Harry Potter and Unexpected Beginnings

Chapter seven

Work in the attic continued until late in the day, when Misty arrived to inform them all that dinner was ready. They had spent the last five hours cleaning, dusting, exterminating, and sweeping, until at last Mrs. Weasley announced that the room was finished to her satisfaction. They had found over two dozen hiding places of Kreacher's, each one containing a great deal of confiscated, stolen or filched items Sirius had thrown out last year. There were old, torn pictures of the Black family, old letters, jewelry, broken wands, mismatched knitting needles, torn blankets and towels, rusty pots and pans, and even old dresses that had once belonged to the former mistress of the house.

Following Fred and George down the stairs, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny left the attic feeling much worse, than they looked, which was in itself, pretty bad. They were all sore, with blisters and splinters covering their hands. Mrs. Weasley promised everyone that she would administer to their injuries and wounds, once they were clean. Harry listened to the twins discussing their ideas regarding their experiments. Harry had told them they could use the now clean room to create more of their original jokes and treats for their little shop, just so long as they promised not to blow anything up. Harry was surprised that Mrs. Weasley wasn't all that upset anymore, that her sons had dropped out of Hogwart's last year and started their own joke shop. It might have been due to the fact that they were quite successful businessmen. It may also have been attributed to their not turning their backs on their parents, as their older brother Percy had done.

Harry and Ron stepped into their room, each eager to take a shower. They drew lots to see who would be first, and much to Harry's disappointment, Ron won. He left the room, whistling. Harry fell back on his bed, exhausted, kicking off the new shoes that Misty had gotten for him, in Diagon Alley. He heard a noise in the painting near the door, and looked up to see nobody there, but knew who it was. He laid his head back against the pillow, raising his arms above his head, and closing his eyes. He couldn't imagine a single muscle in his body that didn't hurt, but at least he was more fit than Ron and the twins were. They were still accusing him for their morning run, for the majority of their aches and pains. Harry sighed as he thought back on how much had happened to him that day, from the near duel with Snape, to the spiders Fred and George had used engorgement spells on to chase Ron on top of an old, dust filled dresser, to the kiss Ginny had given him. If it wasn't for his living that day, he would have sworn you couldn't possibly have fit that much into a single span of roughly twelve hours.

The room was warm and silent with the last rays of sunshine drifting in the window, casting shadows across the room. Harry felt the soft lull of the moment, drifting him into a light slumber. He awoke with a start, when Ron returned to the room, tossing his clothes to the floor and swinging the door shut behind him. Harry glanced to him, seeing the wet mop of hair dripping down his neck, soaking into his shirt collar. He closed his eyes again, as his friend began his relentless complaining, about his sore muscles and blistered hands. Harry listened with only half an ear, trying to relax for a little while longer.

"If you're too sore to go to Diagon Alley, I'm sure Hermione will understand," Harry said softly, his eyes still closed, a smile turning the corners of his mouth up.

"That's not funny, Harry," Ron complained. "You know how long I've wanted to ask her out, and now you think I'm going to let a few bruises, and broken bones stop me? Are you mental?" Harry chuckled softly.

"You don't have any broken bones, Ron," he assured his friend.

"I might as well, considering how many spiders were trying to chew off my ankles. I don't know what I did to deserve brothers like Fred and George." Harry continued to smile, taking a deep breath, as he tried to relax his mind.

"Speaking of relatives," Ron began, making certain Harry was listening to him. "What happened between you and Ginny? You were gone a long time, and then you turned up with her, and practically snogged her brains out on the stairs." Harry didn't answer for several minutes, trying to consider what he should say. Ron was his best friend, and it was difficult not talking to him about this. He also knew since he was the girl's older brother, that he would demand to know details. Rolling over on his side and facing Ron, Harry rested his head on his hand, looking first to the worn carpet, then to the boy sitting on the bed opposite him.

"I went to look for Ginny as I said, and ran into her on the stairs. We talked for a few minutes until the twins headed upstairs. I wasn't all that anxious to have them laughing at me for asking their little sister out, so we went into Sirius's den. She said she had a birthday present for me, and she said she had wanted to give me this present for several years, but was afraid I would laugh at her."

"So what did she give you?" Harry looked at the boy, and then sat up on his bed, folding his legs beneath him, Indian style.

"A kiss," he told Ron honestly, watching as Ron's mouth dropped open.

"Excuse me?"

"She gave me a kiss. And at first it was really weird, because I've always thought of her as a sister. I didn't know what to do."

"So what did you do?"

"I just sort of stood there. I didn't want to hurt her feelings or anything, but I didn't know how to react."

"How did she take it, when you turned her down?" Harry looked at the boy, locking his gaze with his own.

"I didn't' turn her down, Ron," Harry told him boldly. "At first, I didn't know what to do, but then when she pulled away, I realized that I didn't want it to end."

"What does that mean?" Harry could see the curiosity as well as he anger building in his friend's eyes, knowing there was a blow up about to commence.

"After she kissed me, we talked a little, and then I kissed her back, and it just felt right. When I held her in my arms, it felt like I had just learned to breathe. I was warm and for the first time in my life, I felt alive. I care for her, Ron. In a way I never knew I could."

"But she's my sister," Ron snapped angrily.

"Yes she is, but she's not mine." Ron stood up, his face turning as purple as Uncle Vernon's.

"You kissed my sister, Potter! Have you gone stark raving mad?"

"Calm down Ron," Harry tried to reason. "It's not as bad as it sounds."

"No, nothing could be as bad as you saying you were snogging my kid sister...and holding her!" Just then the door opened, and Hermione walked in, followed close behind by the girl in question.

"What's the matter with you, Ron?" Hermione asked, looking at the red face confronting Harry. "We could hear you shouting all the way downstairs."

"Him," he answered with a wave of his hand. "He's been kissing my sister."

"And what's wrong with that?" asked Ginny.

"What's wrong with it? You're like a sister to him, it's practically incest."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous," Hermione argued, her attitude telling Harry that Ginny had already told her everything that had happened.

"Ron, calm down, it's not as bad as all that," Harry said, trying to defuse the situation.

"No, nothing could be as what I'm thinking, and if you ever do what I am thinking..." Ron didn't finish his sentence, he couldn't. Harry saw it coming, as his friend suddenly reacted, jumping across the bed toward him. Harry didn't have time to react, as Ron suddenly flew across the room, landing hard against the opposite wall. Harry looked first to Ron who tried to console himself, rubbing the back of his head, then turned to look at Ginny, who was standing with her wand pointing at her brother.

"You will not touch Harry, Ronald Weasley. I'm the one who started this, and I'm glad I did, so stop acting like a stupid git. Harry is my choice, and you will not do anything to harm him." Ron watched as his little sister walked out the door, and looked back to Harry. Without a word, Harry gathered his clean clothes together, leaving his two best friends alone, while he went to take a shower. He walked to the bathroom, tossing his clothes to the back of the toilet, and locking the door. He turned the water on in the shower; stripped out of the clothes he'd been wearing the entire day, and sat his glasses on the side of the sink. He climbed in beneath the water, feeling it wash the cobwebs and dirt from his tired limbs. He tried to concentrate on relaxing, but all he could think about was Ginny. She was so much more than he had ever imagined. She was beautiful and sweet, warm and loving, stubborn and strong willed. She was the air he breathed and the light that shined in the sky. He couldn't believe it had only been a few hours since she had given him his present. It felt like he had been awakened from a life long slumber, and discovered he was falling in love with his best friend's little sister.

"Potter," he told himself. "Ron's right. You are mental."

A knock on the bathroom door, reminded him that there were other people in need of a shower, and quickly finished. He lathered his hair and washed the dirt from his face and neck, before rinsing and turning off the water. He climbed out of the shower, rubbing his hair roughly with the towel before wrapping it around his waist. He wiped the fog from the mirror and staring at the image looking back at him. He seemed to not recognize the face; he appeared older, yet happy, for the first time since he didn't know when. He knew the reason behind this transformation, had long red hair and tasted like strawberries. She was the reason he wanted to live, she was the reason he was now smiling.

Harry tried to dry his hair with his wand, but gave up, knowing it was useless. His hair would was destined to be messy; it always had been and always would be. He pulled his clean jeans across his damp legs, tugged the green tee shirt across his torso, and replaced his glasses to his nose before hanging the towel up on the hook and leaving the room.

Inside the room he shared with Ron, Harry found himself alone. He felt an odd sort of relief. He wasn't ready to deal with another confrontation. He sat on his bed, tossing the dirty clothes to the end, and began lacing his trainers back across his feet. He had just opened the door to leave, when he heard something in the picture next to him. Turning, he saw the image of the Phineas Nigellus leaning against the side of the painting, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Hello, sir," Harry said, thinking that the image of Sirius's great-great-grandfather looked much older and sadder than he had a few months ago. "How have you been?" The image only nodded.

"Seems a little quieter around here, lately," Phineas said softly. Harry nodded, unable to really comment.

"I never told you, how sorry I am," Harry began. "I never told him, how much he meant to me."

"He knew," Phineas said softly. "He was very proud of you. I don't think he could have loved you more, if you were his own child. You can't find him, you know? Nobody has ever come back from the veil."

"I know, Dumbledore told me, but that doesn't stop me from wishing."

"So much regret in such a young life," Phineas commented. Harry just stared at the floor. "You're a lot like your father. He was always hoping, always wishing things would be different, too."

"What was my father like?" Harry asked suddenly, unaware that he had even asked the question.

"Like you, emotional, head strong, determined. Always rushing into things without thought of what might lie beyond. You remind me so much me of both of them, Sirius and James, with a little bit of your mother added, just to balance you off."

"I wish I could have known him."

"Sirius always said that too. He missed your father's friendship. They were more like brothers than friends, much like you and your angry friend are. You should have heard the argument your bushy haired friend had with him, after you left," Phineas chuckled. "I'd be surprised if he wasn't crawling down the stairs behind her."

"He just worries about his sister."

"As do you. You don't need to, you know. She's a strong girl."

"I know, but that won't prevent Voldemort from harming her, if it means getting to me."

"Don't underestimate your friends, Potter." Phineas pushed away from the edge of the painting, and walking to the other side. "You're stronger than you think, even Dumbledore thinks so. Don't give up the faith, Potter, and don't turn away from those who love you. They are stronger than you may think." With that said, Phineas disappeared from the painting, making Harry think he had probably returned to Dumbledore's office.

Harry stepped out of the room, walking past the bathroom, when he heard Ginny inside, singing. He smiled, stopping to listen. How had he survived so long without her? He leaned against the wall next to the door and listened as Ginny continued to sing. He never knew what happiness felt like. He had always felt Hogwart's was his home, but he had never anticipated that life would exist for him outside of those castle walls. With the simple touch of her lips on his, she had opened up his heart to feel a love he never knew existed. He couldn't blame Ron for wanting to protect her. Harry knew he would do whatever it took to protect her too. Even if it meant, surrendering his own life. He only hoped Voldemort would never learn of his feelings for her. He already knew how deeply Harry cared for the Weasleys and because of that, they were at risk. He couldn't allow anything to happen to her, because he had fallen in love with her.

Just as he was about to abandon his eavesdropping and head downstairs, he heard the door unlock. Quietly he eased away from his perch, hiding against the wall between the bathroom door, and another. He waited silently, a mischievous feeling coming over him. He saw her start to walk by, her long red hair flowing down her back, her slender build calling out to him. Without a second thought, Harry reached out, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her into the empty room behind him. He closed the door and pushed her against it, capturing her mouth with his, as she opened it to speak. Ginny felt him slip his tongue awkwardly into the dark recesses, teasing hers with the tip of his own. Ginny moaned softly, causing Harry to push against her firmer, as she wound her arms around his neck.

"Mr. Potter," she asked, when he finally released her lips, and began kissing his way across her cheek to her ear. "Just what do you think you're doing?" She tried to sound stern, but failed miserably, not that she minded though. Harry chuckled, kissing the tender flesh beneath her ear, causing her to shiver with an excitement she had never known.

"It's not my fault," he whispered, nipping at her earlobe. "I heard the sweet song of siren and knew I was done for." Ginny giggled, tilting her head back so he could explore her neck. Harry kissed the soft spot of flesh, where her neck joined her shoulder, then back up, across her jaw line, over her cheek, to her eyelids, down to the tip of her nose and finally back to her lips. The kiss was intoxicating, and Ginny found herself drinking in his sweetness, wrapping her arms around his neck tighter. She never wanted this day to end.

"We should go down to dinner," she argued weakly when he again released her mouth, trailing kisses across the opposite side of her face and neck. She slid her arms down his chest, and back up to his shoulder, caressing the tight muscles beneath the thin material of his shirt. "My mum will send out the entire Order, to find us if we don't make an appearance pretty soon."

"True," he said gently, continuing his explorations of her neck. "But I seem to have a very serious problem."

"What's that," she whispered, feeling the warmth spread through her body, as he reached behind her, wrapping his arms around her tiny waist.

"I don't want to stop," he told her, receiving a happy giggle in response. Harry smiled, kissing her lips again, before releasing her from where he had pinned her to the door. Ginny smiled happily at him, watching the warmth of his smile reach his eyes.

"Promise me, you'll do this again soon?" she pleaded with him, as he turned her toward the door.

"Any time, any place," he assured her, then froze as he took in the sights of the dimly lit room, where he had pulled her. Ginny looked at him, frowning as he stared at the large bed, with the red and gold comforter.

"Harry, what's wrong?" she asked him, seeing a mixture of fear and grief cross his face.

"It's Sirius's room," he whispered, taking not of the dusty contents. It looked as if Sirius had just left it, his old cloak laying unceremoniously on the back of he large velvet, wingback chair next to the large four-poster bed, his mud-caked boots on the floor at the foot of the bed. Along the wall to this right, situated between the two windows sat a large oak desk. A number of parchments strewn across, along with an open bottle of ink and a quill left lying on top of something he had been writing. Harry recognized the letter that lay open on the desktop, as he walked toward it. It was the last one Harry had sent to his godfather, telling him of Umbridge and Filch's control they had on the school. He felt a sudden stab of pain. He should never have been so selfish, as to write to his godfather, complaining about things he couldn't help with. Harry lifted the quill and looked at the parchment beneath. There lay a letter Sirius had started to him, but never had a chance to send it. Harry picked it up with shaking fingers, reading the familiar scrawl.

Dear Harry,

I wish I cold be there to help you with Umbridge and Filch. I know this is a difficult time for you, and I'm sorry. I know it can't be easy seeing Malfoy with so much authority, knowing what his father is, but be patient just a little longer. I can't believe the Weasley twins dropped out, though I can say it's not a total surprise. School was never really meant for them. They stayed on for Dumbledore's sake. With the headmaster gone, there was really no reason for them to remain. I know Dumbledore will find a way of saving the school, he always does.

Harry, I was wondering if you would like to spend the summer with me? I've already taken the liberty of arranging for a trip to Africa; it will be a real holiday, just the two of us.

Have you opened your Christmas present yet, Harry. If not, do so soon. It will all be explained, when you do.

I hope to see you soon, Harry. I wish I could do more to help you, but know that I am there with you, and always will be.

I miss you,

Sirius

Harry folded the letter; tears streaking freely down his cheeks. He wiped them away with the back of his hand, as he quietly slipped the letter into his pocket. He turned around and scanned the room's décor a little closer. The closet door in the corner of the room stood open, with a number of articles laying about the floor, where Sirius had tossed them. Against the wall, at the foot of the bed stood a tall six-drawer dresse, with a round mirror above it. Harry stepped up to it, looking at the objects scattered across the top. There was a number of galleons, as well as several Muggle coins, a small black comb, a pocket watch with a broken face, and hands that didn't want to move, a rolled up parchment with a red ribbon, and a black leather wallet. Harry took the parchment and unrolled it. It was confirmation and an itinerary for the trip he planned to take with Harry this year. Then he noticed the date. They were to leave today, on his sixteenth birthday. Harry rolled the parchment up again, unwilling to deal with the pain of what might have been.

He picked up the wallet and opened it. Inside was great deal of paper Muggle money, a picture of Lupin, Sirius, and his father when they were still in school, all smiling and waving at him. There was also a picture of a sleeping baby Harry, with the inscription:

To Uncle Sirius, with love from your godson, Harry.

Inside was another picture, a still photo, a Muggle photo of a woman with long ebony hair, and blue eyes. She was very attractive and appeared to be around twenty years of age. On the back was a handwritten note, which read:

My beloved Sirius, I'll love you today and forever, Sara.

Harry handed the wallet and the pictures to Ginny who stood by his side, then turned and walked toward the four-poster bed. Ginny looked at the pictures, and then sat them along with the wallet back to the dresser. She turned to see Harry sitting on the edge of the bed, his tears running down his cheeks unchecked. She went to him, placing her hand on his shoulder. In his hand was a small mirror, the other end to the one he had given Harry for Christmas the year before.

"It was a link between us, so we could communicate," he told her through his tears. "I never opened it, I just put it in my trunk. I found it when I was packing to for the summer. If I had only opened it, if I had only known about it, I could have contacted him, I could have found out Kreacher had lied, that the whole thing was a set up, but I didn't. If I had only..." Harry's voice broke as he began to sob uncontrollably. Ginny reached toward him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Harry immediately picked her up from the bed, sitting her on his lap and burying his face in her shoulder. He held onto her as if she were a lifeline. He didn't want to let her go, ever.

The door to the room opened cautiously, and the head of Mrs. Weasley poked through. She saw her daughter holding Harry, and heard his cries of grief, then slowly shut the door again. When Moody's magical eye had seen them together, and told her they were alone in an upstairs bedroom, she panicked. She didn't know what was happening between her daughter, and the boy she loved as a son, but she could guess, after the way they had spent the day looking at each other. She hurried up the stairs, concerned for her daughter's virtue, but after finding them together, she realized that Ginny would never be in trouble with Harry. He would protect her, and she would save him. He may eventually be the boy who would save the wizarding world, yet again, but Ginny Weasley was the girl, who would save the boy from himself.

Phineas Nigellus had indeed returned to Dumbledore's office, just as Harry had anticipated. He looked down from his painting at the old wizard, and frowned. He seemed older, every time he looked at him. Dumbledore, having heard the old headmaster's return, sat his quill aside, and looked up at him.

"It's as you suspected," Phineas commented. "Potter and girl are together. The four have joined at last, as the prophecy's predictions are coming to light." Dumbledore smiled.

"His premonitions have lead us to a key, Voldemort would never have expected," The image of Headmaster Dippet commented. "It was predicted that the mother's blood would be strong, and through the son, the fall would be evident. The prophecy is coming to pass."

"What will the boy say, when he finds out you didn't tell him the whole prophecy?" asked an elderly witch, sitting in a large wingback chair, her painted black hat falling into her plump round face.

"I will deal with that when the time comes," Dumbledore said softly.

"You had better get a few more possessions, if you plan on telling him here," Dippet commented. "After his last visit, you haven't many left."

"The prophecy also predicted another," Phineas commented; bring the subject back to the one most important on their minds. Dumbledore nodded.

"The fifth point of the star," the aged wizard commented, placing his fingers together as he thought.

"That one won't be so easy," Phineas said, sitting in the painted seat of his portrait. "The fifth one may be difficult to convince."

"There will be no convincing. The prophecy has foretold of the five, and it will be completed soon enough. Fate has already dictated their destinies."

"And if the fifth one is persuaded otherwise, then what happens?" Dumbledore looked up

over the rim of his half moon glasses.

"It that happens, then all is lost."