- Chapter Twenty Two -

Back at Durmstrang

Harry had a long night. He, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the rest of the Weasleys had all spent the wee hours of the morning in the Ministry, upstairs in Kingsley's study, which now seemed somehow much larger than before, perhaps to fit everyone comfortably. Kingsley had insisted that the whole family be under protective custody for the next twenty-four hours, and had gathered the entire Auror Command together. Harry thought the whole fuss was completely unnecessary, they should have thought of that earlier. Now that the Fourth Tower had got what it wanted, they were unlikely to come back.

'You killed four of their men!' Kingsley snarled when Harry made this point.

'I didn't kill them,' Harry said, hoping he wouldn't lose his temper like last time. 'The collapsing house finished them.'

Mrs Weasley sobbed, her husband hugged and soothed her, and their children stared at each other with mournful expressions, as if they were at Katie Bell's funeral again. Strangely, though, George was in the best of moods: he had put on his black sunglasses again and stood leaning against the wall, picking his nails as if bored.

Ginny squeezed Harry's hand and he squeezed hers in return. They sat side by side facing the desk, but Kingsley, taking advantage of them all crouching in front of him, stood up and paced back and forth in front of them, so that they all had to look up at him.

'Did you recognise the attackers?'

'Just one. Draco Malfoy,' Harry replied, to the astonishment of everyone present.

They argued for a long time about what had happened, and listened to everyone's account in turn – except Mrs Weasley, who was so distraught that she could only cry, leaning on her husband's shoulder.

It also turned out that the family ghoul that had been living above Ron's room had burned inside the house, and for a while its plaintive howls could be heard as the Aurors put out the fire. The owls – Pigwidgeon and Hermes – escaped unharmed, however, for they were out hunting, and Crookshanks brought Arnold, Ginny's Pygmy Puff, out of the house in its mouth.

'They wanted the cloak,' Harry said when Mr Weasley asked why this attack had happened at all. 'They knew it was the third Hallow.'

Kingsley shook his head in disbelief, and it was clear that he was not in control of the situation.

'Do they want to unite the Hallows?' came Ginny's frightened voice.

'It seems so', Harry said. Kingsley tsked.

'That doesn't make sense,' he growled. 'If they want all three Hallows, why didn't they try to disarm you?'

Harry didn't know the answer, but Hermione, huddled in the background, silent until then, replied instead:

'For he for whom they work would certainly not entrust the Wand of Destiny to one of his servants. That would be too dangerous. He who wants the Wand will come for it himself, when he has the other two Hallows. I think he probably even forbade his servants to kill Harry,' her voice sounded tired and slightly weary; Harry, while agreeing with her completely, wondered if Hermione was getting tired of their constant fighting. It was as if ever since they'd met, they'd been locked in a seemingly endless war...

'How did they get into the house?' Bill shook his head, who had also rushed into the ministry when he heard the news. 'The protective charms didn't work?'

'The last time they were disarmed from the Ministry...', Ron remarked quietly, looking up into Kingsley's face.

The minister slammed the table angrily, startling Mrs Weasley.

'Could you please stop insinuating, especially with such nonsense?!' the wizard sputtered.

'Kingsley!' Mr Weasley raised his voice, and it was music to Harry's ears: Mr Weasley would not bow down to Kingsley's new-found insanity.

The minister was a little ashamed, and restrained his anger.

'I do not know how they got in, but I can assure you that the Ministry is not responsible!'

Ron snorted contemptuously.

'I... I think it was me,' a voice said, and they all turned around. Tears glistened beneath Percy's glasses. 'I think I was... I was forced by an Imperius curse to... to remove the security spells.'

Kingsley's eyes narrowed, and for a moment Harry thought he was about to blame Percy. But finally he just sighed and sat down behind his desk. Mrs Weasley sobbed, and Percy sniffled like a child. His father put his arm around his shoulders and comforted him:

'It's okay,' he whispered to him.

'There you have it!' Hermione snapped. 'Here's the proof that they're from Durmstrang.'

The Minister snorted nervously, sweat glistening on his brow.

'That doesn't prove anything...' he muttered.

'Why won't you face the facts, Kingsley?' Harry said loudly, although he felt afterwards that it was a rather teasing question, and he was not the least bit surprised at the look on the minister's face.

'What do you expect me to do?' he snarled.

'It's bad enough you have to ask me,' said Harry, impudently. 'Me, who doesn't know anything about the way things are done here.'

Kingsley slammed the desk again. The inkwell fell off the desk and shattered on the floor, its contents spreading in a large puddle across the polished parquet floor. The other people present didn't dare to make a sound.

'I think I warned you quite clearly the other day to watch your mouth!' he snapped at him in a whisper.

'Kingsley, I think you should calm down,' Mr Weasley suggested quietly, getting up from his chair. His children looked at him with watchful eyes. 'And you too, Harry...'

'I'll calm down when Harry Potter learns how to behave!' the minister pointed with shaking fingers at Harry. 'He keeps insulting, teasing and mocking me, and I have to put up with it?!'

Sounds like a whining child, Harry thought, looking at him darkly.

'You know very well what the reason is, Minister,' he said quietly, with a cold detachment, as he had done with Kingsley's predecessors, 'This is the second time you have accused me of murdering someone. That's one reason. The other is that you're trying to explain why you don't want Ciaran Diggory brought home with all sorts of bogus reasons.'

Mr Weasley stepped up to Harry and stared into his face.

'What are you talking about, Harry?' he asked. 'What about Ciaran?'

Kingsley's face became stiff as a statue. Harry turned to Mr Weasley.

'He didn't tell you?' Even Harry wondered.

Ron got up from his chair as well, Hermione's head sliding off his shoulder.

'Does no one know?' he asked, and then, seeing his father's puzzled look, added: 'Harry found Mr Diggory's foster son at Durmstrang. And Malfoy is there too.'

'Why would I have told them?' Kingsley snorted, eliciting a stunned look from his Secretary of State. 'You had no evidence, only suspicions, and as usual you suspect the Durmstrang leaders because you hate them!' His accusations were again directed at Harry, and his outstretched hand could be seen to tremble and his brow to be beaded. 'You've already made that mistake with Severus Snape! You had no evidence, you just pointed your fingers at him because of your stupid bonehead!'

Ginny hissed in outrage, but the Minister ignored her.

'And now you'd jump into something stupid like that, you'd be kicking up dust with another Ministry of Magic, another school, only you don't realize you're no longer a student, you're an Auror, and you're not at Hogwarts, you're at the Ministry! It's a different world, and interestingly enough, everyone understands and accepts that except you, but you...' foamed Kingsley. 'You continue to repeat Dumbledore's unrealistic ideas – but this is not the Order of the Phoenix anymore! Grow up! This is Auror Headquarters! And an Auror does as I command!'

It became so quiet, one could hear it. Mrs Weasley stopped crying, and Harry, though his back was turned, could imagine the looks on everyone's faces looking at the minister. He himself realised what had happened: Kingsley Shacklebolt had gone mad. He didn't know for sure whether it was some devious black magic or whether the once respected Auror couldn't take the pressure, but this was not the man who had risked his life for him in the old days.

'You don't command me,' he whispered, leaning close across the table, and no longer caring if he crossed the line. He wanted to cross it, wanted to push him even further...

'I don't?!' Kingsley shouted. 'I don't?!' Mr Weasley no longer dared to interrupt.

'You're not a minister,' said Harry. 'I don't know how I could have misjudged you so much.'

Kingsley laughed, a mad, demented laugh that made Harry shudder. He had never imagined that the man could make such a sound.

'Well, look at it now, Arthur!', Kingsley opened his arms, gesticulating wildly. 'He has the nerve...'

Mr Weasley looked from one to the other with open mouth, then spoke cautiously:

'Kingsley, I... I don't really understand all this... what's going on between you two,' he muttered. 'I don't understand what could have gone so wrong...?'

'The fact that he is just like all his predecessors!' said Harry.

'Because you don't understand what I'm forced to do in this position!' the minister shouted at him almost simultaneously. 'Don't you understand, you idiot?!'

'I don't understand why you're afraid of this Ciaran Diggory, when you've sent me out twice to spy without any scrupels, just to find out what the Fourth Tower is doing. But this Ciaran business is so suspicious to me that it's beyond obvious. You're afraid of this case...'

Kingsley was already screaming in rage.

'I can't believe it!' he shouted. 'Do you hear that?! Do you hear that?'

'Yes, Kingsley, I think they can hear you, and I think that's exactly your problem,' said Harry calmly, but the Minister has had it.

'I'm sick of you. I've had it with you... I'm suspending you right now, give me your trainee badge!' he gasped as if he'd run for miles. 'You can make your case at your disciplinary hearing. Maybe the Wizengamot will want to hear it.'

'Kingsley, no!' said Mr Weasley, and the rest of the family started to get upset, as did Hermione, who looked scared to death. But Harry had already taken the badge off his robes and put it on the desk. Then he turned on his heel, passed the Weasley family and Hermione, and went out the door.

He made his way down the long corridor, not slowing down until he reached the lifts, where he pressed the call button with surprising calm. Harry listened to the creak of the incoming elevator and took a deep breath.

He found himself strangely calm, almost relieved. He was suspended. They took away his trainee pass. He was threatened with a disciplinary hearing. It could easily be the end of his career as an Auror, and he felt nothing but relief. It had once been his fondest wish to join the ranks of these wizards, to follow in the footsteps of Tonks and Moody, who were heroes in his eyes. Kingsley was also a hero in his eyes...

'Harry! Harry, wait for me!' Ginny's voice came from down the corridor; she came running towards him, followed by Ron and Hermione.

The lift door opened and Harry pressed the stop button while he waited for them. Ginny braked beside him, then unexpectedly took his hand and kissed him on the lips.

'What did I get this one for?' Harry asked in surprise.

'I love it when you stand up for yourself like that,' Ginny explained with a smile, but Harry could still see the anger in her eyes at Kingsley and the Malfoy gang.

'I thought I'll be in trouble...'

'You are, you good-for-nothing!' snapped Hermione, who then came up to them with Ron on her heels and pushed Harry's shoulder. 'What are you gonna do now! You might get fired!'

Harry shook his head.

'I know, Hermione, but I don't care,' he sighed.

The girl looked at him as if trying to see if he was serious, but Ron snorted and everyone looked at him.

'What the hell are you in the mood for?' his sister asked him sharply.

'Because Harry finally said what I was thinking, just...' said Ron, but the end of the sentence was lost in a vague mumble.

'Just were too much of a coward to say it,' Ginny pointed out, and Ron grimaced and shrugged.

'Well... yes,' he said, 'but now there's no reason why I can't leave this wacky bunch behind...'

His words were now interrupted by Hermione's indignant outcry.

'What did you say?!' Hermione snapped with a red face, so Ron drew back two steps. 'Ronald Weasley, say that again!'

Harry hit the stop button again, pleased to see that Ron was not letting up.

'Why are you so upset?' he snorted. 'Don't pretend I haven't told you a hundred times! We talked about it a lot, sometimes you even agreed...'

'Yes, I agreed you had too many rules tying the hands of the Aurors, but it wasn't about wanting to quit!'

Harry saw it as time to step in and stop him before Ron made a rash move to follow him, though deep down he felt his friend had no business being here either. This Auror work was not for them. He stepped up to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

'Ron, Hermione's right,' he said, causing her face to brighten, but Ron was devastated. 'You can't just quit because I got suspended. There's a shortage of Aurors, and you're a good Auror.'

'You're just saying that...' muttered Ron, but Harry shook his head.

'You scored higher than me on every test,' Harry reminded him of the truth. 'You have also improved a lot in duels. You have to keep going, Ron!' he persuaded.

'Besides,' Ginny said, 'as long as you're here, at least, you'll hear the news they'd keep from us.'

'I don't think we should discuss this here,' Hermione suggested. 'Let's go to Aberforth, he'll want to know what's going on.'

'What about the protective custody?' Ginny looked at her.

'Aberforth will be good enough protection...' shrugged Ron, and they got into the lift.

The party of four took the shortest route out of the Ministry and apparated together to the Dumbledore House. They were all tired and hungry, Harry's robes completely tattered, and he wondered what Aberforth would say when he heard what had happened to them. Kingsley, of course, would surely object to involve 'outsiders', but Harry was no longer the least bit worried about what the Minister thought.

It was dark at Dumbledore's, the curtains blocking out the morning sun, creating an atmosphere of being back in the Hog's Head. Aberforth had listened with his mouth agape to what had happened to them during the night, swearing and spitting profusely as he commented on the events which he could mostly hear from Ginny and Harry's narrations. He was so upset by what had happened that he ended up taking half a bottle of Firewhisky from the cupboard and took all of it down the hatch.

'Those bastards!' he grumbled, slamming the bottle down on the kitchen counter. 'I wonder how they found out you had the Hallow?'

None of them answered the question, but Aberforth did not expect them to. After he calmed down, he sent his guests off to bathe and quickly whipped up a breakfast of goat cheese and bacon. They were voracious, the evening's events had drained the strength out of them, and they could do with a hot bath. After breakfast, the bottle of whisky was brought out again, but this time Aberforth offered everyone a glass.

'What I can't understand most of all,' said the old man, after he had poured one for Ron, 'is why do they need the cloak?'

Ron snorted.

'Why? Because it's a Deathly Hallow!'

'Yes, but without the other two, there's not much point in getting it, especially for someone who's good enough at disillusionment charms,' Aberforth growled. 'And you told everyone the Resurrection Stone became useless, and that it was lost in the forest...'

The four good friends looked at each other stealthily, but said nothing.

'So what's the point of collecting the other two Hallows if the business is a lost cause in the first place?'

Hermione, who had been sleepily resting her head on the table and not touching her drink, now spoke:

'Perhaps Moloh knows the Deathly Hallows well enough to know that the Stone works even when broken.'

'By the way: where is that thing now?' the old man asked. Everyone looked at Harry, who gave a small nod to his friends.

'I threw it into the sea,' he replied to Aberforth, who seemed pleased.

'The Wand is well protected, right?' he continued to ask. Harry nodded at that too.

'Yes, but it's not important, what matters is that I'm not disarmed. Until then, it doesn't matter if they have the wand,' he explained. 'But... looking at our current situation, it's a miracle they haven't disarmed me yet.'

And that could happen at any moment, and they would have not one Hallow, but two, and if he was disarmed, captured, and a trained Legilimens searched through his memories, they would know where the Stone was, and that it was in a very usable state.

There was nothing to be done, they had to make the next move, Harry thought, before things got even more out of hand and someone unites the three Hallows who is really not supposed to.

'We have to go and get the Cloak,' he said.

Ginny looked at him as if he had gone mad; Hermione jumped up from her chair.

'Now, hold on a minute!' she said in a raised voice. 'Are you serious?'

Harry was about to start the usual persuasion to get Hermione to understand at length that this was important and they had to do it, however illegal – but Ron beat him to it with a suggestion.

'Let's vote!' he insisted, as in the past, if they disagreed. 'All those in favour of going for the cloak?' With that, he and Harry raised their hands in the air.

The two girls' stayed down. Hermione raised her eyebrows and said:

'I see it's a draw,' she said unnecessarily.

'Mr Dumbledore?' snarled Ron at the old man hiding in the shadows. He stepped forward and raised his hand with a sly grin.

'Hey, that's cheating...!' Ginny snapped.

'No cheating, he can vote too!' Ron cut her off.

Harry was in broad agreement: Aberforth was part of the team, and they almost didn't notice that they had expanded from a trio to four, and had added a fifth.

The two girls made grim faces, but there was nothing to be done. They sat cross-legged at the table, each glaring angrily at their respective boyfriends, and for a few minutes not a word was spoken between them. Finally Aberforth cleared his throat as he refilled the glasses – this time with brandy.

'Well, boys and girls,' he said, 'we need to figure out how you could do it!'

Ron snapped his head up.

'You?' he echoed. 'Aren't you coming with us?'

Aberforth sat down on the chair next to him and laughed.

'Sure! I'm too old for this kind of crap. But in the meantime, you can stay here with me, because, from what I hear, you have nowhere else to go, unless you want to move in with that insufferable woman Muriel, or Potter's house that you use as a vampire farm...'

Much of the morning was spent taking stock of the options that could be considered for another break-in. It soon became clear to them that it was a burglary, as it had been in the Ministry and at Gringotts, for Ginny had informed them of the situation: Fleur had received her invitation to the third rehearsal a week ago and had declined it – but Harry had not received a single letter.

'At least this proves that the cloak is indeed there. At Moloh's,' Harry gritted his teeth when confronted with the situation.

'Big consolation...' Ron remarked bitterly. Ginny stared at him.

'Looking at you now, dear brother, I think you are more upset by the loss of the cloak than by the loss of our home.'

Ron protested indignantly, and asserted that he would make Malfoy and his new-found friends pay for destroying the Burrow. Harry had also a lot or rage inside him, but he tried to remain calm and remind himself that Malfoy had saved his life. He made a mental note to himself to repeat it often to himself when he saw him again, lest he curse his former classmate into pancake batter.

'If they really don't send invitations,' Hermione said, returning the conversation to its original flow, 'then we'll have to find people who do and get them to take their place.'

Since no one contradicted her, she continued:

'Who can be considered?'

'For starters, there's my brother,' Ron said immediately, 'He doesn't get an invitation, but he's at every tournament, he has his own portkey from the ministry.'

Hermione sighed heavily.

'There's no way Percy would agree to that,' she said. Harry thought that was doubtful, too: Percy was one of the organisers of the Tournament, and Head of the International Magical Cooperation Department.

'Leave it to me,' Ginny offered confidently. The other girl looked at her doubtfully.

'How are you going to convince him?'

Ginny just grinned mischievously.

'I know a few things about Percy that he wouldn't want his mother to hear...'

Harry and Ron laughed; Harry tried to imagine what information of such a sensitive nature would make Percy give up on organising the Triwizard Tournament.

'Okay, that's one,' Hermione summed up. 'We need three more.'

They wondered who else could be considered. Harry was about to say Hagrid's name, but then he remembered that one cannot take the form of half-giant with the Polyjuice Potion.

'Fleur will be good for Hermione,' Ron suggested, his eyes twinkling as if he was already imagining his girlfriend as his sister-in-law. Ginny gave him a disgusted look.

'I told you that she has already written to them that she will not go!' the girl snapped. Her brother shrugged.

'So she'll write them that she changed her mind.'

Harry shook his head; he didn't like the idea, because he knew Moloh and Draco were much more suspicious than that, and they might know that Fleur was related to the Weasleys.

'We have to find someone else,' he said. 'Fleur should stay as backup if there are no other options.'

Another few minutes passed in silent contemplation; Ron rested his head on the table, Ginny scraped the dirt from under her fingernails and Hermione stared at the ceiling.

Aberforth's face leaned into the circle of light from the lamp above the dining table, his dusty spectacle lenses gleaming white.

'What's the deal with that baby doll?' he asked croaking. 'Your brother's girlfriend?'

'Which of the five brothers do you mean?' Ginny asked in a curious tone.

'That Percy,' said Aberforth. 'He has a girlfriend...'

Hermione slapped the table, mouth agape, and they all winced, except Aberforth.

'That's it!' she suddenly perked up. 'Penelope was already at Durmstrang, she accompanied Percy to the first task!'

'Right!' Ron realized. 'I forgot...'

Harry preferred not to speak; he was not even sure for the moment that he had ever spoken a word to Penelope Clearwater in his life.

'Then she'll be the second candidate,' Ginny decided, looking around at them. 'We need two more.'

They all knew their options were limited, and it was increasingly certain that they were running out of ideas. Ron suggested they find someone from Dennis's family – but Hermione remembered that the Creevey parents were simple Muggles and would hardly set foot in Durmstrang territory. Ginny's rather bold idea was to use Kingsley for this purpose – Hermione objected vehemently, and despite his strong dislike, Harry had no intention of tampering with the Minister so rudely. Ron only very wisely said that they couldn't get a hair out of Kingsley anyway because he was completely bald. Aberforth slapped his forehead spectacularly and muttered something about trolls as he rocked in his chair listening to them.

Finally, they agreed that for the few weeks until the third rehearsal, the four of them would use their free time to look for someone to play the role of. Hermione made the rounds in the Ministry, and Ginny put up a poster in the joke shop saying that Dennis Creevey cheerleading flags, whistles and hats were for sale, so she could find out who was going to be at the Tournament. She also managed to convince Percy, as promised, and got him to get a hairpiece and a dress from his girlfriend for the third round of the Tournament. It turned out that the boy, who used to be such a stickler for rules, didn't need to be threatened: his guilt was enough to make him agree and promise not to tell the parents. Ron continued to work at the Auror Office, but during his conversations with Harry, he mentioned several times that he was no longer interested and spent most of his time on the training ground.

Harry spent a lot of time in front of Borgin & Burkes. Dressed in disguise, with a hood over his eyes and a long beard, he leaned against the wall in the alley next to the shop, watching every move of the old shopkeeper and his assistant. But after a while he got bored, as whoever went into Borgin's, did so only for such trivial purposes as finding an antidote to a love potion, or buying or selling such legal goods as card-changing card decks, Hands of Glory, a box of biting jewels, and extra-strong balding-serum. Harry also kept in touch with Mr and Mrs Weasley, telling them every day that everything was fine, no one had attacked them and not to worry.

The weeks have passed and May has arrived. All the while, the three good friends stayed with Aberforth, who slowly abandoned his initial grumbling and only occasionally snapped at Ron for having the nerve to put the toilet seat down considering the girls, or Hermione for reading the newspaper at dinner. Although Ginny had moved in with George in the small flat above the shop on Diagon Alley, she stopped by Harry's almost every day, bringing some of the old tried and tested Weasley products: extendable ears, decay detonators, Peruvian instant darkness powder and puking pastilles – and with it the disappointing news that no one had yet wanted to buy a Dennis Creevey flag.

'Either none of the customers go to the Tournament,' Ginny admitted, 'or they're not willing to spend a galleon to cheer for a Muggleborn.'

'I wouldn't be surprised...' Harry murmured darkly, leaning over the plate of steaming hot stew.

Mostly they were cooked for by Aberforth, who was always at home, and only occasionally popped out to the Leaky Cauldron to talk to one or two friends. Hermione was late for dinner as usual, only rushing in when the plates were being cleared from the table.

'Finally,' Ron sighed, putting back the only clean plate left on the table.

Hermione wasted no time in saying hello, threw her coat on the rack and ran into the dining room.

'We've found the third man!' she announced, and all the people present immediately raised their heads and looked at her with curiosity.

'Who?', Harry jumped right in.

'Professor Eakle,' she announced dramatically, while pulling the stew pot closer to her.

'What?' Harry, Ron and Ginny gasped.

'Yeah,' Hermione nodded absently as she got herself a portion, 'I heard it at the MCR, one of the clerks from the goblin office was talking about it with a witch from the spirit division, Mrs Tipping, who always looks at me like I'm a moron. Anyway. Actually, the first thing I noticed was that they were talking about Newt Scamander – turns out he'll be at Tournament too...'

'Is he the guy who wrote our textbook on fantastic beasts?' Ron chuckled.

'Yes, yes,' she waved her hand. 'So, when I heard them talking about Mr Scamander, I immediately started eavesdropping, but it turned out that he had already left for Durmstrang because the deputy director had asked for his opinion on the third task. Anyway, it's strange, because I read that there would be no creatures for the last task...'

Hermione tasted the stew, but found it too hot and pushed it aside. Meanwhile, she went on talking.

'Then I overheard a comment from Mrs Tipping: "Has handsome John Eakle gone away yet?" To which the other replied that no, he was only going straight from Hogwarts on the day of the tournament.'

Ron slapped the table with satisfaction, and Harry shared his enthusiasm.

'Have you spoken to Eakle yet?' Aberforth asked while cooling her stew with his wand. Hermione shook her head and looked at her friends with a slightly frustrated expression.

'The thing is, I'm not sure we can convince him,' she said, 'The Tournament is two days away, and we haven't even found a fourth person... I think one of us has to stay here.'

The three of them looked at Ginny as if they had discussed it, but that was not the case. Yet it seemed almost natural to Harry that if only three could go, it would be the old team: Hermione, Ron and him.

'All right, all right,' Ginny raised both arms.

Harry looked at her apologetically, and suddenly regretted that she couldn't go with them, though, he reminded himself, he should be glad, for they were going to a dangerous place where they might be attacked.

'Have you figured out what we're going to do about Eakle?' Ron asked Hermione.

'Of course,' she replied. 'Stun him.'

The naturalness and obviousness with which he said this made all further concern and debate unnecessary. Hermione had obviously expected them to argue with her, for she looked expectantly at her friends' faces with raised eyebrows, but they said nothing.

'Well, that's settled then.'

Friday was officially Harry's last day at work, even though he hadn't set foot in the Auror Office since the ominous argument. A few days earlier, he had handed in his resignation to Kingsley's assistant, who was a little taken aback when she received the signed parchment. Later that afternoon, he received a letter from the Minister informing him that he would not accept his resignation, and he hurled another scolding at him, saying that Harry was behaving like a stupid, immature child who had not been taught how to behave by Dumbledore, was stubborn, self-righteous, and pompous, and was bringing shame on his parents. Harry returned the letter to the sender, after scrawling an assortment of insulting and obscene words on the back, and then, as one who had done his job well, continued with Ron and Hermione the thorough planning of the Durmstrang trip.

On the day of the third task, he went with Ginny to the ministry to empty his desk drawer and take home the things he had left. There wasn't much to take, but Ginny offered to go with him, and Harry didn't object. He wanted to spend as much time with her as possible, although he didn't really know why he kept getting this strange feeling, just as he had two years ago when he knew they were going to be going their separate ways for a long time. Sometimes he would just hold her or kiss her without any hidden intentions, and even now, as they walked towards the elevators in the crowded atrium of the ministry, they held hands.

'You do know we're going to have to lay low for a while,' Harry whispered to her as they crept closer to the lifts as a dozen or so of them crowded in front of them. They were only talking in whispers as there were so many people around them. 'If we steal the Cloak back, they'll be looking for it. We'll do it so they don't find out, but if we bring Ciaran back...'

'Don't worry so much,' Ginny told him. 'Everything will be fine. They won't be able to come near us again. They wouldn't have got in without Percy.'

Harry hoped she was right. After the attack, Mr Weasley had set up the most powerful spells in existence around Aunt Muriel's house, the Shell Cottage and the Joke Shop, stopping anyone approaching with malicious intent. Hermione was adamant that a skilled Occlumens could overcome the obstacle, and so they added a few more traditional security spells.

'What the hell is that woman staring at?' Ginny whispered in his ear.

Harry followed her gaze, and spotted a woman in her fifties with a jutting jaw and a small moustache, whom he didn't recognise at first, but then he matched her figure with the bloody medical gown and realised how he knew her.

'Mrs Parker,' Harry nodded towards her, and she tried to pretend that she hadn't been staring at them.

'I hear you've quit,' she said, and they moved another few metres closer to the lifts.

'You know, they didn't take me seriously enough,' Harry said, on a sudden impulse, and gave her a half-smile.

Mrs Parker raised her eyebrows, then shook her head in a spectacular gesture and got into the lift. Harry and Ginny also got into another one, and went up to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and then to the Auror Office.

There were few people here, most of them were on their lunch break, only the Aurors on duty were sitting in their cubicles, some taking notes, looking through documents or simply doing nothing. Harry used to find the job interesting and exciting, admired the courage of the Aurors – now he was just fed up with it and the entire Ministry.

They hastily started emptying out the cupboard and desk drawer, and Harry's belongings, accumulated over six months, were thrown into a cardboard box in a mess.

'Hurry up, I don't want us to...'

'... to be seen running away like a coward?' The voice came from behind him as he flinched, and Ginny screamed out.

It was the Minister, staring into the screen with a very sombre face.

'Says the right one, Shacklebolt,' Harry replied, deliberately emphasising the permanent defect in their friendship and working relationship.

Kingsley closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head with a sigh.

'Harry... Harry,' he said, as if there was pain in his voice, 'don't do this. Please.'

Somehow he sounded more sincere now than when he made his arguments, Harry thought. And then the answer came into his mind, like a little devil sitting on his shoulder, whispering in his ear: of course it's more honest, because he's afraid of what will happen if people find out he's sacked Harry Potter. Harry was almost expecting the angel to appear, but she seemed to be on holiday at the moment, so he looked at the minister with disgust.

'Now you're begging! What, are they whispering behind your back?' he said to Kingsley fiercely. 'Are you afraid for your velvet chair?'

'Harry...'

'Well, don't be afraid!' he sputtered on. 'Don't worry, I won't spread our quarrel, because despite being a jerk, you're still a better minister than...'

'HARRY!' the minister yelled, when he finally stopped his rant.

He scowled at Kingsley; Ginny just stood behind Harry with a photograph in one hand and a stack of parchments in the other.

'I know from Dawlish that you didn't feel comfortable here from the beginning...'

That was true, but until now Harry had never thought John Dawlish was such a good observer.

'And I also know that you were right about a lot of things you said,' Kingsley continued, and Harry's eyebrows rose visibly, 'Dumbledore was right about a lot of things, too, and anyone who can see clearly enough knows that.'

The minister took the opportunity to finally get Harry's attention and stepped closer to him.

'But Harry...' he continued, his deep, soothing voice sounding a little flattering, 'Our world works by laws. If we ignore them, how are we any different from Voldemort?'

Harry had no intention of answering, but Ginny slammed the parchment and the photo down on the table and stepped up to him.

'Did you not break the law when you sent us to Durmstrang to spy for the ministry?' she asked with temper.

The Minister did not reply. Harry knew Ginny had hit the bullseye, it was written all over Kingsley's face. Harry didn't want to stay here another minute. He picked up the already packed cardboard box, threw in the photograph and the parchment, then glanced at Ginny.

'Come,' he said to her silently, avoiding Kingsley's gaze.

But when he stepped away, the minister reached out and grabbed his arm, tightly. The alarm bell went off in Harry's mind, and he looked at him with eyes that boded ill.

'I know what you're doing!' Kingsley whispered to him. 'You told the Diggories that you found the boy, didn't you? You disobeyed my orders.'

Harry didn't say anything, and Ginny stopped, putting her hand in the pocket where her wand was.

'And what are you planning now? Are you going to heroically rescue him?' Kingsley continued to whisper, almost in his face. 'Or are you just going for your cloak? Which one is worth it...?'

Not waiting for him to finish, Harry tore his arm from Kingsley's grasp and walked out of the headquarters with Ginny at his side; she turned back once more and gave the abandoned Minister the look Crookshanks gave Ron when he was arguing with Hermione.

He knows, Harry thought. Kingsley knows he's been to the Diggory's and talked to them about Ciaran. Somehow, he couldn't get worried about it now, more preoccupied with the evening ahead. He pushed those thoughts away and ignored Kingsley for the rest of the day, but Ginny fumed incessantly all the way home:

'I can't believe it!' she shouted when they reached the street and there were no more ministry officials around. 'How did this guy become such a jerk?!'

'Relax, Ginny,' Harry soothed, and she calmed down a little, her flushed face indicating her mood.

'How did he know you were at Mr Diggory's?' she asked. Harry shrugged.

'He must have sent Dawlish to them. But don't worry,' he added quickly, 'Mr Diggory promised not to tell how we interrogated Borgin. Besides, if he had, we'd have been arrested long ago...'

He hadn't really meant his confident words, and he knew Ginny would see through it, but they had left it at that. They headed straight back to the Dumbledore House and spent the afternoon going over the plan once more in depth. Percy had already explained to Ron earlier what he would have to do in his role – from his pompous speech it had eventually turned out he just needed to sit down and shake hands politely with everyone. With the Pensieve, they looked once more at Harry and Ron's memories of the inner corridors of Durmstrang, every nook and cranny where they could hide the cloak. They knew that there was a possibility that they might have ended up taking it somewhere else, and in that case they would have to get information – for that, Draco seemed their best option.

They had a hearty dinner with Aberforth, after which Ron and Hermione went to change. When they were ready, Ron was wearing one of his brother's more distinguished robes, while she was wearing Penelope's Clearwater dress robe, which Harry thought was too long and a little too tight at certain spots. She was also obviously embarrassed by the dress, and adjusted herself uncomfortably, which Ron observed with considerable interest.

'Are you ready?' Hermione asked, glancing at Harry and Ginny as if it had taken them half an hour to get dressed.

In response, Ginny held up the full bottle of Polyjuice Potion she had brought from George's shop.

'Great,' Hermione said, and began rummaging through her beaded bag, which she continued for a full minute, finally stopping and looking up with a sneer. 'Erm... I think we're all set... and we might as well get going.'

Waiting for confirmation, she glanced at Ron, who shrugged casually.

'Time for action,' he said, and stepped to the fireplace. He lifted the Floo powder vial from the ledge and sprinkled a pinch of it into the fire, turning the flames green.

Harry, meanwhile, stepped to his side, forcing his friend to look at him.

'Are you sure?' There was no need to explain, Ron understood. He put on his most serious expression and said in a low voice:

'Those people destroyed the house where I was born and raised. They almost killed my sister and robbed you,' he said. 'I've been with you for less.'

Harry realised that more words were unnecessary, especially as Hermione stepped between them, her face flushed with excitement, but ready for action, just as she had been when they had gone to the Ministry or Gringotts.

'Shall we go, Ron?' she asked.

'Percy is waiting for us,' he said, then glanced at Harry. 'See you at Durmstrang!' Then he glanced at Ginny. 'Bye, sis...'

He stepped into the flames, declared his destination and disappeared.

'Well... good luck, Harry! ...And to you too, of course,' Hermione muttered to Ginny, and then waved and followed Ron into the fireplace.

Aberforth stepped up behind them and gave them a good pat on the back as he put his hand on their shoulders.

'Well, you rascals!' he shouted. 'It's time for you to go too. I'm not saying I wouldn't go with you to help, but...' his words trailed off into a mumble, but Harry grinned at him.

'It's all right,' he said. 'You've been very helpful to us, Mr Dumb...'

'Ah, to hell with it!' the old man cut him off. 'You can call me Aberforth, or Ab... But not Abby, because that sounds stupid.'

Ginny giggled with her hand over her mouth.

'Okay,' Harry agreed. 'Well... Thanks for all your help. And I'm sorry for the things I said to you... after what happened at the Peverell House. I was wrong about Marius.'

Aberforth waved his hand.

'Don't worry about it, kid,' he said. 'Get the Cloak and the dumb kid back, and we'll hide until things cool down. And you...' he turned to Ginny. 'You know your job, right?'

Ginny saluted.

'I'll stay with Eakle so he doesn't wake up. I'll wait for Harry in the morning. If he's not back by then, I'll tell Dad.'

'Good girl,' Aberforth nodded paternally, which was very rare for him.

They said their goodbyes, checked one last time that everything they needed was there, then left the house and disapparated.

Harry and Ginny arrived at the border of Hogsmeade. The weather here was surprisingly much more summery than in Godric's Hollow, the still evening air only pleasantly cool, and the sun setting over the hills painted the sky red.

'Let's go this way!' Harry took her hand and led her towards a rundown house with boarded-up windows, which he knew inside and out, but Ginny had never had the pleasure of visiting.

'To the Shrieking Shack?' she gasped, recognising the rickety structure that loomed before them.

They snuck under the fence, which had danger signs warning of bloodthirsty ghosts, even though Harry and his friends had known for years that the house was haunted by no ghosts. From the creaky, dusty, neglected apartment, they climbed down through a trapdoor in the floor into a long passage, where they could only walk with a stoop in places.

'Where does this lead to, Harry?' Ginny asked after ten minutes of marching. It was the first time she'd had the opportunity to use this route.

'Hogwarts' courtyard,' Harry informed her.

The tunnel began to rise in the last few metres, and when at last it reached the surface, Harry stuck his arm through the hole in the roots of the willow, pointed his wand at a knob on the trunk of the tree from memory, and stabbed it. Safe from the onslaught of the iron branches, he climbed out of the hole and helped Ginny out.

'Now is the time for the Disillusionment Charm,' said Harry, who had never used the spell before, since it was redundant when having an invisibility cloak.

Ginny performed the operation on him and herself, tapping her wand on the top of Harry's head, which made him feel as if a cold liquid was covering his whole body. By the time they were done, they both looked like a pair of overgrown chameleons. Their bodies had become translucent, and although they were not perfectly invisible, in the twilight grey of the schoolyard they were not noticeable.

Running towards the gates of Hogwarts, they passed Hagrid's hut – Harry glanced through the window: the gamekeeper was sitting hunched over by the fireplace, cleaning his crossbow, and next to him was Fang, munching comfortably on a huge leg bone. Harry remembered that he had failed on his promise and did not visit Hagrid. He didn't even think of his old friend, who must have been in great need of friendly support, but in Harry's absence, he could only rely on Aberforth...

'Harry, we have to hurry!' Ginny whispered nervously, pushing her pondering boyfriend further ahead.

When they reached the huge front door, they found it already closed, but Harry expected it to be. He stepped to the top step, and then addressed the door in a loud voice, as if he were speaking to a human.

'May I enter?' Saying it felt a bit silly, but the school answered: there was a click, and the huge door slid open with a friction. The castle remembered its saviour. Harry grinned and glanced back at Ginny; she was staring at him, gaping. He took her hand, pulling her behind him as he slipped into the entrance hall. He was suddenly struck with a feeling of nostalgia and stopped for a moment to admire the castle. It was dark everywhere, no candles were lit, but the ghost of the Fat Friar hovered in the corridor outside the Great Hall.

Harry pulled a crumpled parchment from his pocket, unfolded it and tapped it with his wand.

'I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good,' he whispered, as lines and dots appeared on the parchment.

'I love this thing...' whispered Ginny, pointing to the top right corner of the map. 'Here's Eakle's office. He's still in his room.'

'Come on!' called Harry, and they hurried down the corridor.

All the while, they were vigilantly scanning the corridor and the map, but no one crossed their way. Most of the students were already in the clubroom or in the bathrooms, and these they avoided by far. Peeves, Filch and Mrs Norris were all in different wings of the castle, so Harry and Ginny made it up to the fourth floor without a hitch, and reached the corridor of Eakle's classroom in a good ten minutes.

Harry glanced at the map, and noticed another dot beside the one of the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher – that of Professor Slughorn.

'Stop!' he whispered to Ginny.

They crept the last few metres, overhearing snippets of the conversation between the two head teachers, and finally, as they rounded the last corner, they could see them.

'Are you already on your way, dear Professor?' said Slughorn in his jovial voice. The Slytherin professor was already in his pyjamas and robe, held together by a wide silk belt on his huge barrel belly.

'Ah, I have an hour before I have to leave,' Eakle replied. 'Before that a bubbly bath is waiting for me. And a rubber ducky! Ha-ha-ha-ha!'

The two teachers said their goodbyes; Slughorn strode off towards the staircase, and Eakle headed straight for Harry and Ginny. The two chameleon-humans flattened themselves against the wall and waited breathlessly for the Gryffindor teacher to pass them by...

The cover worked, Eakle ignored them. He whistled and turned the corner, never looking back. Harry and Ginny sighed, then crept into the DADA classroom. The door was thankfully left open, Ginny pushed through it and they entered the room without a sound. It was dark inside, with only the light of the rising moon filtering in through the windows, painting long shadows on the walls. They closed the door back and then walked a little more lightly across the room to the window.

'And now we wait,' Harry muttered, and took a deep breath. Ginny was humming beside him, Harry could see her blurry figure leaning her bottom against one of the cupboards and putting her hands in her arms.

Minutes passed as they waited, growing impatient, and Harry grew increasingly disturbed by his own transparency. He couldn't see the hand he'd scratched his nose with, he couldn't see his feet on the floor, and it bothered him that he couldn't see Ginny. Neither of them said a word, just stared into the dimness, listening to the crickets chirping, to Peeves giggling from a nearby corridor, Filch muttering as he passed the door, key-clacking – then they both moved, listening anxiously for the caretaker to open the room, but Filch simply moved on.

'Seriously, it's like we're back in school...', Ginny remarked with a soft giggle after the danger had passed.

Harry glanced at her with raised eyebrows, but stopped for a moment when he just saw through her head.

'I thought it was just me and Ron and Hermione who had memories like that,' he said with a smile.

'Well, you were wrong!' Ginny snorted. 'I also had my nightly adventures. Only I didn't have an invisibility cloak and a map. I had to use my ears and my eyes. With a cloak, it's easy...'

Harry was forced to agree.

'And where did you roam at night?' he asked.

'Where would a girl go in the middle of the night?' Ginny asked back. 'To the kitchen for a snack of course!'

They both laughed, but when they could hear Peeves' returning laughter again, they fell silent and froze. This time they did well to keep quiet, for the Poltergeist swept across the room – in through the door and out through the opposite wall, he didn't stop, just knocked over a chair or two.

Ginny let out a sigh as Peeves left, and Harry heard her mutter something under her breath, and saw her waving her wand in a blur.

'Leave the chairs!' he said to her as one of the overturned seats rose into the air. 'If he returns, he'll notice that someone was here.'

'You're right,' Ginny replied, carefully putting the chair back on the floor.

For a while they didn't speak again, just waited for time to pass and for Eakle to return to his room, but the waiting was becoming tedious.

Finally Ginny broke the silence:

'Tell me, Harry... have you had any dreams lately?'

'Dreams?' Harry asked back.

'Yes, you know... about the hooded boy who attacked us in the Pensieve,' Ginny said, and Harry could hear the shudder in her voice at the memory.

For a moment, he wondered what to say to that. Their last meeting had taken place in Ginny's bedroom while she was asleep.

'No... not lately.' He didn't want to scare her any more, especially after the very scary events of the last few weeks.

'Mm-hmm,' she acknowledged.

Silence settled between them again, which Harry found increasingly disturbing. There was much he wanted to talk to her about, but he had no idea how to begin. Ginny had suffered too much loss lately, far more than Harry had, and he felt that these things came between them. Everything had been going relatively well between them until Marius's second appearance, but after what had happened at and after the Peverell House, they were talking noticeably less now, their good-night kisses becoming shorter and more meaningless. Marius and the Fourth Tower had ruined everything...

Then he remembered a conversation they had interrupted more than a month ago:

'Ginny,' he called softly to her, and she hummed back questioningly. 'Remember when we danced at the Strangled Cat, you had something to say to me... only then...'

'Before Marius showed up?' Ginny asked. She took a sniff, and was silent for a while, as if pondering over something.

'As if you wanted to talk about Quidditch...' Harry probed softly. He couldn't remember what she'd wanted to say – the events that followed had wiped it from his mind, but now that he was alone with her again, he remembered that it was something important, something that mattered to Ginny...

'I got a letter from the coach of the Holyhead Harpies team,' she finally blurted out, surprising Harry with the statement. 'They're looking for a new seeker for the team, and I'm at the top of the list of Hogwarts' senior Quidditch players they made. They say that after a couple of training sessions I could be playing in the team straight away.'

Harry pushed himself away from the wall and faced the chameleon-like Ginny.

'No kidding?!'

'But I'm not going,' she shook her head.

'But why?' Harry opened his arms.

The Holyhead Harpies, traditionally exclusively casting witches, were considered one of, if not the best team in the British Quidditch League. To even make the reserve team was a real honour in Quidditch circles.

'Because of George,' Ginny replied in a sad voice, and Harry saw her bow her head. 'I can't leave him alone... That's why I went to work at the shop in the first place. How could I leave him when he'd just buried Katie?'

Harry had nothing to say. Ginny was right, George would need her – and maybe more.

'Well...' said Harry, 'Maybe he wouldn't be alone... I know someone who's looking for a job.'

He grinned at her, but then remembered that Ginny might not see that until she spoke.

'George said yesterday that if you don't show your face for another week, he'll come and get you himself to ask if you want to work in the shop.'

Harry grinned and shook his head.

'I should have known.'

With a laugh hiding in her voice, she continued:

'George expects revenues to triple if the "Boy Who Lived" serves customers!'

'So a selfless offer...', Harry remarked cheerfully, and Ginny laughed in agreement.

Hearing her laughter, Harry was momentarily seized with a mad desire to catch and just kiss her, but his more rational self warned him against such an action of carelessly exposing himself to the returning Peeves or Eakle. So he laughed with her, quietly, alert to every sound.

'How much longer is the old man going to keep on dabbling?' Ginny said in a slightly whiny voice after another few minutes of silence.

'He's probably still drying his beard,' Harry muttered, and he too was tired of waiting. He wanted to go and get it over with, get the cloak back from Moloh quickly, find Ciaran and be back at the Diggory's in the morning. A fine plan, he thought to himself. He had a feeling that not everything would go as smoothly and easily as Hermione had planned.

'But back to Quidditch...' Harry cleared his throat to distract himself from the long night ahead of him. 'I think the two things are not mutually exclusive. Shop and training,' he added, seeing Ginny lift her head, and though he couldn't make out her features, he knew her well enough to know how she was looking at him now.

'It would take up quite a lot of my time to play Quidditch,' she shook her head. 'I'd hardly have time for the shop... and you.'

'Not if you just sign up for the reserve team first,' Harry explained, 'that way you wouldn't miss out on the big opportunity, you could make the front ranks later – and you'd have time for the shop... and me!' he grinned at the transparent Ginny.

She took a deep breath, and Harry didn't need to see her face to know he'd put a bug in her ear. He'd always known Ginny loved Quidditch, and from the Gwenog Jones poster on the wall in her room, he guessed the Harpies were her favourite team. Being a player on your favourite team – Harry had a pretty good idea how big a deal that was. But he was also well aware of Ginny's affection for her siblings.

'Listen, it's whether you want to do this or not,' Harry said again. 'Do you want to play quidditch or stay a shop assistant?'

The shifting air indicated that Ginny was turning towards him.

'Says the man who just got fired from his dream job!' she pointed at him snappishly.

'It was a nightmare job at best...' corrected Harry. 'This is about you, Ginny. I don't care whether you're in the shop or on the pitch, all I care about is that you're happy. I hated working at the Ministry, and I don't regret Shacklebolt sacking me. I don't see myself as an Auror anymore... not at all. The question is, what do you see yourself as?'

Finishing his monologue, Ginny moved a little closer to him so that her side brushed Harry's arm.

'What if I'm like you and don't feel comfortable on the pitch?' Her question sounded to Harry a bit like something coming from a little girl, rather than the strong, confident Ginny.

'It's never too late to change it!' he said with great wisdom with his hands folded. 'I'm glad I tried being an Auror, because at least now I can see what it's like. If I hadn't tried it, I'd always be thinking what if?'

Ginny listened carefully, and now exhaled as if she had been holding her breath. She snuggled into Harry, and leaned her translucent head against his shoulder, which Harry found profoundly soothing; he could smell the flowers in her hair, and found himself breathing in and out slowly.

He could have spent hours just doing nothing, being close to Ginny, and slowly something else occurred to him that he had never thought of before, and now he found it almost unbelievable that he hadn't. And yet, as he thought about it, he realized that he wanted nothing more in the world...

'Ginny,' Harry whispered in her ear, 'would you like to move in with me?'

For a brief moment, he thought she was going to turn him down, because she suddenly snapped her head up.

'Are you serious?' he heard her voice in the dark.

'Well... yes,' Harry shrugged a little, 'Now that the Burrow's burned down and your parents are moving in with Aunt Muriel... I don't know about you, but I don't really feel like staying with her.'

His nerves were already gone when he heard Ginny laughing and whispering, "I know what you mean..."

'And I have a big house after all,' Harry continued in a light, chatty tone. 'It's a bit depressing, true, and it's probably full of pests again... and I should do something about Mrs Black's painting, but a little work would make it more homely. So, what do you think?'

'I'd love to move in with you, but I have one condition,' Ginny replied, and after a pause, she added: 'First get the vampires out of there. I wouldn't be so keen to move in with them.'

Harry stared at her, startled for a moment, then remembered the homeless herd of vampires he had offered the Black House as temporary accommodation through Hermione after the Ministry had closed the Strangled Cat.

'Now we just have to figure out what to say to your parents,' Harry said, but Ginny patted his arm.

'I wouldn't worry if I were you,' she said quietly, 'Mum and Dad have known about us for a long time.'

'What?!', Harry was surprised. Ginny took a deep breath.

'What did you think: they don't notice that we sleep together every night and go out hand in hand?'

Harry laughed and Ginny giggled with him, then snuggled up and kissed him. The next moment, however, they were frozen as they were, clinging together like a statue, for they both heard the door to the room open. Looking past Ginny's head, Harry saw the whistling Professor Eakle enter, wearing a floral bathrobe, his long red beard and hair both wrapped in towels, as if he were wearing two turbans at once – one on his head, one on his chin.

The professor did not notice them, although he was only two steps away, crossing the hall towards the small staircase leading to the back room. Harry felt Ginny breathlessly pull her wand from her pocket and point it at Eakle's back. The next moment, there was only a flash of red, flickeringly colouring the objects in the room for a moment, and when the fiery light faded, Professor Eakle was lying on the floor with his arms spread wide.

'That was nice!' Harry said appreciatively, and unfurled himself from the pair of sculptures the two of them had created.

'I just practise non-verbal magic,' Ginny muttered under her breath as they walked closer to the unconscious teacher.

For a moment, Harry was seized by an uncomfortable feeling of guilt as he looked down at him. Professor Eakle had always been kind to them, and everyone at the school loved him, even the Slytherins, which was a huge compliment for a Gryffindor House head. And now he was one of the victims that would stand in the way of Harry and his enemies... Harry shook his head and bent down to lift the old man.

'Ginny help me, grab his legs!'

'Why not do it with a wand?' she asked, but she did as he asked.

'Sure!' said Harry, and then with a great groan they lifted the wizard. 'His head would bump into everything...'

Slowly, carefully, they took the sleeping professor up the stairs to his office, and from there to the curtained-off living quarters, and laid him down on the comfortable bed. Then they wiped their sweating brows.

'Phew...' Ginny panted. 'So small, and yet so heavy...'

'Take out the bottle of Polyjuice Potion, please,' Harry asked, plucking two long strands of Eakle's hair. Ginny held it out to him, but Harry could only see a blurry blob from her arm, and it made him think of something.

'Wait, I have to remove the Disillusionment Charm first,' he said, and then, taking out his wand, he tapped it gently on his own head. He felt warmth trickle down his entire body, slowly regaining its original opacity.

He then took the steaming vial from Ginny, sprinkled Eakle's hair into it, and watched the brew turn crimson. It smelled as pleasant as sugar syrup. Harry downed the whole batch in one go and waited.

He felt the effect almost immediately, his stomach cramped for a moment, but the pain was gone almost instantly, and all that remained was the memory. His fingers began to tingle, his skin rippled and he felt his bones begin to shrink. The beard grew out of his face like a fast-growing plant, and his hair thrashed against his back. At the same time, his view got clouded – he could see better without his glasses than with them.

'How do I look?' growled Harry with Eakle's voice.

Ginny was still transparent, but Harry could hear the smirk in her voice.

'I don't know,' she said, wonderingly, 'I like older guys, but this beard...'

'Ha-ha,' Harry commented, then picked up the robe that lay on the bed and went back to the office to take a closer look at himself.

He had not been in this room during his last year at school, and only now did he see how the much-changed interior had evolved with Eakle's move in. On the walls hung a pile of old photographs, as they had in Lockhart's time, but not of Eakle, but of many, many unknown wizards and witches. Harry spotted several group pictures among them, and saw some familiar faces: the Dumbledore brothers, Hagrid, the Diggories, and on one of them he even spotted Bathilda Bagshot.

The next moment there was a vibrating buzz, and with a bluish flash the Drumstrang portkey – a large hair-brush – arrived, and at the same time a loud knock on the door of the room. Harry and Ginny froze, but only for a moment. She stepped back behind the curtain, and Harry opened the door wide and peeped through.

It was Professor Sprout.

'John, I was hoping to catch you before you left!' said the witch, holding out a sealed envelope with her earthy-brown fingers. 'This letter has just arrived by owl-mail from the Ministry.'

'Um... Thank you... Pomona,' Harry muttered, taking the letter.

'You're welcome,' smiled the professor. 'Have fun at the Tournament! Tell me more tomorrow!'

'I will,' Harry promised, and then he said goodbye to his Herbology teacher and closed the door.

He opened the envelope and unfolded the small piece of paper inside. That was all the letter said:

'I found the red one. We should meet.' And the signature, just one letter: P.

'What is it, Harry?' Ginny whispered, coming out from behind the curtains.

'I don't know. Some message for Eakle. I'll put it on his desk in the morning, but until then I'll keep it. In case Sprout comes back...' he slipped the little letter into his inside pocket and glanced at his watch. 'In one minute it's time.'

'Well, then, there's nothing else left to do,' Ginny said, and she walked over to Harry, leaned down so they were at the same height, and kissed him goodbye. Her fingers dug into Harry's red beard, which he found so bizarre that he almost laughed.

He let go with a great sigh, and as soon as his fingers parted from Ginny's, an inexplicable, bad feeling came over him. For one mad moment he wished she would go with him, that she could be there with him, that they would never have to be apart again. But his saner self reminded him that they would see each other again in just a few hours.

'You have to go,' Ginny reminded him quietly, winking at him. 'Good luck! Bring the cloak and the boy home.'

'I'll try,' Harry promised, and took the portkey.

The hairbrush vibrated and flashed, and Ginny disappeared from Harry's sight as the magical travel device jerked him into the swirling vortex, and the minute-long journey to Durmstrang began...

He fell again as he arrived, and sat up on the floor, massaging his aching legs. He was surrounded by many people, all of whom had just arrived at the lamp post in the forest clearing. Among the arrivals, he caught a glimpse of Ron and Hermione, in the form of Percy and Penelope, who also noticed him; Hermione whispered something in Ron's ear, and he pretended not to have a clue who the red-bearded figure was.

Two people stepped in front of Harry. He glanced up at them and recognised the giant stature of Maude Moloh, and beside him Ula Ulatov in a dressing gown.

'Mr John Eakle, welcome back to Durmstrang Academy!'

The warm greeting came not from Ulatov, but from the director, who, putting aside his usual rude, arrogant face, greeted the guest with a friendly smile. The deputy director, however, seemed to have taken over his role: she looked at Harry so coldly and shook his hand so casually as if she feared him.

Harry had only one thing on his mind as he walked along the forest path with Moloh, who was playing the eager guide: what kind of a man did he change places with this time?