The following week passed in a strange blur of secrecy, discomfort, and forced smiles.

Harry and Ginny became masters of avoidance. No glances in hallways, no shared jokes in public, no sitting together in the Great Hall. To anyone watching, they barely interacted at all. But behind that carefully constructed façade, they still found stolen moments of quiet. Early mornings in the Room of Requirement had become their sanctuary, a small sliver of peace where they could simply be. Demelza Robins, always sharp and eager to help, had quickly become their silent ally, covering for them with casual ease and smirking pride.

Still, the act was wearing on both of them. Pretending not to care in front of others left a dull ache behind their ribs that never quite went away. The secret was necessary, but it hurt all the same.

Ron, meanwhile, had barely spoken a word to Ginny since their explosive row. He kept close to Lavender Brown, whose sudden presence in their circle had become impossible to ignore. The two of them were snogging in every corner of the castle, seemingly immune to shame or awareness. It made everyone deeply uncomfortable. Even Seamus had muttered something about needing to "sanitize the armchairs."

Hermione took it the worst. Though she tried to keep her chin up, her eyes always found Ron when he was wrapped up in Lavender's arms, and they rarely hid the pain. She had expected something from him—something real, unspoken but quietly building between them. And now, with Harry often gone and Ron avoiding her too, Hermione seemed lonelier than ever.

Harry's only real solace outside of Ginny was his time with Remus. Their private lessons became a bright spot in his week. Finally, he was doing something useful—something that felt like preparation, like power, like control. Remus had a quiet way of pushing him, of encouraging him without overwhelming, and Harry left each session exhausted but sharper, stronger.

And Theo's plan? So far, it was working. The school was alive with whispers about the unexpected match between Gryffindor's firebrand and Slytherin's mysterious loner. Theo played the role with charming bravado—flowers in Herbology, compliments loud enough to be overheard in the corridors, and dramatically reading poetry at lunch. Ginny rolled her eyes at most of it, but beneath the performance, the two of them had started to build a quiet sort of friendship. He was clever, dry-humored, and surprisingly kind in his own guarded way. And for now, the plan was holding strong.

Harry couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy about Ginny and Theo's relationship. Not because he didn't trust them—he didn't need to know Theo's love preferences to be certain Ginny would never betray him like that. It was the public part of it that got to him. The easy closeness they could show in front of others, even if it was just for appearances. Sometimes, when Ginny received another "love letter" during breakfast—usually filled with jokes or riddles from Theo—Harry couldn't help imagining what it would be like if he could show his love for her openly.

Meanwhile, the Slytherins had turned their backs on Theo completely. He'd always been something of a lone wolf in the House of Snakes, but at least they'd tolerated him before. Now, he was ignored altogether. Everyone except Pansy Parkinson, who seemed to make it her personal mission to taunt him with crude remarks.

"Don't you care that your Weasley isn't pure for you?" she'd said in Slytherin Common Room, voice loud enough to carry. "Heard Potter popped her cherry at the start of the year and then dumped her. Bit used, isn't she?"

That was one of her milder comments.

When Theo recounted it to Harry and Ginny in the Room of Requirement that Friday afternoon, Harry's jaw clenched with fury. But Ginny burst into laughter.

"So that's one of the rumors?" she giggled. "That Harry shagged me and then left? Merlin, they really think he's capable of that?"

Harry groaned. "That's not funny! We were hoping to stop the rumors about us, not feed them."

Ginny grinned. "No, Harry—it means it's working. If this kind of gossip reaches Tom, he's hardly going to care about some girl you used and tossed away. If anything, it reinforces the story that we're not together. That's good."

"Besides," she added, brushing her hand against his, "anyone who knows us knows it's complete rubbish. Let Pansy believe what she wants."

Theo nodded. "Like it or not, people were already whispering about the two of you long before this whole plan. Better to drown it in noise."

Harry sighed but gave a reluctant nod. They were probably right. As long as they kept a low profile, the plan was still holding up.

"How are things in Slytherin?" he asked, changing the subject. He was genuinely worried. Theo was clever, but that house could be vicious when it turned on one of its own.

"I'm alright," Theo said with a tired smile. "I expected this. Actually—I was counting on it."

Harry blinked. "I thought you said you needed your housemates for protection?"

Theo nodded, amused. "That's still true. But in the year above us is my distant cousin—Cassian Nott. We don't talk, but I know he writes to my grandfather regularly. If the Slytherins are furious with me for dating the Gryffindor princess, Cassian will definitely mention it. That means my grandfather hears about my pureblood romantic entanglement. And that's exactly what I need him to believe."

Harry stared at him, both impressed and slightly alarmed. "You're playing a dangerous game."

"I know," Theo said simply. "But it's the only way to win."

Harry stood up from his seat with a sigh and pressed a kiss to Ginny's forehead, offering her a small, sad smile.
"Enjoy your date," he said, only half-joking.

Ginny watched him go, the corners of her mouth tugging downward. She knew they'd have more time together over the weekend, but it still stung to spend so much time pretending to be apart. At least Theo made good company. His humor had started to come out more naturally around her now that they were growing comfortable in each other's presence.

Noticing the shadow on her face, Theo tilted his head and gave her a thoughtful look. Then, with a perfectly casual tone, he asked,
"So… tell me. Is Harry as hung as he looks?"

Ginny choked on her own breath, eyes wide with disbelief.
"THEO!"

"Sorry, sorry!" he said, laughing as he held up his hands in mock surrender. "It's just—he gives off serious big dick energy, you know? I had to ask."

Ginny was still giggling, nervously now. "I am not telling you that! And anyway, how would I even know?"

Theo arched an eyebrow. "Girl, please. After what I saw of you two behind that tapestry, don't expect me to believe you're completely innocent."

She tried to glare at him but failed, a blush creeping up her neck as she laughed. "Be that as it may, I'm still not telling you."

"Fair enough," he said, grinning.

"But seriously, what even is big dick energy?" she asked, still half-laughing.

Theo leaned back, stretching one arm over the back of the couch. "It's that vibe. Like… okay—remember when Malfoy made that snide comment about Luna's earrings and Harry just shut him down without even raising his voice? Or when that fifth-year Ravenclaw tried to hex Colin and Harry jumped in like it was the most natural thing in the world, no hesitation?" He snapped his fingers. "That kind of confidence. Doesn't even realize he's doing it, but it's like he walks into the room like he owns it sometimes."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Theo… do you have a crush on Harry?"

"Girl. At one point or another, everyone in this castle has had a crush on Harry," he said, smirking. "Once this war is over and you two can go public, you're going to have a line of heartbroken witches—and probably a few wizards—wanting to take your place."

Ginny smiled dreamily, hoping the day would come sooner than later.

….

The next day was another planned lesson with Remus. Hermione and Ginny decided to join Harry. Ron was too busy with being glued to Lavender's mouth, so he refused.

The Room of Requirement had transformed into a dueling arena again, dim torchlight flickering against the stone walls, lending a dramatic air to the echo of spells flying back and forth. Harry stood to the side with Remus, watching as Ginny and Hermione faced off, both focused, both fierce.

Hermione flicked her wand. "Expelliarmus!"
Ginny ducked and spun, her wand sweeping in a wide arc as she muttered something too quickly for Harry to catch. A shimmering, spherical shield burst around her, not just blocking the spell but absorbing it, flickering like lightning against the curve of the spellwork.

The room went quiet.

Remus took a step forward, brows raised in visible surprise. "That's a modified Protego Totalum. Part of sixth-year Defense curriculum." He turned toward Ginny, curious. "Where did you learn that?"

Ginny lowered her wand slowly, her expression suddenly guarded. "I… didn't," she said. "Not really."

Hermione blinked. "What do you mean?"

Ginny glanced at Harry, who frowned, stepping toward her. She hesitated, then exhaled through her nose and sat down on one of the conjured cushions nearby.

"Sometimes… I just know things," she said finally. "It's like these flashes. Not memories exactly, but more like instincts. Spells I've never consciously learned just… come to me when I need them."

Remus's face had lost some of its warmth. He knelt nearby, careful not to crowd her. "Do you think it has something to do with Tom?"

Ginny nodded slowly. "Yeah. From first year. The diary." Her voice grew quieter. "It's like some imprint of him never really left. I don't think it's him—he's gone—but it's like the knowledge is still in me. Bits and pieces of what he knew."

Hermione sat beside her quickly, placing a gentle hand on her arm. "That's not your fault, Ginny. You didn't choose that."

Ginny gave her a tired smile. "Doesn't make it feel any better."

Remus nodded solemnly. "Magic leaves marks. Especially dark magic. But it also means you're turning something horrible into something powerful. You're using what's left for good, Ginny. That matters."

Ginny looked at him, unsure. "You don't think I'm dangerous?"

Remus offered her a soft smile. "I've known dangerous, Ginny. You're something else entirely. You're resilient."

Harry sat down on her other side, lacing his fingers through hers without a word. She squeezed back tightly.

"Thanks," she whispered. "But I still hate that he left anything in me at all."

The rest of the lesson followed without a hitch, and when it was time to leave, Harry nudged Ginny's sleeve gently, silently asking her to stay behind. Remus and Hermione were already by the door, but turned at the delay. Harry gave them a sheepish smile.

"We're staying," he said quickly.

Hermione smirked knowingly. Remus laughed aloud.
"Of course you are. Don't do anything I wouldn't do," he called out with a wink before the door closed behind them.

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "What was that supposed to mean?" she asked, grinning as she wandered back toward the cushions.

Harry flushed slightly. "Remus… he's sort of taken on the role of my fun uncle. He likes to tease me about you. And, well… our alone time."

Ginny's smile faded into a frown. "What does he even know about our alone time? Why is everyone so interested in our private time?"

Harry dropped next to her, groaning. "Apparently, being a werewolf means he has heightened senses. And, er… he could sort of smell that we're not exactly innocent."

Ginny stared at him, wide-eyed. "Oh my Merlin. How am I supposed to look him in the eyes ever again?"

They exchanged equally horrified expressions—then both burst out laughing.

"So… shower after being with you when we're seeing him again, you're saying?" Ginny managed between giggles.

Harry laughed louder. "Yeah. Scourgify apparently doesn't cut it."

Eventually, their laughter faded, and they collapsed onto their backs. The cushion beneath them had given up, squashed flat under their weight. Their shoulders touched, warm and easy.

"What did you mean earlier," Harry asked, turning his head toward her, "about people being too interested in our private time? Who else?"

Ginny smirked. "Demelza and Theo, mostly. Theo asked me how big your dick is."

Harry snorted. "Merlin's pants, he's nosy. What did you tell him?"

"That it's the biggest one I've ever seen, obviously," Ginny replied breezily.

Harry turned to her, eyes dark with amusement and a hint of something deeper. "It's the only one you've ever seen."

She grinned, matching his tone. "Well, duh."

The teasing faded into stillness. Then they were kissing again, the heat between them rising quickly, sparked by their shared laughter and comfort. Harry's hand slid into her hair as her fingers tugged his jumper free, and the world fell away in the hush of candlelight and racing hearts.

They didn't go all the way—both of them felt that it was way too soon for such big steps—but their private encounters were growing more spirited as they explored each other's bodies with hands and mouths, slowly discovering just how much they could share.

Much later, they lay tangled together on the stone floor, the transfigured cushions forgotten beneath them. Their clothes were scattered in soft piles, and their limbs were warm and heavy against each other. The Room kept the chill out, wrapping them in a blanket of stillness.

Ginny's head rested on Harry's chest, her fingers drawing idle circles on his skin. His arm was curled around her back, and he was looking at the ceiling, dazed in that peaceful way that only came after letting your guard down completely.

"You know," he said after a long silence, voice rough but content, "I never imagined I'd feel this calm again."

Ginny pressed a kiss to his collarbone. "Me neither."

He glanced down at her. "Do you think it's okay to want this… even with everything else going on?"

She didn't answer right away. When she did, her voice was quiet but certain.

"It has to be. Because if we stop wanting things like this… what are we even fighting for?"

Harry hesitated, the quiet between them thickening with something heavier. He lifted his head, a crease forming between his brows.

"I meant to ask you… and I hate to bring this up now, and kill the atmosphere… but…" He trailed off, looking at her worriedly. "Gin, do you remember Parseltounge?"

Ginny tensed, and for a moment, Harry felt a pang of regret. He could see the shift in her eyes, the subtle tightness in her shoulders. She bit her lip, clearly struggling with the question.

"I think I do," she answered after a pause, voice cautious. "But I never wanted to try it. After… everything with Tom, I've been too scared." She looked down, her fingers absently tracing a pattern on his chest. "I don't want to have anything in common with him. Ever again."

Harry's heart ached at the hurt in her tone. He gently cupped her face, tilting it so she met his eyes.

"Ginny," he said softly, his voice full of reassurance. "I don't think it would have to be like that. We can make it ours. You know, it doesn't have to be about Tom. It could be something cool, just the two of us can do. Something we can do together, something we can turn into something good. We can make it ours, separate it from him."

Ginny swallowed, still hesitant. But the warmth of Harry's gaze was steady, and the sincerity in his words started to soften the worry in her chest.

"I just don't want to carry that part of him with me. You know?" she whispered, her voice thick with uncertainty.

Harry nodded, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "I know. But I really think… if we're careful, we can reshape it. It can be a part of us—our thing, not his."

Ginny exhaled slowly, her body relaxing against his. "I guess... maybe it wouldn't be as bad as I think."

Harry smiled, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "You don't have to do anything you're not ready for. But if you want to try, I'll be right here with you."

The room fell into another stretch of silence, but this time, it felt lighter. The weight of their worries was there, but it was tempered by the comfort they found in each other's presence.

Ginny rested her head back on his chest, her hand still tracing gentle patterns on his skin. "I'll think about it," she murmured, the tension easing from her voice. "But for now, I think I just want to be here. With you."

Harry's heart swelled. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

….

Harry was surprised the following morning when a school owl arrived at breakfast, delivering a letter to him. He was sitting with Hermione and Neville, while Ron sat with Lavender and her friends, as he had for the past few days. Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise as he recognized the handwriting on the envelope.

His gaze flicked toward the Head Table, where he noticed Professor Dumbledore watching him intently. Harry turned his attention back to the letter and carefully opened it.

Dear Harry,

I write to you with the deepest regret about our previous encounter. I realize that our parting was not as it should have been, and I deeply regret the way things ended. In hindsight, I understand that I was not as forthcoming as I should have been, and I failed to explain myself and my actions fully. This was not only unfair to you but also a disservice to the trust we have always shared.

I wish to express my sincerest apologies for not offering you the transparency and understanding you deserve. The burden of certain truths has weighed heavily on me, and it was never my intention to leave you in the dark, especially when the weight of your journey is already so great.

If you are willing, I would be honored to meet with you again. I would like to invite you to my office this afternoon at 15:00, where I can finally share with you the full scope of the information I have withheld, and explain the reasons behind my decisions. I promise to be as open and honest with you as I should have been from the beginning.

Please know that there is no expectation, only a hope that you might give me the chance to speak with you again, should you choose to do so.

Yours sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore

Harry read the letter quickly before folding it back into its envelope, his thoughts racing. The anger he had felt toward the headmaster a few weeks ago had faded, but a slight hurt lingered. Dumbledore's silence and inaction had left their mark. Still, this letter was a step toward mending that gap.

In all honesty, Harry had lost the idealized image he once had of Dumbledore during these past two years. The headmaster's ignorance during Harry's fifth year, followed by his withholding of truths this year, had tarnished the man's image in Harry's eyes. But Harry also knew that Dumbledore was likely the most informed person he could turn to for the knowledge he needed in the days to come.

With that in mind, Harry decided to accept the invitation. He glanced back at the Head Table, meeting Dumbledore's gaze. The older man was still watching him closely, and Harry gave a small nod. The gesture was met with a faint, knowing smile from the headmaster.

After breakfast came Quidditch practice, which Harry approached with a sense of urgency. He wasn't going easy on his teammates. They still didn't have an update on Katie's health, and the next match was scheduled just after the Christmas holidays—barely two months away. The team still wasn't fully coordinated with their new addition, Dean, and Harry wasn't about to let them slack off. He needed them sharp, especially with the uncertainty surrounding their lead chaser.

After Quidditch practice, Harry spent a couple of hours buried in schoolwork. He managed to finish his Transfiguration essay and made decent progress on the Ancient Runes translation Hermione had helped him start. Still, he found it hard to concentrate. His thoughts kept drifting to Ginny—how her hand had felt in his earlier that morning, how natural it felt to curl up next to her, to talk, to laugh. He wished he could be with her now instead of holed up in the common room surrounded by textbooks and parchment.

A late lunch came and went, and when the time finally neared three o'clock, Harry made his way toward the Headmaster's office, stomach coiled in nerves.

The gargoyle guarding the entrance moved aside when he gave the password, and the spiral staircase carried him slowly upward. The familiar oak door stood open before he could even knock.

"Harry," Dumbledore greeted him with a warm smile. "Come in. Thank you for coming."

Harry stepped into the office cautiously. "I figured I should hear you out."

"Indeed," Dumbledore said gravely, gesturing for Harry to take the seat across from his desk. "And I promise you that today, I will share with you everything I have kept hidden."

There was no tea this time. No small talk. Dumbledore sat down and folded his hands in front of him, his face unusually serious.

"I will begin with something difficult—something dark," he said quietly. "But it is necessary. Harry, have you ever heard of a horcrux?"

Harry frowned, the unfamiliar word sticking strangely in his mind. "No… what is that?"

Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "A horcrux is a powerful and terrible kind of dark magic. It is the act of splitting one's soul and hiding a fragment of it inside an object. So long as that object remains intact, the person cannot truly die."

Harry stared at him. "You mean… someone could survive being killed?"

"Precisely," Dumbledore said. "And that is how Voldemort managed to come back, even after the curse rebounded on him that night in Godric's Hollow."

Harry felt a shiver of something cold and sick run through him. "He… he did that? He split his soul?"

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "Yes. I suspected it for a long time, but I had to be sure. The diary you destroyed in your second year—it was not just a cursed object. It was a horcrux. A piece of Voldemort's soul."

Harry felt like something heavy had settled in his chest. "It was part of his soul? So the tiara from the Room of Requirement…?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "You found another horcrux that day—Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem. It, too, was a horcrux. And it has also been destroyed."

Harry struggled to absorb this. "So… how many did he make?"

"That," Dumbledore said slowly, "is what we must find out. I do not know the exact number, but I believe Tom Riddle planned his soul splits deliberately. There is someone who might know—someone who was close to Riddle in his student years, and who was once persuaded to share information that should never have been spoken."

"Slughorn," Harry said, recalling their summer encounter and the way Dumbledore had hinted that Harry should cooperate with the new professor.

"Exactly. I believe Professor Slughorn holds a memory of a conversation he had with Riddle—a conversation that could reveal how many horcruxes he intended to make."

Harry frowned. "Why don't you just ask him?"

"I did," said Dumbledore. "And he lied. He gave me a memory that has been tampered with. I believe he doesn't want to remember the truth himself. But you, Harry—you have a gift. People confide in you. They trust you. I would like you to try again. Talk to Slughorn. Try to earn his confidence. If you can get him to share the original memory, it may be the key to everything."

Harry was quiet for a moment, absorbing the enormity of what he'd just learned. "So Voldemort's soul is… broken. And those pieces are still out there."

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "And until every piece is destroyed, he cannot be truly defeated."

Harry swallowed. "All right. I'll try to talk to Slughorn. Whatever it takes."

"Thank you, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly. "Your courage continues to humble me."

The room fell into silence. Harry's thoughts turned to the diary that had nearly cost Ginny her life before he even had a chance to really know her. Then he remembered the eerie feeling of the diadem, how vile it had been just to stand near it. How many more objects could be hidden across England—maybe even across the world?

The task at hand suddenly seemed much more daunting. He'd believed that if he trained properly and had a bit of luck, he might be able to survive one more duel with Voldemort. It wouldn't be easy, but it felt straightforward. Now, though, there was another necessity: to find an unknown number of unknown objects in unknown places.

The fragile dream of a future he had only just begun to imagine crumbled in front of his eyes. This felt… impossible.

"Do you have any idea where the next one could be?" Harry asked, desperation creeping into his voice.

"As a matter of fact, I do," said Dumbledore, smiling gently. He opened a drawer in his desk and pulled something out—a locket.

Harry's breath caught in his throat. "Is it another one?"

"Unfortunately, no. But it's a lead to the next one," Dumbledore said. "Over the summer, I retraced Riddle's steps from his youth. I discovered that the children from his orphanage used to be taken to the seaside during the holidays. One of the carers I spoke to mentioned something had happened there—something that left the other children terrified of Tom. I followed that lead to a cave. Inside, beneath many unpleasant defenses, I found this."

He opened the locket and removed a folded piece of parchment hidden inside. He handed it to Harry, who unfolded it and read:

To the Dark Lord
I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret.
I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can.
I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more.

R.A.B.

"So someone else is hunting them?" Harry asked with a glimmer of hope. "Do you think R.A.B. managed to destroy any of them?"

"This means that someone was hunting them," Dumbledore said sadly. "But I believe that person is long gone. Regulus Arcturus Black—Sirius's younger brother."

Harry stared at him, eyes wide. "Regulus?"

"I've been searching for his identity since late September, when I found the locket," Dumbledore explained. "It took longer than I expected. But in the end, it was surprisingly simple—I compared the handwriting to some old essays by students with matching initials. Fortunately, Professor McGonagall keeps every bit of schoolwork ever submitted to her."

Harry looked down at the note again, his mind reeling. "So… do we think Regulus destroyed the real locket?"

"No. We cannot assume that. Now we must find out what happened to him—and where he hid the real horcrux. Our first step should be to visit Grimmauld Place."

Harry considered whether Dumbledore had only brought him here because he needed Harry's permission to enter the Black family home. As its rightful owner, it might be illegal for Dumbledore to go without him. But as he looked at the note again, thinking about horcruxes, he realized he didn't care.

What mattered was that he finally knew the truth. Maybe Dumbledore had kept secrets for his own reasons—but Harry was in the mission now. The why didn't matter anymore.

"Alright," he said. "We should go there and look for it."

Dumbledore beamed at him once more. They agreed to visit the old Black house next Friday.

Harry left Dumbledore's office with his head spinning, the cool corridor outside feeling strangely unreal compared to the weight of what he'd just learned. Voldemort's soul was split. Horcruxes existed. And Harry was supposed to find them.

He was halfway down the staircase when a thought struck him—Ginny. He needed to talk to her. No one else grounded him like she did lately, and he needed that more than ever right now. Her laugh, her calm defiance, the way she always said what she thought—it cut through the noise in his head.

But the moment hope bloomed in his chest, it died just as quickly.

Right. She was in the library. With Theo.

On a date. A fake date, he reminded himself bitterly, not that it helped much.

Harry shoved his hands into his pockets and turned toward Gryffindor Tower instead. Maybe Ron or Hermione would be there. He couldn't say any of this aloud, of course—not yet—but he just wanted someone near. Someone familiar.

The common room was empty when he arrived, bathed in the soft glow of the late afternoon sun filtering through the tall windows. It was unusually quiet, save for the soft ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner. No sign of Hermione. No Ron sprawled on the couch moaning about homework.

He sighed. "Great."

Without much hope, he climbed the stairs to the boys' dormitory. Maybe Ron had gone back for a nap or something.

He pushed the door open—

—and instantly wished he hadn't.

"Bloody hell—Harry!"

Ron was half-dressed and scrambling for a blanket, while Lavender shrieked and dove behind the bed curtains, her golden hair vanishing in a flash.

Harry froze in the doorway, utterly mortified. "I—sorry—I didn't—Merlin—"

"Get out!" Ron yelled, his face redder than Harry had ever seen it, which was saying something.

"I am!" Harry spun around and slammed the door behind him, standing there for a second in the hallway, stunned. Then he slowly dragged a hand down his face.

Brilliant. Just brilliant.

No Ginny. No Ron. No Hermione. Just a pile of destroyed soul fragments and the romantic misadventures of his best friend.

He turned on his heel and headed back down the stairs, not sure where he was going, only knowing he couldn't sit still with this much in his head.

Thankfully, on his way out of the common room, Harry ran into Neville, who was just coming back from the greenhouses, his hands still covered in soil.

"You don't want to go to the dormitory, trust me," Harry said without preamble. "Let's hang out in the Room of Requirement instead?"

Neville blinked at him in confusion but nodded, following without question.

The Room transformed into a cozy sitting room, complete with a small fireplace and a separate bathroom where Neville could clean up. A few minutes later, he emerged, wiping his hands on a towel, and gave Harry a questioning look.

"Ron and Lavender," Harry explained grimly. "Saw way more of them than I ever intended to. If he ever says anything to me again about Ginny and me being inconsiderate, I'm going to hex him. Bloody hypocrite."

Neville snorted with laughter. "Yeah… I walked in on them yesterday afternoon. I don't know why he doesn't just close the curtains around his bed."

Harry shook his head, grateful for the laugh, even if his thoughts were still tangled with Dumbledore's revelations. He didn't feel like sharing that with Neville, though. So instead, they pulled out a deck of Exploding Snap and played a few rounds, the loud pops and occasional burns doing wonders to ease Harry's tension.

Still, Neville wasn't Ginny, and Harry found himself glancing toward the door more than once, hoping she might appear.

And then, as if summoned by thought alone, the door creaked open—and in came Ginny, Hermione, and, surprisingly, even Ron.

When they had first set the Room of Requirement as their personal meeting space, they'd agreed the door would appear for any of them—plus Luna. Only in moments when Harry was there alone with Ginny did he ever wish the room would refuse to open to anyone else.

Ron flopped onto one of the armchairs, smirking as if the world had treated him to a private joke. "So, uh… hope I didn't traumatize you earlier, mate," he said casually, shooting Harry a grin. "Not my fault girls keep throwing themselves at me."

Hermione, who had just conjured a teapot for them all, froze mid-motion.

Harry's jaw clenched. Ginny raised an eyebrow. Neville looked down at his cards, clearly wishing to disappear.

Hermione set the teapot down a little too hard, her expression unreadable. "I don't have time for this," she said stiffly, and without another word, she turned on her heel and left the room.

The door closed behind her with a quiet snap.

Harry stood up slowly, his entire body humming with the tension that had been building all day—from the moment he walked into Dumbledore's office to the sight of Lavender's bare leg draped across Ron's bed. And now this.

He looked down at Ron, not yelling, but his voice was tight and low, filled with quiet fury.

"You're being a bloody hypocrite."

Ron blinked at him. "What?"

"You act like Ginny and I so much as talking to each other is the worst thing in the world. Meanwhile, you're—what—parading around with Lavender like she's some sort of prize?" Harry shook his head. "It's gross, Ron. You don't even care about her."

Ron flushed. "I do too care about her—"

"No, you don't," Harry cut in, not backing down. "You like the attention. You like feeling wanted. And maybe that's understandable, but it doesn't make what you're doing okay. You're hurting people. People who actually matter."

Ron looked like he wanted to argue, but Harry didn't give him the chance.

"You were so wrapped up in feeling sorry for yourself, you didn't even notice the person who's been right in front of you the whole time."

The silence that followed felt sharp, crackling with the weight of everything unsaid. Ginny watched Harry with wide eyes, and Neville seemed to be holding his breath.

Harry exhaled and sat back down heavily, rubbing a hand through his hair. "I didn't mean to… I just—today's been a lot."

Ron looked stricken. He didn't say anything, but his ears were red, and he kept glancing at the door Hermione had gone through as if it might open again.

It didn't.

Ron stood up from his chair and walked to the door without a word. He had looked so full of himself just a minute ago—now, he looked ashamed. Good, Harry thought. He recognized that his best friend still had some growing up to do.

"Close the bloody curtains next time, yeah?" Harry called after him, not bothering to hide the bitterness in his voice.

Ron didn't look back.