As Harry awoke on the morning of the last day at school, he found a strange ache in his chest. He wasn't ready. Not to leave the castle, and not to leave the carefree bubble of first year. School would start getting serious soon, and that didn't seem right. This was magic after all. How could life still seem so mundane in a world where you could bring furniture to life or turn an animal to stone with just a flick of your wand and a few muttered words?
It seemed he had barely left the dorm before he was being given a note warning him not to use magic over the holidays ("I always hope they'll forget to give us these," Fred said sadly); Hagrid was there to take them down to the fleet of boats that sailed across the lake; and they were boarding the Hogwarts Express, talking and laughing as Hogsmeade disappeared behind them in a mess of smoke.
The countryside became greener and tidier as the five of them sat in relative peace. The twins came in about two hours into the journey with a big box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, and they talked about everything but the third floor corridor - they discussed quidditch, third year subject choices and the stupidity of not being allowed to practice magic at home. They played exploding snap, chess and even a game of scrabble which the twins had borrowed from Lee Jordan.
Too soon, they were pulling off their wizard robes and putting on muggle t-shirts, jeans and coats as the train pulled lazily into platform nine and three-quarters at King's Cross Station.
It took quite a while for them all to get off the platform, even after finding trolleys for all their stuff. A wizened old guard was up by the ticket barrier, letting them go through the gate in twos and threes to minimise stress on the wards over the muggle side. Everyone bursting through a solid wall at once would likely be too much for the notice-me-not to deal with.
People jostled them as they moved forwards towards the gateway back to the Muggle world. Some of them called:
"Bye, Harry!"
"See you, Potter!"
"Still famous," said Ron, grinning at him.
"Unfortunately," Harry muttered. "See you Susan!"
The girl blushed and hurried through the barrier with Hannah Abbott.
"Why don't you just Floo home?" Hermione asked.
Many of the wizard-born were doing just that. Harry was sure that Malfoy would never deign to mingle with muggles if he didn't have to.
"Mum likes to come through Kings Cross," Ron grinned.
"She'll break the Statute of Secrecy one of these days, going on about how many muggles there are," Ginny sighed.
Harry vaguely remembered the first time he'd met Mrs Weasley. She'd been incredibly conspicuous, although that had helped him at the time since Hagrid had left him there without telling him how to get onto platform nine and three quarters. If she hadn't been raving about muggles and Ginny hadn't been so enthusiastic, he'd have been stuck.
"Come off it Ginny, you're worse than she is!" Ron laughed.
Ginny flushed brightly in her embarrassment. "Am not!"
"No, you're very level-headed," Hermione deadpanned.
"Hey! I'm-"
"Next," the wizard at the barrier grunted, and they were shunted forwards by the group of middle-years behind them.
"Hey, watch it," Ron half-snarled, but he went completely ignored.
"Like I said, I'm perfectly controlled," Ginny said serenely. "I didn't kick any of them in the nuts, did I?"
"Damn," Neville muttered.
"Oh, don't worry Neville," Ginny grinned. "I wouldn't hurt you without really good reason."
"Good to know," Neville replied, still looking and sounding slightly worried, as he hurried through the barrier with Ron and Hermione.
When Harry and Ginny were let through the barrier, they found Ron desperately trying to escape one of Mrs Weasley's crushing hugs. Being the supportive friends they were, Hermione and Neville were desperately trying to stifle their laughter.
"Muuuuum!" Ron whined.
"Now don't give me that," said Mrs Weasley sternly. "I don't need an excuse to miss my son."
"But you saw me just a few days ago!" he complained.
"Harry, Ginny..." It was Percy. He had a slight grimace on his face, as if unsure of himself. "What really happened down there?"
"If we told you, Perce," Fred said solemnly.
"We'd have to kill you," George shrugged.
At their intrusion, Percy's face contorted, before returning to his usual imperious expression.
"Of course I can trust the two of you to make light of this," Percy sniffed.
"Leave it out, Perce," Fred said
"You just wish..." George began.
"Alright you two," Ginny interjected wearily. "You don't have to jump on his throat every time he opens his mouth."
"Thank you, Ginny," said Percy gratefully.
Fred snorted, but the twins both turned their attentions to Ron all the same.
"Not here, okay, Percy?" Harry urged.
Percy stared at him for a moment, as if measuring him. Then he nodded slowly. "I can wait," he said.
"...Oh yes, Mrs Weasley, they've been very well-behaved," Hermione was saying with a grin.
"Oh, hello again Mr. and Mrs Granger," Mrs Weasley said warmly. Harry turned to see them walking, smiling, towards Hermione. They seemed far more at ease on the muggle side of the barrier. Hermione ran towards them, abandoning her trolley entirely. "I hear your daughter got record marks in her end of year exams!"
"She's always been bright," the dark-haired woman smiled fondly. She pulled Hermione into a brief but tight embrace before holding her at arm's length and inspecting her from tip to toe. "What's this Hermione, you prefer their food to ours?"
Hermione blushed brightly and muttered something incomprehensible. Bursting into laughter, her father lifted her into the air, spinning her around until she shrieked.
Hermione's mum gave Ginny a long look, and an appreciative smile. "We should get going," Mrs Granger said apologetically. "Say goodbye to your friends, honey."
"Aww, mum, already?" Hermione complained. "You guys have barely even met my friends..."
"I feel like I know them already from all your letters," Mr. Granger chuckled. "We'll have to talk some other time, kids, I left the cooker on at home."
Harry winced. "I hope the traffic isn't too bad, Mr. Granger."
"This late in the evening?" the man smiled. "We should be fine, but let's hope Plod's looking the other way."
Harry grinned at everyone's befuddlement over the in-joke. Mr. Granger was quite possibly the first muggle Harry had met who was easy-going enough to simply make a joke about speeding like that.
"Speaking of which, you've got to see what I've done to the car, Hermione," Mr. Granger enthused.
Hermione's mother cleared her throat loudly. "Aren't we going somewhere?" she asked, smiling slightly.
"Oh God Dad, what is it this time?" Hermione sighed.
"It's parked a few streets down, why don't you all come with us?" Mr. Granger offered.
"I suppose it couldn't do any harm," Mrs Weasley said amidst the raucous approval of most of the others.
Just then, Harry noted the arrival of Augusta Longbottom, Neville's grandmother.
"Hello Gran," Neville called. "We're going to see Hermione's car."
The austere woman fixed Neville with a hard stare. "No, they are going to see the car. Come along, Neville. Good day, Molly."
Resignedly, Neville wished everyone a good summer. He perked up a bit at being reminded that they'd all be seeing each other soon anyway, and that he could always see the car when they visited Hermione. Mrs Longbottom gave them a curt nod, and took Neville in the opposite direction.
"Why do you reckon she was all annoyed at him?" Harry asked quietly as they followed Hermione's parents out of King's Cross.
"She's usually like that, isn't she?" Ron put in. "She was all stuck up at the Ministry and all."
"True, but I bet Neville was meant to meet her on nine and three quarters," Ginny said. "Why would she come through the muggle side?"
"Good point, but why would he sneak out?" Harry replied.
It was getting dark outside, and the first street lights were starting to switch on, giving the pavement a warm hint of yellow. Above them, the only stars in the twilight sky were the lights of the aircraft flying overhead, leaving London City or arriving at Heathrow from Europe or Africa. Mr. Granger stared at one of the Heathrow-bound lights as it passed overhead.
"Mandela's having a hard time of it," Mr. Granger told Mrs Weasley.
"I'm sorry, who?" Mrs Weasley asked.
"Nelson Mandela," said Mr. Granger, seeming confused himself. "Sorry, Hermione told us you had access to national television now, I assumed you'd be keeping up with the news."
"I'm sure I would be," Mrs Weasley frowned, "but the television stopped working soon after the children left."
Harry and Ginny looked at each other.
"We spent most of the time when we did have it watching movies," Mrs Weasley explained.
"I'd tell you all about it but this is us," Hermione's dad said, the corners of his lips twitching.
The thing in front of them was 70% car, 10% beast and 20% childish enthusiasm.
"Sweet," Harry grinned. The whole of Privet Drive would hide behind their curtains if this came roaring down the street.
"Dad, I wouldn't be surprised if an officer followed you here just to make sure you weren't a street racer," Hermione said exasperatedly.
The tall man looked entirely too proud of himself. "I know."
"I apologise for my husband," Mrs Granger sighed. "He's forty going on fourteen."
Fred and George were slowly circling the car, examining it from every angle. It was a dark grey, F-reg BMW 5-series, that much Harry could be sure of. Beyond that, Mr. Granger had added a large rear spoiler, put aggressive-looking vents in the bonnet, added obscenely flared wheel arches to contain the wider, black custom wheels... The car did indeed look like a street racer's ride, and more suited to an eighteen year old boy than a middle-aged dentist.
"Took her to Brands Hatch last weekend and broke sixty seconds on the indy circuit," Mr. Granger grinned.
"As he tells anyone who'll listen," Mrs Granger added, rolling her eyes. "We'd best get going. Have a good summer everyone."
"I think it's probably best if you send the first letter," Mr. Granger said as he unlocked the doors. "Just in case the postman can't find you."
Fred lent a hand getting Hermione's straining trunk into the boot, and then everyone was saying their goodbyes. The car started with a low growl, rising to a throaty roar before subsiding to a gentle purr with a whoosh from the turbocharger. The symphony from the large twin tailpipes drew a great deal of attention from passers-by, and inside the car Hermione was holding her head in her hands. There was another growl, and the beast turned away, streaking off into the darkness leaving nothing behind but an angry red glare and a ringing in their ears.
"Let's not mention that to your father," said Mrs Weasley wryly.
"Why not?" Ron asked. "He'd love that thing!"
"Never mind, Ron," Ginny smirked.
They walked back around to the station, and found Mr. Weasley waving to them from where he'd parked the old Anglia.
Harry really ought to have been more suspicious about Mr. Weasley's car. 'Why would he keep it secret from his wife if he just wanted to know how it worked?'
Mr. Weasley happily allowed Mrs Weasley to believe that muggle car boots could normally expand to accommodate six large travel chests. All the more astounding to Harry was how completely unfazed she was by all six of them being able to sit comfortably side by side on the rear bench. She even commented on how much smarter muggles were than wizards gave credit for, and Mr. Weasley never once deigned to correct her.
The drive home passed quickly and surprisingly uneventfully. It seemed that Mr. Weasley had learned properly over the summer term. They did indeed draw the odd look for driving such an old car with its wing mirrors at the front corners of the bonnet, but Harry supposed that beyond places like Privet Drive, people were a bit more accepting of, well... everything. It was only outside of that drearily perfect little road that he'd ever seen a person who wasn't white as snow, of course, in spite of the women's obsession with tanning.
By the time they got back, night was truly upon them. Mr. and Mrs Weasley levitated the trunks for them while Harry, Ron and Ginny raced inside to find a massive pile of letters.
"Oh not again!" Harry exclaimed, thinking back to the last summer. In trying to contact him in spite of his relatives' wishes that he never have anything to do with magic, or know of his heritage, Hogwarts had sent literally thousands of letters to him, so that they almost suffocated in the house before his uncle decided that they would go on the run. From sorcerers. He was a man of notable intelligence, truly.
The letters weren't from Hogwarts, though.
"I must say, I'm glad they warded the house so extensively," Mrs Weasley said as she followed them in. "All our mail has been filtered at Hogwarts before coming here."
"You don't say..." Fred said speculatively.
"Now don't you two get any funny ideas, you hear?" Mrs Weasley threatened. "Professor Dumbledore is doing us another massive favour."
"Your mother's right, boys," Mr. Weasley said sternly. "Leave this one alone. There's going to be all manner of nastiness in Harry's mail now that the whole nation knows where to send it."
"Hey, you know what this means, Harry?" Ginny gushed.
"Err..." Harry muttered, dreading the answer.
"You've got fan mail!" she laughed, gathering up a bunch of the letters and running into the lounge.
Instantaneously, the television crackled and hissed, eventually giving the weather report.
"Okay, I swear I'm not doing anything," Ginny protested.
"Not on purpose," Mr. Weasley mused. "But perhaps... Ah well. Come and take your things to your rooms, everyone!"
They raced upstairs with their trunks, Mrs Weasley's cries about being careful on the stairs echoing after them.
Ten minutes later, the three of them sat in the kitchen surrounded by barely organised mounds of parchment as they sifted through the letters. Ginny would occasionally set fire to one, answering Ron and Harry's alarmed looks with only an innocent smile. Still, it didn't take Harry long to figure out what was setting her off.
"Has every wizard in the country sent you something?" George asked distractedly, staring at the television in the other room as he wandered in.
"Seems that way," Harry shrugged. He caught a glimpse of the television before someone switched the channel — the reporter had been covering a war somewhere.
"Maybe we should join in George," Fred grinned, appearing as ever alongside his twin.
"Yeah, I've never written anyone fan mail before!" George jeered.
"Do you want a nice red pair of knickers in ours, too?" Fred asked innocently.
As if on cue, Mrs Weasley burst in, staring at the roll of parchment Harry was holding.
"Oh, hi Mum," George said. "Have you seen all this stuff?"
"... Yes, it is quite impressive," Mrs Weasley said suspiciously.
"Wonder how much stuff got filtered out at Hogwarts... " Fred mused.
"Quite a lot from what I hear," Mrs Weasley said. "According to Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall is overseeing it personally."
George suddenly started snorting with laughter.
"What is it, George?" Mrs Weasley asked, bewildered.
Fred subtly made a gesture towards Harry, drawing his fingers out delicately and swinging the invisible object gently back and forth. Ginny absolutely lost it.
Mrs Weasley sighed wearily. "Yes, I'm sure it's very funny," she said, looking helplessly at George. "Be sure to gather everything up when you're done."
"Yes, Mum," they chorused. With one last suspicious look at the fanmail, Mrs Weasley left.
"So, Harry," George began.
"About those knickers..." Fred smirked, before taking a shoe to the side of the head.
"Merlin's beard, look at the wards!" Mr. Weasley called.
Harry and Ginny jumped up from the sofa where they'd been skimming through the twins' old copies of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2. Through the window, they could see distant figures walking aimlessly about.
"Reporters," Mrs Weasley sighed. "Again."
"Let's show them our famous hospitality, eh Fred?" George asked.
"You read my mind, George," Fred replied.
"Calm yourselves, boys," Mr. Weasley replied. "If they start attacking the wards, Floo Dumbledore immediately."
"Do you really think they'd do that, Arthur?" Mrs Weasley asked.
"They'd have to be insane to break the law so brazenly, especially where Harry is involved," Mr. Weasley shrugged. "So it's unlikely, but on the off-chance..."
"Nobody is to go near them, let alone speak to them, do you hear?" Mrs Weasley said sternly.
"Of course, mother," Percy said matter-of-factly.
"Besides, who are we to spoil their day of admiring the countryside?" Fred asked.
"Wonder how long they'll be there for," said Ron, peering out of the window.
"If they had anything better to do with their lives they wouldn't have become reporters," Ginny smirked.
"Ginny, journalism is a noble profession," Mr. Weasley said sternly.
"Sure, if you're reporting something that matters," Ginny appealed. "How often does that happen? This is the most exciting thing any of them have done in a week."
"Yeah, since they covered the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup," George grinned.
"My darling girl, there is a world of difference between the journalism in Witch Weekly and the front page of the Daily Prophet," Mr. Weasley sighed.
Ginny frowned up at him. "The Prophet published that rubbish about us in January..."
"Well, to the world at large, Harry is very important," Mr. Weasley said, sighing again. "So people are highly interested in him and his affairs. So the papers will do their best to tell the world about what Harry has for breakfast."
"There were a few people asking for interviews in that fanmail," Ron recalled.
"As if the existing attention wasn't bad enough," said Mr. Weasley. "I do hope the other kids haven't made things too hard on you all."
Ron and Ginny exchanged a look.
"No, it's been fine," Harry shrugged.
"Good," Mrs Weasley smiled. "School children can really be vicious."
"Don't worry Mum," Fred grinned.
"We take good care of them," George finished.
Suddenly, Mrs Weasley burst into tears and grabbed the twins, embracing them so tightly that they yelped.
"Mum..." Fred gasped.
"I'm so proud of you two," Mrs Weasley gushed.
"We didn't do much Mum," George protested.
"It's getting hard to breathe, though," Fred added.
Mrs Weasley sniffed and held them out at arm's length.
"You don't know how much it means to me that you're taking care of them," said Mrs Weasley, the light glinting off her wet lips as they curved shakily upwards.
"Well we could hardly leave them to fight the Lord of the Turban by themselves," George shrugged.
"What else could we have done?" Fred grinned.
"Ignored us," Ron suggested.
"Whaaaaat?" George said, scandalised.
"Our baby brother?" Fred exclaimed.
"Never!" they chorused.
Ron snorted and looked out through the window.
"I don't know about that," said Mrs Weasley, "but you were there when it counted."
"I've... uh... got a thing to do," Harry said quietly, hurrying up the stairs. That had been just a little bit awkward.
It was still a little strange to think of this as his room. He felt more like a long-term visitor. That was no fault of the Weasleys' - he felt quite at home at the Burrow - but the idea that this was his bed, and that was his door, was simply an alien concept. Even back at the Dursleys' it had been Dudley's second bedroom, not Harry's room.
His thought process was interrupted by a smart triple knock on the door.
"Come in," Harry called. "Oh, hi Percy."
"Hello Harry," Percy replied. "Are you busy?"
"Yes, I have so much nothing to do," Harry replied, gesturing to the desk. That wasn't entirely true. He had gotten a bit of holiday homework, especially from Snape, but he didn't mind so much. He'd take studying magic over the reading list Dudley had been given for the summer before he went to Smeltings, the private school Uncle Vernon was so proud to send his son to.
"Thank you for the sarcasm," Percy sighed.
"Likewise," Harry grinned. "How're you?"
"Not bad," Percy shrugged. "May I sit?"
Harry gestured to the desk chair while dropping onto the bed.
"Thank you." Percy closed his eyes for a moment. "I know that I am probably the last person you would want to trust."
"Huh?" Harry said, frowning. He couldn't honestly say that Percy was his favorite out of his new siblings, but...
"I'm not the most likeable of people," he carried on. "I'm not easygoing or particularly flexible, because I respect the system and I genuinely care about my duties and responsibilities."
"Err, Percy, are you looking for my opinion, or...?"
"What?" said Percy, apparently surprised to be interrupted. "What I'm trying to say is, I know you probably don't want to tell me about it, but I'd really appreciate you telling me about what went on on the third floor corridor."
Harry looked at Percy for a moment. From his neatly combed red hair to the clean blue robes he wore even at home, he looked every bit the prim and proper prefect he was at school. This was someone he could trust. He could trust Percy to run to the headmaster, thinking that they deserved some punishment for this misdemeanour.
"Professor Quirrell was being possessed by Lord Voldemort," Harry said firmly, holding Percy's gaze. The other boy gaped, but Harry moved on before Percy could get a word out. "He was hiding Voldemort's face under the turban."
"Stop saying the name!" Percy protested.
"He's not some kind of god," Harry replied testily. "He's just the bastard who killed my parents, and we kicked his arse down there. Or Quirrell's. It doesn't matter, we stopped him from coming back."
"Coming back?" Percy asked dumbly. He was obviously trying to believe Harry, but even Harry had to admit that the story seemed insane.
"They were hiding the Philosopher's Stone on the third floor corridor," Harry explained. "Voldemort possessed him to try to steal it from Gringotts in the summer, but it was moved to Hogwarts, so the break-in was a bust."
"I read about that," Percy frowned. "Dark wizards or witches unknown..."
"That's the one," Harry agreed, remembering the article in the Daily Prophet. "So they moved it to Hogwarts, and Voldemort was living off unicorn blood all year until he was strong enough to have a go at the Stone."
"And the reason why nobody has seen Professor Quirrell...?"
"Remember what Professor Dumbledore said at the beginning of the year?" Harry asked.
"That the third floor corridor is forbidden to all who don't wish to die a painful death?" Percy asked.
"There you go," Harry said darkly.
Percy stared at him. "You're first years! Even Fred and George are yet to learn stupefy, so how could you have subdued a Quirrell possessed by You Know Who?"
"You're forgetting Ginny," Harry shrugged. "She was like a demon down there. And I started doing some pretty weird stuff too. Like if me or Ginny ever touched Quirrell skin on skin, it was like he was rotting. It turned black and just started to fall away... And it was George that finished him. Reductor Curse cut him in half."
"No," Percy protested, shaking his head and pinching his nose. "The Reductor Curse is not a proper curse, it's only called a curse because it's so destructive."
"So...?" Harry prompted, bewildered.
"So wizards are highly resistant to normal charms, especially when they don't want to be hit," Percy explained. "Diffindo, the Severing Charm, will slice right through leather or wood, even metal if you're good. I could easily remove a leg from your bed with a single cast. But if I used it on you, I wouldn't even draw blood."
"So you're saying that the Reductor shouldn't have been able to do that?" Harry asked.
"In fact, Professor Quirrell was engaged in magical combat," Percy went on. "He was actively channeling magical energy. That would make him still more resistant. The only way that George's Reductor could have had violent effect-"
"Is if Quirrell was technically already dead or close to it," Ginny interjected.
"Was he?" said Percy, turning to face her.
"Well I was burning him, and Harry was tearing the second face off, so I'd assume so," Ginny shrugged.
Percy made a face. "I don't think I want that in any more detail."
"Probably for the best," Harry agreed.
"Hermione threw up," Ginny recalled, wincing.
A vision of Voldemort, his screaming face blackening as it rushed towards him, flashed before his eyes. Harry grunted and squeezed his pounding temples between thumb and forefinger.
"Harry...?" Ginny asked, hurrying to his side but keeping clear of touching him.
"Nothing," Harry muttered.
"Your scar though," Ginny insisted, "it's gone all red."
He could see in her expression that she'd felt the same brief headache.
"I'll get mother," Percy declared.
"Don't bother," said Harry. "This isn't the first time."
"Look, Harry," Percy sighed, sitting back down. "I asked you to tell me what happened and you've done that. I suppose it's just difficult to believe."
"You'll see soon enough," Ginny said forlornly. "We couldn't kill him. Quirrell's gone to be sure, but V-Vol... bloody hell, Voldemort, escaped."
"Why hasn't Professor Dumbledore reported this to the Ministry of Magic?" Percy burst out.
"Are you kidding?" Ginny retorted. "They'd shut down the school!"
"That's not Professor Dumbledore's decision," Percy protested.
"He's made it," Ginny said flatly. "Deal with it."
Percy huffed, getting up from the desk chair. "Well, thank you for telling me. I suppose I shall have to be extra vigilant next year."
"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Probably wasn't much you could do on this one, though."
"It's just that..." Percy began. "Never mind. Thanks, Harry."
They listened to his footsteps fade away as he climbed the stairs to his room.
"Come on, Harry," Ginny said, tugging at his arm.
"What?" Harry groaned, flopping back on his bed.
Ginny giggled. "You cannot be tired."
"No, I'm just enjoying not moving," Harry sighed happily. "It's really underrated."
For a moment, Ginny contented herself by trying to yank him to his feet, or his knees. She had little success though, and her determined little smirk quickly became a disappointed frown.
"Ugh, you're heavy," she pouted, dropping his hand.
"Yeah, and my wrist hurts like hell, so thanks," Harry grumbled good-naturedly.
"Luna's going to be fishing for plimpies in the stream," said Ginny. Suddenly, she threw herself at him, one hand going to the side of his neck and the other driving into his ribs.
"Ack! Ginny!" Harry wheezed.
"Get up you lazy bum!" Ginny laughed.
"Dammit," said Harry breathlessly. He grabbed her by her wrists, rolling himself on top of her and pinning her down.
Ginny favoured him with a challenging smirk. Her little pink tongue darted out to moisten her smooth, pink lips... There was a small flash, and Harry was thrown backwards just hard enough that he landed on his feet a metre away.
"That's not fair," Harry griped.
"Don't care," Ginny sniffed haughtily. "Let's go."
Harry narrowed his eyes at Ginny. For her part, she pretended not to notice, pulling some of her hair over her shoulder and examining it closely.
"Ginny, are you going to sit there while I get changed?" Harry asked.
"Sure, why not?" she replied unashamedly. He could feel her anxiety though, clinging to her like a blanket of oil.
"Fine," Harry smirked, pulling his pyjama top off. Ginny kept her eyes averted as he did so, but then...
"Eep!" she squeaked, disappearing through the door without a backwards glance.
Harry looked in the mirror. The boy staring back at him was completely unrecognisable from the skinny wretch who'd left Privet Drive on a promise and a prayer. He felt a sudden urge to test his new strength, but in the absence of an appropriate punching bag the urge faded. Pillows were well and good for taking out your frustrations, as Ron had demonstrated to them earlier in the year, but with no resistance to break through he might as well shadow box. 'Maybe I could make a punching bag...'
Straightening his t-shirt, Harry rushed downstairs, finding Ginny waiting at the door.
"Mum won't let us go until the reporters leave," she pouted.
"So you dragged me out of there to...?" Harry sighed.
"Wait for the reporters to leave?" Ginny shrugged. "I didn't plan for this."
"Won't Luna finish fishing?" Harry asked.
"She won't have started yet," Ginny explained. "And she'd be there for a couple of hours anyway. But these guys literally have no lives."
"How about we... persuade them to leave?" Harry said, grinning.
"This cloak is the best thing ever," Ginny whispered.
"Just remember, no attacking them," Harry said firmly.
"Sure," Ginny replied, turning to give him a challenging smirk. "Wouldn't want them to get hurt playing with fire."
"It's my favorite thing to do," Harry murmured, running his fingers through her hair. A flame licked at his fingers.
"Harry..." Ginny whispered.
"Let's do this before we're missed," Harry replied.
With their bond active, the cloak was no burden. They seemed to instinctively know when the other would turn, running in perfect step. Ginny grinned up at him, a mutual rush of adrenaline and serotonin lighting the same fire in their hearts that they always got when crossing the boundary of what was strictly allowed.
Eyes aglow with aethereal power, Ginny reached out towards a cameraman. He stumbled on firm ground, and the massive camera counterbalanced, moving rapidly towards the journalist standing with him.
"Merlin's saggy ballsack, Reeger!" she cried. "Be careful how you swing that camera!"
"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" Reeger grunted.
'That was vicious!' Harry projected, laughing.
'Your turn,' Ginny replied challengingly.
But when Harry looked around for a target, he found that the reporters were already Apparating away.
"Back to the house, quick!" Ginny hissed.
They broke into a dead sprint, synchronised footfalls pounding the earth until Harry felt Ginny's grip on his hand tighten, and he felt the uncomfortable sensation of being squeezed through a tube. The landscape around him was replaced with his bedroom, and he whipped the cloak off them to find Ginny flushed and panting, sweat beading on her forehead as she swayed on unsteady feet.
"Woah," Harry breathed, helping her to the bed. "Do you want a glass of water or something?"
Ginny shook her head, clearly trying and failing to suppress her heavy breathing.
All of a sudden, she was pinning him to the wall with her lips.
Harry blinked. 'Um?'
Ginny wasn't paying attention. Her hands were buried in his hair and his shirt, and Harry's mind went delightfully blank.
There was a noise from the direction of the door, and Ginny pulled away slightly to look at the intruder, his lower lip between her teeth.
"Oh," Ron squeaked, disappearing.
Ginny looked back up at him, smirking. It was all Harry could focus on. His mind was full of fog, and his vision tunnelled.
As Ginny let go of his lip, he forced her back until they fell over the bed. The hot flush on her cheeks spread to turn her whole face bright red. Spurred on by a rising feeling of urgency, Harry kissed his way along her jaw and down onto her neck.
"Harry!" Ginny gasped quietly, clenching her fist in his hair. "I..."
There was something in her voice, some desperation that drove him completely insane.
She pulled his mouth back to hers, and he felt her moist tongue against his lips.
And Harry knew they had to stop. He pulled away, leaving Ginny looking and feeling confused and frustrated.
"Why did you stop?"
Well his trousers were feeling uncomfortably tight for one thing.
"I just think we're a bit young," Harry said awkwardly. "You know, to do much more than we were already…"
Ginny sat up, looking conflicted. "I..."
Just then, Mrs Weasley bustled in with her wand out, throwing charms around with routine efficiency. "Harry, Ginny, you can go and see Luna if you'd like. The reporters are all gone."
"Thanks Mummy," Ginny smiled, yanking Harry out of the room before he could so much as open his mouth.
'She probably noticed how messy we are,' Harry pointed out.
'Ron's already told her, genius,' she teased. 'Why do you think I jumped on you like that?'
An alibi, then. Nobody could ever accuse Ginny of lacking cunning. Harry wondered if perhaps the Hat had considered her for Slytherin, too.
'You couldn't resist my roguish charms?' Harry said.
Ginny snorted. 'Let's go with that then.'
They burst out into the summer sun, delighting in its gentle touch on their skin. The cloak was light and fairly unobtrusive, but going out under it just wasn't the same as feeling the soft caress of a cool breeze.
"I... feel..." Ginny exulted, jumping into the air and floating like a feather on the wind. "Fantastic!"
A shockwave exploded outwards from her. Harry raised his hands, and it passed seamlessly around him, blasting the grass flat and making trees sway drunkenly even a hundred or so metres away.
Harry laughed. "Keep that up and the muggles will think there's a storm coming."
"There is!" she cried, shockwaves emanating from her with increasing frequency and intensity. "WOOOOHOOOOO!"
"Ginny..." Harry grunted, far too quietly for her to hear him over the cacophony. Yet she relented, returning gracefully to the ground. "You're getting strong."
"Damn right," said Ginny. "You'd better watch out, mister."
"Come on you nutcase," Harry said facetiously.
"Oi!" Ginny cried.
Harry grinned sidelong at her. "So where are we gonna meet Luna?"
"What if I told you I just wanted to get us out of the house?" Ginny asked slowly.
'Panic?' Harry grinned to himself. Considering what she'd been willing to do inside the house... "Look, Ginny..."
"You wouldn't be so hesitant with Katie, would you?" Ginny prodded.
Squeezing his temples between finger and thumb, Harry turned to look at her. She was grinning mischievously at him. "You're so obsessed with her..." said Harry. "Maybe you should ask her out."
Ginny blushed brilliantly. "Harry I don't... I'm not... Wait. Why? Would you like that?"
Harry blinked.
"To see me with another girl?"
"I... uh... what?" Harry spluttered.
"Would you like me to kiss her in front of you?" Ginny said, advancing on him slowly. "To nibble on her neck and caress her soft... hair?"
"Ginny..." Harry was blushing himself now. It took all of his self-control to dismiss the imagery that flashed now through his mind.
"You didn't deny it," Ginny grinned. "Are you into that, Harry?"
"Ginny!" said Harry. "What's gotten into you today?"
"I'm only pulling your leg," said Ginny. Through the bond, however, she was a churning mess.
"Ginny, seriously," Harry urged, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Stop. We're not ready for..."
"Says who?" Ginny said stubbornly.
"Says me," Harry insisted. "This is crazy."
"What are you scared of?" Ginny asked.
"I'm not scared," Harry shrugged. "We're eleven and ten years old, what are you expecting us to do? I'm really happy with the way things are and I thought you were too."
"I am!" Ginny said urgently. "Harry I..."
Leaning in, Harry kissed her softly on the cheek. "Then what's the problem?"
Ginny's expression turned to one of despair. Focusing on her, Harry could feel anxiety - a raw, churning fear.
"Ginny..." Harry said slowly. "What are you afraid of?"
She turned away from him. Encircling her in his arms, he rested his chin on her shoulder, feeling her cheek warm against his own.
"Ginny, if you're upset..." Harry said.
"I'm fine, okay?" Ginny insisted, squirming in his grip. "Can we just go see Luna?"
"Ginny, you're talking to me, remember?" said Harry. "I know something's wrong."
"Well you shouldn't!" Ginny fumed. "It's not right!"
Harry let go of her, and Ginny's anger collapsed instantly.
"Harry I didn't mean that," Ginny said mournfully.
"No," said Harry, shaking his head. "Let's go see Luna."
They walked the rest of the way in silence, until they found Luna sitting in the shade of a weeping willow at the bottom of one final hill, setting up her equipment. They jogged down the hill, only slowing as they reached her. Still digging around in a box, the blonde paid them no mind. She was using a rod, which Harry found particularly puzzling.
"You've been fighting," Luna said in her usual, tranquil voice. There was no question in it.
"Not now, Luna," said Ginny, firmly.
"Hi, Luna," Harry said uncomfortably.
"Hello Harry Potter," she replied. "Did you enjoy your victory?"
"Uhhh..." Harry murmured, looking to Ginny for some clue that she'd informed Luna of the Quirrell incident. His girlfriend wasn't being particularly forthcoming. Luna just kept looking into his eyes. "What, sorry?"
"Your victory over He Who Must Not Be Named," Luna said, unperturbed.
"My what?" Harry asked, very perturbed. Almost nobody knew that Voldemort had been down there.
"I'm sorry," she said. "Perhaps you are still recovering."
"Luna, how do you know about that?" Harry asked. 'Is every female going to make life difficult for me today?'
"Something happened at Hogwarts which put you and a couple of friends in the Hospital Wing," Luna said, ticking off on her fingers. "Nobody knows what actually happened. A professor has gone missing who was recently on a journey through obscure parts of Europe. Professor Dumbledore is covering up whatever happened. Minister Fudge hasn't unleashed his army of heliopaths. You're Harry Potter. It's quite obvious really, although I suppose I didn't know for sure until you confirmed it."
Harry ran a hand through his hair in frustration. The ever-present, secretive little smile on Luna's face wasn't helping him in that regard. "I don't know, Luna, I was too busy panicking and hitting things at the time to think about it."
"Interesting," said Luna.
"Luna, why are you fishing with a rod?" Harry asked. "Isn't there some magic way?"
"If there is then I've not yet learned how to do it, and would not be allowed to as I am underage," Luna said. "Besides, I've been quite taken with this kind of fishing since I first heard a non-magical talking about it."
"Right," said Harry.
"Did you only just get here, Luna?" Ginny asked, still sounding a little gloomy.
"Yes Ginny," Luna said, her tone unchanging. "That is why I am unpacking the fishing equipment."
They sat around chatting for a while as Luna affixed an odd assortment of fruits and things Harry wasn't too sure about to her hook as bait. The River Otter was just gathering strength at this point - it was about five metres across, and just fast enough that it could be heard. Putting a hand in, Harry found the water cool and pleasant.
Plop.
Luna had cast her hook into the river, and was watching it contentedly. Looking around, it was easy to understand why Luna enjoyed this. This place was quiet without being lonely. With the birds chirping in the trees, and the buzz of insects among the flowers, it would be all too easy to just slip into a day-dream for a couple of hours. It was such a beautiful day...
"Looking forward to September?" Harry asked.
Luna turned slightly to look him in the eye, that infuriating, absent-minded little smile playing at her thin lips. "I can hardly look back to it."
"You could try using a mirror," Harry replied.
"Or I could turn around," said Luna. "A man who resorts to a tool for the most menial task will soon be unable to do without."
"Is this just a magic thing?" Harry asked, bemused. Both girls stared at him. "You girls don't really talk like muggle ten-year-olds."
"Yes, magic has been known to excite the helical cingulate," Luna nodded.
Harry squinted at her, now absolutely sure that she was taking the piss.
"Have you been attacked by wrackspurts, Harry Potter?" Luna asked. "Oh, please wait a moment."
She then jerked the rod around in a series of seemingly random, tiny motions before stopping dead still. Harry and Ginny waited with baited breath.
The end of the rod bent down towards the water.
With one sharp, strong heave, Luna brought the round-looking fish flying out of the river to land with a soft smack on the grass. The thing was flipping about madly, a bit of the hook poking out of the side of its mouth. Ginny inhaled sharply.
Luna moved quickly, grabbing the fish firmly and holding it against the tree, while the other hand brought a rock to bear on its head. The fish's struggles died instantly, and Luna dropped it in a bucket. The fish quickly frosted over.
"Bad luck," said Luna.
Ginny sniffled slightly.
"Hey," Harry said softly, putting an arm around her and frantically looking for something comforting to say. "It died quickly, it probably didn't feel a thing."
"I know, I just don't usually watch," Ginny muttered.
"Ginny is highly empathic with all animals except humans," Luna commented.
"Hey!" Ginny protested.
Harry smirked, kissing her flushed cheek. She blushed to the roots of her hair.
"So how often do you do this, Luna?" Harry asked.
"Every three weeks or so in the warmer months," Luna replied, attaching fresh bait to the hook. "The catch isn't so good in winter, but I might still do it if I feel like it."
"And how often do you feel like it?" said Harry.
"Take the number of days there's snow and add them together," Ginny smirked.
Harry poked her in the ribs, and she squirmed adorably in his arms.
"It was... different, this year," Luna said softly, eyes dropping in an uncharacteristically explicit display of emotion.
"Oh Luna, I didn't realise!" Ginny gasped, dashing over to asphyxiate her friend with something that only barely resembled a hug.
Harry sat back and contemplated what he'd tell the police when they arrived. In the meantime, Ginny was jabbering hysterically into Luna's shoulder while the blonde stared at him in what he assumed was a plea for help. Harry shrugged helplessly back at Luna. Her resulting expression was most definitely resignation.
"Ginny, I am running out of air," Luna informed her calmly.
"Oh!" Ginny squeaked, jumping backwards.
Luna didn't even cough, she just resumed normal operation as though nothing had happened. Ginny looked close to tears though.
"Please forgive me, Luna?" she insisted.
"I never blamed you," Luna responded. "You have been at Hogwarts with Harry Potter, I never expected you to..."
"Well you should have!" Ginny said stubbornly. "What kind of friend would I be otherwise?"
What Luna had said earlier about Ginny's empathy sprang to Harry's mind. 'Perhaps she's not too far off...'
"Oh, is that your owl, Harry Potter?" Luna asked.
True enough, when Harry turned, Hedwig was gliding down to them, her immaculate white coat shining in the sunlight.
"Hey girl," Harry said. Hedwig perched gently upon his shoulder, nipping affectionately at his ear. "All of this and I haven't been spending nearly enough time with you."
One of her wings brushed over his chest.
"You saw that, did you?" Harry winced. "I'm okay now, I promise."
Hedwig hooted angrily.
"No, we didn't let the other guy walk away," Harry grinned ferally. "Anyway, this is Luna. Luna, this is Hedwig."
"Hello," said Luna.
"Twwoooo," said Hedwig.
"She says 'hello yourself'," Harry grinned.
"I know," Luna muttered, a hint of pink in her cheeks.
"I haven't brought any treats with me, girl," Harry apologised. "I don't know if you're into fish..."
Hedwig extended her wings briefly and gave a brief hoot that Harry took to be a shrug and a 'meh'. She flapped over to the bucket, which now contained two of the plimpies, which the Lovegoods apparently cooked up in a soup. A hoot, a few mutterings from Luna, and Hedwig was back on his shoulder, preening herself leisurely.
"Uh," Ginny said, not having moved since Hedwig's arrival.
Harry snorted. Hedwig hooted. Luna smiled slightly.
"Yeah, never mind," Ginny muttered, going bright red.
"Oh Ginny, did your mother charm you?" Luna asked.
"What?" Ginny asked. Realisation dawned with an, "Oh crap." She began frantically checking her arms for something. "I burn really easily, so Mum usually puts a kind of Shielding Charm on me before I go out in the summer."
Harry didn't see anything, but that didn't please her.
"It doesn't usually show up so fast anyway," Ginny explained. "I've just got to hope that I've been shielding myself without realising it all this time."
"Hey, that's another thing," Harry frowned. "Why haven't we got in trouble with the Ministry or whatever for you Apparating us?"
"Meh," Ginny shrugged.
"How often exactly do you flaunt your power?" Luna teased.
"I do not flaunt anything!" Ginny said haughtily.
"Nah, you don't need to," Harry grinned.
Ginny blushed again and went quiet.
They sat like that in silence for a while, with Luna systematically reeling in plimpies.
After the seventh fish, either Hedwig was getting bored or she'd spotted something. Passing a wing gently over his cheek in farewell, she took off, flying high above the trees.
"Luna, are you carrying all of this yourself?" Harry suddenly burst out.
She turned slowly to look at him. "Featherweight Charms."
What made it worse was not the way Ginny lost it, though it was probably the reason why she did - Luna's tone hadn't varied one jot.
"Err, yeah," Harry said awkwardly, scratching at the back of his neck.
Luna reeled in two more fish, and then she was taking the rod apart. True enough, when everything was put away, she picked up the case and bucket like they were nothing. The walk back up to the Lovegood house was more subdued than Harry's prior romps across the countryside with Ginny. Luna seemed to contrast her in every possible way, carrying herself with a kind of easy grace that Ginny had no patience for. Ginny bounded around like a mad thing, jabbering about this or that that whoever had been doing for the Easter holiday, while Luna listened passively. To Harry, it seemed ludicrously one-sided to be considered a conversation, but it was the only way he'd known them to interact, and they were clearly very close...
"Would you like to come in?" Luna asked as they crested the rise.
"Oh yes please," Ginny grinned. "We can force-feed Harry gillywater."
"Great, yeah, how did I see that coming?" Harry grumbled.
Ginny giggled, and Harry thought that Luna was going to let one escape, but her mouth only twitched.
"Is your dad home?" Harry asked.
"Oh yes, he's busy reviewing this month's issue of The Quibbler," said Luna.
"Oh yeah, I noticed the sign last time," Harry mused. "I've not heard of it though."
"It doesn't have the kind of readership that the Prophet or Witch Weekly gets, but then, most people would rather be spoon-fed by their government than dare to have an independent thought."
Harry squinted at Luna. Her tone had barely changed, but that was unmistakably a tirade.
"Technically, the Ministry doesn't own any of Witch Weekly," Ginny sighed.
Luna turned to look at her. There was nothing new in her standard, slightly vacant expression, no recrimination in her protuberant eyes, but Ginny put her hands in the air.
"Hey, I'm not defending it, I'm just saying," Ginny grinned.
Luna raised the bucket of plimpies to Harry's face. "Do these gulping plimpies look real to you, Harry Potter?"
"I don't know Luna," said Harry, "I mean, if my eyes aren't real, how can the things they show me be real?"
"Well that depends on your point of view," Luna said, lowering the bucket.
"Just so we don't need any more puns or whatever the hells that was," Ginny said, giving Harry a funny look, "the Prophet said Luna's dad's discovery of the gulping plimpy was a fanciful story invented to help sell the first issues of the Quibbler."
"Um, not to be funny or anything, Luna, but why would a new species of fish be worth a fuss?" Harry asked.
"Because nobody had discovered a new magical species of anything in twenty three years," said Luna.
"Twenty three?" Harry gaped.
"The only places we can't be sure of are the bottom of the sea, and really deep underground," said Ginny, "but everyone was pretty sure we found everything."
"And Daddy wasn't Newton Scamander," Luna added. "He had only just finished at Hogwarts, and wasn't the most influential of young graduates. It was easier to discredit him than to fund him."
"Newton...?" said Harry.
"He's a pretty big deal in magizoology," Ginny shrugged.
Harry snorted.
"What?" Ginny asked.
"Nothing," Harry sniggered. "It's just, wizards are always tacking 'magic' onto everything. One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, Magical Drafts and Potions, magizoology, Care of Magical Creatures ... it's like you're all worried you'll forget that you're wizards."
"Yeah, I never thought of it like that before," Ginny mused.
Luna, on the other hand, was grinning.