Chapter Seventeen: Something's Found

Harry could see the hatred pooling in Narcissa's eyes as he pressed his wand harder into her neck. They stood rigid, locked together, potential energy incarnate: at any second one of them would break the pose and deadly spells would start flying. Narcissa twisted Ginny's face into a sneer that infuriated him.

"Enjoy your kiss?" he asked, snarling. Her face was strained and pale; his wand was digging in tight.

"No, but then I knew what I was getting into when I started it. I have done it before, you know." She smiled wickedly. Harry couldn't think what she meant, but the idea sent nausea rolling through him like a high tide. Then her face transformed so quickly into a sweet, sorrowful look that he was taken aback. Her voice slid into a higher, sweeter tone. "I wanted to apologize again for not remembering what a rough summer you had."

At first he could only grasp at the words' meaning. Rough summer? The memories assaulted him—poisoned cake, handkerchief Portkey, torture, Lucius—she knew! She knew what he had done—

Wait. He shook his head to clear it. The words she had just said, and the tone of voice . . . he recognized it. Who had said that to him? Someone unusual . . . just before kissing him. Susan. Susan Bones.

Harry stared at Narcissa. "That was you?" She began to back away and Harry only then realized he had let her go. He raised his wand. "Don't move!"

She cackled, her face once again transformed into evil Ginny. "I've been playing with you ever since you arrived, foolish boy. I've been people you don't even know about."

Harry froze. "Like who?" He barely got the words out as his mind brought up friend after friend who she could have impersonated, trying to kill him, trying to kill Draco or—

"Oh, the Boy-Who-Lived needs a little hint. Lucius always said you were too smart for your own—"

"Diffindo!"

"Protego!" She blocked his spell easily and the jet of light whipped back past his shoulder harmlessly.

Harry was shaking. He'd cast that spell at her without thinking. Nausea was eating him alive. She'd kissed him—twice. She'd been playing with him all term and that bastard husband of hers—

She stepped closer, wand still raised. "Remember the toast? I meant it for you, of course, but killing that insipid House Elf that was so fond of you was certainly no disappointment. Would have been better if it could have been a Weasley, but we must be grateful for what we're given."

Harry's nausea hardened into a cold, numbing hatred. His fist clenched his wand tight and his nostrils flared with each breath. She'd Polyjuiced herself as Neville. She'd brought him poisoned toast. She killed Dobby.

Harry dug down deep and forced a smile. "You just can't seem to keep your hands off me, Narcissa. You're stalking me in my room, digging through my things," he gestured to the Invisibility Cloak on the floor. "How long has that been missing?"

"First morning of term ring a bell? I'm sorry, were you sleeping too hard to see me—as Neville, of course—searching your trunk?"

Harry nodded. "Like I said—stalking me, digging through my things. Kissing me. Makes me wonder." The side of his mouth quirked. "Is Lucius not man enough for you?"

Her eyes shot wide open and he could see the intent in them even before the jet of purple light left her wand. Time seemed to slow. He had time to curse himself, to assess how far away his wand was from being ready, and to see how desperate the situation was. Then his magic kicked in and with a whorl of power, he was in motion.

Harry twisted and flung himself back. The purple flame grew brighter as it neared; the heat of it began to scorch his face—

And then he was looking the other way, feeling the sting of fire on the outer layer of his skin, and watching the flame continue past. Behind him, Narcissa let out a guttural howl. The jet of light hit something loud and breakable and Harry was still falling—falling backwards in a slow arc that he knew was trouble. What was behind him? Infirmary bed.Got to move—

Crash!

Harry was on all fours beside the end of the bed, shaking his head to clear it.At the last second, he had managed to bring one arm around and under him so that his hand caught the floor first and vaulted the rest of his body over and into the bed frame. At least he landed on his feet. Narcissa was looking away—

"What is going on in here?"

Harry whipped his head over just in time to see a flash of red catch Madame Pomfrey in the chest and fling her back so hard that she disappeared back into her office.

Then he was up on his feet, wand aimed at Narcissa, curse on his lips.

"Narcissa, you have greatly disappointed me." Harry froze, his eyes flickering over Narcissa's shoulder to where Professor Dumbledore had just appeared. She whipped around, wand aimed.

Harry took aim as well.

"Reducto!" she screamed and flung a hex at Dumbedore, who merely waved a hand to block the spell in mid-flight. The spell struck a leaded-glass bookcase with a crash.

"Reducto!" Harry snarled and was stunned to see Dumbledore again raise his hand and block the spell into a shelf of vials. Crash! "What are you doing?"Harry yelled.

"Harry," Professor Dumbledore cautioned with a word, then turned to Narcissa. "Why are you so bent on destruction, Narcissa? I would have thought this far more likely from your sister than you."

"Concidus," she shrieked in return, only to have that curse knocked aside easily into a wall. She screamed and jerked around to take aim at Harry once again. "Concidus!"

Before he realized it, Harry was on the ground, the spell going over his head and connecting with something breakable in Madame Pomfrey's office. Crash!

"Enough of this. Accio wand," Dumbledore said tiredly. Despite Narcissa's attempt at blocking the spell, her wand flew up and into the Headmaster's hand. She hissed at him through clenched teeth like a cornered cat. The Headmaster only raised his eyebrows. "Take care, dear girl. I am no longer your amiable teacher."

Narcissa's staccato laugh cut through his words like a blade through flesh. She began to back away toward the wall, looking back and forth between Harry and Dumbledore. A dangerous smile was playing on her face. "You don't know what I know," she said in a singsong voice. "And I'm not going to tell you." She smiled sweetly—a genuine Ginny-smile that unnerved Harry.

"What? What do you know?"

The Headmaster gave Harry a cautioning glance. "Aurors will be here shortly and it might be in your best interest to cooperate."

"Aurors! Aurors?" She laughed wildly. "They're pathetic! I just beat some of their best with an Invisibility Cloak and a hostage. You think Azkaban will hold a Malfoy? You have been proved wrong on that count before!"

Dumbledore sighed. "They will find a way, Narcissa."

"Then I'll never tell what I know." She hissed.

"Which is what?" Harry said through clenched teeth, wishing Dumbledore would just go away and let him have it out with her. His stomach was in knots.

Narcissa looked at him. "That you will die soon, boy, a victim—"

At that word, something like an electric shock went through Harry and he jumped forward, wand raised. "NO! I'm NOT going to die! I'm not going to be a victim! Not of anything!" Breathing hard, he pressed forward and pointed his wand at her. "I'm going to find out who's trying to kill me and I'm going to get them first. Got it? And that includes you." For a moment, there was only the sound of Harry's harsh breathing in the room.

Narcissa looked at him through hooded eyes. "Are you threatening me, boy?"

"Hell. Yes." Harry gripped his wand so tightly that it shook.

"So very tough," Narcissa whispered low enough that it barely carried to Harry's ears, "but not after Lucius was through with you. Oh no, not then. You would do well to remember."

The room seemed to grow dim around Harry's eyes. His heart thudded and sweat beaded on his upper lip. He blinked several times. He swallowed and said something into the vacuum around him, something about Lucius getting what was coming to him. But far from feeling capable of revenge at the moment, he had all he could handle just to stand up straight.

Dumbledore was talking. Slowly Harry lowered his wand and he found himself staring at the floor. Narcissa was laughing. He knew he should stop her, but he could her Lucius's voice like he'd never left the manor and that horrid, mirrored room. "Do you know what revenge feels like?"

"Harry? Harry!" an uncertain voice was calling him. He looked up to see Ginny staring in the doorway, blood running down her cheek. She looked mussed and tense with pain as Remus Lupin stood beside her, breathlessly holding her up.

"Where's Madame Pomfrey?" Remus said. "Fred needs to be helped and I think Miss Weasley may have a concussion—"

Just as Remus stopped short, Ginny's eyes widened and her jaw dropped. Harry looked where she was staring and saw Narcissa, looking every inch her twin, lounging against the wall, smirking. Ginny walked forward as if possessed, but Harry focused on the blood running down her cheek. She'd gotten hurt. Narcissa had hurt Ginny. Harry's blood ran hot and he started forward.

"Harry," Dumbledore said warningly, "Revenge is not sufficient excuse for violence. You must stop before someone else gets hurt."

Harry looked around at the old wizard, feeling as if someone had ripped his head off and attached it wrong. "Maybe I want someone else to get hurt. Maybe I want her to get hurt! You know what she did to me—to Dobby—to Ginny and God-only-knows who else! THIS HAS TO STOP! It has to end! I'm sick of this! Sick of it!"

"Taking out your anger on Narcissa will not help," Dumbledore said to him in gentle words under-girded with steel.

"Then what will? IGNORING WHAT SHE'S DONE? Pretending that it's all going to go away?" Harry had begun and now he couldn't stop. "I haven't been to a single, bloody class all term and I couldn't care less. None of that matters. How can I pretend that school is important and that the bloody House Cup matters when at any moment I could be FACING HIM AGAIN!" He scrubbed a hand across his face and dropped it again by his side. Suddenly his throat was clogged and it was difficult to speak. "Don't you see? This is it." He shrugged his shoulders once. "This time. One man left standing, or one . . . thing. And the entire Wizarding World at stake."

"Not just the Wizarding World, Harry," Dumbledore added soberly. "The Muggle World as well."

The weight of his destiny rested back on Harry's shoulders with the familiarity of a old coat. It calmed his anger, depressed his need for revenge. Narcissa wasn't the real opponent; she was just a crazed, mental lackey. Harry turned his back on Narcissa and walked away. He ended up at his bed and sat. His left hand was throbbing again. Great. What was Madame Pomfrey going to—oh.

Harry turned around and interrupted Remus' report, telling them that Madame Pomfrey might be seriously injured. Professor Dumbledore was on the move before Harry had finished speaking. Narcissa sat against the wall, the conjured ropes holding her tightly. She narrowed her eyes at Harry.

"Lucius is coming for you, boy and—"

"Silencio!" Ginny snapped, stepping closer to the helpless witch on the floor and kneeling in front of her. "How dare you speak to him that way, and how dare you use that—that—and my face, too!"

Words seemed to fail Ginny and she reared back and punched Narcissa right in the nose. Harry's jaw dropped. Narcissa's head thunked back against the wall and she stared at Ginny in stunned, pained amazement. Harry felt a smile slide over his face. As blood began to drip from Narcissa's nose, Ginny smiled thinly.

"That looks better. Sounds better, too. If I were you, I'd stay away from me." Narcissa just stared at her. Ginny seemed satisfied with that, and turned a smug look on Harry, who was watching her with undisguised admiration. But as Ginny walked over to him, the smile slid off his face. She sat down beside him, bouncing the mattress. She didn't look at him for almost a solid minute; they just both watched the dust mites fly through the stream of sunset-colored light from the window. Harry didn't know what she was thinking. As for himself, there didn't seem to be anything that would catch in his mind. Everything was just still and quiet.

Ginny slid her hand over his, pulling away his wand and setting it aside. Then she took his hand in both of hers and held it gently. After a few moments, Harry's eyes filled. But Ginny didn't ask any questions, didn't ask why he was so overwrought or why the threat of Lucius seemed to work so well on him. No. She just sat there, leaning her head on his arm, holding his good hand and breathing deeply. They sat that way until Ron arrived at the door, breathless with Mad-Eye Moody hung over his shoulder.

"You all right, Harry?"

"Yeah. Fine."

"I'd have come sooner, but the rock said you were okay besides the pain in your hand, and Moody was in pretty rough shape. He wouldn't let me levitate him."

"Not a sack of potatoes, boy!" Mad-Eye grunted. "Put me on that bed, there."

Ron grunted and strained to carry Mad-Eye, finally leaning him toward the mattress until the Auror fell on the bed. "I said I'm not a sack of potatoes. Where's that damn Pamfrey woman?"

Harry pointed to the bed across the way. "Pomfrey. She's right there."

Mad-Eye just grunted. "Damn Malfoy woman. She get everybody?"

"Not me," Harry said quietly.

"Good!" the Auror barked, then lay back on the bed and settled his hands on his chest. "Whoever's in charge, I'm last. I'm fine. Just a broke rib or two. No problem."

Ron came over and stared at Ginny. "Bloody hell, what happened to you?"

Harry looked over at her, too. She did look pale, but not weak at all. In fact, her eyes flashed at her brother and she growled her answer. "That 'damn Malfoy woman', Ron. Catch up! I went out there to check on Fred and he was already under fire. She had Harry's Invisibility Cloak on, you know, or I would have got her."

Ron backed off. "Well, yeah, of course you would've. Me, too. I mean, if I'd been here and not eating. I'm sorry, Harry—I should've been here. Some bodyguard—"

Harry held up a hand. "Ron." He made his friend meet his gaze with a long pause. "It's okay. I'm fine."

"Well, no offense, but you don't look fine."

"I'm fine! I'm bloody well fine!"

Ron pulled out the rock. "Well, except for your hand—"

Harry grabbed the rock and chucked it down the Infirmary.

"Hey!" someone yelled. Harry looked up to see a team of Aurors entering the room. One had his wand out and Harry's rock was frozen in midair. He was a tall, dark-skinned man, clean-cut and attractive. His voice had an accent, but Harry wasn't sure what it was yet.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled.

The Auror let the rock fall to the floor. "No problem."

Harry felt Ginny and Ron staring at him, but he didn't feel much like talking. In fact, while the Aurors questioned Narcissa, Harry deflected attempts from both Dumbledore and Lupin to talk about why he'd reacted so strongly to Narcissa's words. Lupin finally took Ron aside, something that irritated Harry to no end. Ginny was the only one who seemed to understand that Harry needed to be left alone. He glanced over at her. She was seated on the bed across the room from him as a Mediwitch from St. Mungo's fussed over the cut on her face. Her brown eyes were pained, but she smiled as soon as she saw him looking at her. Harry smiled back, just barely.

Another Mediwitch was looking over Madame Pomfrey, who was quiet and still on the bed beside them. Harry frowned. Narcissa's spell should have just knocked her out, and he was surprised Madame Pomfrey wasn't up and about yet. Dumbledore was walking over to her now, having questioned Mad-Eye thoroughly. The Headmaster's face was stern and as tense as Harry had ever seen it. If he was that angry, why had he been so benevolent to Narcissa? Dumbledore noticed Harry watching him. With a careful look, he started over.

Harry turned back to Narcissa, who had yet to say a word to the Aurors.

"Narcissa, if you don't start cooperating, we'll have to use Veritaserum," said the tall Auror in charge, the dark-skinned man with what had to be a Mediterranean accent. He'd given his name as Fornier or maybe Forney—something like that—and seemed to know Narcissa somehow. Now, he smiled at her. "I know you don't want us to do that, Narcissa. There's no telling what might come out. I'll bet you know all kinds of little secrets."

Narcissa gave a funny little jerk, but said nothing.

"Harry," Dumbledore said, and Harry realized the Headmaster was beside him now. "How is your hand feeling?"

"Fine," Harry answered automatically, though his hand was aching to the bone. That back handspring he'd done to get away from Narcissa's spell had put all of his weight on the still-healing hand. "She's not going to tell them anything, is she?"

"I'm afraid you might be correct. We will have to hope that whatever secrets she has hidden will be easily discerned once we journey down into the Chamber of Secrets. Once everything has been dealt with here, we may need for you to accompany us, Harry."

"I know," Harry promised.

Dumbledore waved his hand and a pink, flowered armchair appeared. The Headmaster took a seat, then waved his arm and put up a Silencing Charm. Harry looked over at him in surprise. Dumbledore was studying him so intently that Harry looked away.

"You seem to have some issues left over from this summer, Harry. Perhaps in our haste to get you back in tip-top health, we neglected to make sure that you were healthy in other ways."

Harry's gaze skittered over to the Headmaster, then away again. "I'm fine. Maybe my hand hurts a little."

"Harry," the Headmaster's voice was full of compassion. "I have told you before that what you feel makes you the kind of person you are."

"What? I'm not upset about what she said. If anything, I'm upset because you wouldn't let me deal with her the way I—"

"Grab her!" Shouts from the Aurors broke in their conversation.

"Somebody get the—"

"Mediwitch! We need a mediwitch!"

"She's convulsing—"

Harry couldn't see Narcissa for all the bodies in the way, but it didn't sound good. A Mediwitch was pushing the Aurors away.

"I think it was poisoning. She poisoned herself!"

"How? We were sitting right here!"

"Oh god—look at her mouth!"

Harry finally got a view around Fornier and stared. Now he knew how Mrs. Weasley felt when she faced that Boggart. He knew it wasn't Ginny there, limp, bound with pale, gray skin. Those weren't her front teeth, elongated and protruding from her mouth in the shape of two-inch bloody fangs. But still, the sight was electrifying. He couldn't quite catch his breath. That's not Ginny. Not Ginny.

"Bloody . . ." Ron, over on the other side of the Aurors, was gaping. He exchanged a slightly panicked, stunned look with Harry.

"When the bloody hell did she grow those?" Fornier turned to his Aurors with an amazed look.

A short, ruddy man answered. "I-I don't know, sir. I was watching her the whole time and I didn't see anything unusual."

"Like two bloody pokers sticking out of her mouth?"

The man shook his head. "I guess it was too fast. I don't know."

"Did anybody else see anything?" When no one else answered, he went on. "I didn't even know it was possible to partially transform like that. Anyone else?"

The Headmaster waved and Vanished his chair away. "It is a rare gift but I have seen it before."

"It's a shame we could not learn more from her," Fornier finally said to his team, "but a fitting end nonetheless."

Professor Dumbledore gave Harry a long, sad look before striding forward to check the body of Narcissa himself. Harry wasn't sad. At least she wasn't sneaking around the castle trying to kill him anymore. Or kiss him. He shuddered. Just then, he realized Ginny was beside him again.

"Aren't you glad a snake's not my Animagus shape?" She asked quietly, her hand on his arm. "Ugh. The Mediwitch is ready to treat your hand." When he didn't move, or even look away from the body, she tugged at his hand. "Come on, Harry."

Harry went willingly, but the need to get alone and think things through was getting overwhelming. He saw Ron sitting on another bed, looking as shell-shocked as he felt. Over by the door, a quiet conversation was taking place between the Headmaster and Lupin. Professor Dumbledore looked pleased. Then the Mediwitch came over and blocked his view, fussing over Harry's hand, unwrapping it and declaring it a horrendous mess, giving him two potions and nearly ordering him back into bed. Thank goodness, the Headmaster had come over by that time, and he leaned on her to let Harry go.

"He's spent far too much time in here already this term. This is a small injury that he can deal with on his own, as long as Miss Weasley performs the Cleaning Spell every day as she was instructed."

"I will," Ginny said firmly. "I'll make sure he takes care of it. And Ron will make sure he takes his pain potions."

Ron jumped up and walked over. "I will. I got my Kidneystone back," he held it up. "I mean, not my Kidneystone—Harry's. I mean, well—not his Kidneystone, but a dragon's Kidneystone that—oh, forgetaboutit." As he trailed off, Harry tried hard not to glare at him.

"Yes, I understand, Mr. Weasley. Use it well. Harry, Lupin has informed me that in her haste to leave the Chamber, Narcissa left the hidden door wide open. There will be no need for you to accompany us on our search."

Harry was mostly relieved to be let off, but he pursed his lips. Something was niggling at his mind.

"Is there a problem, Harry?"

"No, sir. But, you'd—you'd better look for rats."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Indeed. That is my first priority." Harry nodded. They were obviously thinking the same thing. The tunnel to the Chamber had collapsed at the end of Harry's second year. Only a very small person or a small Animagus could likely get through there. If a snake Animagus could get the Chamber open, then who better than a rat Animagus to accompany her?

> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >

Harry awoke with the gradual awareness that he was back in his own dorm, listening to the very familiar sound of Ron griping. What was it Ron was saying?

Harry frowned and grabbed for his glasses. Ouch. He tried again with his good hand. "Wake up," Ron said in-between yawns, "you gotta' take this." The curtains of Harry's bed were opened and bland morning light spilled in around his red-headed friend. It was still early. Harry blinked and made out the vial of something purple in his friend's hand.

"'s that for?"

"Pain, of course."

"But I'm not—I mean, I don't . . ."

Ron disappeared in a flurry of curtains and swear words, muttering all the way to his bed and back. Harry was just wondering what in the world he'd done to hack his friend off so much when a small stone thunked onto his chest. It was a most interesting mottle color—cream, glaring red and faded yellow. And it was very, very hot.

Ron pointed to it, scowling. "You wanna' explain that you're fine to that thing, then? It's driving me starkers."

Harry picked it up, suddenly registering that this was the stone spelled to his physical condition. "It's hot."

"Of course it is—that's why I'm up at this indecent hour! Would you just take the bloody pain potion, please?" Ron thrust the vial at him again.

Harry drank his potion, the throbbing of his hand suddenly to the forefront of his mind. His little duel with Narcissa had aggravated his injury quite a bit, but he still hated the thought of going to classes with the sling on. All those Slytherins would think he was off his game and be more likely to attack, wouldn't they? The rock in his good hand immediately started to cool and the color of oatmeal slowly vanquished the others.

"About time," Ron groused. "Bloody stone. Now I just have to get you to breakfast and maybe the bloody thing will leave me alone."

"Sorry," Harry shrugged as he handed it back.

"No, no," Ron backtracked, "you keep it for a while. I'm going to catch five more minutes." Ron disappeared from behind the curtains. "It's going to be a bad day—I can feel it."

Harry put the rock under his pillow. Wouldn't do for that thing to get into the wrong hands. Or well, it wouldn't hurt, either. Apparently, all it would do is nag someone until they tried to help him.

Harry got up and started his daily routine, glad to be up and about doing it, even if the sling made things awkward. It did help him remember not to use his hand, which was the whole point, anyway. By the time he was ready to go downstairs, the other boys were stirring. Ron was the last, of course, and Harry had to ruthlessly yank open his curtains and pull off his bedclothes to get him up. Then he waited while Ron stumbled around the room getting his clothes on, once losing his balance and taking Neville down in a tumble of pajama-clad legs and arms.

When they finally exited the room and took the stairs, they got their first taste of the hysteria that was to characterize the day.

"It's Harry!"

"He's back!"

Nearly a dozen Gryffindors were waiting down below, cheering and calling up to him. Other voices started calling from behind and by the time Harry reached the portrait hole, the room was nearly full of Gryffindors still tucking in shirts, combing their hair, or pulling on their jackets, all clamouring to see him. It was very flattering, but a bit overwhelming. By the Hermione had made it to his side and a fourth well-wisher had jostled his bad hand, Ron was enjoying it much more than Harry.

"I'm afraid it may be like this all day," Hermione said with a glint in her eyes that said she was enjoying this as well.

Harry sighed. "What did I do to deserve this?"

"Well, for one thing, you ran off on a rescue mission without telling anyone," she said smugly.

"But I had to. Charlie's life was at stake."

"Yeah, Hermione, stop being so down on him. He's a hero!" Ron defended him roundly.

"Yeah," came the echoes of several others.

"Of course he is," she sniffed. "I just meant that he should have told someone he was going, and—and maybe waited to see what the plan was. I'm not saying he shouldn't have gone at all. Oh, forget it," she concluded when seeing the glares around her. She gave Harry a careful hug. "I'm just glad you're back and I won't say anything else about it. At least not until the next time you do something dangerous."

"Thanks, I think." Harry hugged her back.

When she pulled away, she was serious again, her brown eyes searching his. "But really, try to understand why everyone is so excited. You have no idea what most of them went through to defend you against the Slytherins and to defend Ginny when everyone said your coma was her fault. Maybe you should say something."

"Yeah," Ron echoed.

Harry nervously resettled his sling, looking for a way out but not finding it. Finally, he turned around to face the Common Room crowd. Almost immediately everyone quieted. Harry shook his head and smiled a little. Smiles broke out around him and several Gryffindors called out.

"We told them you'd be back, Harry!"

"I knew they didn't have you all along!"

"Down with the Death Eaters!"

"Down with the Slyterins!"

"Three cheers for Harry!" And as they hurrahed, Harry rubbed at his neck and straightened his tie and gestured for them to quiet.

"Thanks, guys. It means a lot to me that you, er—for you to—what I mean to say is that this is great, but it is just me. I mean, I don't—"

"How's your hand, Harry?" That was Collin Creevy.

Harry smiled at him. "Fine. The Mediwitch was just being careful, really. Now, what I'm trying to say is—could we maybe just—not do all this?" Faces around him faltered and Harry tried again. "It's great, really and I know how hard it's all been—but not . . . I mean—"

"I know exactly what you mean."

Faces turned toward the top of the stairs. Harry smiled. There, with vibrant red hair falling around her shoulders in soft curls and a dimpled smile playing at her mouth, was Ginny. She descended the stairs in an expectant silence, all eyes on her. Harry was just enjoying the view, but he was aware of the whispers at the same time. Ginny walked right over to him, the Gryffindors parting easily for her.

When she reached him, both arms went around his neck and just as Harry was starting to protest, her lips met his. Stunned, he could do little but put his arms around her waist, hold her tight and give in. It was a soft, sweet kiss that went on a bit too long, or so Harry thought with the pressure of all those eyes around them. Ginny pulled back and smiled at him.

Then she turned to face her audience. "What he means to say is that he's now taken."

Their housemates erupted in applause and whoops of delight. Harry, flushing furiously, pulled away from Ginny, but she grabbed his hand and gave him a possessive smile that made his heart feel like it had just performed a blindingly brilliant Wronksi Feint.

Then Harry caught sight of the twins making their way over, and his smile faltered. He still hadn't decided whether they liked him with Ginny or not.

"Now, don't look so nervous, old boy," Fred said with a glint in his eyes.

"Buck up," George added. "It's not as if we didn't know what was going on before."

"No, of course not," Fred continued. "In fact, you might say that we even planned for this eventuality."

The twins looked at each other musingly. George added, "Hoped for it."

They turned to Harry. "After all, we do have a whole line of products developed just for situations like this."

Ginny held up her hand. "Don't even start with me."

"Gin-gin."

"Bitsy."

She glared at them.

"We're not starting anything with you."

"Of course not."

"We just have to make sure that if anyone is going to be brought into the family, they can stand a few pranks."

"Pranks?" Harry finally spoke up.

"Oh, nothing too bad," Fred said reassuringly. "Just the occasional product placement when necessary."

"Necessary?" Harry's voice cracked, which he hated himself for. He could face down Tom and a dozen Death Eaters, but not Ginny's twin brothers?

"Well, yeah," George said, putting his arm around Harry's neck. "Like, for example—now, when some bloke has just snogged our sister in full view of the common room."

"Bad form, that," Fred said, shaking his head. "Must be consequences."

"But—but she kissed me," Harry protested. He turned to Ginny, but she was smiling. Smiling?

"Sorry, mate, but it must be done." George tugged Harry back with the arm around his throat and whispered two words down toward his injured arm. "Freckle Juice." Harry's sling erupted into a psychedelic cascade of color. Swirls of purple, red and blue chased each other down the fabric, highlighting the black letters, Harry's arm—do not remove.

Ginny pealed with laughter, and Ron snorted loudly. Harry groaned. He'd been hoping against hope that no one would notice the damn sling after a while and now—this!

"Oh honestly," Hermione said, half-exasperated, half-impressed.

Fred shook his head in mock regret. "I'm sorry we had to do this to you, Harry. I just hope you learned your lesson."

Harry glared at him.

"I don't think he has, brother," George said seriously.

"Oh. How terrible. Let's try this one, then: Sling-o-rama!"

"Oy!" Harry was yelling, jerking his sling away from the twins, hoping it wouldn't work, but then the sling froze and its colors melted into one sickly brown color that faded until it was a light tan color. Then two spots appeared and one long line. From upside-down it was hard to tell, but it looked kind of like a face. Uh-oh.

The eyes blinked. The mouth opened and it spoke. Loudly.

"Make way for the Boy-Who-Lived!" Harry buried his face in one hand. "V.I.D.W.K. coming through!"

"V.I.D.W.K.?" Ron repeated.

"Very Important Dark-Wizard-Killer, of course," Fred supplied.

"Here comes the Pride of Gryffindor, the Dreamboat of Amateur Quidditch and the TriWizard Champion of—"

"Turn it off!" Harry bellowed. "I can't walk around like this!"

Fred raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to one side, eyeing George.

"Not good," Ron said unnecessarily.

George nodded at Fred. Fred nodded back. "Sorry, Harry, but you didn't say the magic word. Version 6.0."

The face on the sling shuddered and blurred. A moustache grew over the mouth and heavy eyebrows. Fred and George looked absolutely gleeful. "Hello," it said in heavy Spanish accent. "I am de sling of de great Harry Potter. Did choo know dat he is not wearing any underwear to—mmph?"

Harry, who had slapped his hand over the sling's mouth, appealed to Ginny. "Either they make it stop or I don't wear it." Her eyes lit up immediately and she leveled a look at her brothers.

They caved.

"Oh, all right, Bitsy," George whined, "no need to get all huffy. Apple cart turnover." The sling lost its face and obliged by immediately breaking out in a rash of undulating green apples.

Harry sighed. "I suppose that's as good as its going to get."

"You need to lighten up, Harry." Fred said, ruffing up Harry's hair before heading for the portrait hole. "Besides, everyone'll be so busy talking about your sling, they won't bother about how heroic you are."

"See you at breakfast." George said with a wave.

Harry had to admit that maybe that was true. The Gryffindors had broken up, laughing and showed no signs of forthcoming hero worship. Maybe the twins were on to something.

"Come on, I'm starved!" Ron led the way out of the portrait hole, grabbing Harry's book bag as well as his own. Harry was about to protest when Ginny's hand stole into his free one. After that, such a feeling of well-being came over him that he couldn't even join in the worrying over what Narcissa had hinted at. Hermione was obsessive about it, trying to figure out what secret the evil witch had been hiding, but Harry agreed with Ginny's assumption at the moment—that the witch had only been taunting them and really had no secret at all.

"Well, maybe it's something like how she's going to kill the ferret in the end," Ron said in an upbeat tone, "that wouldn't be so bad."

Just then, they reached the wall where the House Points were on display. Harry was dismayed to see that the Gryffindor Hourglass not only had no rubies in it, but there were a few of the dark green Slytherin emeralds in it, as well as a few black diamonds of the Hufflepuff House. "What's going on?" Harry asked Hermione.

"Oh, all four of the houses lost so many points that there weren't any more to take away. So Dumbledore developed this new system of keeping score. If a Gryffindor lost points by hexing a Slytherin, then our house took on emerald points."

"Yeah," Ron said mournfully. "It won't go back to being rubies until we dig ourselves out of this hole we're in. Seems like your rescue of Charlie would have counted for something."

"It did," Hermione said. "That took us from negative 250 points to negative 20. We're much better off now than we were before, no thanks to you, Ron."

"What'd I do?" He demanded.

"You fought every Slytherin that came into your path!"

"Only because every Slytherin said that Harry was a goner!"

Harry shook his head and sighed, still horrified at how badly things had gone while he was unconscious. He was going to have to show the houses how to get along again, tell them that he was okay and there was no reason to take out their aggression on each other.

Ginny let go of his hand. "I think I'll walk in first, you know, give everyone a few days to get used to the way things are now." Harry looked at her, discomfited. "You don't need the extra attention, you know." He stared at her, fully aware that he was probably giving her a lost puppy-dog look but he couldn't help it. He felt so much better with her holding his hand. She looked at him warningly. "Don't give me that look." Raised her eyebrows. "Please?" She sighed loudly. "Oh, all right." She took his hand and groused all the way into the Great Hall. "That look is going to be trouble." Harry felt mildly pleased with himself, but then again, troubled by the fact that he wanted to hold a girl's hand that badly. Was he that messed up?

Of course, once he actually walked into the Great Hall, he forgot about that worry entirely. Five steps in and everyone was turning, pointing and calling out to him. The sling went psychedelic, apparently responding to all the noise—just what Harry wanted. Eight steps in and his eyes were drawn to the Ravenclaw table, where Cho Chang was standing up, looking in his direction. Damn. He was mentally kicking himself for promising to speak this morning when a strained cry caught his attention.

"HARRY!"

Neville's voice. Immediately, the hair on the back of Harry's neck stood up and he dropped Ginny's hand, knocked Hermione into Ron, ejected his wand and whipped it around.

"Protego!" The shield was fully formed and the Bludgeoning Curse merely knocked him back a few feet. There was an explosion of voices, and a scream as Harry leveled his wand at Draco. Ron's wand was aimed a second later.

The screams died down to a gasp.

"Welcome back, Potter," the blond sneered.

"Thanks," Harry spat out, just before letting loose two almost simultaneous spells. While Draco blocked the Disarming Spell, the Bludgeoning Curse hit him on one shoulder, spinning him around and lifting him off his feet. Harry noted with satisfaction that not one of his cronies cast a Cushioning Charm for him.