The Boundary Line

Harry felt as though he was having to jog to keep up with Ginny as she stomped across the front lawn, her broomstick in one arm, a wooden chest beneath the other. Once they were in the shadow of the castle, she dropped the chest onto the tall grass with a dull thud and popped open the lid.

"I still don't understand why you're upset with me; I thought you wanted me to run the DA."

"Yes Harry," Ginny sighed, "The DA, as it was. Not this watered-down, school-approved version of it. Do you really think you're going to get free reign over your classes? How long before McGonagall starts sticking her nose in and making changes?"

"Why would she need to make changes?"

"To protect the schools' image. To make sure you don't show students things the board might not want them to know. Why do you think she said yes in the first place?"

Harry took a deep breath, "I don't know Ginny, maybe because for the last few years there's been a madman at large and the school hasn't provided that many good Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers, and this year isn't much different?"

"I don't believe it," replied Ginny, "you might, but I don't. Are you really telling me that McGonagall couldn't have simply gotten a member of the Order to teach, or, God forbid, told the Ministry to supply a teacher? No. She wants that hag here for a reason, and by making you attend all her classes like a good boy and support you teaching the kiddies some extra magic, it looks to the outside world like you're endorsing her plans."

"Why would Professor McGonagall need to use me like that?" Harry asked.

"Trouble with the School Board, trouble with Ministry maybe? I don't know what her aims are. What I do know is that you are the most famous wizard in Britain, by far. I know you don't like it." Ginny said, raising a hand to stop his protest, "But you are. You're in every paper, every magazine. People worship you, Harry. Reporters try and track you down. Kids want to be just like you; they want to have your hair, your glasses, and they want to be in Gryffindor and play as Seeker and ride a Firebolt or a Nimbus Two-Thousand and go on fantastic adventures. Every shop in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade knows this and wants you to be seen shopping there because they can sell thousands of whatever books, quills, ink bottles, cauldrons, or broomsticks that you lay a finger on."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"Because you have a huge influence in Britain and you need to be careful how you use it, and who you trust, and what you say. If you went into Diagon Alley tomorrow morning and proclaimed that you wanted to take over France, half the country would probably follow you blindly over the Channel. Anything that Harry Potter says or does right now is headline news, and McGonagall knows this, and she could be trying to make it look like you are endorsing her appointing Malfoy because of the backlash she's already received."

"Well," Harry sighed, "I promise I'm not going declare war on France." Ginny's demeanour softened slightly, and the pair shared a short giggle.

"I'll always have your back Harry, no matter what. I just want you to be careful, and not get dragged into things you don't need to. You deserve a bit of peace." Harry nodded his agreement. "It would be nice if you included me in your decision making too. I know we're still figuring everything out, I know you're still putting on a brave face too, and I know you miss Ron and Hermione. Just remember me before you charging off to McGonagall again, okay? I've missed you, and I still don't even know where you were and what you were doing. I'd at least like to know what you're up to whilst you are here."

"Okay," Harry said dully, "I'll try, and I will tell you about being on the run one day, but it's not just my story to tell, and I want everyone together, because I only want to tell the story one more time if I can." Ginny nodded her agreement. The topic of Harry, Ron, and Hermione going off on their Horcrux hunt was a sore point between them, and not just them either. The Weasley's had all asked about their year on the run at one point or another, as had Neville one night in the dormitory. Between all the funerals, and the grief, and the calls to the Ministry of Magic to give evidence and witness statements, Harry hadn't found the energy or the nerve to talk about it, nor had Ron and Hermione, although Harry was convinced that Ron had let slip to Mr. Weasley about what they were tracking down. He remained silent on the matter if so. The three of them had of course given an account to Kingsley Shacklebolt and Gawain Robards, the newly appointed Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, who both agreed all information relating to Voldemort's Horcruxes should remain strictly classified.

Harry had hoped that once Ron and Hermione returned from Australia, they would all sit down together and tell the story of their year on the run, and he'd also hoped that Ron and Hermione would do most of the talking. Since they had left for Australia though, Harry hadn't heard from them at all, and it was taking its toll on him more than he cared to admit. Ginny, Neville, and Luna were valued friends, but it was harder to open up to them than it was to Ron and Hermione. They had not shared the experiences with him that Ron and Hermione had, and a small voice in the back of his head – one he tried his best to keep quiet, as every one of his friends had endured their own suffering – told him that regaling them with his story would not imprint upon them how traumatic their year on the run had been, how awful it had felt in that tent, three teenagers against the world, and how guilty he felt for the huge losses that resulted from their war against Lord Voldemort.

"Why are we out here this late anyway?" Harry asked with a forlorn look towards the Quidditch pitch, which was still surrounded by scaffolding and was, for the time-being, off limits to students. He had an idea why they were out with their broomsticks long after the rest of the students had retreated to their common rooms, and he didn't like it, but he was grateful for the distraction.

"Quidditch try-outs," replied Ginny. One look at Harry's dismayed face had her scrambling to explain, "I'm trying to be a fair and objective team captain, I'd be very surprised if you aren't Gryffindor's Seeker this year. The thing is…"

"You don't want me disrupting your actual try-outs." Ginny nodded sheepishly.

"I don't want it to be this way, but… when you were captain over a hundred people showed up to your try-outs; giggly girls, first years who couldn't even get off the ground, and people who weren't even in Gryffindor." Ginny sighed deeply. Harry knew she was right, of course, and predicted exactly what she was going to say next. "This time, I think it might be even worse. You could end up mobbed, just like the first time we went to Diagon Alley. I know you would hate that, and frankly it will make picking a good team more difficult if I must bat off all your fans. If you play well tonight and I don't find anyone up to your standard, you'll join the team for regular practice."

Harry nodded glumly, and mounted his new Firebolt whilst Ginny opened the trunk she had carried across the lawn. She had charmed a dozen golf balls to glow a bright orange, which was very helpful as the sun was starting to set much earlier each night, and soon they would be in complete darkness. They spent about an hour in the air, with Ginny throwing the balls all over the sky for him to catch. As much as he didn't appreciate having his own private try-out, spending time on his broom did bring a smile to his face, and getting to spend time alone with Ginny was a bonus. After a particularly dramatic catch which ended with Harry almost hitting a tree, he even saw her laugh for the first time in weeks. When she called time and summoned the golf balls back into her crate, he was sad to put his feet back on the ground.

"We'll get detention for being out past curfew if we aren't careful." Ginny said, her face red from the chilly air.

"I think I've spent more nights at Hogwarts out after curfew than I have in bed."

"Didn't invite me very often." Ginny pouted.

"Well, I never really invited anyone, Ron and Hermione were just sort of… always there." Ginny smiled a sad smile and gazed up at the castle.

"Don't worry Harry, they'll be back soon." She heaved the crate full of Quidditch gear and trotted up the path to the main doors, leaving Harry to wonder if he was saying and doing all the wrong things when it came to Ginny. Over in France, Gabrielle Delacour was not wondering about Ginny Weasley at all.

Professor Rémy had assigned Gabrielle some reading on the banishing charm, so satisfied at her prowess with the summoning charm was he that he'd sent her off to a quiet corner of the classroom to get a head start on their next assignment whilst he caught the rest of the class up. It was a luxury Gabrielle wished she had in most of her other classes, particularly potions. Why Charms was the subject that came so naturally to her whilst other branches of magic like Transfiguration and Combat Magic proved incredibly difficult, she would never understand. Perhaps Charms appealed to her creativity, or perhaps she just preferred her teacher. Indeed, since the flight around Le Petite Colline she could think of no other Professor she would dare to ask about the Boundary Line. Professor Bordeaux would no doubt sneer at her for asking such childish nonsense when she should be focused on her lessons, and Professor Rochefort could probably give her an answer so in depth it would bore her to tears. Professor Rémy was the one to ask all of Gabrielle's questions; he would give her the answer in plain French without overcomplicating it or chastising her, so she waited patiently after class as all the other students were filing out into the corridor.

"Gabrielle," he said, noticing her loitering back, "trouble reading up on the banishing charm?"

In response, Gabrielle pointed her wand at one of the beanbags her classmates had been summoning across the room, "Depulso!" the beanbag responded by flopping lazily off the table it was resting on and dropping to the floor, Gabrielle summoned it back before continuing. "No, I think I'll get it in our next lesson, I wanted to ask you a question about something else."

"Oh, trouble in one of your classes?"

"Not in one of my classes," replied Gabrielle, "I wanted to ask about the boundary line around the school. When we were flying over La Petite Colline I swear I saw a blue… crackling, almost like lighting. I thought someone might be trying to break in, but that isn't possible, is it?"

"Definitely not," the Professor chuckled, "I don't suppose you've seen the mountain range outside of the boundary?" Gabrielle shook her head in response. "Even with magic to help you, it's nearly impossible to get close to boundary line. There are huge rock walls on one side, huge cliffs on the other. The only part of the mountain range that's even worth attempting to climb is just outside the front gate, and we have security there at all times. You are perfectly safe."

Gabrielle smiled, "I wasn't really worried about my safety, just curious about the boundary and how it works. It must be quite an advanced barrier charm?"

"It's a lot more than that. I don't know the full details. The most powerful spellcasters from around Europe helped piece it together, and Madame Maxine goes to great lengths each year to make sure it is holding up. It's completely impenetrable from the outside, blocks the school completely from view unless the gates are open, controls our weather system, and it repels the non-magique from the area, as if the mountains weren't enough."

"But say you really wanted to push through, what happens then?"

"You can't push through, it's a one-way barrier," Professor Rémy replied, looking slightly shifty, as if Gabrielle's line of questioning was starting to make her uncomfortable.

"I know that we're warned every year not to step over the line, that you can't come back over it, but what actually happens to you if you try to come back from the other side?"

The Professor gave a deep sigh and looked out the window across the grounds before giving his answer in a very soft voice, "You die."