream.

'Oh my goodness! Oh my goodness!' the woman shouted, along with Ginny and Hermione. Harry hadn't got to that realization yet, just shifted his gaze from one to the other.

'We must leave at once,' urged Mr Weasley. 'George has just sent word, Fleur's just been taken to St Mungo's, Bill's with him...'

'Kreacher!' cried Mrs Weasley, as she hurriedly made her way into the kitchen. With a loud crack, the old, ancient house-elf, who had long since been promoted from his Hogwarts duties to house-elf of the Weasley family, appeared.

'You wish, my lady?' the elf bent down so that his nose almost touched the floor.

'Yes, please, can you help me?'

'What are you waiting for? Get dressed!' snapped Mr Weasley, when he saw Hermione, Ginny and Harry standing there, petrified by the news. They jumped immediately, as if bitten by a flea, and ran around the house to change.

By the time they had returned, Mrs Weasley was sputtering instructions at the old house-elf as she changed her apron for a coat and floated her handbag to herself.

'Kreacher, take care of the house, and please pull the pot aside when the soup is ready, and don't burn the fish, and just leave everything as it is, and when we come back, then...'

'Molly!' her husband said sternly.

'Yes, we can leave!'

Harry and the others were waiting for them in the garden, from where they apparated together to the St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

Harry thought for a moment they had come to the wrong place, because the hall didn't look like he remembered. The walls were missing the many paintings that made the hall look a bit like Hogwarts, and even the wooden paneling was missing, the walls were whitewashed.

'Mr Weasley,' Harry addressed the man. 'What happened to the hospital?'

'Mhh? Oh yeah, it's... During the war, Vo-Voldemort's men attacked the hospital,' Mr Weasley clarified, in a slightly shaky voice. 'There was a nasty fight here... It was the night they took the ministry. They killed the director and two other trainees. The whole lobby had burned down.'

'Why did Voldemort kill healers?' Ginny asked. 'What was his problem with them?'

Harry just shrugged and followed Mr Weasley to the information desk.

'Good afternoon,' said Mr Weasley to the grumpy witch sitting at the reception, 'We're here to see Fleur Delacour Weasley, I believe she was recently admitted to the maternity ward.'

The witch scanned the notepad in front of her.

'Weezly, Weezly... Ah, there it is! First floor, wing B, room 107.'

Mrs. Weasley wedged in between her daughter and her husband.

'Can you tell us anything about...?'

'No, she's still in the delivery room, please wait in the corridor, thank you. Next!'

The small group continued on towards Building B, where Harry had not yet been. It was narrower and smaller in its corridors, but better lit than the one where Mr Weasley or Gilderoy Lockhart were housed. At the first junction they turned right, following the directions on a small sign, and came into another hall, somewhat wider than the first, from which the doors of the delivery-rooms opened.

In the corridor they ran into Ron and George, who were bored and staring at the wall, sitting on a bench. As they approached, Ron jumped up and immediately ran to Hermione's, but George quickly enlightened all of them.

'They've been in there for an hour, but they won't tell me anything,' he said with a blank expression, his eyes hidden behind his black lenses again.

'Poor Bill,' slipped out of Harry's mouth. Ginny nudged him in the side with her elbow.

'More like poor Fleur, eh?'

Behind them, Ron and Hermione were talking in whispers, and then Ron suddenly exclaimed.

'I am admitted?' he stared wide-eyed at her, then squealed with such joy that everyone in the corridor shuddered.

'Ron, keep it down!' his mother told him sternly.

His son wasn't paying attention, because he was kissing Hermione so hard that probably neither of them heard anything.

Harry began to get used to the relationship between his two friends, and as he watched them, he realised how well they were suited to each other – and how much they had both changed. Hermione had become much less uptight, and had recently even acquired some sense of humour, which Harry thought was nothing short of a miracle. Ron, on the other hand, had become much more serious since they'd been together, and jealousy and envy were a thing of the past.

Ron's attitude towards Harry and Ginny has also changed radically. Harry believed that the fact that he and Hermione were officially a couple had a lot to do with this. Ginny and Harry, however, still enjoyed playing at keeping secrets from their relatives. He couldn't really say why, but neither he nor she intended to change that set-up. They were going to continue to play their little game as if they were merely acquaintances.

Shortly after them, Charlie and Percy arrived, who explained the reason for their delay amidst a flurry of apologies. No apologies were necessary, however, as nothing had happened for a long time, and all they had to do was wait. And they waited, for long, seemingly endless minutes. Twice the four good friends had already gone up to the fifth floor to the visitors' tea room, and both times they expected to have big news waiting for them when they got back, but nothing happened. George, in the meantime, had fallen asleep leaning on Charlie's shoulder, snoring loudly because of his brother's constant prodding.

Ron also looked like he would fall asleep within minutes, Hermione rested her head on her knee, bored. Harry sat down on the cold tiles, facing Ginny for lack of space, and they both stared at the family waiting outside the room next to them: young mum, young dad and three little ones no older than a year or two. They looked very happy.

Then, after nearly four hours of waiting, the door slammed open, so loudly that they all jumped, and George slid off the bench with a snort and lay on the floor.

As Bill came out, he exclaimed:

'It's a girl! A little girl!'

Everyone jumped up and ran to the new daddy, hugging him, squeezing him, showering him with congratulations.

'So beautiful!' he went into raptures over her. 'You can see her soon, they're moving her to the baby room. Fleur was very tired and fell asleep straight away.'

'And what did you decide? What will you name her?' Ron urged.

'Fleur and I thought that if it was a girl, we'd give her a French name, so Victoria... I mean Victoare... I mean... yes, of course, Victoire, of course,' Bill let out a maniacal little laugh and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. 'You know I'm just still very excited.'

'You can calm down now, Bill,' Ron patted his brother on the shoulder and hugged him. He then turned to Harry and his friends: 'Awk-ward...' he stammered without a sound, but the happy smile on his face couldn't be wiped away.

Harry and his friends were not allowed in with Fleur, only the new father and grandparents. It was only a little later, through the glass of the nursery, that they were allowed to see the little girl. She was just like her mother, with shiny blonde hair and snow-white skin.

'I'll go tell Fleur's mum! They don't even know what happened!' Bill said, and ran off down the corridor. Harry had a feeling that Bill would be running madly everywhere he went from now on.

When Fleur woke up a little later, Mr and Mrs Weasley went in again, and Harry and Mrs Weasley waved to her from the doorway until the healer slammed it on them. By evening Mr and Mrs Delacour and Gabrielle arrived with Bill returning, at which point Mrs Weasley decided it was time for them to go home. Bill stayed the night at the hermitage, and due to lack of space the French relatives rented a room at the Leaky Cauldron.

Dinner was a cold fried fish, but the good news made it tasty, and everyone talked about Bill and the new family member. Ron, among others, could not get his head around the name they had chosen, which only Hermione could pronounce correctly. Harry, Ron and Ginny unanimously agreed to stick to 'Vicky'.

After dinner, everyone slowly said goodnight to each other and went to bed one by one, until finally only Harry and Ginny were left. Hermione said her goodbyes immediately after putting down her fork and suppressing a suspiciously huge yawn, and Ron followed less than half a minute later, also claiming drowsiness.

'Well... you're an aunt now,' Harry raised his glass to his girlfriend.

'Oh, stop it!' Ginny sighed wearily, and buried her face in her hands. 'Looking at little Vicky, I have a feeling it'll be rather the charmingly perfect Aunt Gabrielle her favourite than the cranky wench Aunt Ginny.

Harry was looking at her with unusual seriousness, which got her attention.

'You're not a cranky wench,' he said. Ginny returned the dead serious look.

'Well, that's the nicest compliment I've ever heard!' she shook her head, and they both laughed.

For a few minutes they took turns giggling at each other and drinking pumpkin juice until the yawns became more frequent.

'We should get some sleep, don't you think?' Harry suggested, and Ginny got up from her chair without a word. They walked upstairs, holding hands, to her room, where, as they expected, Hermione's bed was empty.

They were so tired that they crawled into bed with their clothes on, hugging each other, and Harry fell asleep almost within minutes, thinking that there could not be a more perfect day.

It felt like only five minutes had passed and it was morning. A soft light came in through the window, as he heard the pouring rain. Ginny must have been up early, as he was alone in the room. He lay staring at the ceiling for a little while, listening to the raindrops tapping on the window, and finally sat up, stretched his limbs and left the room.

As soon as he stepped out of the room, he was hit by an unpleasant musty smell, which made him catch his breath and cough.

'What the hell is this?' he grumbled to himself, his hand on his nose. Once he had gotten over the first surprise, he had another: as he looked around the walls, he realised he was not in the Burrow. Instead of the shabby staircase of the Weasley house, covered in tatty wallpaper, he found himself in a long corridor. Glowing glass globes floating below the ceiling provided the lighting, a noble red and gold tapestry decorated with hunting scenes adorned the corridor, and the floor was covered with gleaming scrubbed parquet.

'Where am I?' Harry asked himself aloud.

But there was no reply – nothing but the sound of raindrops. He looked back at the room, but it was unchanged, the wall was occupied by a poster of the Holyhead Harpies and the Weird Sisters, the bed was in the same place, nothing had changed. The only odd thing he noticed was the unusual dullness of the lights, the dullness of the colours, as if everything was covered in grey.

For the first time, he began to feel a sense of danger, and it was then that he realised he would feel safer with his wand. He went back to the room, but the wand was not where he had left it on the bedside table. He opened the drawer, but to his surprise, all he found was a pink teddy bear.

'Hi! Want to play?' asked the bear. Harry closed the drawer.

'What is going on?' he asked again, but this time he also got no answer, as could've been expected.

He stepped out into the corridor again, smelling the musty smell, but slowly his nose and lungs got used to it. He headed to his right, where a staircase closed off the corridor. Harry could have chosen to go up or down, but without a moment's hesitation he immediately set his sights on the ground floor. If he wanted to find out where he was, this was the best way. He walked slowly down the stairs, clinging to the banister, watching every step, almost expecting something to happen at any moment.

It turned out that he was on the first floor, and again this was not in keeping with reality: Ginny's room in the Burrow was on the second floor.

Reaching the ground floor, he came into a stylishly furnished living room, where a blank painting in an ornate frame hung on the wall between handsome glass cabinets and a glittering, richly engraved round gold shield. The fire in the fireplace cast shivering shadows on the walls, which, together with the gloomy half-sky outside and the faded colours, made this otherwise pleasant and inviting home ominous.

Harry heard a rustle from across the room and spun around, startled. It was only then that he noticed a man sitting in one of the armchairs, facing the large windows overlooking the garden. As he cautiously approached, he saw who it was, and his astonishment grew.

'Malfoy?' Harry called out, and at the same time, for some strange reason, the windows in the whole house shuttered.

The blond man jumped up from his armchair, raising his wand. Startled, Harry staggered backwards and almost fell.

'Accio!' said Malfoy, and the golden shield flew from the wall, straight into his hand. Harry threw himself behind one of the armchairs and and hit his head.

'Who is there?' Malfoy asked.

Harry wondered if his former classmate was either blind or mad, because they were face to face, and he should have recognised Harry. He was already thinking of walking closer to him with his hands up, so he could recognise him.

But then something happened: First there was a noise, then the windows and glass doors opening onto the garden shook again and exploded with terrifying force, sending shards of glass flying into the room. Harry tried desperately to protect his head and neck, but miraculously not a single shard cut him.

The force that blew open the window and door rose three more times, like a destructive gale, and by then it was already targeting the furnishings in the room. The cupboards, the cabinets, the coffee table, the chairs and the armchair behind which Harry was hiding all flew away, and landed at the other end of the living-room, smashing everything to tatters. Harry heard Malfoy's terrified shout, and as he looked towards him, he saw the boy hiding behind the shimmering gold shield.

Slowly he stood up and was surprised to see that he had not been hit by a single piece of glass, nor had he cut himself anywhere. Malfoy peered out from behind the shield, his wand pointed straight ahead at Harry and the shattered windows. The blond boy gasped in fear, but his terrified eyes moved left and right around the living room, and Harry was sure of only one thing: Malfoy couldn't see him.

This opinion seemed to be trumble the next moment, for Malfoy, with a startled cry, flicked his wand, hurling a curse at Harry. Harry leapt away from him again, straight for the broken glass, but once again it left him unscathed. One curse followed another, and Harry ran out through the ripped door into the pouring rain, where he immediately slipped in the mud and fell flat on his stomach. He had felt the fall, his elbow aching, but as soon as he opened his eyes and wiped the mud from his glasses, he forgot the pain.

Someone was standing above him.

Harry looked up at the dark figure in the robes, and though he could see beneath the hood, his face was in a shadow, and he could see only the nose and mouth of the man towering over him. There was a gleam on the hooded man's chest, and as Harry looked he recognised it for what it was: a strange triangular symbol of the Deathly Hallows hung around his neck.

The mysterious figure also looked down at Harry, and though his eyes were not visible, Harry could have sworn the man was surprised – he seemed to have dropped his jaws.

Harry's attention did not miss the forest behind the man – dead, gnarled, blackened trees towering like skeletons. He pushed himself to all fours in the mud, but before he could rise, the figure crouched down to him. Harry was sure now that the hooded man saw him, and seconds passed in silent stare as he finally saw the stranger's face when he leaned forward a little.

The sight of that face made his heart start beating so hard it nearly knocked his chest out. He couldn't understand anything, he couldn't think rationally at all, he couldn't think of any logical explanation. They just stared at each other for who knows how long, trying to comprehend the incomprehensible.

The boy must have been the same age as Harry and he had taken off his hood. He looked at him with a sad, almost remorseful look. Harry could not utter a single word.

'Why didn't you tell me...?' sighed the wizard.

Harry heard nothing else, for his words were interrupted by a belligerent roar. Malfoy staggered out of the living room, hiding behind his shield, wand pointed forward.

'I told you not to show your face here!' he shouted at the top of his lungs.

The black-robed boy's face twisted with anger and he leapt to his feet, waving his wand. The small triangle symbol around his neck swung wildly, glinting in the green light on the wand.

'NO!' shouted Harry too. 'Don't do it!'

'Avada Kedavra!' the boy shouted as from the end of his wand came a devastating bolt of green lightning. Harry did not see, only heard the great crack as the curse hit the golden shield, but he knew that Malfoy was finished.

At that moment he woke up, he actually jumped up, and Ginny fell out of bed beside him with a frightened cry. Harry was still panting and dripping with sweat, and only noticed Ginny as she groaned and scrambled to her feet.

'For God's sake...' she moaned, holding her arm.

'Ginny!' cried Harry, frightened, and climbed out of bed. 'Sorry… I'm sorry!' Ginny hissed in pain as Harry helped her up.

'I thought the nightmares were over...' she said reproachfully.

'I thought so... I thought so, too,' Harry muttered, almost seeing the memories of the dream leaving his head like grains of sand from a sieve.

He sat Ginny down on the bed and sat down next to her. She blinked wearily at him, but there was no anger in her eyes now.

'What did you see?' she asked.

Harry told her about the dream and also the beech tree vision, because the only thing he was sure of was that the two were somehow connected. The musty smell, the cloudy sky with no sun anywhere to be seen, the dead trees everywhere... But no matter how hard he forced himself to remember, he couldn't bring up the features of the young man who had knelt down to him and who had such a strange effect on him.

'What did he tell you?' Ginny continued to question him. Harry frowned, thinking.

'It was... I think it was something like, 'Why didn't I tell you?' or something.' Harry took a sleepy breather and rubbed the back of his head. 'What did I not tell him? What?'

At that moment, the last memory that woke him from his sleep flashed back to him.

'I saw Malfoy die,' he said, and Ginny's eyes widened in horror, all sleepiness gone instantly.

'Draco Malfoy?' she whispered. 'Is he dead?'

'I'm not sure... but I think so,' Harry shook his head. 'I don't understand what's causing this, Ginny. Voldemort's gone. My scar hasn't hurt for a year. Even now...' he scratched the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead, 'I can't feel anything now. Nothing... Then why are these dreams coming?'

Ginny hesitated for a moment, then cuddled up to him and hugged him. As always, Harry felt his worries fade away, and the nightmare no longer seemed so unsettling and terrifying. Now it seemed more interesting rather, that...

If what I saw is true, Malfoy is already dead, he warned himself.

'Ginny,' Harry called to the girl.

'Mhh?'

'Why do I feel so lousy that I saw him die?'

Ginny let him go and looked him in the eye, stroking his face. She looked at him as if searching for something, and Harry thought for a moment of Dumbledore.

'I don't think what you saw is true,' Ginny said quietly. Harry stared at her questioningly. 'You said it was daytime and it was raining,' she continued, pointing to the window. 'Look at this!'

The window was left wide open, the floral curtains swaying softly in the summer breeze. It was a pitch black night, crickets chirped in the garden, not a single cloud floated in the sky.

'And if it was abroad...?', Harry looked back at her. Ginny shook her head.

'Dad saw Malfoy at the Ministry this morning,' she replied, 'running in and out of the Patent Office all day.'

Harry tried to convince himself that what he was seeing was not reality. Maybe someone was messing with him, putting images into his head. Maybe that strange man in black...

If only he could remember his face! It must have been important, otherwise why would he have felt so sick when he saw it?

And how could he have forgotten? They must have erased it from his memory... – Harry thought. Someone is surely using Legilimency on him...

'Don't worry about it,' Ginny said, as if she could see into his thoughts. 'Come on, let's try and get back to sleep. It's still early.'