The remaining few days at the Burrow passed slowly. Fred and George kept trying to catch Harry on his own, but in such a crowded home holding a private conversation with anybody was next to impossible. Ginny in particular seemed to relish lurking in Harry's shadow, and she would often only leave when Harry asked if he could help her with something(which never failed to send her into fits of awkward blushing). Harry tried asking Ron more than a few times what she was up to, but his best friend would only shrug and say that she'd been infatuated with him ever since last year's incident in the Chamber of Secrets. Harry wished that she would return to smiling politely, but it didn't seem very likely.

In fact, Fred and George didn't get a chance to talk to Harry until the evening before everyone was to leave for King's Cross Station and Platform Nine and Seventy-five Hundredths. The Weasleys were to enjoy a pleasant picnic dinner on a hill not far from the Burrow, and as Ginny was going to be riding in Mr. Weasley's new shiny black sports car the twins seized the moment to force Harry to walk with them. Ron, of course, didn't want to do any walking when he could be riding along comfortably, but Harry had been wondering all week what Fred and George had wanted to tell him so he skipped the brief car trip.

"Look here, you," began Fred. Or George. "What's your fixation with our dearest little sister?"

"I'm sorry?" Harry was absolutely nonplussed. Fred(or George) folded his arms in a way that was clearly supposed to seem incredulous.

"We know you've got a-" The twins quickly glanced at one another, searching for the right word. "-a bit of a 'thing' for Ginny. We don't mind, honestly- imagine being related to the Boy Who Lived and all that. But we want to make sure you're not leading her on, or anything."

"Yeah," piped in George(or Fred), pushing an accusing finger into Harry's chest.

"Well, I'm not. We've hardly spoken since last year, before the summer holidays," Harry protested. "Why has she been following me everywhere? And why does she stare at me whenever we're in the same room? It's... well, it's creepy."

The twins seemed taken aback. They whispered inaudibly to each other for a moment, leaving Harry to sit in bewildered silence.

"So you're not stringing her along, Harry?" George asked. Harry shook his head solemnly. Fred and George looked at one another, then back to Harry, then back to one another, and then back to Harry.

"We think there's something you should see."

The twins led the way up the Burrow's staircase and past Ron's room to a doorway Harry had never been through. "Ginny's room," they explained in unison. Something in Harry's stomach turned, though he couldn't understand why. Fred deftly picked the lock and then they were inside. It was definitely a girl's room, Harry decided. Ginny had a large collection of pillows scattered around her room, with a few stuffed animals here and there between them. George kicked a few of these aside, pulled open her closet, and waved Harry over. Harry obediently stepped forward.

"What-?"

His questions weren't necessary, as it turned out. Fred pushed back the clothes that were in the way and showed Harry what Ginny had built. Harry's face anxiously peered about the room from almost everywhere he looked. Every newspaper clipping that had mentioned his name, every accompanying photograph- even the picture he'd been forced to take with Professor Lockhart at his book signing at Flourish and Blott's, with Lockhart's half of the picture ripped off and some kind of bright red line drawn across the ragged edge to keep Lockhart from stealing Harry's spotlight- tacked to the back wall of her closet. She'd even kept the Magical Me book series that he'd handed to her, though they were stacked one atop the other to form a makeshift shelf on the floor.

The shelf was full of Potter paraphernalia. It seemed like she'd collected anything he'd ever so much as touched- the feather he'd used in his first-year Charms class, one of the Beater's bats he'd handled when Oliver Wood first explained to him what Quidditch was, Neville Longbottom's remembrall, which had first landed him on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team to begin with, and even a broken pair of his glasses he'd thought he'd lost all had prominent places on her Harry Potter shrine. There was even what appeared to be a lock of dark hair in a small plastic bag hanging from the shelf by a narrow strip of tape.

On closer inspection, some of the items had tiny notes with how and when she obtained them and things like "It still smells like him!" attached to them. A small diary filled to the brim with doodles featuring a million variations of "Ginny Potter", half-written love confessions to(and from) Harry, and even baby names for their children rounded out Ginny's obsessive collection. Harry understood Fred and George's concerns all too well now. They probably thought he'd had her worshiping him or something, but this all felt like a massive violation of his privacy. He honestly felt sick.

"We found it by accident while looking for some, er, things of ours we thought Ginny might've nicked," George explained. "We thought you'd got her so wrapped around your little finger that she was worshiping you, or something. I guess this is all news to you too, eh Harry?"

Harry nodded weakly as he watched one of his likenesses cut himself and scribble "RUN" on the wall behind him with his own blood. Fred pulled Harry back and began walking him out of Ginny's room while George carefully placed her pillows where they had been before the intrusion. Harry's escort ran a hand through his hair anxiously.

"This is awkward, isn't it? You feeling okay, Harry?" Harry shook his head; Fred patted him on his back in a brotherly fashion. "No worries, then. We'll say you started throwing up the second everybody else took off and you can just stay here and rest. We'll also try to talk to dad about... about Ginny's closet."

Harry allowed himself to be steered into Ron's room, where he was staying for the time being, and promptly flopped down on the cot that had been set up for him. He felt numb. Ginny had always seemed like such a nice girl. Why did she have a shrine dedicated to him in her closet? While this explained the reasons she was always staring at him and, now that he thought of it, why she began competing with others to pass him things at the dinner table, he just couldn't grasp why she was so obsessed with him. With his appetite for that evening completely destroyed, Harry rolled over and tried to fall asleep before Ron inevitably came tromping in. He dreamt uneasily of a small, red-haired girl watching rest him through a small crack in Ron's door.

"Harry, wake up! It's time to- oh wow, Harry, you look awful," said Ron. Harry peered up at his best friend blearily and realized that he'd fallen asleep with his glasses still on. Harry sat up and brushed his hair out of his eyes.

"We're leaving in about half an hour, and there's breakfast downstairs if you want it," Ron informed him. Harry nodded his thanks and hastily departed, taking extra care to make sure he wouldn't run into Ron's sister on the narrow stairway. He had a bit of toast and a knowing look from both Fred and George before everyone was being pushed to the front door by a harried-looking Mrs. Weasley, who told Harry that she'd packed his things for him while he was eating since he was feeling too ill to pack the night before. As they all piled into Mr. Weasley's shiny black sports car Fred and George deliberately sat on either side of Harry, much to his relief, and after a few goodbyes through the car window they were off.

Mr. Weasley was driving far faster than was necessary, but he seemed to be enjoying himself and all the obstacles he'd have run down in any ordinary Muggle car just leapt out of his path, but he stopped caring about the drive when he noticed Ginny watching him in the rear-view mirror. Harry couldn't wait to reach the mostly Ginny-free zone that was Hogwarts.