Backfire

CHAPTER 1

Seventh of the Seventh or What Lucius Malfoy Forgot

This was not how it was supposed to go.

The alliance she had so carefully constructed with her youngest brother had fallen apart, and here she was, fending for herself again. The story of my life. He would get his, but for now, she had to hide.

She was crouched, half-sitting in a large cupboard, trying to breathe as quietly as humanly possible. The silence was deafening. She fell into a bit of a trance as she concentrated solely on breathing and the small piece of wood protruding from the wall that was jabbing her in the kidney. She was startled by the sound of small feet lightly treading on the carpet, and her head jerked toward the noise. She held her breath, even though it couldn't possibly be--No, it couldn't be. . . The steps slowed and grew nearer, finally stopping. The door opened.

"Miss Wheezy?"

"Dobby?!" His big eyes gazed back at her, perplexed.

"What is you doing here?"

"Shh!" She heard distant pounding on the stairs, maybe two flights down, but rising. "Quick! Get in here!" She tugged the very confused house elf into the cupboard with her--not an easy task. She had barely fit before, and adding a friend, small though he was, made it a tight fit indeed. As she heard the loud clomping of footsteps come up the stairs, it was accompanied by voices she knew all too well.

"Where the bloody hell did she go?" That was Ron, the traitor. She could tell by the exasperated tone and the gratuitous swearing.

"Have we checked everywhere?" Leave it to George, the methodical one, to get them back on track.

"It's not like she's still six, for Merlin's sake. There aren't that many places she could be!" And there was Fred, to round out the trio.

"Wish we had a Marauder's Map for this bloody place," Ron whined. Ginny smirked to herself and Dobby turned to look at her.

"Is Miss hiding from the other Wheezys?" he whispered, no longer puzzled by her odd behavior. She nodded. Dobby nodded back, as if her answer had indicated a particular action he was to take. Ginny tried not to worry, but she was well aware of all the times Dobby had tried to "help" Harry and was not encouraged by his track record.

Dobby got very still for a moment, and then all four Weasleys (those in plain sight and not) heard a violent crash and clanging that sounded suspiciously like the pots and pans had been disturbed in the kitchen. The three boys jumped at the sudden noise, looked at each other with wide eyes as if Christmas had come early, and took off stampeding back down the stairs. Ginny looked down at Dobby with a grin, which he returned. They half-fell out of the cupboard, and Dobby grabbed Ginny's hand as she went to brush off her shorts.

"Miss should follow Dobby. He is knowing a good trick she can play!" Dobby looked predictably excited about potentially being able to help, and Ginny allowed him to lead her away. He took her down the hall, the opposite way from the stairs her brothers had just trampled down. They had almost reached the end of the hall when Dobby stopped Ginny in front of what appeared to be just a plain, empty wall. Ginny watched as the elf pointed to the wall, mumbling something.

At one point the tip of his finger glowed briefly and went out, which seemed to bring him some level of satisfaction. Quite unexpectedly, he reached up and unceremoniously grabbed her hand again, yanking it to point at the wall as he had done moments before. He started mumbling again, and this time the tip of her finger glowed before going out. As it did so, Ginny felt a soothing warmth at the end of her finger, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. She turned to the house elf in curiosity, just as he looked up at her.

"It is just as Dobby is thinking." Dobby appeared quite pleased with Ginny, apparently because her finger had glowed. Then more excited: "the big Wheezys will never be following Miss into here!" And with that he took off into the wall, as if it were the entrance to Platform 9¾. Ginny stood there, struck dumb, until a small hand reached out and yanked her through the wall as well.

Once she had decided that Dobby had indeed pulled her through a wall, and that she had made it to the other side in one piece, she chuckled. The "big Wheezys." He wasn't kidding. As far as Ginny was concerned her brothers were obnoxiously tall compared to her newly broken 5'5". The twins stood at a respectable 6 feet, while Ron towered at what must have been 6'3". The twins had filled out more than Ron, but Ginny was not excited about the prospect of wrestling her youngest brother once his muscles finally caught up with his height. He could stay lanky for as long as he liked, thank you very much.

Ginny followed Dobby down what was obviously a shortcut for house elves, seeing as she had to bend down to walk through it. They went down a couple flights of mini steps, until they had nearly reached the end. Ginny had a hunch it opened to the kitchen. Dobby stopped and turned.

"Dobby is thinking that Miss is wanting revenge on Harry Potter's Wheezy." Wow, he's good. Probably has some special elf magic that lets him know everything that goes on in the house. Yes, Ron would get what was coming to him. She smiled in a way that would have made even Fred and George cringe with dread.

"Yes, I do, Dobby. Can you help me with that?" Such a helpful little guy, she thought bemusedly. Dobby seemed to understand.

"Miss should be watching what Dobby is doing, and be copying, okay?" He turned gleefully toward the entrance to the kitchen. Ginny stopped, and frantically pulled him back.

"But Dobby, I can't do magic outside of Hogwarts! I'll get in trouble! Harry almost got expelled last year and he was protecting himself!" Ginny's expression drooped as she pondered the loss of her sweet, sweet revenge. But, as always, Dobby remained undaunted.

"But Miss isn't to be using her wand! So Miss isn't to be getting caught! Dobby is knowing that the minister isn't finding magic without Miss using a wand." Ginny remained skeptical about the probability of not getting caught; for the moment, she brushed aside even exploring the notion of performing wandless magic on her own. . . In a secret passage. . .of the bloody Black family mansion. . .with Dobby.

"Dobby, are you sure?" Dobby's cheerfulness would not be repressed.

"Of course Dobby is sure, Miss! Dobby is knowing all about the different magics, and Miss should stop her worrying." Ginny decided that if Dobby was this confident, who was she to ruin their fun? Besides, the concern about getting in trouble assumed she could even do wandless magic in the first place. She nodded and followed Dobby to the wall that presumably led into the kitchen. She could hear her brothers still looking for her and talking to each other. Dobby waived his hand over part of the wall and it slowly turned into a liquid-like substance that--Ginny gasped--allowed her to see right into the kitchen! It was like a liquid window and she strongly suspected that the viewing only went one way.

"This is brilliant, Dobby!" she whispered. He beamed. "What do we do next?!"

Dobby nodded once and turned back toward the liquid window, pointing at something in the kitchen. Ginny soon discovered that he had been pointing at a banana, because as he began to move his hand, a banana rose up off the fruit rack and was soon floating in the direction of her unsuspecting brothers. A flick of his wrist sent the banana flying into the back of Ron's head. Ginny shoved her fist in her mouth to keep from laughing out loud as Ron twisted around, holding his head.

"What the bloody hell was that?!" The twins were doubled over with laughter. Dobby turned back to Ginny.

"Would Miss be liking to try?" She beamed in response.

"It wouldn't hurt, I suppose." Dobby nodded happily and moved a bit to let Ginny get closer to the window. She had no idea what she was supposed to be doing. Dobby hadn't even said an incantation. Whatever. Here goes nothing.

She pointed her finger at a big pot lying upside down on the table and concentrated very hard on the mental image of it lifting off the rough, wooden surface. She faltered a bit when she felt something strange and warm, but not unpleasant, rising in her gut. She focused on the pot once more, and tried again, steadying herself as the warmth rose up through her chest and shoulders, and out to her fingertips. Slowly, to her shock and surprise, the pot began to hover above the table. Ron was still ranting and raving about the banana, so it took a moment for one of the twins to notice a big metal pot hanging upside down in the air.

"What the blazes is going on?" Fred noticed first, pointing at Ginny's progress. Gaining confidence after her initial accomplishment, Ginny grew more bold. Slowly swinging her hand from side to side, the pot began moving in a parallel motion. Her brothers' eyes were wide. She started moving her hand in all different directions, flinging the pot around so that her brothers had to dodge and duck to avoid getting hit. Enjoying herself to the utmost, she prepared for her grand finale.

"THIS IS WHAT YOU GET FOR DOUBLE-CROSSING YOUR LITTLE SISTER!" she yelled, plunking the pot down, straight onto Ron's head. The twins quickly broke out of their shock and fell to the floor with laughter, as Ron flailed to rip the pot from his head. Ginny took this opportunity to jump out of her hiding place and into view, laughing her head off as well.

"How do you like that, you great prat!" she said, still laughing. Ron turned and tried to look angry, but with the twins still on the floor, and a huge grin on his baby sister's face, it was hard not to smile himself.

"How, in the name of Agrippa, did you do that, littlest Weasley?" Fred asked, clearly impressed.

"I had a bit of help from Dobby, but I'm afraid I can't reveal the rest of my secrets." Ginny smiled impishly. She turned and looked triumphantly at Ron. "You'd think you'd have learned your lesson by now, Ronald, but I guess your thickness is not to be underestimated."

Ron sighed, acknowledging defeat, but smiling at his sister's trick. "Alright, Gin, you got me. You lot want to play some chess?"

Ginny and the twins agreed, and the three boys headed to one of the parlors. Ginny stayed in the kitchen, and when she was alone, turned back to the wall she had jumped out of a few minutes before. She pointed at it and, once she saw that her finger went right through the wall, shoved her head through to find Dobby waiting with his usual smile.

"Thanks for all your help, Dobby."

"It is nothing, Miss. Dobby is happy to be helping. Would Miss and her Wheezys be liking some pumpkin juice for their game?"

"That would be lovely, Dobby. I promise, when Mum gets back, I will have her knit you another jumper like the one Ron gave you." Dobby looked like he might burst for happiness.

"Oh! Miss Wheezy is the kindest of all witches! Dobby knew that Miss was kind and brave for going to save Harry Potter's godfather, but now Miss is being so kind to Dobby too! Dobby knows Miss is being a powerful witch, and she is surely deserving Harry Potter!"

Throughout his little speech, a series of emotions plainly made their way over Ginny's face--Warmth, humor, nostalgia, sadness....alarm. But before she could object or respond to Dobby's last, ambiguous pronouncement, he snapped his fingers and disappeared. She pulled her head out of the wall and walked distractedly to find her brothers.

George and Ron were already engrossed in a game of chess, but Fred looked at her with a curious expression, one eyebrow raised in silent question. She caught his eye and shook her head, mouthing "later." Fred nodded and went back to watching the game.

Ginny noticed that in the brief time it took her to walk into the front parlor, Dobby had already brought the pumpkin juice and gone again. Sneaky little bugger. She had hoped to question him about what he said in the cupboard, but he was avoiding her. She smiled to herself and turned her attention toward the chess pieces, who were already threatening to riot.

***

It was late June, only a week since they had left Harry at King's Cross. The word from Dumbledore was that Harry could join them in a week. Ginny had insisted that they keep the state of the house a secret until he arrived, since she figured he could probably use a pleasant surprise after everything that had happened. She knew he couldn't be overjoyed at the prospect of returning to Grimmauld Place at all, let alone one without Sirius. Of course, if all went as planned, Harry wouldn't have to be at Grimmauld Place for very long.

They had been back from school for barely a day when she decided that she couldn't take it anymore. Maybe it would have been different if Ron wasn't holed up in his room brooding and writing to Hermione, or if the twins were around, but as it was, there was nothing to do but think about what had happened and look at her surroundings. Neither of those options was the least bit appealing.

Whenever she looked at the house, she was always reminded of the gaunt, frustrated, anguished version of Sirius as she first knew him, rather than the friend she had come to confide in late at night, whose eyes danced when he laughed, and whose arms made her feel safe when they comforted her. She wanted the darkness to be eradicated. She wanted to make it a home again, partially for Harry's sake, but mostly because she thought Sirius would have liked to see the foulness and the darkness extinguished.

Ginny finally managed to push back her grief for a bit, locking it in a box and shoving into the recesses of her mind. When she'd come painfully close to tears for the fifth time since they walked in the door, she plunged into her summer assignments. For the remaining time at Hogwarts she had been able to distract herself by observing Harry and finishing her final exams. Now astute observation and finals had given way to some slightly overzealous O.W.L. preparation.

The purpose of putting off her grief was twofold. First, since she was back around her parents, she knew any showing of distress would only aggravate their perception of her as a helpless little girl, whether it was deserved or not; and that was the last thing she needed. It was bad enough watching her mother shift from the relieved but proud reception given to Ron, to the pitiful, tearful head-shaking and scolding that Ginny herself had received. She did not need that to be compounded.

The second reason that Ginny had elected to tackle her studies so early in the holiday was purely in the interest of denial. Not denial that Sirius was gone, but that his absence now meant that Ginny was all alone again, without an understanding companion or a confidante. It was sad and kind of pathetic to say it, but in Sirius she had found a truly mutual friendship for the first time.

As much as she liked her friends at Hogwarts, there were certain aspects of her life that she'd always kept to herself; i.e., the diary, Voldemort, and the Order. Also, her well-hidden feelings for Harry. But with Sirius, she had felt comfortable talking about those things. They had exchanged confessions about the demons that haunted them. With all her school friends, Ginny felt like any exchange in confidence would be horribly lop-sided, and so she held back. With the trio, of course, the one-sided-ness of friendship ran completely in the opposite direction.

There were, however, prospects for the future. Starting in their third year, and particularly with the turbulence of their fourth, she had grown very close with two of her fellow fifth year Gryffindors: Kerney Scott and Andy McGrath.

The Kernel (as she was sometimes affectionately called) was Muggle-born, but had an older brother about Percy's age, who had gone to Hogwarts as well. She was only slightly taller than Ginny, with rich, chestnut brown hair and matching eyes. Her slender build was far more like Luna's than Ginny's athletic, toned figure. She came across as quiet, but had an exquisite sense of humor and spoke up when she thought circumstances required it. Kerney Scott was the closest thing Ginny had to a true best friend.

Besides Andrew McGrath. Eleven months older than Ginny, Andy was tall, but not overly so like Ron. Unlike most boys, he never seemed to go through an awkward growth stage. He was from a Pureblood family and had a younger brother, Stevie, also in Gryffindor. He had kept his blonde hair a bit longer last year than he usually did, and it only made his dull blue eyes stand out more. He was incredibly good looking. Strangely, the fact that Ginny had always held a great blazing torch for Harry had contributed significantly to her becoming such good friends with Andy.

He was without question the best looking bloke in their year, and therefore received quite a bit of attention from the girls at Hogwarts. Ironically, he had very few female friends, mostly because any girls he met couldn't stay just friends with him for long. Since there had never been (and never would be) a threat of that happening with Ginny, the two of them had become very comfortable around each other.

The only other girl who Ginny could put anywhere close to the category of being friends with Andy was her dorm mate, Nadine Ryan. And perhaps Kerney, but that was only by association with Ginny.

The Ryans and the McGraths had been next-door neighbors since Andy was born. The two families were great friends, and their children had grown up together. Nadine and Andy had a younger sister and brother, respectively, both of whom were third years, and Gryffindors like their siblings. Unlike their siblings, Nadia Ryan and Stephen McGrath were best mates. Inseparable. Where Nadine and Andy never seemed to be able to relax around each other, Nadia and Stevie were a dynamic duo. Nadine and Andy were quite another story.

Having watched the two of them interact for over four years, Ginny was always intrigued and more than a little amused at how they carried on. They knew each other better than anyone else in the world, they had the same friends, and their families were extremely close. But all that didn't mean they ever had anything nice to say to each other. So what if Andy adored Nadia like she was his own baby sister. So what if Nadine was the only one who could calm Stevie down when he was angry or upset.

Andy was usually easy-going and friendly, though not a particularly loud person. But whenever Nadine would sit down at the breakfast table, or sit next to them in the common room, his shoulders always tensed the slightest bit, and something in him--something that Ginny couldn't name--would switch on. Notwithstanding his sarcastic and negative words, it was almost as if his senses would come alive when Nadine was around.

When they were younger, Ginny had chalked it up to the fact that he had to be more astute and alert so that he could return Nadine's barbs and insults with clever ones of his own. But over the last year Ginny thought it was more like Andy began to see the world in color, with sound, whenever Nadine was around, rather than the silent, black-and-white version it usually was.

Ginny smiled to herself as she thought of her friends, and upon the realization that she was smiling, remembered all the reasons she had not to smile. Even if they acted like they couldn't stand each other, as next door neighbors, they got to see someone their own age, they even got to go outside and enjoy the summer weather.

At any rate, Ginny was bored, without company, trying to avoid showing any outside evidence of grief, and was determined to exorcise the Darkness from the house.

From last summer, she knew that Dumbledore would rarely be making an appearance at headquarters, so she made sure that when he did arrive, she would be aware, and she would be ready. Her chance came three days later. She had stayed up well past midnight each night, putting some extendable ears to good use. None of the meetings thus far had included anyone she cared to see at the moment, not even McGonagall, who might have had a clue as to when Dumbledore could be expected to drop in.

It was about twenty past two in the morning on the third night of her vigil and Ginny was starting to nod off ever so slightly. Her brain had by now subconsciously catalogued the usual voices that wafted up from the kitchen when they thought she and Ron were asleep--Tonks, Remus, Kingsley, Moody, Dedalus, her parents, Bill--and only the introduction of a new one would have nudged her out of her almost-slumber.

Her ears--both biological and extendable--perked up at the sound of the deliberate, cautious tones of the headmaster's voice. Ginny dashed silently back to her room to grab the letter she had written to the old professor. As she suspected he might just Portkey back to Hogwarts or use some mysterious Dumbledore way to leave the kitchen directly, she crept down the stairs and knocked on the kitchen door. The voices halted, and Tonks opened the door.

"Sorry, but I woke up and wanted a drink." She glanced at her mother, who was looking none too pleased at the interruption. Bill was standing behind her mother's chair, trying to conceal a smirk. The git thinks I was trying to eavesdrop, but for once, I'm actually not!

"No problem, we could use a break anyhow." Tonks opened the door wider and moved out of the way to let Ginny enter. She quickly walked over to the cupboard with the glasses, grabbed one, and poured herself some pumpkin juice. Ruse completed, she walked up to Dumbledore, handed him the letter with a smile, and left the kitchen with a "Goodnight," closing the door behind her.

Back in her bed, she considered the likelihood of the headmaster acquiescing to her request. About fifteen minutes later (though it seemed like much longer) there was a knock on her door. That would be Mum checking to see I've gone to bed and not back to spying.

"Yes?" she answered. The door opened, and a head poked out into view.

"Ginny?" It was Bill. "Professor Dumbledore would like to speak to you for a moment, if you're not too tired." She leapt out of bed, and hurried to the door. She turned to him as they walked to meet the headmaster.

"I know you think I was eavesdropping earlier, but if I was trying to hear something juicy, don't you think I'd conceal myself rather than knock and let you lot know I'm there?" She smirked at him. He chuckled.

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. I guess I'm just used to Mum trying to catch Fred and George all the time."

"But there's a difference between them and me, big brother." His eyebrows raised in curiosity. "If I wanted to hide, I wouldn't be caught." Bill smiled and shook his head, ruffling her hair affectionately with his hand.

"I don't doubt it Gin. You always were the cleverest one." They had arrived in the foyer, near the front door and the infuriating portrait of Sirius' mother. Ginny reached up and kissed Bill on the cheek, and turned to find Dumbledore standing in the front parlor.

"Professor," she greeted, smiling as she walked up to him.

"Miss Weasley." He smiled back at her. She always liked the way he looked at her as if they shared a private cosmic joke of some type. They weren't strangers, anyhow. She'd had more than her share of private conversations with the old headmaster at Hogwarts, and was probably as familiar with his office as Harry.

"Did you read my note?" she asked. His smile grew wider.

"I did," he replied, pulling said note out into view. "And I believe it is a fine request. I'm certain Dobby will feel honored and humbled to be asked to assist with such a favor." Ginny beamed in satisfaction.

"Do you think they can wage war properly on this old place?" she inquired, good-naturedly.

"Elf magic is quite powerful in its own way, and yes, I believe it will be a match for the evil that dwells in this house." His eyes sparkled.

"Thanks, Professor. I think Sirius and Harry would both appreciate it." Dumbledore's eyes saddened ever so slightly. If she had not been so familiar with them, she would not have noticed.

"Yes, I daresay they would. Is there anything else you wish to ask me?"

"Actually, yes." She paused, lowering her voice. "Have you thought about what I asked you before school let out?" She looked slightly anxious, unconsciously biting her bottom lip. Dumbledore nodded a few times and leaned in to whisper.

"I have, and I believe there should be no trouble in arranging it. I would like to speak with you again before the term begins, to go over the details of your plan. Does that suit you?" She sighed in relief, and her countenance now showed a calm satisfaction.

"Yes, sir. That would be brilliant. Thank you, Professor. " She extended her hand to shake his. She hoped her small smile could convey her gratitude better than the measly verbal one. I know you're busy and have way more important things to do than worry about me.

"Not at all. If that concludes our business, I believe it would be best for us both to get to bed."

"Yes. Good night, Professor Dumbledore."

"Good night, Miss Weasley." And that was that.

The next morning--though it would soon be afternoon--Ginny went downstairs to find her mother already making lunch and Remus reading the paper. Remus looked up from his Daily Prophet and smiled.

"I hear we'll be receiving some guests this afternoon."

"That's the plan," Ginny replied, dumping herself onto a chair and stifling a yawn. "Do you lot ever sleep?"

"Of course we do," Mrs. Weasley answered, coming over to the table with plates full of food and setting them down in front of her daughter and the werewolf. "We're just not lazy like you and your brother. Don't tell me Ron's still asleep?"

"I haven't a clue, but I reckon so. He would sleep through the whole holiday if you'd let him." Remus chuckled at this, but his smile did not quite reach his eyes.

"I could too, when I was sixteen. James was the worst, though. He could sleep forever, and was always waking up late for classes. I used to think that was why his hair always looked so messy, but from looking at Harry I guess it was just naturally like that."

Ginny smiled. She liked hearing about Sirius and Remus and Harry's dad when they were at Hogwarts. Just then, the fireplace swirled green and two house elves trotted out into the kitchen. Dobby spotted Ginny and perked up at seeing someone he recognized. Winky, as always, looked like she was trying to disappear.

"Oh, it is Miss Wheezy! Dobby is so happy to see her! Dobby is missing her in the summer when she is being away and not coming to see him in the kitchens!"

At this, Remus let out a bark of laughter, which was followed by Mrs. Weasley whirling around to glare at Ginny, who ignored her and glared at Remus. Thanks for the help, mister. Remus tried to hide his laugh in a fake cough, but it was a very poor attempt at a cover. Either he was out of practice or he hadn't been very good at bullshitting or getting out of trouble in school. Nah, that was probably Sirius, she thought. Or Harry's dad.

"What does he mean, you go to see him in the kitchens, young lady? Lord knows I've had to send howlers on account of your brothers. Now I'll have to send them for you, too?"

Dobby looked back and forth between the three humans, and Winky looked anxious at all the loud noise.

Ginny was relatively unfazed by this threat. She'd never been caught breaking the rules before--Well, not by a legitimate teacher, anyhow. That absolute toad Umbridge doesn't count--and she was quite used to hearing her mother's raised voice by now. Yet another advantage to growing up with the twins. She turned her head so her mother wouldn't see her smirk at that thought. She turned back to Dobby.

"Thanks for coming, Dobby. This is Remus." She indicated her old Defense professor. "He went to Hogwarts a long time ago. He's a good friend of Harry's." Remus smiled and nodded, while Dobby plunged into a bow. She turned to her mother. "And this is my Mum. She's Ron's Mum too, and a good friend of Harry's as well." Dobby bowed again, and Mrs. Weasley smiled. Ginny tilted her head to get a better view of Winky.

"Hi Winky! Thanks for helping Dobby with the house." Winky looked up, and for the first time looked sober enough not to dissolve into tears at the mere mention of serving someone who wasn't Barty Crouch. Winky, still obviously nervous, gave a small curtsy.

"Winky is happy to be helping in a proper house again, Miss." The little wreck of an elf didn't quite smile, but Ginny was heartened nonetheless by the fact that Winky finally appeared to be moving on from her previous master.

"Well, I was hoping that you guys could spruce the place up a bit. Harry will be coming in a few days, and I think it would cheer him up if it wasn't so...dark." She paused. "You wouldn't have to cook, though, 'cause Mum likes to do that, but this place reeks of the Dark Arts. Some paint and polish wouldn't hurt either." Dobby beamed in his typical manner, and Winky smiled at last.

"We is going to make the house like new for Harry Potter and Miss Wheezy, for they are the kindest of all wizards and witches."

Remus snorted, but the elves didn't seem to notice. Ginny blushed a little, though she couldn't say whether it was at the exuberant praise of her kindness, or the fact that Dobby seemed to think the house was for her and Harry. Laugh it up, werewolf man.

"Er...thanks, Dobby. Have at it. Let me or Mum know if you need anything, okay?" Dobby bowed again and Winky curtsied again behind him.

"Yes, Miss, we will." Winky nodded in agreement with Dobby's reply. With that cheerful response, they snapped their fingers and disappeared.

"I wonder how long it will take them?" Ginny asked no one in particular.

"I wouldn't expect a miracle over night, although house elves can do some pretty amazing things," Remus replied. He turned back to his newspaper.

***

Remus wasn't kidding. By the next morning there had been a dramatic improvement in the house's interior and frankly the air itself seemed cleaner and purer. House elves are brilliant, Ginny thought to herself. The kitchen especially looked like a completely different place. Mum had been delighted at the transformation, and in gratitude, had forged a compromise with Dobby and Winky: If they let her do the cooking, she would let them clean up afterwards. Ron voiced his opinion that they were all nutters.

At the rate Dobby and Winky were going, the house would look simply smashing by the time Harry arrived. She thought their progress might have been even faster, but they likely had to account for Kreacher's demented efforts to thwart them at every turn. One obstacle that remained, however, was the menacing portrait of Mrs. Black that hung in the front hall.

Later that night, Ginny jerked awake and sat up in bed. She wasn't sure if she'd been having a nightmare, or why she'd woken up, but felt like the best course of action would be to get a drink from the kitchen. She stole quietly down the stairs, past the curtains that concealed the grotesque countenance of Sirius's mother, and into the kitchen. There was no Order meeting tonight, and the house was eerily silent. She finished her pumpkin juice, put her glass in the sink, and left the kitchen to return to bed.

She slowed her pace as she approached the front hall--she could hear someone whispering or mumbling up ahead. As she neared the portrait of Mrs. Black, she was astonished to find the curtains wide open. It was a slightly disarming experience because Ginny had never seen the portrait open without hearing the accompanying screeches and shrieks.

Ginny stopped about three feet from the portrait and heard the whispering cease. She made eye contact with the nasty old woman, who peered back at her suspiciously through squinted, hate-filled eyes. She expected Kreacher to come stalking by any second. Foul little monster.

"I know what you are doing, you little blood traitor," Mrs. Black accused, still whispering. It was decidedly odd to hear her voice when it wasn't screaming like a banshee. Ginny refused to be intimidated by the revolting and condescending creature before her.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean," Ginny whispered back calmly, but with a hint of defiance.

"Yes you do. Bringing in those foul little creatures to desecrate my house."

"It's not your house. It's Sirius' house," Ginny corrected.

"As long as I adorn these walls, it will remain the house of the Blacks. Not of bastard children who shame the race into which they were born."

By the reference to "children" instead of "child" Ginny figured she was having a go at Harry as well as Sirius. The dig made her still more determined not to allow the horrible woman depicted in front of her the gratification of making Harry any more miserable than she already had. Perhaps she could give Sirius some peace in death if his mother was finally banished from the house, once and for all.

Thoughts of Harry and Sirius incited strong emotions that were constantly near the surface ever since Sirius had died and she felt a faint stirring within her, as if the surges of grief and protective instinct were awakening something. It caused her to hesitate before answering, and look down briefly at herself. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, but feeling a type of warm strength taking hold, she looked back into the eyes of the portrait.

"I believe that will be a much shorter time than you think, Mrs. Black." Ginny was a bit shocked at the level of calm in her own demeanor; Weasleys were not generally the most emotionally restrained people the world had ever seen. Mum, for instance, she thought to herself. A wry hint of a smile flitted briefly across her features, and strangely, it bolstered her confidence.

"How dare you threaten me," Mrs. Black answered, her tone increasing in malice as she noticed the smirk flash across Ginny's countenance. "I know all about you. Pureblood though you are, consorting with my son and the Potter boy, their own little Muggle-loving whore to use as they please."

The warm stirring sensation was rising in her now. What is that?! Though she knew they were groundless, each insult hurled at Harry or Sirius or her own expense made it stronger, but since it was not an unpleasant sensation, she remained outwardly still.

"Your soul is dark, Ginevra. I can sense it in you." The reference to her possession and struggle with Voldemort made the warmth burn within her now, filling her gut and rising through her chest as the demented woman carried on. Her fists were clenched at her sides as she fought to keep control. "Darkness lives inside of you, yet you try to fight it. Sirius fought it, the fool, and you see what became of him? Killed by his betters. The same will happen to you and your beloved Harry Potter."

The string of images brought on by Mrs. Black's words--The Chamber of Secrets, Tom Riddle, Sirius, Bellatrix Lestrange--fueled a fierce crescendo of the emotions already churning inside her and the last mention of Harry's possible demise incited such a violent flash of love and anger that Mrs. Black's eyes widened suddenly as Ginny shouted angrily back:

"HE'S NOT GOING TO DIE!" As she shouted, Ginny felt the burning power within her explode, making her skin flicker with a strange glow, then an intense glow that turned into a bright flash and went out. It was pitch black again and--

BANG!

The life-size portrait slammed back against the wall, shaking the very foundation of the house. On impact, the painting went black, and the now-empty frame thumped to the ground. Ginny stood there, gaping at the area where the portrait used to be. She hadn't noticed the flicker or the glow of her skin as the power had been rushing through her, and the bright flash only in her peripheral vision; her gaze had been intent on the eyes of the woman before her, though she had flinched at the loud "bang" which had sounded like a canon had gone off right in front of her.

Time seemed to move in slow motion. She had no words to describe what happened to the actual painting of the dead matriarch, except to say that it had disappeared into blackness. She was still frozen when she heard people stirring from their beds and rushing downstairs to investigate the commotion. Ron was the first to come thumping down.

"Ginny, what the bloody hell is going o--" He stopped, noticing what remained of the painting. Fred and George arrived next.

"Ginny--"

"What--" The twins froze too. Bill, Remus, her father, and mother all arrived in rapid succession, though Ginny did not notice. She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder and she jerked out of her trance-like state to turn and face the small crowd. With a wide-eyed, startled expression, she looked up at Remus, whose hand still rested on her shoulder. His face was kind as always, and she let herself relax a little.

"What happened?" he asked quietly. She looked from the faces of her brothers, to those of her parents, and back to Remus. She hesitated, turned to take one more glance at the frame, and attempted to answer.

"I don't know." She looked up at Remus with some confusion, and he nodded slightly in response.

"We heard shouting. Did she say something to you?" Remus always seemed to know the right questions to ask. And he's so gentle. How could he possibly turn into a vicious, man-eating beast once a month? The thoughts flickered through the back of her brain. This was just the prompting she needed to tell the details of the events without getting caught up in the significance of what she had done.

"Well..." She paused, quickly organizing the sequence of events in her mind. "Er...I woke up from--I'm not sure exactly, it might have been a nightmare, but I couldn't remember. Anyway, I came downstairs for a drink, and nothing was out of the ordinary when I got to the kitchen. I got some pumpkin juice and put my glass in the sink, and then left the kitchen to go back to bed." She stopped for a second, and decided it would be easiest on her nerves if she just stared straight at Remus instead of glancing around at her anxious family members.

"When I came into the hall, I heard someone whispering or mumbling, and then I noticed that the curtains to the painting were open. It was really weird at first because I've never seen them open without her screaming bloody murder and insulting everyone." She closed her eyes as the insults ran through her head, swallowed, looked back at Remus, and continued: "I came up to the painting and she said something to me. That was even weirder, because she was talking quietly, using a normal voice. We had a bit of a conversation and she just kept saying things about Sirius and Harry and...and me, and I sort of blew up and yelled at her and then there was this loud 'bang' and the painting had turned black. Then the frame came unstuck."

She could see that Remus suspected there was more to it than that, but thankfully he did not press her. Briefly she wondered if he knew about other things she was keeping from her family. Her parents and her brothers seemed satisfied at this explanation, and Remus nodded as if he was, too. Not surprisingly, Fred broke the eerie silence.

"Well, I guess that takes care of that problem." Ginny scowled at her brother, who tilted his head and smirked back at her with pride. She stopped scowling and tried to shoot him a look of gratitude.

"If all it took was Ginny blowing a gasket, we could've had that blasted thing down ages ago!" Ron complained. Remus smiled. Convinced that her former professor was not going to let on about his suspicions, Ginny cracked a small smile in return. As the adrenaline that had been pumping furiously through her body began to fade, she noticed that she was physically exhausted. Her eyes drooped and she yawned, her posture slumping. Remus patted her back and said good night, and Bill helped her back up the stairs, following behind the others.

As she ascended, she glanced down the hall toward the kitchen, and saw Dobby standing in the doorway with a strange smile on his face--not the usual million-galleon grin, but a small, knowing smile--and a glimmer in his eyes. He nodded once at her, and for some reason that she couldn't explain, it comforted her, calmed her, and reassured her more than anything else could have at that moment. She gave him a small smile and a wave of recognition as she disappeared up the stairs and back to bed.

***

The next day Ginny didn't wake up until well after lunchtime, and even then she felt completely drained--both physically and magically. The latter was a new feeling; she'd never felt her magical power change or fluctuate before. Then again, she'd never expended as much energy as she had in that confrontation with the painting. Even at the Department of Mysteries a few weeks ago, she'd only been physically battered; her magic never faltered or felt like it might run out.

Frankly, the thought that her magic could be exhausted was a bit scary. As she lay in bed pondering her power and the extent of her strength, she turned her head toward the night table in search of a clock. What she found there instead made her sit up and gasp.

Her wand.

I didn't have my bloody wand. She looked around the room as if to find some sort of reasonable explanation for the fact that several hours ago she had demonstrated some intensely powerful magic without her wand. It was weird enough that she had been able to destroy and remove the painting when other, more mature, more powerful wizards had failed in the face of such dark magic, but to have done so without forethought, and without her wand?

Crazy talk, she thought to herself. This is mad. Completely mad. What the hell is going on that I'm doing stuff only bloody Dumbledore can do? Fortunately, it appeared that no one but Remus had caught on to anything strange about the situation, and she hoped that her family hadn't noticed the absence of her wand. Fred or George might have, but she knew Ron wouldn't have. Remus would keep her secret, she knew. Remus was nothing if not discreet.

She got up and tied her hair back, quickly choosing something to wear for what was left of the day. She figured she ought to start studying since she had quite a bit more to do this year than she had in the past. She went downstairs to find something to eat, and found Winky, Remus, and her brother Bill in the kitchen. Bill and Remus were looking over paperwork of some type, while Winky was doing the dishes, presumably from lunch. Bill looked up first when she entered the room.

"Good morning, sunshine," he teased, grinning at her. She shot him a much-practiced glare.

"Well, some of us woke up in the middle of the night and had a rather trying encounter with the life-size painting of a heinous monster, so you'll forgive them if they wanted to sleep in." Bill chuckled and Remus looked up at her with a smile.

"It's already 2 o'clock, you know. Even Ron beat you down! First time I've seen him since he got here, practically," Bill teased. Winky hopped down off the stool she was standing on and trotted over to Ginny. Winky's temperament seemed to improve every day she was there helping. She smiled up at Ginny.

"Would Miss be liking some lunch? Dobby said Miss would be sleeping longer than the other Wheezys." Ginny liked that the elves singled her out specially. Even Ron was still "Harry Potter's Wheezy," instead of his own person.

"Yes, thanks Winky, I'm starving." She sat down at the table next to her brother and diagonal from Remus. "So what's this all about?" she asked, gesturing to the paperwork they had laid out before them. "Order stuff that I'm not allowed to see?" Remus smiled.

"Not really. It is for the Order, but it's not something we have to keep from loyal supporters or future members," he said. Bill moved quickly to cover up the papers with his arms.

"Uh oh," he teased. "I guess we can't let Ginny see it." She scowled at him in response, pouting as only she could. Bill burst out laughing at her expression.

"Very funny, William. What is it this time, no girls allowed? Or is it only people who are lousy at Quidditch? Oh wait, Fred and George and Charlie are all way better than you, and I reckon Harry's dad was too. So that can't be it." Remus laughed harder. Bill smiled and shook his head.

"I know I'm too young, Mum only tells me so every five minutes. I would say it's only for huge gits, but Remus here is in it and I actually like him." By now Ginny was grinning at her brother, having thoroughly bested him in the teasing game. For his part, Remus thought it had been a long time since anyone had made him laugh like Ginny'd been doing for the past few days. He hoped she would have the same effect on Harry when he finally arrived, although he sensed that they had kind of an awkward relationship.

"All right, Gin, you win." He turned to Remus. "Man, good thing the little banshee's on our side, eh? I wouldn't want to get caught on the business end of her wand." He smiled and turned back to his sister.

"And don't you forget it!" Ginny replied, as Winky brought her a plate with a roast beef sandwich, some chips, and a glass of pumpkin juice. "Thanks, Winky." The elf nodded and scurried back to her stool to finish the dishes.

"Ginny, we're about done here, so when you're finished eating would you mind helping me with something upstairs? Bill's got to leave soon," Remus asked. Ginny nodded as she swallowed a bite of food.

"Sure. Where are you going, Bill?"

"Gringotts. I have to put in an appearance, you know, pretend I actually work there once in a while."

"Helping Fleur with her Eeeeeng-lish?" Ginny teased, her eyebrows raised with implication. Bill chuckled.

"Yeah, something like that." Ginny nodded in approval as Bill collected the papers on the table and stood up. "See you later, munchkin. Bye Remus." Ginny kissed her brother on the cheek, Remus waved, and Bill left. At some point Winky had finished the dishes and disappeared. Ginny turned to Remus, at last able to speak candidly in the now-empty room.

"You don't really need my help with anything, right? You want to ask me about what happened last night." There was more clarification than question in her voice, and no denial that anything strange had occurred. He nodded.

"We should still probably go upstairs, though. I have been operating under the assumption that you would rather your family didn't find out just yet...." He trailed off, looking for confirmation.

"Thanks, Remus. After all the stuff that happened in my first year, I really hate having to deal with their overreactions. Mum, especially. She treats me like I'm six years old."

"I don't doubt it. You and Harry certainly seem to have that in common." He shook his head slightly in dismay. "The two of you have endured more than your fair share of sacrifice and hardship, certainly more than anyone should at your age. Come now, let's go have a chat, shall we?" Remus turned, and Ginny followed him up one flight and then down a hall to one of the many sitting rooms. He closed the door, and put silencing and imperturbable charms on the room to ensure their privacy.

After they sat down, she recounted to him the sequence of events from the night before, only this time, she included a full description of how she felt as her conversation with Mrs. Black grew increasingly agitated. Then she told him how, when she awoke this afternoon, she realized that she hadn't had her wand and noticed the new feeling of being magically drained. He nodded in understanding and didn't interrupt or ask questions as she spoke, which she appreciated. How he can be so agreeable after just watching his best mate die, I can't imagine, she thought to herself as her story wound down. He does look rather worse than normal, and the full moon is still a couple weeks off.

Bugger, I bet he isn't sleeping.

Seeing him up close like this, and being able to get a good, long look at his face, revealed bags under his eyes and a paleness to his complexion that were uncharacteristic of him this far detached from the full moon. His face was gaunt, his eyes dark, and she vaguely remembered that he barely touched his food when she had eaten lunch with him the previous day. Bloody Remus, she thought. I suppose Harry's going to look just as horrible when he arrives. After she was finished speaking, he paused for moment in contemplation.

"So we've discovered that you can do wandless magic, and it seems to be triggered by, or at least connected in some way to your emotions." She nodded in agreement. "Would you mind if I spoke to Professor Dumbledore about this?" She shook her head. "Excellent. I understand he is already working on something else for you, besides the project with Dobby and Winky."

"Yeah." She had already told him about the wandless magic, what would it hurt to tell him about her plan for the O.W.L.s? "I've secretly arranged to take three of my O.W.L.s early, just before the Christmas holiday. If I get good enough marks, I'll move into the sixth year N.E.W.T. classes for them once we return in January. Only the twins and Dumbledore know. And now you." Remus showed a rare look of being surprised and impressed.

"Really? What subjects are you taking early?"

"Defense, Potions, and Transfiguration."

"Not the easy classes," he remarked.

"No, I would not categorize Potions with Professor Snape or Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall as easy classes," she replied, with a knowing smirk.

"And Defense?"

"Well, Defense is brilliant. Definitely easy for me, definitely my favorite class. I'm best at hexes," Remus smiled at this comment and knew all too well the truth of it from when he taught her in her second year, "and growing up with six older brothers has made me more...er...durable, I guess."

"You get good marks in all your classes, then?"

"Yes. Top in my year in those three and Care of Magical Creatures, second in Charms. My friend Luna is first in Charms."

"Luna Lovegood, who went with you lot to the Department of Mysteries?" Remus' expression darkened ever-so-slightly as he mentioned the battle where Sirius had been killed, but it was gone quickly.

"Yeah. She's kind of spacey and a bit odd, but she's smart and perceptive. She gets picked on at school, but we've always been friends, and I expect we'll be a lot closer now. Ron thinks she's a nutter, and Hermione disapproves of her day-dreaming, but that's because my brother's a git and Hermione doesn't believe anything that she can't read about in a book. I think Harry appreciates her, though. She knows a bit about death--her mum died when she was little--and she's a loyal friend. She's in Ravenclaw." Remus nodded.

"If you don't mind me asking, why did you decide to take these three O.W.L.s early?"

"Well, for one thing, I want to learn as much as I can in Defense. I'm sure I haven't seen the last of Voldemort, and I want to be prepared. I already learned most of the fifth year stuff in the D.A., and I don't want to waste a whole year's worth of training I could be getting with the older kids. I hope Harry keeps up the D.A. this year, because that'll help with all the extra studying I'll have to do. And I guess I just figured that since I was going to take one early, why not do the same with two more of my best subjects? If I'm going to have any more run-ins with Death Eaters, I reckon it wouldn't hurt to know more about Transfiguration or Potions. In all three classes I get better marks than Hermione did, and I'm better at the practical application than she is in Defense and Potions. The only exception is that I haven't conjured a corporeal Patronus yet. But that was before I could do wandless bleeding magic, so who knows what will happen when I get back to Hogwarts." Remus nodded.

"I like Potions a lot, even if Snape--" Remus made to scold her at the lack of respect shown to the mean-spirited Potions Master and she swiftly corrected herself. "Er, Professor Snape--is the teacher. It drives him mad though, because I do so well in his class, but I'm not a suck up like Hermione so he can't contrive a reason to dock me points."

"You don't sound particularly fond of Hermione. I thought you two were good friends?" Remus asked, with genuine curiosity.

"We are friends, and we get along well enough, I guess. Sometimes you just need to talk to another girl. But we certainly wouldn't be this close if it weren't for my brother. I used to confide in her, but once I realized that I would never be a part of what they have, I don't do that anymore. She still tells me secrets now and then, but I think it's mostly because she doesn't feel like she can talk to the boys about certain things. Frankly, it's more a friendship of convenience, than anything else. We don't hang around each other at school very much anymore.

"Our personalities are very different. I inherited my sense of humor from Fred and George. She barely has one. I love Quidditch as much as the boys do, but she only goes to the games because her friends play. She's pushy. She's patronizing. I reckon she's pretty insecure about being Muggle-born, so she's always trying to prove that she can do magic just as well as the next witch, but I can't stand how she goes around spouting off every 12 seconds. And she just doesn't know when to let up on Harry."

Remus was intrigued by the change of subject to Harry--he wondered what Ginny thought about him, and how she dealt with being on the outside of the trio. He had never seen Ginny talk at length, certainly not as much as she was talking now, but he was pleased that she felt she could trust him with things she obviously hadn't been open to telling other people. He supposed that her friendship with Sirius had grown out of conversations like this one.

"Certainly before we went to the Department of Mysteries, but even now, she's still a bit naïve. You're a werewolf. You've been one since you were a kid, so you didn't get anywhere near a normal childhood. I don't think I need to tell you that when you're possessed by a dark wizard for a whole year as a child, you nearly kill four students without being able to stop yourself, and then nearly get your soul stolen as you watch your brother's best friend fight a bloody basilisk, you get jaded pretty quick.

"And Harry's had to deal with V-Voldemort even more than I have, so he's even more cynical than me. When Harry tells them about the things he's got to deal with, I suspect that Ron freaks out and suggests running to Dumbledore, and Hermione probably runs to the library and then suggests running to Dumbledore. But the way to deal with his fears and emotions isn't going to be in a book, and it's not going to come from an old guy who, no offense to the headmaster, can't relate to him in the slightest. No wonder Harry was on the verge of a nervous breakdown all year. He didn't have anyone to talk to who wouldn't drive him crazy."

"But it sounds like he could have talked to you."

"Yeah, well, that gets complicated."

"Complicated? How so?" He's really going to make me say it? Remus waited, looking at her expectantly...and knowingly. Yes, he's going to make me say it. Bastard.

"Um...well, I sort of used to have this huge crush on Harry, and it was pretty obvious. I mean, he was always nice to me despite the fact that my infatuation was the root of numerous instances of embarrassment, but it sort of meant that we didn't really become friends. I got over it in third year and started dating this other bloke, and last year we kind of began to be friends, since I could finally talk to him without blushing, knocking over my porridge, or completely humiliating myself in some other fashion." Remus smiled.

"I see. But now you are friends?"

"Sort of, I guess. I mean, obviously I'm not going to break into the trio, and it's not like we'd write to each other or anything. And Harry, understandably, has pretty deep trust issues, so I don't exactly expect we're going to be best pals and confidantes, you know? And...ah...well, now it's going to be even worse, because..." Ginny was hesitant about mentioning Sirius to Remus. "Um, because--"

"Because Sirius is gone?"

"Yeah." They sat in silence for a bit, pondering what state Harry might be in, alone, at the Dursleys of all godforsaken places.

"I'm sorry, Remus," Ginny said after a while. Remus appeared to jerk himself out of a trance at the sound of her voice. He gave her a sad smile that didn't even attempt to reach his eyes.

"Don't worry about it."

"No, I mean, I'm sorry. You lost your best friend for the second time. I can't imagine that. I don't even have a best friend, but just the thought of it makes me feel ill." Her voice dropped. "It's not fair," she observed, miserably. She stopped and wiped threatening tears out of her eyes, beginning to feel a warm force gathering in her gut. Easy, Ginny. "Look, I know you don't need to hear this from some fourteen year-old girl." Her voice was much quieter now. "I don't pity you and Harry, please don't take this the wrong way, it just makes me so angry."

She suddenly felt tired, barely aware of Remus watching her thoughtfully as she tried to calm herself down. Don't want to accidentally make the chair explode or anything. She knew she couldn't control her newly discovered power, and she wasn't going to take any chances.

"Are you feeling all right? You sort of trailed off, there."

"Yeah, it was the same kind of feeling as last night. Guess I feel pretty strongly about this stuff, huh?" Remus paused meaningfully, gazing at Ginny as if he were trying to gauge how she would react, like he was deciding whether or not to tell her something.

"Well, I think you feel pretty strongly about Sirius, and I think you feel pretty strongly about Voldemort hurting the people you care about, but mainly I think you feel pretty strongly about Harry." Her head shot up in surprise, and she couldn't quite master her face well enough to conceal the flash of a wide-eyed expression that screamed, guilty as charged.

"I don't know what you mean." Remus shot her a patronizing look.

"I think you do. And I think you're just what he needs. But you're going to have to be extremely patient with him." Ginny's stony expression softened. It's not like he believed my bad lie anyway.

"I know. Believe me, I know." She sighed. Cho bloody Chang. Yes, she would be patient. This was never something she actually believed would come true, let alone quickly. No, she was in it for the long haul, and she had resigned herself to it a long time ago. In fact, the only reason she had been able to say "yes" to Michael Corner was because her feelings for Harry had become this steady constant in the background of her life, only coming to the surface when he was in distress or she was angry at him.

Of course, this was the result of much practice and study of her own behavior. She had always been a pretty good liar, especially to people who didn't observe her very closely, and she rightfully assumed that her brother and his two best friends did not. That's where she'd gone wrong with Remus. Here she was talking to him one-on-one, and he was more perceptive than most people to begin with. Must be those super werewolf senses. It worked both ways, though; she doubted anyone but Dumbledore would have noticed Remus' deteriorating state like she had.

"Well, don't worry. I won't say a word. Did Sirius know?"

"I think he did. He never came out and asked me bluntly like you did, but we would talk late at night, and sometimes we talked about Harry, and he used to look at me in a way that made me think he knew." I miss him so much.

"He really liked you." This comment made Ginny smile, though it was a sad one. "After you lot went back to school he talked about you almost as much as he talked about Harry." She looked Remus in the eye.

"Thanks, Remus. For listening. And for telling me that." She paused for a moment, and then on an impulse rose from her seat and crushed her former professor into a hug. He's going to think I'm such a baby, she thought. Ah well, it's not like I'm not used to embarrassing myself, now is it? And frankly, he looked like he could use one. He returned the embrace and she sobbed for a bit, and was glad to, for her own piece of mind, but also because it gave him the cover to do the same if he wanted. After she had calmed down a little, she slowly pulled back and tucked a loose strand of hair back behind her ear.

"I should go study," she said. "I have a lot of work to do between now and Christmas." Her eyes were bright and her mouth quirked slightly as if it were moving toward a grin, but didn't quite get there. He gave her a small smile in return. This time, however, there was no sorrow in their expressions.

They had come to an understanding. With Sirius gone, they were the only ones left who understood the pain and anguish that Harry was experiencing, the only ones left who loved him first and foremost, without competition, without fear or restraint. They found comfort in each other, in the knowledge that there was at least one other person they could trust to look after him, to put his interests, his happiness, above everything else. They had no split loyalties; they were just for him.

***

In the days that passed between her conversation with Remus and her triumph in the game with her brothers, Ginny did a lot of thinking. And a lot of homework. Charlie was back in England now, in and out of headquarters as often as Bill. It was a great comfort to Ginny having her two oldest brothers back with the family again--especially since the third one still had not come home.

Percy had never been her favorite brother. He spent more time scolding her than playing with her, usually shrugging her off instead of humoring her or helping her like the others did. She couldn't say that she actually missed him, which was kind of a horrible thing to admit, but what did anger her was the distress his estrangement was causing the rest of her family. It obviously upset her parents--As if Mum and Dad needed more to worry about--and she had been surprised to see her remaining brothers react so violently at his desertion.

Fred and George had always been hardest on Percy, who from quite early on had been a bit of an outcast in the family, and Ron had taken a lot of his direction from the twins, since they had been at home longest of all his other brothers. Ginny was irate mostly because he had deserted eight people who never would have dreamt of deserting him.

That meant he wasn't loyal, and if Weasleys were anything, they were loyal. Their family stuck together. They could never count on money, or material things, but they could always count on each other. And Percy had marred that sacred family tradition. Idiot. Add to that the stuff he had written about Harry, and his support of Dolores Umbridge, Foul woman, and, well, she wasn't sure if the four youngest Weasleys would ever be able to forgive him.

Having Charlie home was brilliant, though. They talked about Quidditch, of course, and Charlie expressed his pride at his baby sister's 2-for-2 record in catching the Snitch. He had been the one who taught her how to fly when she was six, though no one knew. He had kept it a secret all these years at her request, and once he had gone back to Hogwarts, she had taken to stealing her other brothers' brooms to practice with.

It was a curse of birth that forced her to wait so long to try out for the Gryffindor House team. The three veteran Chasers they had from her first year onward would have prevented her from trying out until this coming year if Harry hadn't been banned for beating the crap out of Malfoy. She only regretted that Harry hadn't seen her grab--steal, really--the Snitch from Cho Chang in the final match that won them the Cup. She'd seen Charlie play at Hogwarts a couple times, but she had been very small, so she couldn't really judge whether her brother or Harry was the better Seeker.

The twins stayed over at headquarters less often. They had fixed themselves a place to sleep at the shop, and would often crash there after working late, whether for the Order or for the future troublemakers of Hogwarts. But they still remained her confidantes. Until her discussion with Remus, they were the only ones other than Dumbledore who knew about her plan to take some of her O.W.L.s early, and they had even offered to buy her the sixth year books she would need if she passed.

They were the only other people she told about the wandless magic she had done on the painting, and they were the only ones she had informed of her most recent accomplishment with Dobby's help. Though, if Remus hadn't been out of communication at present due to the full moon, she would have told him as well.

She suspected that being able to control and direct her wandless power would induce yet another private discussion with Dumbledore, and she was relieved at the thought. It was a curious thing already that she had not received any type of notification from the Ministry of Magic--did it mean that she had a special brand of magic that couldn't be detected?

Or perhaps the Ministry had bigger fish to fry at the moment. After all, there were rumors that Magical Britain would be electing a new leader soon, and with the growing chaos over Voldemort's return--yes, it was Voldemort now, not You-Know-Who--they couldn't possibly be devoting many resources toward scolding harmless kids for underage magic.

But her questions ran further than how she got away with breaking the law. Why was her power just manifesting itself now, instead of when she first started at Hogwarts and learned to properly use a wand? Why did emotion seem to have so much to do with it? Why could she feel it brewing and gathering inside her when there was no sensation if she used a wand? And the question she dreaded most of all, did these extraordinary powers have anything to do with Tom?

She remembered well the explanation Dumbledore had given for Harry's ability to speak and understand Parseltongue. Could Tom Riddle have left remnants of himself in her as well? After all, her exchange with Voldemort had been much more intimate than Harry's. Her soul had been drawn out of her, and Tom's had been poured in--what if it couldn't all get back out again when Harry destroyed the diary?

She couldn't deny that there had been a dramatic improvement in her marks between her first and second years at school. True, her schoolwork in first year had been negatively affected by her possession, but hadn't Tom Riddle been a right genius of a student? To go from very poor marks in her first outing, to top of the year in her second, required a better explanation, she thought.

She was sometimes surprised and even self-conscious at the intuitive knowledge she had in certain subjects. Almost like she had already learned things and was merely revising when topics were first introduced in her classes. She wasn't complaining, because it was wonderful that school came so easily to her; but once in a while it was a bit scary.

Damn these bloody safety precautions against owling. Stupid Death Eaters. She was really anxious to speak with the headmaster, but it would surely induce suspicion if Lucius Malfoy were to find out that the girl Voldemort had possessed a few ears ago was specially owling Dumbledore over the summer holiday. No, she would have to be patient.

She didn't mind all the studying so much, but it was frustrating that she couldn't practice the spells and jinxes. She supposed she could try them wandless, but she didn't want to push the envelope as far as the Improper Use of Magic Office was concerned, and, to be honest, she was more than a little nervous about doing anything with her new power until she had consulted Dumbledore about its origin and nature.

Plus, it wasn't like she could just do all her work wandless at school. Her newly discovered abilities were not something she wanted the general public to be aware of. So back to work she went, memorizing potion ingredients and trying not to think about her magic--or the fact that Harry was coming tomorrow.

Harry was due late the next day, and Hermione had arrived last night. Hermione's arrival was the main reason she had been left in peace to study, since her brother had gone off with the older girl for most of the day, no doubt to confer on how to deal with Harry. Funny that they wouldn't think to seek out the one person who might have insight into the subject, she mused with a touch of bitterness.

She was used to it, though. Harry himself had forgotten last year that she could be a knowledgeable source on the subject of Voldemort. Well, for now that suited her just fine, thank you. The less time she spent in the presence of Ron and Hermione--especially Hermione--the less opportunity there was for them to get suspicious about all the homework she was doing, and the less likely they were to ask questions she didn't want to answer.

Hermione had been shocked and excited over the transformation Dobby and Winky had achieved with the house--though Ginny'd had to set some ground rules about the house elves and trying to give them clothes. Dobby already had clothes, of course, but Ginny made it quite clear that if Hermione pestered Winky, who was technically there at Ginny's personal request, Ginny would hex her into next week, Bat-Bogey style, Mafalda Hopkirk be damned.

Ginny had never been reprimanded for using her wand outside of Hogwarts, and knew from Harry and her brothers that the first infraction was only a warning anyhow. Hermione took this under consideration and wisely agreed to leave Winky alone.

Surprisingly, Hermione had not noticed the lack of screeching or the absence of the painting. Probably too caught up in worrying about Harry, Ginny reasoned. She hoped Hermione would bring it up privately with Ron so that she could avoid talking about it. If anyone was going to blow her cover, it was going to be Hermione. Nobody else was as nosy or naturally skeptical as Hermione, whose knack for figuring out puzzles was Ginny's greatest obstacle until they got back to Hogwarts.

As for her other secret, Ginny wondered if Hermione wouldn't get suspicious that she was doing her summer homework so diligently. Usually, she put it off until the last few days like the boys did. She hoped that the excuse of it being her O.W.L. year would be sufficient to expel any circumspection on Hermione's part.

She heard her mother calling her down to dinner, marked her place in the Potions text she had been consulting, and went downstairs to eat. It was an odd sort of showing for dinner; Ron and Hermione were there, of course, Charlie was home, Tonks was seated next to him, and Remus appeared to have returned from his transformation.

He looked wretched, but then, he usually did after the full moon. Her mum's cooking would help remedy that, no doubt. There were two empty seats left at the table, as she seemed to be the last one to arrive in the kitchen. She took the one next to Charlie, and he ruffled her hair a bit in greeting.

Ginny was about to scold him for his gesture, when the flames in the fireplace flared green, and Dumbledore strode out.

"I wondered if I could join you for dinner," he said, though it was less a question than a statement of the reason for his arrival.

"Of course you can join us! There's an empty seat right here, next to Ginny," her mother replied, indicating the chair Ginny had rejected a few seconds before. Dumbledore came around the table and sat down beside her, greeting Remus, who sat on his other side, and then turning to Ginny.

As the food got passed around the table and people began loading their plates, there was sufficient murmur and conversation that Dumbledore could speak to her without attracting attention. He leaned over to whisper in her ear.

"Dobby has informed me that you have been displaying some new and interesting abilities." Ginny's mind leapt in relief and a certain measure of excitement. She would get to talk with Dumbledore about her magic.

"Yes, sir. I was hoping I would be able to ask you about it soon. I'm quite glad you turned up for dinner. It's a relief that I won't have to wait until I go back to Hogwarts." Dumbledore smiled.

"Perhaps after dinner we could have another chat in the parlor." Ginny nodded.

"That sounds great. And we can bring Remus, too. He knows about it, and I actually need to tell him about this last time, since he was gone for the moon." Dumbledore nodded in agreement and turned back to his plate.

A lively supper passed, and as soon as they cleared their dishes, Ron and Hermione excused themselves to go confer some more before bed. Right, because they haven't been doing that every second of the whole day that Hermione's been here. Not that Ginny particularly minded this time, since she was going to be doing some conferring of her own--and with much more interesting accomplices, if she did say so herself.

Deciding that they required more privacy than they had for their last conversation, Ginny suggested they use the study near Remus' room. They went in, shut the door, and Dumbledore proceeded to cast all the same privacy charms that Remus had when he and Ginny had talked about her magic before.

Ginny brought Dumbledore up to speed with what Remus knew about the painting, and then she told them both about the game she had been playing with her brothers. Dumbledore's eyebrows rose when she described the same warm, faint tingling sensation in relation to the joke she played with Dobby that she had for the incident with Mrs. Black's depiction.

And as news to both men, she explained her suspicions about her dramatic academic improvement following the year of her possession. As she spoke, Remus looked like he might have formed some theories, but he seemed content to wait and hear what Dumbledore had to say.

Ginny had not been nervous with Dumbledore since she was eleven years old. But as they sat there, in Sirius' house, in the early days of a war for their very existence--a lonely girl, a werewolf, and the greatest wizard of the age--Ginny could feel the atmosphere change. And she became nervous.

As Dumbledore pondered what she had told him, his eyes never left hers. Powerful and influential adult wizards had been known to falter under the headmaster's gaze, but not Ginny. She was not afraid of him, but it was more than the fact that she trusted him with her confidences and, in some cases, her life.

She had seen what the world could throw at her, seen what evil it could do. She had spent a year of her childhood almost drowning in fear and now it seemed as though she had used up all the fear her mind could produce. There was very little, if anything, that could scare her now. The thought of losing her brothers? Of losing her parents or Remus? Of Harry dying? That scared her. But Voldemort himself did not.

Indeed, if anything, the only person she potentially feared was herself. Like Harry, she had acquired a matter-of-factness about things that would terrify other wizards and witches her age. Beneath her humor and wit, past her charm and athleticism, was a gravity and a knowledge of darkness that only Harry shared, perhaps Remus, too, and Sirius before he died.

Dumbledore's gaze was so penetrating, she felt like he was trying to get past all the sarcasm, the playfulness, the easy-going exterior, like he was checking something to see if she was really what he thought she was. The way he had always looked at her until now, as if they were sharing an exceedingly clever inside joke, was gone. In its place was an expression that emanated pride and sadness at the same time. It was a grave look, but not without a hint of triumph; yes, the sparkle remained.

Dumbledore turned briefly to Remus, smiled and turned back to Ginny. Ginny, who had been lounging unceremoniously in her high-backed leather armchair, sat up and crossed her legs, because it appeared the old professor was about to speak.

"It seems that Voldemort, not unlike most of your brothers, may live to regret the day he foolishly chose to get on the wrong side of Ginny Weasley." The headmaster had taken on a mischievous look, which had the wonderful effect of comforting Ginny immediately.

Perhaps a result of growing up with the twins, she always felt better when there was a scheme, a plan, or the potential of one--whether it was for a childish prank or a war to defeat a dark wizard--a plan meant there was hope, a chance of triumph, no matter how small. Dumbledore looked as though he had found a secret weapon, and that was all the hope Ginny needed to be going on with.

"Fifteen years ago he paid the price for underestimating Harry and another red-haired young woman, not too much older than you are now. For his misjudgment he was thrown into ruin and he saw his flawless plan backfire when Harry survived and retained some of his own abilities. I believe he will also come to see his error in underestimating you and Harry when he tried to kill the two of you in your first year. It appears that he will soon see that plan backfire as well."

"When Lucius Malfoy planted Tom Riddle's diary in your book at Flourish and Blotts four years ago, I doubt he recalled that you are the first female child to be born into the Weasley family in quite some time, though I'm sure he knew in some distant part of his mind. Six generations passed without a single girl, but in the seventh, finally, you arrived. There are legends that describe situations similar to yours, where magical families carried on for several generations without producing a daughter, though none have been recorded in the last thousand years. The gist of these stories is that the eventual witch who followed generation after generation of sons was endowed with extraordinary magical powers, almost as if the magic in that one daughter was making up for all the generations where no daughters were born.

"There is no firm evidence, but for a long time I have believed that the magical powers residing in witches and wizards are of fundamentally different natures. Magical blood is all the same in its makeup; the only variation is non-magical, or Muggle in character. But I think the traits that distinguish witches from wizards, women from men, unlock only the magical powers and abilities that accord to their gender. For example, why wasn't it James' blood that saved Harry? Why was it Lily's, his mother's? My hypothesis is that, when several generations pass without a daughter, the female magic in that family's blood builds upon itself as it is not utilized by the offspring. So, by the time a daughter is finally born into the family, the power of multiple generations of witches has accumulated and will manifest itself in that one child. In other words, you."

Ginny gaped like a fish. Remus looked intrigued.

"My theory is bolstered, I believe, by your description of the wandless magic you have performed this summer. Each time you have felt the powers rise, it has come from your lower abdomen, your hips and pelvis. The single most defining feature of a woman is her ability to bear children, her reproductive system; I do not think it is a coincidence that the locus of both your defining female element and the origin of your extraordinary power are the same place. You may wonder why you have seen no evidence of these abilities until now. I believe that it didn't reveal itself until you hit adolescence because only then would your uniquely female characteristics have begun to mature.

"Further, it is a well known stereotype that women are rather more emotional or more emotionally conscious than men; but all stereotypes have an element of truth in them. Again, it is no wonder that your power greatly increases when you are feeling more emotionally charged. I will use Harry's parents as an example a second time: It was Lily's love for her son that saved him. I have no doubt that James loved Harry quite as much as Lily did, but once more, why was it only Lily's love that triggered the protection? As I have admitted, I have no hard evidence. But I believe this explains the basis of your abilities with wandless magic and your remarkable skill with normal magic.

"I say all this by way of preface. I think Lucius Malfoy picked you because he dislikes your father and your family. I don't think he ever would have conceived of the possibility that you would be able to fight Tom's possession of you for the length of an entire school year. That fact alone--especially that you were able to rid yourself of the diary altogether, even for a short time--was evidence of the depth of your magical ability. Also, of your innate goodness. And it was that notion that prompted me to research my theory further and stay in contact with you throughout your time at Hogwarts. That aside, I think your intuition about your enhanced academic abilities is probably correct. While your blood and family background would have made you a top student anyway, I do believe Tom left some of himself behind in you when Harry destroyed the diary.

"Now, it remains to be seen whether any of your traits were left in him when your souls reverted back to your bodies, but as you haven't displayed any of the symptoms that Harry has--like the visions of your father being attacked and the Department of Mysteries--I don't think your experience with Tom Riddle forged the same kind of active connection. After all, you dealt with a preserved memory so you only took on traits of Tom Riddle when he was still a student at Hogwarts; Harry's connection was the result of direct contact with the contemporary Tom Riddle, who is an accomplished Legilimens, and much better versed in ancient magic, the Dark Arts, manipulation, and evil. Though I do suspect that you have retained the ability to speak Parseltongue, and I would not be surprised to learn that you have a high aptitude for Occlumency.

"But, more importantly, it means that you have an advantage that Harry does not: knowledge. You remember the things Voldemort told you, the things he showed you in that diary. But as it was only his memory preserved in the diary, and since Harry destroyed it, he cannot access any recollection of the same period. You can tell him things that no one else knows, save perhaps Harry and myself; this is a weakness that he doesn't know he has. On the other hand, he knows nothing about you, I daresay."

Ginny was trying to process all this new information, which wasn't a simple task when you felt like your entire world was being rocked violently from side to side. Yet, it hadn't exactly been a surprise, had it? She'd always thought there was more to her top marks than met the eye. And her intuition that there was something special about being the only girl amidst all those boys had just been vindicated by Dumbledore's theory. She chanced a look at Remus, who was giving her an appreciative, but studying look.

"All right," she said, trying to get her bearings in the conversation. "I guess I'd like to take lessons on how to control my magic, if there's someone who could teach me." Dumbledore nodded.

"Yes, I believe that could be arranged. We wouldn't want you terrorizing the portraits at Hogwarts, would we? I believe Mr. Filch would be quite upset if you did." Remus and Ginny both smiled at this, though only Remus had any personal experience with the grouchy old caretaker.

"I'd also rather you didn't mention this to anyone else...except for Professor McGonagall, I suppose--" She paused. "--and Professor Snape. I assume they already know about the O.W.L.s I'm taking early." Dumbledore nodded to confirm her assumption. "I don't think I would mind if you decided you needed to tell them about this as well."

"Thank you, I will bear that in mind as circumstances arise. Now, I believe we ought to adjourn our discussion until you return to Hogwarts. I will leave directly from this room so that you will be able to come up with a plausible excuse for what you were doing all this time." He turned to Ginny. "Would you mind very much to keep up your habit of informing Remus if you have any more experiences with your wandless powers? I would like to know exactly what we are dealing with when you arrive in September, and Remus will know how to get in touch with me."

"That's fine. Thank you, Professor Dumbledore. I really appreciate all your help." She shook his hand, as she always did. The first time was after she and Harry had escaped from the Chamber of Secrets and he had come to speak with her in the hospital wing, and she had only done it because she didn't think it would have been appropriate to hug him. Ever since then, he had always seemed amused that she did it, so she kept up the habit.

"Not at all. Goodnight, Miss Weasley. I'll speak to you soon, Remus,"

"Goodnight, Professor," Remus replied. And he was gone. Ginny loved that Remus and Sirius had always called him Professor Dumbledore when addressing him; it reminded her of all their stories about getting into trouble when they were at Hogwarts. She turned to Remus.

"I better get to bed or Hermione will get suspicious."

"Quite understandable."

"I'm going to go mad, you know, not being able to practice any magic until September." Remus chuckled.

"Yes, I know. Perhaps we could arrange something for your birthday. Maybe a trip to Hogwarts to practice your Patronus?" Ginny's eyes lit up.

"Oh, would you? I would appreciate it if you could."

"I will see what I can do." Ginny beamed, and hugged him impulsively for the second time that summer.

"You are bloody brilliant, Remus, do you know that?" When she had pulled away, he was jolted by the memory of another feisty redhead who had said the very same thing to him a long time ago. He smiled sadly at the memory. Ginny had reached the door and interrupted his nostalgia.

"Goodnight, Remus."

"Goodnight, Ginny."

As Remus succumbed once more to memories of his best friend's wife and Harry's mother, Ginny found her way to the bedroom she shared with Hermione. The door was closed, and when she opened it without knocking, she saw the two older kids turn around abruptly and hush up their earnest conversation.

"Oy, you think you could learn to knock?"

"Oy, you think you could talk in your room? It's not like Harry's going to be in there to hear you gossiping about him anyway." Both Ron and Hermione gaped back at her with red cheeks and wide eyes. Ha. Look at them. Thinking they were being all sneaky and secretive. I can't decide which one is a worse liar. How they ever get away with stuff at school...

"What did you hear?" Ron demanded, accusingly.

"Nothing, you great git, but it's obvious you're talking about Harry. Is he still being short and evasive with you?" Ron and Hermione exchanged a look that confirmed Ginny's hunch. "Just wait until he gets here in a few days and see how he is before you go on making up your plan of attack. But please, try not to nag him. He's probably looking forward to seeing you, but he'll close right up and get angry if you insist on asking him about his feelings." She looked right at Hermione as she said this.

"Well, I think he needs to talk about what happened with Sirius, and I know he hasn't been able to talk about it with anyone at the Dursleys," Hermione insisted. Ron looked as if he wanted to side with Ginny on this, but didn't want to suffer the consequences of disputing Hermione. Well, if they ever get together, I think we all know who'll be wearing the pants in that relationship.

"Fine, do what you want, just don't complain when he gets mad and shuts you out. Now, I'd like to go to bed, so if you wouldn't mind relocating 1996 Harry Potter Peace Accords into Ron's room, I'd really appreciate it."

As she changed into her pajamas and brushed her teeth, Ginny thought about how Harry had been acting after their excursion to the Department of Mysteries. She remembered quite distinctly that he hadn't just seemed like he was depressed about Sirius. He was distracted as well. And not because he was spaced out due to his grief; this was active preoccupation. His mood had consistently shifted between moping and deep thoughtfulness. Something had happened between the time he and Dumbledore had driven off Voldemort and when he had arrived in the hospital wing to see Madam Pomfrey.

Ron, Hermione, and Luna had all been asleep for a long time after they returned, and Neville had been quick to heal and quickly released. But Ginny had shattered her ankle and lower leg bone, not to mention suffering some nasty after-effects of the curse that one of the Death Eaters had blasted at her, and she had been awake when Harry arrived. He hadn't noticed that she was awake, but she'd watched him for a long time.

She tried to think what he could be so pensive about so soon after Sirius had been killed. No doubt he had been in Dumbledore's office before he arrived in the hospital wing. For the hundredth time since the actual events, she ran over the images from that day in her mind. Let's see, we went to the prophecy room, and Harry found one with his name on it...and Voldemort's name was on it, too...and Lucius Malfoy had said that only Harry or Voldemort could retrieve it, because the prophecy was about them. She thought for a moment, desperately trying to recall the other letters that had been written on the glass containing the prophecy. It was S-something-something to A-P-something-something-something.

Well, the "to" probably meant who gave the prophecy and who heard it. But who the hell has five initials? Why would somebody need five names? It obviously wasn't Voldemort or any of the Death Eaters, because they had been trying to trick Harry the whole time so that he would retrieve it for them. And Harry had sounded like he honestly had no idea what it was about...

...was her last thought, as she drifted off to sleep.