Chapter Three
Waiting in the Wings

"We seldom name it; but we have dwelt ever in sight of that shadow; sometimes it seems fainter and more distant; sometimes nearer and darker. It is growing and darkening now; and therefore our fear and disquiet grow too. … It is but the deep breath before the plunge."
—J.R.R. Tolkien, "The Return of the King."

If Harry had a lingering hope that either the refurnishing of Sirius's old house, or Mad-Eye Moody's ever-unsatisfied paranoia, might delay his relocation there for at least a few weeks, he did not say as much. Ginny was sure, now that the Order had renewed the most powerful magical protection feasibly in their power to erect, that it would not be long before they removed Harry from the Burrow. She also had guessed, from the tidbits of information she and Hermione managed to glean from Arthur or the twins about the wards surrounding both habitats, that Mad-Eye's protective enchantments made it almost impossible to enter or leave Grimmauld Place except through the Floo network and the front door, both of which were closely monitored. The Burrow's wards, however, seemed designed primarily to keep unwanted visitors out, and not so much to keep people in. It therefore would be far easier for Harry to escape from the Burrow than from Grimmauld Place. How to do so without the Order immediately detecting it and giving chase was another matter entirely.

Unfortunately for Harry, that hoped-for delay was not to be. Three days after the Fidelius Charm went up, at a moment when Ron and Hermione were outside somewhere, no less, Kingsley and Remus dropped by the Burrow to inform him that Grimmauld Place was now ready for his relocation. Without giving him time to inform Ron and Hermione what was going on, Remus led Harry upstairs to get his stuff together, leaving Ginny to go outside to find them. After only a few minutes outside, looking around the back garden, she spotted them almost at the border, where she knew the wards were located. As her footsteps came within their hearing, both stopped talking and turned abruptly. Ginny saw Hermione's wand quickly vanish under her jacket sleeve. When they saw who it was approaching, however, they relaxed.

"Find out anything useful?" Ginny asked, nodding at the subtle shimmer visible just behind the fence.

Hermione grimaced, suggesting that whatever she did find out, wasn't to her satisfaction.

"Does Mum want something?" asked Ron.

It was Ginny's turn to grimace, and she apprised him and Hermione of Kingsley's visit and Harry's imminent relocation.

Ron swore. "Some notice ahead of time would have been nice."

"Come on," Hermione said, beckoning for them to follow. "Let's go at least see him off."

As they ascended the staircase to Harry's room a few minutes later, they could hear him shuffling around inside, and Remus telling him, "I know it's not the most ideal solution right now. But it won't last forever."

Ginny knew that at least that was true, if Harry still managed to depart on whatever mission Dumbledore had set him on; but if that failed, she and everyone else in the vicinity knew full well that Remus's words were hollow.

"You know that I intend to go down fighting if I can't survive this thing," Harry said to Remus, his voice slightly muffled behind the closed door. "And if that's what's in store for me, then I refuse to spend my last few months the way Sirius did. Believe me, Remus, I intend to make that very clear to Kingsley and Mad-Eye."

There was a light thud, probably Harry closing the lid of his trunk.

"It won't be like that this time," Remus insisted. Ginny repressed a light snort, and could see skepticism on Ron and Hermione's faces. "You'll be old enough to join the Order soon. Perhaps they can be persuaded to let you do your part after that."

Harry said nothing. After a moment's silence, likely figuring that their discussion was over, Hermione pushed the door open and led the way inside. Harry and Remus looked at them in surprise.

"Ginny just told us what's going on," Ron said, and, frowning at Remus, he added, "You could have warned us."

Remus only shrugged apologetically, then he gestured at Harry's trunk with his wand. "I'll take this downstairs, Harry."

Once he and the trunk were gone, Harry sank into his desk chair and swore under his breath.

"It could be worse," Hermione offered. "Grimmauld Place won't be as awful to stay at, now that Mrs. Tonks has redone it."

"It's not that," Harry said. "Only that they're probably going to be watching me all the time there. I don't know if it'll be safe for us to… well…"

He gave a sidelong glance at Ron and Hermione, and they and Ginny understood. At the Burrow, there were still plenty of places and occasions for Harry, Ron, and Hermione to evaluate their options and plan accordingly, without raising too much suspicion. At Grimmauld Place, the Order's headquarters, where Harry would constantly be under their scrutiny, this would not be the case.

"We'll do what we can from here," Hermione reassured him. "And we'll see what we can do about getting you here for when we…." She fell silent, looking at the door nervously.

Harry smiled weakly. "Well, at least that's a thought."

Before he could say anymore, they heard more footsteps on the stairs, and a moment later Molly stuck her head through the door. "Mad-Eye just fire-called," she told them. "He's getting impatient. You'd better get going, Harry."

Harry only grumbled in response as he started down the stairs, Ron and Hermione close behind. Ginny looked at Molly, not bothering to hide her annoyance. The latter spoke first. "He's safer there then he is here, Ginny," Molly said firmly. "You'll still see him often enough."

"It's not that," Ginny grumbled. Without another word, she started down the stairs herself, and she heard Molly following. They stepped into the sitting room just in time to see Remus lug Harry's trunk into the green flames in the fireplace, call out the address, and vanish. By this point Mad-Eye had arrived in person, and was pointedly shaking the flower pot full of Floo Powder at Harry, who appeared just as resigned and disgruntled as he had only moments earlier. Ron and Hermione stood nearby, neither saying a word; Ron looked as frustrated as Harry, but Ginny noticed that Hermione was wearing a contemplative expression, of the kind she'd always had in the Gryffindor Common Room when she was studying, or when she was figuring something out.

Harry reached into the flower pot and took out a fistful of powder, and scattered it into the newly-orange flames, turning them green again.

"Good man," Moody grunted. "Better uncomfortable and bored but alive, than comfortable and dead, Potter."

Harry chose not to respond. He glanced at Ron and Hermione with an unreadable expression, then cast a lingering gaze upon Ginny, before he stepped into the fireplace, called "Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place!", and vanished.

Kingsley looked at Molly. "We'll probably be by again tomorrow. Thank you for your help in all of this."

Molly shrugged this off, and Kingsley and Mad-Eye then took their leave. Ginny, Ron, and Hermione remained in silence as the door closed behind the two Aurors, and then, a minute later, they heard the distinctive crack of Disapparation outside.

"Well, that's that," Molly said.

"Can we at least visit him?" Ron asked. "He's already not happy about being holed up there."

"Of course you can," Molly assured him. "We've got enough Floo Powder, and the Order already knows to expect you."

"He's still coming over for the wedding, right?" asked Hermione intently. "And I doubt he'll want to spend his birthday at Grimmauld Place."

Molly looked startled, this idea clearly having somehow escaped her. Torn between Harry's security and his happiness, she hesitantly said, "I'll talk it over with Kingsley and Arthur. I'm sure there's no reason not to. We'll just need to take some extra care."

Nobody said anything more, but Ginny saw Hermione turn to hide her triumphant expression from Molly.

Harry stepped out of the fireplace in the sitting room of 12 Grimmauld Place, Hedwig's cage in hand, this time to stay, at least for as long as he was unable to set out. His standing in the sitting room and brushing ash from his sleeves seemed to finalise the situation he now found himself in; in spite of Remus's assurances, the thought of being holed up here for weeks, as Sirius had been, left him angry and worried. Regardless of the consequences of their past actions, it seemed that the Order had learned nothing. He just hoped that it would not be long before Ron and Hermione and Ginny found a way to rectify the situation.

As Remus led him to his new bedroom, however, he found his spirits lifting a little as he observed the full extent of Andromeda Tonks's now-finished refurnishing project. Harry had worried in the past couple of weeks that this sojourn would dredge up painful memories, particularly concerning his deceased godfather, but he now barely recognised the house. The elf heads were gone, as was the old wallpaper; instead the walls had been painted in tones of earthy greens or reds, and had been given the same polished wood trimming as the sitting room. New lights had been fixed to the ceiling, so the house was far less dimly lit; and the portraits of Black ancestors had been removed, replaced with photographs of Order members or other, more tasteful art pieces. Then, when Remus showed Harry to the new bedroom, he found himself standing in a large, brightly lit room, wallpapers with goldenrod patterns on a bright red background, with a cherry-wood desk and a picture of the Hogwarts founders, copied off a painting he'd seen every day in the Gryffindor Common Room, and a fireplace had been constructed on the far end of the room.

"See, it's not so bad," Remus teased him.

"Mrs. Tonks outdid herself," Harry admitted, as he placed Hedwig's cage onto the desk.

Remus nodded. "She was just as eager to tear down all memory of the Blacks as Sirius. More so, perhaps, since she's even more closely connected with Bellatrix Lestrange and Narcissa Malfoy than he was. She also had more knowhow." He smirked. "You should have seen Mrs. Black's portrait. Andromeda didn't take it down immediately. Instead she Silenced her and made her watch while she dismantled everything else."

Harry snorted. The hag deserved it and more.

"I'll leave you to get more settled," Remus told him. "If you need anything, someone will be downstairs. We've almost always got at least one person here."

In near-comical confirmation of this, they started to hear the signature clunk, clunk, clunk of Mad-Eye Moody's wooden leg coming up the stairs, and presently the ex-Auror appeared in the doorway himself.

"Took your time getting here, didn't you, Potter?" he growled irritably.

"Not by much," Harry protested. "And be fair, you didn't exactly tell me ahead of time that you'd be moving me today."

"Always be prepared to relocate on short notice," Moody retorted. "You may find yourself in a situation where you have to leave a place quickly, immediately, and even permanently."

Under any other circumstances, Harry might have laughed out loud at the irony of Moody's words, but at present he was in no mood for humour, nor did he fancy trying to misdirect his and Remus's attention from said humour and its reason. Before he could think of anything to say to Moody, the latter continued, "Before you do anything else, Potter, we're going to establish a set of ground rules:

"First, under no circumstances do you go outside without an escort, and if you do want to go outside, you'd better have a damn good reason for it. Second, no using the Floo Network to go to the Burrow without informing someone here."

Moody's firm, no-nonsense tone was enough for Harry to do nothing except listen and nod quietly; it reminded him of his dressing down of the Dursleys before sending them off to Heathrow Airport.

"Third," he barked, "do not try to attend or listen in on Order meetings unless you are invited, and if you are, you leave when asked. You may be staying here for the time being, but you are still not a member of the Order. If and when that changes, you may attend." Moody leaned forward on his staff, glaring at Harry. "Are we understood?"

"Perfectly," Harry said, trying to control the angry quiver in his voice.

"Good," Moody said curtly. "Feel free to roam around a bit today, but there's probably gonna be a meeting downstairs later this evening, just so you know, so be prepared to stay up here until the meeting's over."

Without another word, Moody then turned and left the room. Once the clunks of his false leg died away, Harry wryly remarked, "He's in rather a mood, isn't he?"

"Never mind," Remus said sympathetically. "I understand his position, but also yours. It isn't really fair on you, especially being given ground rules for your stay here when it's technically your house. But it's not going to be as difficult as Alastor made it sound, I'm sure. And Andromeda's by a lot, and I'm sure Ron and Hermione and Ginny will visit all the time too. You won't lack for company. It's not going to be like summers at the Dursleys'."

With another reassuring nod, Remus left. Harry, still seething with indignation, looked back at the room, and slowly opened his trunk and began removing clothes to the chestnut dresser, trying not to scream out in frustration. Sensing the tension in his demeanour, Hedwig hooted soothingly, and Harry looked at her, calming a little. "He's right, isn't he? It's like old times, just you and me, except no Dursleys."

Hedwig hooted again, seemingly in agreement, and Harry continued removing his stuff from his trunk, reflecting as he worked that in many ways it was a pointless chore, seeing as he'd be packing all his stuff up again in a few weeks anyway, if all went well.

His current position was better than he'd anticipated, but even so, the moment he stepped into this bedroom he felt suddenly alone, singled out in the same way he'd endured almost since his entry into the Wizarding World: famous for something he couldn't remember, his life constantly threatened for reasons he hadn't fully understood until very recently, his allies (if they could be called that) constantly clamouring to protect him from that very threat, but always at the cost of his ability to move freely and live freely. Harry couldn't even remember what he'd expected in the future a year ago, when he had only just learned about the prophecy that had shaped his life: perhaps joining the Order and keeping hidden from sight, biding his time and preparing, until the time was right for him to finally face Voldemort and destroy him, or die trying. Perhaps that was what he saw ahead back then. But then Dumbledore imparted the secret of Voldemort's Horcruxes to him, and Harry learned the full depths not only of Voldemort's depravity, but of the deadly complexities of the situation, that could never be circumnavigated by keeping out of sight. Those revelations had made his current situation, being locked away inside the near-impregnable fortress of Grimmauld Place, completely intolerable to him. It was only the hope of Hermione or Ginny or Ron finding a way through the Order's defences that made him confident that he could endure staying here.

In spite of his grim mood upon arrival, however, Harry found, as the days went by and Bill's wedding drew nearer, that his stay could have been worse. As probably intended, the drastic change in décor helped alleviate any lingering or resurfacing grief he might have felt at being back in Sirius's house. Molly often visited in the evenings to make sure that Harry was well-fed and at least satisfied with this new arrangement, and for the first week, Ron, Hermione, and often Ginny dropped by on a near-daily basis, which helped relax him sufficiently to keep patient. They couldn't talk openly about their plans, not in the Order headquarters, but his friends devised a way to notify him of their progress. During their first visit, as Ron and Ginny made small talk, Hermione slipped Harry a note, which he read later:

The Burrow's definitely our best bet. We've already gotten Molly to agree to have you over there for the wedding and for your birthday. It will have to be then. I've also pieced together, from remarks from Fred and George and Arthur, that Portkeys might be our only way out of there unnoticed, although the Portkeys might have to be enchanted a specific way. Still working out details.

The moment he read this note, Harry stuck it in a candle flame and tossed it into the fireplace to burn. But it was some progress at least. Still, it also gave them a tight deadline, he realised as June drew to a close, leaving them only four weeks.

Apart from the difficulty his relocation presented to his own plans, however, the biggest problem Harry faced at Grimmauld Place was boredom. Unused to spending so much time on his own without the Dursleys' breathing down his neck, and constantly under the Order's watchful eye and strongest protections, while having little to do except converse with Andromeda Tonks or whoever else was there, he became restless, longing to go outside at least, as he often would at Privet Drive, but the Order did not permit Harry that option. He even found himself unable to help keep the house tidy or wash dishes, as Dobby, who appeared to have settled in Grimmauld Place as its caretaker, flatly refused to accept Harry's aid, protesting that it was beneath "the noble Harry Potter". This resulted in Harry often pacing around his room or the newly-refurnished library, when Andromeda or Remus weren't around or Ron, Hermione, and Ginny weren't visiting.

As they had during Harry's first stay the summer after Voldemort's return, members of the Order came and went almost every day, but they seldom said more to him than a passing greeting, and just as Mad-Eye promised, Harry found himself all but exiled to the upper floors any time the Order had any kind of meeting in the drawing room or dining room (and they always seemed to know if he came downstairs, as he discovered when Mad-Eye and McGonagall sharply warned him to stop testing that rule). Moreover, as the wedding drew nearer, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny visited less and less frequently, owing to Molly obsessively assigning everyone in the house numerous chores, ranging from tidying up the front room to weeding the garden (a rarity at the Burrow). While this seemed to settle Molly's nerves, it also increased Harry's sense of alienation, leaving him to wonder how long he had before he'd go mad.

In the early weeks of July, however, he found a rare and welcome reprieve from the dull and stifling environment of Grimmauld Place, after an unexpected intervention. Bill and Fleur were due to return from Marseilles to make the final preparations for their wedding on the twenty-sixth, and Fleur's family would arrive in Britain only a few days following. Harry knew he'd be permitted to attend the wedding, but the day before the Delacours' arrival, Ginny and Ron surprised Harry by showing up at Grimmauld Place to inform him that he was invited to the Burrow the next morning, where he'd be visiting for most of the day, and likely on a frequent basis over the next couple of weeks. Having been all but sealed up in the Order's headquarters for a couple of weeks, only rarely going outside, Harry was stunned at this new development, but Ron and Ginny quickly told him who was responsible for Mad-Eye's sudden change in attitude: Fleur, as it transpired, had been extremely indignant to learn that Harry had been holed up in "'zat awful house" for days, only able to leave in particular circumstances, and made her opinion very clear to Mad-Eye and to Molly. Her airy mannerisms and her almost fairy-tale beauty, as well as her heavy French accent, frequently prevented her friends and acquaintances in Britain (Molly and Ginny in particular) from taking her very seriously; but beneath that appearance lay the other element of her Veela heritage that both men and women frequently forgot, even the ever-cautious Mad-Eye. Harry, still hidden in Grimmauld Place, wasn't present at the Burrow for it, but as Ginny and Ron later related it, Fleur had cornered Mad-Eye and Kingsley as soon as she had an opportunity, and bore down on them in such a powerful and deadly manor that even Mad-Eye was cowed.

"You remember the Veela at the World Cup?" Ron asked. "Remember them turning into eagle-harpy things throwing fireballs?"

"She didn't quite turn that far," Ginny said, though she still sounded uniquely impressed.

"No, more like an avenging angel," Ron said, shivering. "Really glad she's on our side. Point is, Mad-Eye decided that if just a quarter-Veela had that kind of power, it wouldn't be a good idea to risk the wrath of Fleur's half-Veela mother."

One thing was for certain; Ginny, Molly, and Mad-Eye almost certainly would take Fleur more seriously now. Harry, on the other hand, had never been more grateful to her, and her fondness of him, than he was now.

"But I cleaned it yesterday!" Ron protested.

Ginny glanced at Hermione, and knew that they were in unspoken agreement. Ron had a point, but there was no use taking sides.

"The family of your brother's future wife are coming today, Ronald Weasley!" his mother snapped. "Would you have them think we live in a pigsty?"

"Well, we kind of do, technically," Ginny muttered to Hermione. Fortunately, neither Molly nor Ron appeared to hear her.

"Mum, do you really think they're going to hang out in the chicken coop?" Ron asked in disbelief.

"Don't argue with me!" Molly shouted, turning red and shaking a soapy frying pan at him in a threatening manner. "Do as you're told!"

Ron gulped, and, evidently thinking better of aggravating his mother any further, he stood and retreated from the kitchen and out the back door, grumbling as he went. When Molly then turned on Ginny and Hermione and told them to redo Percy's old room (where Mr and Mrs. Delacour would be staying), owing to insects, neither posed any argument even though they both thought it was as silly at this point as Ron's mucking out the chicken coop less than twenty-four hours after its last cleaning. Having been worked into exhaustion preparing the house for their guests, Ginny and Ron and Hermione had all hoped that, now that the day had finally arrived, Molly would ease up a bit. Apparently nothing could be further from reality.

Fear of inciting Molly's wrath, however, did not prevent either of them from complaining once they had arrived in said bedroom, and as they dusted off whatever few flecks of dirt they could find, Hermione said in amazement, "It looks just fine to me. This seems a little… excessive."

Ginny just rolled her eyes. "One silverfish. She sees one bloody silverfish and now we have to do the floor again. If we clean the floor one more time, we'll dissolve a hole through it!"

"She's just nervous," Hermione said in a placating voice.

"Of course she is," Ginny grumbled. "We've never hosted people as posh as the Delacours before. Doesn't mean she has to go all Argus Filch on us."

Hermione laughed at the comparison. At that moment they heard a commotion downstairs, and Molly shrieked, "Harry! You're here already?"

Hermione glanced at the clock at the wall. "It is about the time he was due to arrive," she said. "Maybe this will sufficiently distract her from the silverfish."

With that, the two girls returned to the kitchen, where they found Molly predictably fussing over Harry, an amused Remus standing nearby (evidently Mad-Eye's required escort), watching as Harry politely fended her off.

"The Floo Network's perfectly safe, coming over here wasn't any danger," Ginny heard him say.

"Oh?" Molly said in a slightly-challenging voice, though Ginny could also hear a note of fondness. "I seem to remember you landing yourself in Knockturn Alley instead of Diagon Alley when you first used Floo Powder. Safe's a rather sweeping word in this case, don't you think?" As Harry grinned sheepishly, she then asked, "Have you had any breakfast?"

Remus snorted. "As if Dobby would let him starve."

After happily greeting Hermione and Ginny, Harry looked around. "Where's Ron?"

"Cleaning the chicken coop," Ginny answered wryly.

Harry frowned. "Didn't he do that yesterday?"

Molly's smile dissolved instantly. "Don't you start," she growled.

Harry did not miss her tone of voice and immediately held up his hands defensively. "Sorry. I'll go see if he needs any help."

With that, he immediately moved towards the back door, probably as desperate to be outside as he was to placate Molly's nerves. Remus followed him. Molly then looked at Hermione and Ginny sternly, and they retreated back up the stairs; but as they went, Ginny noticed that Hermione was holding back laughter. Once the door to Percy's room was sealed shut, Hermione could no longer contain herself.

"Who knew?" she giggled. "Harry's always so calm about Voldemort and Death Eaters but unleash an angry Molly Weasley on him and he instantly retreats. Just wait till she's his mother-in-law."

Ginny smacked her arm.

"She's finally lost it," Ron grumbled as he looked around the hen house. "I mean, two bloody weeks of this. Two. And it's only going to get worse the closer we get to the bloody thing. I'll be so glad when this is over."

Harry said nothing. By the time he arrived Ron had already cleared out the few droppings that had accumulated in the sixteen hours since the coop's last cleaning. It had been over in a few seconds, but he suspected that Ron continued venting because he was certain his mother would instantly assign him some new inane task the moment he showed his face, and now was using the chicken coop as a refuge. Molly's recent behaviour made Harry almost relieved to be holed up at Grimmauld Place all the time; but on the other hand Ron's expressed relief at the anticipated end of Bill's wedding would be short-lived; if all went well, he, Ron, and Hermione would be out on the Horcrux search only a few days later. But he couldn't remind Ron of this with Remus standing just outside. On the other hand, he supposed the wedding made a useful distraction from that grim prospect.

Ron continued to mutter about his mother and something about being treated like a house-elf for another minute, before Harry heard approaching footsteps, and Remus give someone a greeting. A second later, George stuck his head through the coop door.

"So this is where you're hiding?" he said to Ron. Looking at the clucking hens happily settled in their still-fresh bedding, he added, "Is this your harem?"

"Piss off," Ron snapped.

"Now what kind of language is that?" asked George in mock offence. "Must I haul you out and put soap in your mouth?"

"What do you want?" demanded Ron.

"Mostly to pass a message from Dad," George answered. "Or have you forgotten that they'll be here any minute? Did Harry's presence not tip you off?"

"Actually," they heard Remus say outside, as they distantly heard a surprised shriek from Molly, "they're already here."

Harry and Ron both stepped back outside and saw in the distance Arthur leading Bill and the Delacours from the perimeter of the property, where the anti-Apparation border was. A split second later Molly hollered for them to return to the house. Harry, Ron and George had just joined Ginny and Hermione in the front room when Arthur opened the door and showed the Delacours in, telling them to make themselves at home. M. Delacour, a squat man with a jolly face that reminded Harry somewhat of Father Christmas, immediately took his hat off with a flourish, and seeing Molly, asked Arthur, "Is this your lovely wife?" and upon Arthur making the subsequent introduction, he kissed Molly's hand gallantly (which somewhat flustered her). As Arthur began introducing the Delacours to his children, however, M. Delacour spotted Harry, and breathed, "Mon Dieu."

Arthur nodded. "This is Ron's friend, Harry"—

"Potter, yes," M. Delacour finished his sentence, before he seized Harry's hand and began shaking it vigorously. "It's a great honour, Mr Potter. My daughter said you would be here for the wedding, but I wasn't aware that you were already here."

"It's a pleasure, sir," Harry said awkwardly. "But I'm just visiting today."

"All the same… we know all about you, even in France," M. Delacour continued. "And to think you and Fleur both competed in the Triwizard Tournament. And you won, no less"—

As he rambled in this manner, his wife, who matched Fleur's beauty, even in her fifties, stepped forward and muttered, "Mon cher, tu le gênes."

Harry didn't understand what she said, but M. Delacour looked slightly embarrassed, and said, "Of course. Where are my manners?" He then turned to fuss over Ron and Ginny instead. At this distraction, Fleur and Mme Delacour approached Harry, both looking amused and slightly apologetic.

"My fazer is very friendly," Fleur said in a low voice. "I am sorry if he made you feel awkward."

Her mother nodded her agreement. "It is an honour 'zough, Mr Potter," she said, "and don't let it embarrass you. It's a shame we could not meet properly at the tournament, ne c'est pas?" Looking around, she beckoned for her younger daughter to come forward. "You remember Gabrielle, of course?"

Harry looked at Fleur's sister, whom he'd only encountered once before, after rescuing her from the lake during the Triwizard Tournament. At the age of eleven, however, she still looked almost as young as she had at eight.

"Hello," he offered gently.

Gabrielle flushed spectacularly, and quickly muttered something to her mother and sister in French, not meeting Harry's eyes. He determinedly kept a straight face, but as soon as Gabrielle and Mme Delacour turned away, Harry spotted Ginny watching, and with a grin, he teased, "I'll keep the butter dish at a safe distance."

Ginny elbowed him. "Git."

Harry winked at her, and then went to join Bill and the twins in conversation.

Over the course of the next hour, the two families assembled in the back room as Molly cooked lunch in the kitchen, Mme Delacour assisting at her own insistence. M. Delacour dominated the conversation, mostly about a French game called "Pétanque", at which he claimed to be the best player in their community in Marseilles. As he entreated them all to learn to play it during his stay at the Burrow, however, Bill approached Harry and drew him to a corner.

"Mum tells me you need an escort to Gringotts in a few days," he said in a low voice. "I have enough connections with Gringotts management to get you past the security lines quickly, without drawing attention to yourself." At Harry's questioning look, he added, "The Gadlaks won't want business being held up by customers climbing all over you, after all."

Harry grimaced. "If you can get me in without that happening, that's great. Both for my sanity and your mother's nerves."

Bill laughed. "Lectured you already, has she?" When Harry made no answer, he asked, "So, any idea what this appointment's about?"

Harry shrugged. "Something about coming of age and full access to my accounts. Although honestly, I thought I already had access."

Rather than share Harry's confusion, however, Bill contemplatively said, "I suspect that it's because your parents or Sirius might have left you something extra. It probably was in Dumbledore's custodianship, unless your dad had an accountant—which he probably did, if the Potters were as well off as I understand. Who are you meeting with?"

"I think his name was Grimrook, or something like that." Harry didn't think much of this, but seeing Bill's raised eyebrows, he asked, "Is there something wrong with that?"

"Not really. Rok Grimrook is a fine accountant, and if he's taken charge of your accounts, then I'd say you're in good hands. I'm just a bit surprised that you're meeting with him and not whoever your family originally entrusted their estate to." At Harry's inquiring look, he further explained, "He's too young for your dad to have ever worked with him. It's a bit hard to tell exactly how old a goblin is, but I'd be very surprised if Grimrook was experienced enough to be working with the bank's high-priority clients by the time your parents died. I'd even be surprised if he was old enough to be working there at all."

Harry frowned at this. "Is there any reason not to trust him?" Looking at Bill intently, he asked unambiguously, "Is there any reason for me not to trust him?"

"If you're asking if he'd ever hold sympathies with the Death Eaters, I don't think you need to worry," Bill assured him. "From what I've heard, the Grimrooks have some kind of personal grudge against them, and believe me, goblins are not a very forgiving sort."

Curious, Harry opened his mouth to ask why the Gringotts accountant harbored such a personal hatred against the Death Eaters, but then M. Delacour interrupted, "Bill, Bill, you must persuade your brothers! You are all Quidditch players, you say? They can throw a Quaffle through a hoop, but boules is a whole different skill!"

Bill shook his head at Harry, and then moved to join the conversation, leaving Harry unsure if he should be reassured about his upcoming meeting with the goblin or unsettled. As he considered Bill's words, however, he noticed that Ginny, rather than join in the debate between M. Delacour and the twins about Quidditch and Pétanque, had moved to the window, looking outside with a frown. Quietly Harry moved to join her there, and soon saw what she was looking at. Tonks and Hestia Jones were moving about the perimeter of the wards with their wands out.

"Strengthening the defences like they're expecting the worst again," Ginny said quietly.

Harry nodded. "And the Prophet's still reporting nothing."

"I know," Ginny said uneasily. "But whatever's actually going on, it's really got the Order on edge."

They fell silent for a minute. Harry glanced at the kitchen, and, seeing Molly and Mme Delacour still safely occupied with lunch, muttered to Ginny, "When you and your mum dropped by the other day, were you the one who spilled Murtlap essence all over the kitchen floor?"

"While you and Ron and Hermione were hiding on the third floor making plans?" She too looked towards the kitchen with an unrepentant expression, and then explained, "Murtlap essence requires a spell to clean up and even then it's difficult to get rid of. I figured it would keep Mum occupied for a while."

Harry smiled. "Thanks, Ginny. And your efforts are paying off." As Molly stepped into the room to announce lunch, he whispered to her, "I don't think she suspects a thing."

The rest of the afternoon proceeded about as normally as could be expected under the circumstances. The Delacours kept the Weasleys fairly occupied, either in meals or in conversation, and Fred and George took the mickey out of both Harry and Ginny over Gabrielle's bashfulness around Harry. Nobody seemed willing to discuss the war or the present security concerns during the Delacours' first few hours in the country, but everyone could still feel the presence of said security. For that reason, Harry didn't expect to be able to talk to Ron and Hermione about leaving during his visit to the Burrow, not while Remus remained his escort there, but to his amazement an opportunity presented itself while he was outside later that evening, shortly after dinner. Remus seemingly decided that with some of the Order outside watching the perimeter anyway, it was safe to allow Harry some privacy; evidently the Order, though ever obsessed with Harry's security, still hadn't suspected that the most significant breach in that security would come from the very thing they were trying to protect. Harry's conscience gave him a painful twinge at deceiving Remus, his last surviving link to his parents, in this way, but the present circumstances gave him no choice. As they stood in the garden, keeping a safe distance from the house but still close enough to set any observing Order members at ease, Hermione drew her wand and subtly performed the Muffliato spell.

"Mum and Dad are safely out of the way?" asked Ron.

Hermione nodded. "Your mum's doing dishes with Fleur and her mum. And it looks like M. Delacour has roped your dad into trying Pétanque on the other side of the house, so I imagine we have at least ten minutes. And Ginny knows we're out here, so she'll warn us if someone comes looking."

"How will she do that?" asked Harry.

"I don't know exactly," said Hermione, "but you know her. Whatever it is, it'll probably seem innocent but be really noisy."

Ron nodded, though he looked slightly amazed. "I can't believe the lengths she's going to. I'd have thought she'd be boiling mad about all this."

He looked at Harry pointedly as he spoke, but Harry's only response was a soft smile, before turning to Hermione and changing the subject. "So what have you found out? You said leaving from here is the best bet?"

"On your birthday, yes," Hermione said, "so you should make sure you get your Apparation license at least by that evening." At Harry's nod, she added, "The protections around Grimmauld Place are simply too tight, and the only ways in or out are too heavily watched."

"It's heavily watched here too," Harry pointed out, "and I know you said Portkeys are our best bet, but can't the Ministry detect Portkeys?"

"Dumbledore sometimes used unauthorised Portkeys to send us around, though, and they never detected it," Ron said thoughtfully. "Remember when he sent us to Grimmauld Place the night You-Know-Who's snake attacked Dad?"

"Exactly. I spoke to Fred and George about it," Hermione said, "and apparently Portkeys emit magical energy on wavelengths not unlike those of a radio channel, and in theory, the types of wavelengths are infinite. If you know how to 'tune' a Portkey to an unmonitored wavelength, the Ministry can't detect it."

Harry stared at her incredulously. "Surely it can't be that easy. That makes the Portkey regulations complete rubbish!"

"Yeah, but when has the Ministry not been completely useless lately?" snorted Ron.

"The point is, we can do this without the Ministry detecting it," Hermione hurried along, glancing at the Burrow cautiously. "But there's a definite catch: you see, the Death Eaters have known about this for years. Barty Crouch Jr., for instance, was able to Portkey Harry out of Hogwarts undetected. Apparently that was what gave this knowledge away to the Order, though it took some time for them to figure out how to do it themselves. Of course, Portkeys are useless for entering areas that are Unplottable or protected by the Fidelius Charm, unless the creator has actually been to those places." She swallowed, and looked at Harry uneasily. "You see, the Order doesn't like to experiment with them, in case they accidentally use a wavelength that the Death Eaters also use. The twins said they've found a couple that the Death Eaters don't seem to use, but unfortunately for us, the Order knows about them."

"So basically," Harry said quietly, "if we find the safe ones, the Order can track us, but if we use an untested one, we might find the Death Eaters on our heels."

Hermione nodded. Ron, looking pale, asked apprehensively, "Is it possible to develop a new one? Like getting your own channel?"

"I understand that the twins are trying to," Hermione said helplessly, "but they haven't figured it out yet."

"Did they suspect anything when you asked?"

"Of course they did," Hermione said unconcernedly, "but you know them." Looking at Harry, she added, "I don't think they have any inkling of what we're up to, but they know you too well to think that you'll simply accept the Order's security measures. They're not going to tell on you, though."

Harry smiled. "Where would we be without them?"

"Without a Marauder's Map and a joke shop," snorted Ron.

Harry then checked his watch. "Remus will probably will come looking for me soon. I promised Mad-Eye I'd be back at nine."

"He's given you a bloody curfew?" asked Ron incredulously.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Come off it, Ron. If he'd had his way, I'd be sealed back in Grimmauld Place after only ten minutes here."

The morning of the twenty-fourth was a bleak, cloudy day, marked by a drop in temperature that brought the unusual summer chill almost to winter temperatures. If this had any influence upon the increased paranoia present in Alastor Moody, it wasn't any kind of improvement. As Harry and Bill prepared to depart to Gringotts, Mad-Eye harangued them both about security, was angry that Bill was unable to clear Harry to Apparate or Floo to the bank directly, and ensured that Harry was dressed in a heavy coat with a hood, which he forbad him from letting down until they were safely inside the bank.

Not wanting to draw attention to themselves, Bill Side-Along-Apparated Harry to an alleyway behind the twins' shop, and from there they made their way towards Gringotts, trying to remain as surreptitious as possible. The weather fortunately afforded them a good excuse to keep their hoods up, and for that reason, no one seemed to notice Harry Potter in Diagon Alley. It was additionally helpful that the street wasn't as crowded as usual (probably owing both to the cold weather and to Hogwarts closing and nobody therefore needing school supplies). A few Aurors and MLE officials were stationed around the alley, Harry noticed, but aside from that there was little activity except for a few women at Madam Malkin's and a group of teenagers outside Quality Quidditch Supplies, none of whom took any notice of the hooded duo moving towards the bank. They therefore made good timing, arriving ten minutes early. Harry pulled his hood down just enough for the goblins at the entrance to see his face. One of them bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement as they allowed him entry, and the other accompanied them inside with only a quiet order for them to remain close. Once they were in the lobby, the guard escorted them past the security stations, where Harry saw a long line of customers and clients being meticulously searched or scanned with secrecy sensors. As they carefully moved past the set of guards operating these stations, their escort flashed an ID, and they allowed them by without a word. From there, they were led to the main desk, where Harry recognised the elderly goblin who always worked there, bent down over his book of numbers. He looked up just as Bill stepped before the desk.

"Good morning, Mr Ragnok," he greeted cordially.

"Mr Weasley," the goblin returned the greeting, before turning his attention to Harry.

"I have an appointment with Mr Grimrook," Harry said quietly.

Ragnok nodded, and his eyes flicked to Harry's scar, just visible under the hood. "We have been expecting you, Mr Potter. Just so you are aware, you will be required to present your wand to Mr Grimrook for security reasons." Seeing Harry's questioning look, he added, "It's a new policy that was implemented a couple of weeks ago. He will check your wand over so it matches the description and registration in the Ministry's records, and then he'll give it back to you."

Harry relaxed. "That's fine."

Ragnok then looked at Bill. "Mr Weasley, I presume you know the way to Grimrook's office?"

Bill nodded, and put his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Yes, thank you." He then gestured towards a set of doors to the left of Ragnok's desk. "This way."

Harry followed him through the doors and into an antechamber, where Bill led him into a lift to their immediate left, where he took a brass lever with a wooden knob on the side of the lift and cranked it to a little number three. Once they were at their desired floor, Bill wordlessly led Harry out into a corridor with red walls and paintings of famous goblin bankers across the history of Gringotts. They presently arrived at an oak door with a polished brass nameplate that read "R. Grimrook", upon which Bill immediately knocked. After a moment, another goblin answered, one Harry recognised as Griphook Finli, the goblin who had shown him to his vault during his first visit to Gringotts.

"Mr Potter," Griphook bowed him inside. "Mr Grimrook is expecting you." To Bill he added, "Mr Weasley, please wait outside."

Bill only nodded in acceptance, and Griphook closed the door, before seating himself at a small desk to the right of the door. In the centre of the room, however, was a much larger desk, behind which another goblin, who Harry presumed was the accountant he'd be meeting with, stood to greet him. Rok Grimrook was exceptionally tall for his kind, close to Harry's height, and as Bill had told him, appeared considerably younger than most of the goblins he'd encountered before. Rather than the normal red and gold uniforms Gringotts employees normally wore, he simply wore a black wool frock coat over an olive-green waistcoat, but his face wasn't as hard or as strict as other goblins. He stretched a long-fingered hand, which Harry shook.

"Mr Potter," he said politely. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Please, have a seat."

He beckoned to the chair in front of the desk, which Harry took, and Grimrook then lowered himself back into his own chair. For a moment they looked at each other, as though waiting for the other to speak first; then Grimrook smiled and said, "Before we begin, Mr Potter, I need to see your wand for a security procedure. I believe they informed you of this when you arrived?"

Harry nodded.

"Good. It's a new policy, owing to a couple of recent cases of identity theft using Polyjuice Potion," Grimrook explained. "I hope you understand."

He held his hand out expectantly. Harry drew his wand and handed it to the goblin, who proceeded to look it over very carefully, running his fingers slowly down the wood. Harry wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he seemed to be determinedly examining every detail of it. Grimrook then dropped the wand on a set of brass scales on the side of his desk, identical to the ones Harry knew the Ministry of Magic security check-points used. After a moment, a little strip of paper rolled from a slit in the base. Grimrook pulled this out and read out loud, "Eleven inches, holly, phoenix feather. Purchased six years ago, registry 016-08-97, from Ollivander's. Confirmed property of Harry James Potter."

Satisfied, Grimrook handed the wand back, and then looked at Finli expectantly. Griphook slid off his chair and ran to the desk with a folder, which Grimrook took and opened, revealing a stack of forms. After quickly skimming over the first page, Grimrook looked over at Harry. "We need you here today to give you full access to your inheritance when you come of age. Your full account was under Sirius Black's and Albus Dumbledore's custodianship, and until you turn seventeen, it will continue to be held in trust."

"Sirius wasn't cleared of his criminal record until after his death," Harry interrupted. "How did he have custodianship?"

Grimrook smiled grimly. "The peculiarities of Mr Black's case, and by that I mean his innocence and your contact with him, even before the Department of Magical Law Enforcement cleared his name, have already been made known to me. Suffice it to say that the Ministry froze Black's assets the day he was arrested, but chose to reopen them and his custodianship of your wealth in an attempt to track his movements and quickly catch him; any money you lost as a result would be immediately compensated. It seems, however, that he had a stash of money hidden somewhere from before his imprisonment—a common practice during the late '70s—so the Ministry was never able to track him down using activity either from your assets or from his."

"That explains how he was able to buy me a broomstick," Harry mused.

"Quite." Grimrook looked back at the file, and continued, "After Mr Dumbledore died, Gringotts management placed your assets under my custodianship until the event of your seventeenth birthday."

"How much is in it?" asked Harry curiously.

Grimrook's eyes flicked to the figures on the page. "You have a fund of six hundred Galleons and six Sickles remaining from the original eight hundred which your father laid aside for your education"—

This was roughly the amount Harry was expecting, but at this last bit he interrupted, "Laid aside? You mean that was just a school fund?"

Grimrook looked at him in surprise. "It was. Did neither Mr Black nor Mr Dumbledore tell you this?" When Harry shook his head, Grimrook shrugged. "No matter. I shall go over that first, then. In addition to this fund, from the Black family you also have received an income of roughly twenty-thousand Galleons annually, barring taxation, as well as a fortune of twenty-three million"—

"How much?" Harry gasped.

—"three-hundred thousand, eight-hundred and forty-nine Galleons in addition to the forty million, eight hundred and fifty thousand Galleon fortune, and an income of one hundred thousand you receive annually from your own family's properties and assets," Grimrook continued, ignoring the interruption.

"Annually?" Harry repeated weakly. "Where's it all coming from?"

"Mostly from investments," Grimrook informed him. "The bulk of the Black family income now comes from stock passed down from Sirius Black's primary benefactor, Alphard Black, who had bought shares in Gringotts, Flourish and Blott's, Obscurus Books, Gladrag's Wizardwear, and most importantly the International Quidditch Association, all of which rebuilt his own fortune after his father disowned him. As I understand it, the Blacks' traditional income, originating in real estate, was once larger, but until recently has been in decline, owing to a failure to adapt to changing financial realities in the past century." Grimrook shook his head in disapproval, and looked back at his numbers. "It appears that when it became apparent how severe the decline in income was, however, your godfather put in his will that the old family estates were to be sold, and the capital gain left to you. Mr Dumbledore oversaw that detail."

Still in shock over the actual enormity of his wealth, Harry said nothing. Grimrook, taking his silence as leave to continue, went on, "As for the Potters, your great grandfather, Henry Potter, not only successfully adapted his real estate practices, but also made investments in Dervish and Banges, Zonko's Joke Shop, and Gladrags Wizardwear among other things, and in a large variety of non-magical corporations, the largest of which are in General Electric, Tesco, Shell, Raytheon, J.P. Morgan, and Disney. In addition to the income from these investments you also have acquired a new income through your recent investment in Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes."

Harry slumped back in his chair, still in total disbelief. He'd known he had a fairly substantial amount of money just in the small fortune he'd been using for the past few years, and he'd known he'd inherited some gold after Sirius died, but he'd had no idea just how much. Determined to see for himself, he held his hand out to look at Grimrook's list, and the goblin readily handed it to him. For a few minutes, Harry stared at the figures, the different incomes and balances that made up his apparently vast wealth. It was a lot to take in, and finally finding his voice, Harry stammered, "What do I do with it all?"

"It is yours," Grimrook answered quietly. "You may do with it what you wish. I, however, would recommend that you hold onto these assets for the time being, and allow them to grow without much interference. Investments of this size tend to take care of themselves."

"I don't know anything about handling investments," Harry admitted.

"If you so desire, you may keep me on as your primary stockbroker," Grimrook assured him. "I can handle these investments and keep you informed of any changes or fluctuations in both the magical and non-magical stock markets, as there will be fluctuations." He leaned forward, looking at Harry earnestly. "I also strongly recommend that you hold onto your Muggle investments, especially those from abroad, because should you lose your assets in the Wizarding World, you may find them extremely useful."

Harry frowned at him. "Is that likely?"

Grimrook looked at him sombrely. "Your investments in Wizarding businesses are probably the most vulnerable, although they are not going under yet; but as you have likely discerned by now, when Mr Gadlak put your finances in my custodianship, I learned as much about your history as is public knowledge, and your clear enmity with the Dark Lord is of particular concern to me. Should you ever have to make yourself scarce, if you take my meaning, you may find yourself cut off from your Wizarding assets."

Harry started; Grimrook's words hit much closer to home than he was comfortable with, as he was about to make himself scarce, and it made him more than a little wary of the goblin sitting before him; but after a moment, he reflected that even if he'd never heard of the Horcruxes, he'd always anticipated a life in hiding so long as Voldemort remained alive, and it wouldn't be difficult for Grimrook to anticipate this likelihood either.

Still a little unnerved, Harry took a deep breath, and said, "All right. Then what should I know about the Muggle investments?"

At this query Grimrook then went over all of Harry's assets, one by one, and discussed the benefits and possible disadvantages of each; he then gave Harry suggestions on what he ought to do, should any of the businesses go under, or should he feel uncomfortable with the direction said businesses seemed to be headed. It seemed to take ages, and a lot of the financial language was unknown to Harry, who often asked Grimrook to repeat or explain things he hadn't understood. The goblin was patient, showing no frustration at Harry's ignorance, and instead primarily concerned himself with making certain Harry was fully aware of the facts and that he fully understood everything as well as could be expected of one of his limited experience. Harry, for his part, enquired after ways to access his money without physically entering Gringotts, and to his relief, learned that the bank offered a card service similar to Muggle debit cards, which would function on any Muggle ATM (although these would give him money in pounds rather than Galleons), as well as on magical terminals found in Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, and the Ministry of Magic.

Finally, after over an hour in conference with Grimrook, they finally seemed to have covered everything, and Harry, feeling exhausted, concluded, "It's an awful lot to take in."

"As I said, I am at your disposal should you have any questions or need any assistance," Grimrook told him. "Unless there's anything else you'd like to know at present, we'd best get this settled."

He then handed Harry another sheet of paper.

"This form bequeaths all these assets to your personal control, coming into effect on July 31st. All we require from you is a signature…" He pointed at various blank spots on the form. "Here, here, and here."

He then handed Harry a quill. Once Harry had skimmed over the document and signed it, and Grimrook had taken it back, the former asked, "Is that all, then?"

"Not quite," said Grimrook. He then gave Griphook a stern nod, and the assistant stepped away from his desk and quitted the room. As soon as the door closed again, Grimrook opened a desk drawer and pulled a wooden box from within. "About a week before his death, Dumbledore entrusted us to give this to you shortly before you came of age." Looking at Harry intently, he added, "He did not specify what it contains, but he said you will find it useful. Only you can open it."

His hands shaking, Harry took the box. A note was attached to it, written in Dumbledore's elegant writing: "Use it well."

After shaking Harry Potter's hand and showing him out of his office, Rok Grimrook returned to his desk and opened another drawer, from which he pulled two goblets, which he placed on the desktop. He then unstoppered his decanter and poured some goblin mead into both. He immediately began sipping one of these as he loosened his cravat, worn out but satisfied with the appointment. Then, as he leaned back in his chair, allowing himself to savour the taste and feel of the mead, the door open and his uncle stepped into the office. Seeing no one else around, Benedict Grobschmied asked, "It is done?"

Grimrook glanced at the door, and satisfied that it was sealed, confirmed, "It is done."

Grobschmied moved over to the desk and picked up one of the goblets, taking a single sip from it before looking at his nephew expectantly.

"He's definitely planning something," Grimrook said quietly.

Grobschmied raised an eyebrow. "You think so?"

Grimrook nodded. "I'm positive, judging by how interested he was in being able to access his money without actually coming here. He also had all sorts of questions about how financial records are kept and how our confidentiality policy works, particularly regarding the Wizengamot and other third parties. He could have been protecting his own privacy, but it sounded more like"—

"Like he's planning to go into hiding, or still better, underground?" asked Grobschmied.

"Exactly."

Grobschmied lowered himself into the chair Potter had vacated only moments before. "This idea of yours was remarkably prescient. That is, if you're right." Glancing at the door, he asked in an undertone, "He noticed nothing?"

Grimrook sipped his mead, and then set the goblet down. "No," he said quietly. "I don't think he suspected a thing."

Grobschmied nodded, satisfied. "I admire your skill, Rok. Now all that's left for us to do is wait."

Harry was still in a state of numb disbelief when he returned to Grimmauld Place, and even when Bill asked if he was all right, he could only nod. While still reeling over the size of his fortune, however, he was far more impatient to open the box Dumbledore had left for him, but strongly suspected he ought to when he was by himself or with Ron and Hermione, perhaps at the Burrow or at some opportune moment at Grimmauld Place when Moody and his magical eye weren't around. This limited time forced him to consider the possibility that he shouldn't open the box until after they left on the Horcrux hunt. As it turned out, however, that opportune moment came fairly quickly. He knew from his newly-frequent visits to the Burrow that Molly had been planning a tour of the neighbourhood and a picnic while Bill and Harry were at Gringotts, but it transpired that M. Delacour, who had a weak stomach, had taken ill after the picnic and had been forced to spend the rest of the afternoon in bed, to get used to "all zat foreign food", and Mme Delacour became occupied both with helping Molly clean up and with looking after her husband. This left the rest of the Weasleys with an unexpected free afternoon, and as a result Ron and Hermione took the opportunity to visit. Though Harry would normally welcome a visit from Ginny, he was certain that this would be a discussion he couldn't involve her in; but fortunately for him (though not, he suspected, for her), she was obliged to remain at the Burrow, as Fleur had conscripted her and Gabrielle for help with some wedding decorations the Delacours had brought from France. Moreover, Ron and Hermione had fortunately arrived at a moment when Mad-Eye was out with Kingsley somewhere. When they arrived, Harry immediately rushed them into his room, hurriedly pointing his wand towards the open door and murmuring, "Muffliato."

"So, what happened at Gringotts?" asked Ron as soon as Harry closed the door.

"A lot," Harry said, unsure where to start. After a moment's thought, he said, "I have a lot more money than I thought, most of it through investments some of my family and Sirius's family made. Grimrook also gave me this."

He pulled out the credit card he'd obtained during his discussion with Grimrook. "I can use it to get Gringotts money from Muggle ATM machines, apparently."

"ATM?" asked Ron blankly.

Hermione and Harry explained about bank machines and remotely withdrawing money. "I can't exactly go waltzing into Gringotts for money if I've gone underground hunting Horcruxes," the latter explained.

"Oh. That makes sense." Then realising what Harry had said, Ron asked sharply, "Wait, you didn't tell this goblin what you're planning?"

"Of course not! Me going into hiding isn't exactly an unlikely possibility, nor is Voldemort trying to kill me exactly a secret. He didn't really question that very much." Satisfied that Ron and Hermione were adequately reassured, Harry went on, "I'll tell you more about the meeting later, but right at the end of it, the goblins gave me this." He bent down by the bed and tugged the box from underneath. Showing it to Ron and Hermione, he said, "It's from Dumbledore."

Ron and Hermione inhaled sharply. "Well, what are you waiting for?" asked the latter excitedly. "Let's see what's inside it!"

Harry sat on the bed and quickly undid the latch. He then swung the lid open. It wasn't much larger than a shoe box, and seemed to only contain several leather-bound journals. A letter lay on top of the journals, which Harry picked up; it was addressed to all three of them. His hands shaking, Harry broke the seal and unfolded it. He then cleared his throat and read out loud:

To Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger:

If you are reading this letter, then it is likely that you are planning to finish what we started. I also assume that you have followed my instructions, and told no one of your intentions. The Order, as faithful to me as they are, undoubtedly will make it difficult for you to get started. For that reason, it is your responsibility to depart as discreetly and suddenly as possible. Inside one of my journals, you will find instructions on differing methods of escape and transportation without detection.

At this, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and pulled one of the journals out of the box, evidently intent on looking through it as soon as she had an opportunity. Harry continued to read.

My resources tell me that though Scrimgeour is still firmly in control, it is only a matter of time before the Ministry falls under the Death Eaters' thumb. Thus you must also never allow the smallest hint of your task to reach the Ministry. I have left you the journals I kept while I was investigating Voldemort's background. I hope that you will find them instructive. For further study, I also leave you the remnants of the ring and the diary.

Harry paused at this bit, surprised, and he too reached into the box and pulled out all of the journals. He inhaled sharply. There they lay, at the foot of the box: a ruined, ink-ridden leather book with a hole burned through its pages, and a cracked ring. Harry stared at the diary in particular. He hadn't seen the horrible thing for nearly five years; last he'd known, he'd given it back to Lucius Malfoy, and wasn't sure how or when Dumbledore had re-acquired it. He'd had no idea of its true nature back then, but now that he knew what it really was, he was loathe to touch it. Ron and Hermione too were looking at the two destroyed Horcruxes with revulsion. Harry, not wanting to look at them any longer than he had to, tore his eyes away from them and returned to Dumbledore's letter.

As soon as you have left, and have found a place to hide, I have one last gift for you. Call for Fawkes, and he will bring it. I enclose a letter for Kingsley and Alastor, which you must have Fawkes deliver. It contains instructions for the Order in the aftermath of your departure.

Lastly, Harry, I know that that you can do this. Bear the responsibility with patience, and keep your friends close. I fear that a terrible shadow had fallen over Britain, worse than I could have ever imagined until now, and that you will find your path darker and deadlier than you or I ever anticipated. Do not underestimate Lord Voldemort, and do not give in to the temptation to embark on this journey alone. Also, you may find others who are willing to assist you. Do not forgo opportunities for allies. You are not alone in this.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Harry stared at the letter for a minute, before his eyes flicked to the date at the top of the letter. This left him in a further state of astonishment. "It's dated to two days before…." He paused and swallowed, but the others didn't need him to continue. Looking at Ron and Hermione, he saw that they shared his amazement.

"Blimey," breathed Ron. "It's like he knew he was going to die."

In a hushed whisper, Hermione asked, "Do you think he knew what Snape and Malfoy were planning?"

Harry said nothing. He had no answer to give, and he wasn't sure he wanted to dwell on that troublesome question at that particular moment. Instead, he took picked up one of the journals, and as he opened it, an unsealed envelope fell out, Hermione's name written across it.

"That's for you," he told her, handing her the envelope, which she hurriedly opened, pulling out another letter. She only scanned it over before she let loose a squeal of delight.

"What is it?" asked Ron.

"Instructions," she said. "Stuff on magical transportation, and references in the journals that I'll need. Oh! This is incredible. It's just what we need!"

Immediately she found the indicated journal and began impatiently turning through its pages. Whatever she found in there, judging from her increasingly delighted expression, it didn't seem to disappoint. Harry, however, found his eyes drawn back to Riddle's diary, still lying in the box, and feeling queasy, he slowly removed it from the box and examined the hole he'd burned through it. He then opened it and turned its ink stained pages, and as he did, the memories slammed into his conscious mind, the events that had led to the Horcrux's destruction, the consequences of Voldemort's depravity.

"She struggled and cried…"

He remembered entering the Chamber of Secrets and finding an eleven-year-old Ginny Weasley on the brink of death, her very life force being sapped away by the spectre of Lord Voldemort, a shard of his soul torn away through an act of murder and a subsequent dark ritual, in an effort to make himself immortal. He remembered his own panic when he realised there was little or nothing he could do to save her.

"Her soul was exactly what I wanted…"

He recalled Ginny hysterically sobbing in his arms in the immediate aftermath of the diary's destruction, blaming herself, hating herself, unable to fully escape the torment of Tom Riddle as he embedded himself in her memory. Throughout their years at Hogwarts, Harry had been out in the Gryffindor Common Room during the earliest hours of the morning, during his many night-time wanderings under his Invisibility Cloak, and on more than one occasion, he found Ginny, sometimes asleep, sometimes awake, but always curled up on the sofa; often, when she was awake, she would stare into the dying flames of the fireplace, a haunted look in her eyes.

"I grew powerful… powerful enough to pour my soul back into her."

Finally, Harry recalled Ginny only a few days ago, confiding in him, telling him that that she still had nightmares, that she still was angry with herself. This is my fight as much as it is yours. Suddenly Harry realised the truth of Ginny's words; Voldemort had harmed her in ways that few could understand. Harry knew that Ginny tried to hide the damage, and she had become so adept at it that he was sure he still didn't know the full depth of her pain, even when she'd confided in him. Harry closed the diary and looked at the hole again, and suddenly a new fury washed over him as he thought of Tom Riddle's cold, malicious laughter, and Ginny's pain. At the time that Harry destroyed the diary, he'd only thought of saving her. Now he understood. Ginny Weasley had a score to settle with Voldemort. She and Harry both did; and for the first that Harry could remember, he genuinely wanted to kill.

"Harry?" Ron's concerned voice broke through his thoughts, and he looked up to see Ron and Hermione watching him with expressions that bordered on alarm, and if his murderously glaring at the remnants of Tom Riddle's diary hadn't tipped them off on the direction of his thoughts, the vengeful and resolute note in his shaking voice did.

"I don't know what's going to happen to me," Harry told them viciously, "but I swear I'm going to do my damn utmost to kill that bastard."

The wedding day arrived, and Harry arrived at the Burrow early, expecting to aid in whatever remaining preparations there were. In spite of Dobby having fed him earlier that morning, Molly insisted that Harry eat some of the special breakfast food that she and Mme Delacour had prepared for the family. He thus found himself at the Weasleys' kitchen table, eating some toast and eggs, and browsing the headlines of the morning newspaper, while everyone else was outside somewhere either putting up the last of the decorations or setting up the huge marquee tent where the wedding itself would take place. As he finished off the slice of toast, Arthur entered the kitchen, already clad in his dress robes.

"Good morning," Harry offered, putting down the paper.

"Morning, Harry."

"Already getting ready?" asked Harry, noting Arthur's outfit. "I came over this early to help, you know. What can I do?"

"Well, if you insist, they might need assistance setting up chairs once the tent's up," Arthur said.

Harry nodded, and asked, "How's it going to work, anyway? With security, and everything?"

"Well, for starters, the time and location of the wedding was not announced publicly," Arthur explained, "and we did not send out invitations until a week ago, which hopefully would not give the Death Eaters a window large enough to learn the location or the time, and still have time to coordinate an attack. Kingsley and Tonks also have been circulating rumours that you've chosen to stay in an undisclosed location in London, under the protection of an Auror bodyguard."

Harry snorted. "Well, I suppose that's half true."

"Yes, quite. The marquee's getting set up near the border, and will have its own separate protections. Guests will arrive outside the wards, and will be immediately checked for Dark Marks and any form of magical concealment before being allowed in."

"Checked? By who?"

Arthur smiled wryly. "You might be fed up with Scrimgeour, but his attempts to win your support have their uses. It wasn't difficult for Kingsley to convince Scrimgeour to lend us a few Aurors for this purpose. To lend credence to the rumour that you're going to be in London, we've also fed our guests a story that the Delacours paid the Ministry for extra security, and since the bride is a former Triwizard contestant, and it would look bad for diplomatic relations with the French Ministry of Magic if anything happened, our own Ministry was only too happy to oblige. In the meantime, once the guests are inside, they'll be carefully watched until it's over."

"Right," Harry said, fidgeting awkwardly. Regardless of who people generally believed the security to be for, there was no hiding from him the actual reason.

Arthur, oblivious to Harry's discomfort, continued, "The rest of the wedding guests will start arriving at one. You're already here, of course, but at around noon I suggest you head over to the tent and stay there until they arrive. With any luck, none of the guests will realise you're here until they've already been admitted."

Harry shook his head ruefully. "You didn't have to go through all this. I could have just stayed away."

Arthur impatiently waved this aside. "Nonsense. All this means is that if the Death Eaters decide to attack, hopefully it won't have anything to do with you being there."

"Well, I hope it's enough."

Arthur watched Harry finish off his eggs for a minute, and then said, "There are going to be Aurors and Order members, all incognito, dressed as wedding guests, but well-armed and prepared. In the event that the Death Eaters somehow gate-crash the wedding, you are to find the nearest Order member and they'll return you to Grimmauld Place immediately. The rest of us will follow." Seeing Harry's continued apprehension, he added, "Don't stress yourself too much about security, Harry. We've covered it as much as possible."

Harry looked up and met Arthur's eyes, and seeing calm reassurance there, he too allowed himself to relax. As he began gathering his dishes, Arthur said, "I didn't get around to telling you yet, but I've scheduled your Apparation exam."

"When is it?"

"Ten o' clock on the 31st. It's held at the Department of Magical Transportation. I should warn you," he added, "the Minister will probably try to corner you while you're there." When Harry made no response except to scowl, Arthur smirked and said, "If it makes you feel any better, he's released Stan Shunpike."

"Really?" asked Harry, surprised. "What made him finally do it?"

"Pressing evidence," Arthur said. "By that, I mean what little the MLE was able to put before the Wizengamot (which, of course, was none), as well as the press closing in. Scrimgeour didn't have much choice, in the end."

Harry returned his triumphant expression, immensely pleased with this development.

"Well, if you're done, I think they'll be finished with the tent soon," Arthur said, glancing out the window. "While we're on the subject of Apparation, I'd better inform Ron as well. He'll be taking the exam with you."

"That'll make his day."

Arthur chuckled.

Several hours later found Harry seated with Hermione and Remus behind the family seating in the enormous marquee tent, fidgeting sorely on the collapsible chair on which he'd been seated for nearly an hour. About a hundred chairs had been set up under the tent, and an aisle had been set up down the middle where M. Delacour would shortly lead Fleur. Towards the tent entrance, Fred and George and Ron had been given the job of ushering in guests, most of whom Harry didn't recognise, although he saw a few familiar faces, including Professors McGonagall and Sprout. The guests, on the other hand, all recognised him as soon as they spotted him, and soon he could hear some buzzing in the tent about his presence, to his annoyance. It seemed he couldn't escape the spotlight, even when he was only a guest himself. He was significantly cheered, however, when he saw Fred seating Hagrid in a magically enlarged chair nearby (although by this point, there were so many people being seated, and Harry was distant enough, that he couldn't do more to greet Hagrid than wave). A moment later Tonks and her parents also appeared in the tent, and Remus quickly left his seat to greet them. This gave Harry an opportunity to ask Hermione how Dumbledore's instructions were paying off.

"I've made a lot of progress," she answered quietly, her voice so drowned out by the voices of the other guests that Harry could barely hear her. "Tomorrow I'll hopefully be able to test his theory."

"So a Portkey is definitely our ticket out?"

Hermione cupped a hand over her ear to better hear him, and then nodded. "The twins were right. Turns out that Dumbledore already knew a couple of unmonitored Portkey wavelengths that he was also very confident are unknown to the Death Eaters. He's also given me instructions on partially enchanting an item to be a Portkey."

"What do you mean, 'partially'?" asked Harry, puzzled.

Before Hermione could answer, however, Ron finally appeared and sat down in the reserved seating in front of them, looking annoyed as he turned around to talk to them.

"I'm glad that's over with," he grumbled. "Fleur's about ready, and Dad says it's about time to start. And Fred and George are being gits."

"What have they done now?" asked Harry.

"They bee-lined it for Fleur's Veela cousins and left me alone to handle Auntie Muriel and Bill's goblin friends."

He subtly nodded in a direction to their right, in the middle of the seating on the other side of the tent. Harry looked around and spotted a small gaggle of goblins seated there, including, to his surprise, Rok Grimrook.

"That's the accountant I met," Harry told them.

As Ron and Hermione glanced in that direction too, he then took note of the goblin seated next to Grimrook, a dignified looking goblin of about the same age, whose frock coat and beaver hat, Harry could see, were of very fine quality. As he watched, he noticed this well-dressed goblin muttering something to Grimrook, who was bending close to hear him. Harry shrugged and started to turn around, but then looked back as he saw the unknown goblin suddenly look directly at him as he spoke. But a second later the goblin looked towards the tent entrance, and showed no further interest in Harry.

"It's the first time I've seen goblins attend a wizard wedding," said Ron. "Wonder what they want?"

"Ron, there's no reason to assume they're here for any reason besides it being Bill's wedding," Hermione scolded him angrily. "He's bound to be friendly with some of them."

Ron only shrugged, but before there could be any further discussion on this matter, Fred and George appeared, ushering two stunningly beautiful women, who could only be Fleur's cousins, to the rows behind the reserved seating, before assuming their own seats next to Ron. A moment later Bill and Charlie made their way to the rostrum, followed closely by a warlock Harry didn't know. A moment later Molly and Arthur joined their younger sons in the family seating. Then Arthur turned around expectantly, and at around the same time, the crowd fell into silence. Harry too looked around to see M. Delacour leading Fleur down the aisle. Harry could see wizards' jaws dropping at the sight of her, the quarter-Veela looking even more radiant than usual, in a simple silvery-white dress, almost the same colour as a Patronus. As she reached the rostrum, Bill and even the officiator looked dazzled. Then the latter recovered and began, "Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to join together these two souls in matrimony…"

The ceremony passed, and Harry noticed that Molly and Mme Delacour both had tear streaming down their faces. Hermione, who had neglected to bring a handkerchief, had started sobbing into Harry's right shoulder; he could feel his robes dampening. But as the officiator spoke, Harry's eyes settled on Ginny, who stood near Fleur in an elegant gold dress. As he watched, his heart sank as an unbidden image of himself at that rostrum with Ginny at his side appeared at the front of his imagination, and a lump lodged itself in his throat. He would have given anything to have a happy, normal future, but because of one prophecy, because of a stupid scar on his forehead, that future was not for him. Ron could speak of optimism, as he had at the Dursleys'; but somehow Harry felt absolutely certain that he could never have the kind of hope that the union being forged between Bill and Fleur represented.

And what about Ginny? Did such hope exist for her? Much as Harry would have preferred to comfort himself with the thought of Ginny living her life in a peaceful world, with or without him at her side, in recent months, reality had painted quite a different picture. She had been touched by the Horcruxes, just as he had, even if she didn't know the full reality or implication of what had occurred. One way or another, she was part of this fight. With that horror in her past, and with her whole family involved with the Order of the Phoenix, Ginny had made it clear to him that she would not and could not wait this one out. Not when she herself had almost as much motivation to fight as he did. Until Voldemort was dead and the Death Eater movement destroyed, Ginny would never be truly safe, because she had tied herself to the fate of the Wizarding World, just as he had. But she was underage. Her magic, and magic around her, would be detectable for another year. Were it not so, had Ginny been the same age as him and Ron and Hermione, perhaps their paths would not need to diverge, as they would before the month was out.

…As they, in many ways, already had diverged.

Suddenly the tears he saw freely flowing from Hermione and Molly and even Mme Delacour made complete sense to him, and if he thought it would be of any help, he might allow more than a single tear to escape his own eyes.

Occupied with these mournful thoughts, Harry barely noticed the wedding ceremony until the officiator suddenly declared Bill and Fleur to be husband and wife. The attendants erupted into applause as Bill and Fleur stepped off the rostrum, and a moment later the guests themselves began to file out of the marquee. Once most of the crowd had cleared, he made his way out, meeting Ron at the exit while dragging a still-sobbing Hermione with him. Outside, the Weasleys and some of the Delacour relatives had set up a couple dozen round tables and chairs where the guests started seating themselves, and in the centre of the lawn, they had left a gap where the Delacours had ordered a large, golden dance floor to be set up. Silver plates with tarts and small sandwiches, each adorned with two cheap aluminium rings, had been placed at all the seats, and at one end of the lawn Harry could see a long table where waiters, presumably hired by the Delacours, stood behind extra refreshments. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were among the last in the crowd to reach the reception area, but they managed to find a reasonably empty table, where Ginny sat with Luna Lovegood, who was wearing the same dress she'd worn at Slughorn's Christmas party.

"There you are!" Luna called, beaming. Harry noticed that she had placed some of the decorative rings on her Butterbeer cork necklace. "I've been saving you all places!"

Harry thanked her and took a seat next to Ginny, while Ron and Hermione sat down on Luna's other side. Ron immediately dug into his sandwich, setting the fake rings on the table next to Hermione as he did.

"Harry," Luna said, "did you know that your shoulder is wet? Must be the Gernubbles. That's what I wear this for."

She indicated her cork necklace. Ginny stifled a giggle.

"Why is your shoulder wet?" she asked him as soon as Luna turned to say something to the others.

Harry shot a slightly irritated look in Hermione's direction. Ginny smirked. "We all know how well you handle crying girls. Ron might have handled it better. And appreciated it more."

She joked, but her expression was somewhat subdued, and Harry could tell that during the ceremony, she too had been full of bleak thoughts about the future. Not wanting to cast a pall, however, Harry then looked at the others for conversation. Ron had already started on another sandwich; Hermione, on the other hand, was thoughtfully examining the set of aluminium rings he'd removed. As Harry and Ginny watched, she suddenly pocketed the rings, as well as the set on her plate.

"What does she need those for?" asked Ginny quietly.

Harry shrugged, although he doubted that it was for sentiment's sake. At that moment, however, the dancing began, and Harry turned his attention to the dance floor, where Bill and Fleur had started in the centre. He'd ask Hermione about the rings later. As the newly-wed couple waltzed slowly, Harry saw Fred and George eagerly join with a couple of guests he didn't recognise, and then a moment later Luna stood and joined the dance floor herself, though she simply swayed to the music without a partner. Harry glanced at Ginny, wondering if he ought to stand up with her or not, but then he noticed that she wasn't watching the dancers, but staring at something behind (or rather above) Harry's shoulder, and he then heard heavy footsteps coming behind him, and turned around.

"Hagrid!" Hermione said happily. "Why don't you come and join?"

She and Ginny scooted closer to Harry and Ron, allowing about five feet which gave the half-giant adequate room to sit, though before he did so, Hermione pointed her wand at Luna's vacated chair, magically enlarging it.

"Cheers, Hermione," Hagrid said, easing himself into the seat. Looking around at the four of them, he added, "Was beginnin' to wonder if you lot remembered how owl post worked."

Harry winced. "Sorry, Hagrid. Things have been… hectic."

"Yeah, I know." Hagrid sounded gloomy, and Harry felt an even larger twinge of guilt. Wrapped up in planning their escape and the urgency of his mission, he had forgotten about Hagrid living alone on the Hogwarts grounds, his hut damaged in the fighting not even two months earlier, without company or even a new school year to look forward to.

The same thought seemed to have occurred to Ginny, who tentatively asked, "How are things at Hogwarts?"

"Different, without any preparations fer the school year," Hagrid said sadly. "None of the staff ever come by anymore. It's jus' me, the house-elves, and Firenze still there, and he's workin' ter get himself back into the herd in the forest, although he's not been very successful."

"The elves are still there?" asked Hermione, surprised.

"'Course they are. Bound ter the school, aren' they? Dobby an' Winky had to leave, since they were free elves an' Dumbledore was their employer."

"And that's why Dobby's now at Grimmauld Place," Hermione said, "but what happened to Winky?"

Hagrid shrugged. "Professor McGonagall found some arrangement with her."

"Bloody hell," Ron suddenly exclaimed. "What happened to Kreacher, then?"

Harry started. He'd completely forgotten about the loathsome elf unfortunately bound to him after Sirius's death. Ron and Hermione both looked at Harry, who nervously said, "I don't know. If he had to leave Hogwarts too, he didn't come back to me."

Ron swore again. Harry didn't blame him. While he knew Hermione pitied Kreacher, he was confident that no one at their table even slightly trusted him. Harry himself would be perfectly happy to set him free if he wasn't sure the elf would immediately go to Bellatrix Lestrange and tell Voldemort everything he knew about the Order.

"Did yeh order him ter work at Hogwarts?" asked Hagrid. At Harry's nod, Hagrid relaxed. "Then he'll still be there. That binds him ter the school until yeh call him back."

Relieved, Harry leaned back in his chair. Kreacher so far had proved unable to betray Harry in any way, and he had absolutely no intention of taking him with him on the Horcrux hunt, although he made a mental note to tell Mad-Eye or Aberforth to make sure the Hogwarts elves kept a very close eye on him.

"And what about you?" Harry asked Hagrid.

If possible, Hagrid looked even gloomier. "Not much fer me to do there anymore. Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick helped me repair my house before they left, but I dunno if it'll make much difference. If Hogwarts remains closed fer longer than a year, the school governors might evict me."

Harry swallowed. He didn't know what the governors were planning for the school, but he'd heard no hint that they had any intention of opening it up again soon.

"I'm sorry, Hagrid," Ginny said sadly.

Hagrid shook his head. "Never mind. Think Kingsley and Mad-Eye are about to give me some work away from Hogwarts anyway."

Harry raised an eyebrow and, leaning closer, he said more quietly, "You mean you're going to the giants again?"

He only spoke loudly enough for those at the table to hear him, but even so, Hagrid looked around nervously, before responding, "Somethin' like that."

"When do you leave?"

"I dunno. Very soon, I expect," Hagrid answered. "An' I'm taking Grawp an' Fang, so I'll have some company. But I might be gone a while, like last time."

Harry's heart sank; he hoped that Hagrid at least would be able to make it over for his birthday, before he, Ron, and Hermione left; though he felt he had adequately prepared himself for that, he hadn't expected to be parting from one of his friends this soon, and he found himself wondering if this would be the last time they ever spoke. But he didn't want Hagrid to worry, so he schooled his features into what he hoped was merely mild concern mixed with fascination, as he usually did with Order members he knew to be conducting dangerous missions.

"Yer livin' at Grimmauld Place now, I hear?" asked Hagrid.

Harry nodded, somewhat relieved; if he looked despondent by the news of Hagrid's imminent departure, Hagrid evidently hadn't noticed.

"Good," Hagrid said, glancing around again. "You'll stay outta trouble, then? Yeh can't go off doin' as yeh please anymore, even if yer almost of age."

Harry blinked at Hagrid's foreboding tone, and he shared a look with Ron and Hermione and Ginny, before he asked, "Hagrid, what is the Order so nervous about lately? If I'm to be under their protection, I think I have a right to know precisely what they're so afraid of right now."

Hagrid looked at Harry sharply during this speech, and then he glanced in Molly's direction, and Remus's, before looking back at Harry. He was obviously torn, unsure of what to say, but after considering his words for a moment, he finally admitted, "I don' know the details, Harry. Only that the Auror office has covered up somethin' serious. Tonks would know."

Harry shook his head. "She and Mad-Eye just say that it's nothing to concern myself with."

"Then it's not fer me to say," Hagrid said quietly. "Although I suppose it can't hurt to tell you that Inferi are involved. But that's all I know."

Harry saw the others pale a little. Hagrid, looking uncomfortable at the direction of the conversation, then looked up and exclaimed, "Look, it's Olympe Maxime. 'Scuse me, Harry. Enjoy yerselves."

And with that, he abruptly stood and hurried away. Harry dejectedly watched him go, but as the two half-giants took to the dance floor, he looked back at the others, all of whom looked both sad and pensive.

"So Voldemort's started using Inferi again," Ginny said after a moment.

"That can't be all there is to it," Hermione whispered. "They've been warning us about the possibility for over a year, and anyway, the Ministry knows how to handle Inferi."

They fell into grim silence at this. Harry too didn't think Inferi could possibly be the only reason the Order continually acted like they thought something absolutely ghastly was about to rain down upon them at any minute, and he wondered what on earth Voldemort had done, involving Inferi, that could be so horrible that the Aurors had covered it up and even the Order wouldn't talk about it amongst themselves. Before anyone could speculate any further on this, however, something caught Ron's eye, and he looked up sharply.

"Blimey," he said, gaping. "What's he doing here?"

Immediately the others looked in the indicated direction, and to Harry's amazement, he saw none other than Percy Weasley hovering at the entrance to the reception area, squinting into the crowd and clearly looking as though he didn't know if he belonged there. Even as they watched, Molly ran to meet him.

"He hasn't spoken to Bill or to any of us for over a year," Ginny said incredulously. "And now he shows up?"

Nobody answered. Harry glanced in Fred and George's direction. Unsurprisingly, they were both watching Percy with narrowed eyes, but made no move, evidently waiting to see what transpired. Arthur, who was stationed with M. Delacour by the refreshment table, hadn't appeared to acknowledge Percy at all. Charlie, however, cut to the centre of the dance floor and tapped Bill on his shoulder, pointing. For a moment, Bill scrutinised Percy with a similar expression to the twins, before he allowed Charlie to continue dancing with Fleur while he joined his mother to greet Percy. Nobody seemed willing to make a scene, so the wedding guests who weren't familiar with the estrangement didn't appear to notice anything wrong, but the next few minutes were very tense for those who did know. However, as Harry watched Bill speaking with Percy, he realised that the latter's expression was downcast. Then, finally, Bill suddenly pulled his younger brother into a hug, and Molly burst into tears.

"I think you've got Percy back, Ron," Hermione said in wonder.

"Bloody hell," Ron said weakly.

Beside Harry, Ginny shifted, and as he looked at her she suddenly stood and left the table. Harry watched her go, expecting her to join her mother and Bill in welcoming Percy back, but to his surprise, she didn't approach them. Instead, she moved away from the crowd, leaving the reception and walking towards a clump of trees silhouetted in the sunset. Harry hesitated, and glanced back at Ron and Hermione, before he too got up and followed Ginny, frowning. For the past couple of years Ginny had only ever spoken of Percy harshly, sometimes venomously, and for the most part had acted as though his estrangement was no real loss to the family, but Harry knew that in truth she had taken his betrayal very hard. This unexpected reconciliation had obviously come as a real shock, and he worried about her. A few minutes later he found her seated on an exposed root by the trees, watching the sunset with a hardened expression.

"You all right?" he asked her softly.

"I'm always all right," Ginny answered.

Harry was quiet for a minute, uncertain how to respond, except to hesitantly say, "I hope Percy and your dad forgive each other."

"Maybe," Ginny said. She looked back at the reception. Harry too looked in that direction, but he couldn't make anyone out from this distance. A moment later, Ginny continued, "Even if he's admitted to being wrong, I can't forget the things he said and did. What he said about Dad, about all of us, about you. I won't hold it against Dad if he forgives him, but I'm not sure I can right now."

Harry said nothing, although he sat on the root next to Ginny, and took her hand gently. He too still felt angry with Percy, but his indignation, he knew, could not compare to the anger and hurt that the Weasleys all felt. The insinuations Percy had made about Harry stung, as did his readiness to believe the worst of Harry even after knowing him for years; but that insult was nothing next to those Percy had levelled at his entire family. Whatever hurt he felt, Ginny likely felt worse, even if she wouldn't show it. He wasn't sure how long he remained there with her, but however much time passed, Ginny suddenly stood, pulling Harry up with her.

"Do you want to go back?" he asked.

"No. Not just yet."

Harry looked at her questioningly, but rather than explain, she simply beckoned him forward, further away from the reception, towards the perimeter of the Weasleys' property. As they reached the fence at the perimeter, Harry looked back. The wedding celebrations were now quite out of view, although he could still clearly hear the music and chatter. Feeling safely out of sight, Harry looked back at the fence, and the grassy fields beyond.

"I take it this is where the wards are?" he asked.

"From what I've seen," Ginny answered.

Curious, Harry stooped down and picked up a pebble, which he tossed over the fence. Sure enough, they saw something ripple, impeding the stone's trajectory, and causing it to bounce off and plummet to the ground.

"Tough wards indeed," Ginny remarked.

"Maybe," Harry said, "although I bet that the Death Eaters will eventually find a way in without a Fidelius Charm in place."

Ginny nodded grimly. "I imagine Dad intends to move us to Grimmauld Place as well, eventually." Seeing Harry's expression, she added sharply, "Don't go feeling all guilty on me. It's got nothing to do with you. Dad loves Muggles too much and he's a member of the largest anti-Death Eater resistance movement. The Death Eaters are going to come after us at some point, no matter what."

"I know," Harry said, "but I'm sorry for it all the same. None of you deserve this."

Ginny laughed bitterly. "Well, for most of us, that certainly is true."

They stayed there for another minute, before Ginny reminded Harry that it might look suspicious if they lingered this close to the wards for more than a minute. Conceding her point, Harry followed Ginny as she moved in another direction. They walked for some time near the outskirts of the property, until Ginny finally paused outside another grove of trees near the apple orchard. She looked at it for a minute, and then led Harry inside. There was a single, rickety-looking bench in the centre.

"I've never seen this place before," Harry said, looking around.

Ginny shrugged. "The others don't usually use it, but I come in here to think sometimes."

Harry looked back over his shoulder; he could only barely see the Burrow through the leaves. "Nicely out of the way."

Ginny smiled. "It's fairly private, yeah."

At that, Harry swallowed, and felt a shiver go up his spine, as he realised that Ginny was wearing the same blazing, determined expression she had in the Gryffindor Common Room after she'd won the team the Quidditch Cup. For a moment they just stared at each other, and then she lowered herself onto the bench, and said, "You're going to be gone soon."

It was a statement, not a question. Harry sat next to her. He made no reply, but she didn't require one. Ginny glanced in the direction of the Burrow, and then said quietly, "Ten minutes."

"What?"

"That's probably how long we've got here before someone comes looking for us," she explained.

"Yeah," Harry said. "I imagine so."

"And we might not see each other again for years after you leave."

"If ever," Harry muttered sadly, looking downwards.

"Don't think that way," Ginny said sharply, and Harry looked back at her, startled. An angry look crossed her face for a second, and she took a deep breath, before saying in a softer tone, "It might be years. So why not have these ten minutes now, while we can?"

Harry's mouth went dry. He'd made a resolve at Dumbledore's funeral, a resolve that he'd done a rather poor job following in the months since, the doubts as well as his greater understanding of Ginny's own position eating away at it. In this moment, however, as he heard her words and took in her appearance, seeing her gold dress and red hair glint in the orange sunlight streaming through the ash leaves, beholding in her demeanour that same determined expression that had always been his undoing, his resolve crumbled completely, and without thinking about it any further, he pulled Ginny into a passionate kiss. For ten minutes, he allowed himself to forget all else, instead thinking only of her, gratefully receiving and appreciating every second of her affection while gladly and eagerly returning it. While they could, without interruption they kissed, laughed together, and spoke of happier days. All too soon, however, Ginny checked her watch, and reluctantly told him that they'd better head back. Harry didn't want to stop, but knowing they had to, he got to his feet, and Ginny followed suit. Harry took her hand in his. "Thank you," he whispered.

Ginny smiled sadly, and Harry thought he saw her eyes watering.

The sun sank below the horizon.

Notes:

Rok Grimrook's height is approximately 5'8", and for his kind, this is exceptional. While I don't think this is ever actually stated, I imagine the average goblin height as 4'7" (about a foot shorter than Harry's own height). Grimrook's height is a goblin equivalent of Lebron James's height. Grimrook is even taller than some wizards, and because of this, I think Gringotts sometimes makes use of him with difficult customers, believing his size will make him more intimidating.

In the original draft, Bloomsbury was included in the Muggle corporations Harry has shares in, but at the time I wrote that draft, I was unaware that Bloomsbury wasn't founded until 1986, and so it's impossible that Harry's family, who were all dead by 1981, could have invested in it at the time.