With Honor

With Honor

Chapter Five - The Fading Days of Peace

Nearly two weeks passed with no change in Mr. Granger's condition. The werewolf bites on his arms and legs were grazes, but the Healers were optimistic that the contamination would not be to such an extent that Mr. Granger would have monthly transformations. However, they were not so optimistic about his chances of coming out of the coma, and they had moved him to the Long-Term Care facility.

Through the weeks, Harry, Ron, and Ginny had carefully studied Hermione, who at first seemed to get worse, then slowly better, until one Saturday, four days before Ginny's birthday, she asked them kindly to stop walking on eggshells around her.

Ron had firmly denied the existence of any such eggshells, saying that the eggs Mrs. Weasley used were magically cracked and disposed of; therefore there should be little chance of an eggshell being stepped on. His spirited argument had made Hermione smile, then as he asked what was so funny, she had let out a peal of laughter that had scarcely been heard in the Burrow the past few weeks. Surprised and pleased at his success in cheering Hermione up, this in turn boosted Ron's morale, and when they set off together to the hospital to sit with Mr. Granger, Ron's head was held high and Harry could've sworn he was strutting in a way that would make Percy jealous, holding Hermione's hand without the slightest hint of embarrassment or self-awareness.

Harry and Ron's time at the Burrow, however, had taken a turn for the worse. Mrs. Weasley, furious with their insistence on not returning to Hogwarts for an academic year, had resorted to removing all of the physical comforts the Burrow provided, giving them meager portions at the dinner table, confiscating all of Ron's broom, comics, and toys, and very nearly taking the Mini-Quidditch set, which would have happened had Ginny not seen this impending danger and drawn her mother away to inquire about a particular process of making treacle tart, letting Harry quickly stow it in his trunk, trapped neatly in his Invisibility cloak along with the Marauder's Map. With this rescued treasure, they had taken turns playing at night, with one person standing as lookout.

As Ron had not budged one bit, Mrs. Weasley had threatened to confiscate Pigwidgeon, but as the tiny owl heard this, it seemed to understand that there was a threat, as whenever Mrs. Weasley entered the room, the minute owl seemed to chose to go out for a hunt (although more often than not, Harry had seen the owl come back with a talon full of tufted grass rather than any living critter). As September the First came closer, Mrs. Weasley's 'persuasive tactics' became more extreme, with meals so small Harry felt he was back at the Dursleys, but little did Mrs. Weasley know (according to the grim yet triumphant look on her face), both Harry and Ron received smuggled portions of food from Ginny and Hermione respectively, supplemented by small buns and cakes, and a crate of Butterbeer Fred and George had helped them turn invisible. Unsurprisingly, everyone ate to his or her hearts content, although Harry was sure Mrs. Weasley would grow suspicious soon on how they did not seem to get any skinnier despite the strict diet. He was sure, however, that Mrs. Weasley imposed this punishment with hesitation - he knew she loved to feed her children and guests lavishly.

But this particular day, Harry was not thinking about food at all. Ron and Hermione had gone off on their nightly visit to Mr. Granger's bedside, and Ginny was occupied with extra chores she had received from Mrs. Weasley after she had responded particularly rudely to one of her mother's reprimands. Harry had taken this particular opportunity of being alone to sneak out to Diagon Alley, where he was now searching high and low for a suitable birthday present for Ginny. He had made vague plans in his mind to start searching for the Horcruxes soon, although he had no clear idea how he would find one, and in the meantime, tried to enjoy his days as much as possible, especially as Ginny would be returning to Hogwarts with Hermione soon, and with that, two thirds of his favorite companions would be gone.

He had asked Ron and Hermione for advice on what to get the youngest Weasley, and received unsatisfactory answers such as 'something thoughtful' or 'she'll like anything from you mate'. Upon arriving at Diagon Alley, after he had withdrawn a huge amount of gold Galleons, he had also asked Fred and George for advice, and received even more unsatisfactory responses along the lines of 'not trying to woo our sister are you?' and 'how about a Classic Canary Cream, I'm sure little sis would love nothing more than to be a big yellow bird for a few moments'. When he had responded impatiently, Fred merely shrugged and said not to bother at all.

That, however, was not an option, Harry thought as he turned a corner. He wanted to buy Ginny something special, after all, in years past he had only given her rather dull and forgettable gifts, such as chocolate or other edible treats that were probably consumed within a week. He had immensely enjoyed the Mini-Quidditch set, and even if he had not, he would still want to buy Ginny something that would make her special day special.

"Cooke Assorted Goods," Harry murmured aloud, reading a sign above a respectable looking building. "Might as well."

He walked in, and was instantly floored by the vast quantity of completely random items.

"Can I help you dear?" a young witch said, quickly getting up from her seat where she had been listening to the wireless with a dreamy face.

"Err... yeah," said Harry. "I'm looking for something special, for a good friend of mine..."

"Could you be more specific? What kind of thing are you looking for, how old and what gender is this friend?"

"She's sixteen in a few days, I suppose she isn't your typical girl at all though. I just really want to get her something she'll remember."

"Sounds like this girl has a special place in your heart, eh?" the saleswitch said, disappearing into an aisle.

"Are you a psychiatrist or something?" said Harry, slightly annoyed that he had been so transparent.

"No, I just have a lovestruck cousin about your age, I can see symptoms."

The witch reappeared with a smile, holding a box.

"Take a look, you might find something you want."

Harry took the offered box, and opened it. Inside was a stash of jewelry, little stuffed animals, and intricate looking instruments that Harry strongly suspected did nothing at all.

He took a small stuffed bear from the box, smiling at it.

"She'll probably like one of these," Harry said. "But the jewelry here seems a little... I don't know, common... bland... do you have anything really special?"

The witch looked mildly offended, but disappeared behind the sales counter, muttered an incantation and when she surfaced, she held out a small box of silver jewelry.

Could've used this a few weeks ago, Harry thought, eyeing a silver pendant.

"Well, judging by your age, I think this is pretty much the most you would spend on a girlfriend... sorry, I mean friend. Fifty Galleons to a Hundred and Fifty," the witch said, smirking slightly.

Harry smiled, knowing the witch fully expected him to turn tail and buy some of the cheaper items he had just insulted rudely.

"Bring out the good stash," said Harry. "I've got five hundred Galleons on me, and more in the bank if I need it."

The saleswitch's eyes went as round as saucers.

"Yes sir," she said, her voice instantly changing, the condescending voice instantly gone. A moment later, she resurfaced with a small glass box in hand. "This is something that has been in our shop for about fifty years, my granny used to scream if any of us touched it. I suppose it's something of an antique now, but even back then it was pretty unique."

She carefully opened the crystal box, and Harry stared. Inside was a delicate looking necklace, crafted of a beautiful white-gold metal, and adorned with a shimmering red stone in the middle.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" the saleswitch said, smiling.

"What is it made of?" Harry asked, taking it in his hand as the saleswitch offered it to him carefully.

"The chain is pure gold, from what I heard," she said casually. "The rock... well, I won't lie to you, I can't say it's a ruby. Old grandma never told us what it was, the secret died with her. Beauty though, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Harry said softly, imagining Ginny wearing it. "How much?"

"Well," the witch said, tossing back her long brown hair. "My mam is out of town, so I don't really have a set price. But this thing is pretty much an heirloom now, no one has bought it for fifty years..."

"Because the crystal isn't a ruby?" Harry said shrewdly.

"Well," the girl said, flushing slightly. "I suppose so."

"Two Hundred Galleons for it," Harry ventured.

"Surely not!" the saleswitch said in what Harry could easily see was false indignation. "This is a relic, five hundred Galleons would be a bargain."

Just so stumbling on the amount that I told her I had, Harry thought with a smirk.

Harry took out his massive pouch of gold, and peered into it.

"Well, I'm afraid I'll need to get my shopping done some other place then," Harry said with an air of regret. "Five hundred Galleons seems far too..."

"Crikey!" the witch suddenly said, extending a finger with perfectly manicured nails and pointing at Harry's forehead. "You're the Chosen One!"

Harry groaned inwardly.

"Er..." he said, starting to back away.

"Two hundred Galleons it is," the witch said firmly, shaking his hand vigorously. "I'll even bump it down to a hundred and fifty, and throw in that teddy if you sign this photo!"

She grabbed a quill from the counter, and a photo of Harry out from one of her pockets, and Harry felt himself flush.

Fifty Galleons is a lot of money for a little signature, Harry thought.

"Well, I suppose..." Harry said, shrugging as he reached over and signed his signature on his photographic self, which glared back at him indignantly.

"Oh thank you!" the witch said, beaming as she quickly packaged the intricate necklace and the teddy.

Harry counted out one hundred and fifty gold Galleons carefully, and pushed the pile of gold to the girl, just as she handed him the crystal box and the teddy, now adorned with a handsome red bow.

"Thank you very much for your custom," she said formally, although her smile was so genuine that Harry felt himself smile back.

"Thanks for finding this for me, err..."

"Heather," she supplied.

"Heather," Harry repeated. "I'm sure my friend will really enjoy this."

"She better," he heard the girl mutter as he turned away. "Lucky girl."

***

Harry had been fairly enthusiastic about his gift to Ginny, although when Ron had asked, he only showed him the teddy bear, which Ron laughed at heartily.

Naturally, Harry had not continued to show his best friend the other gift he had got for Ginny, and endured three long days of holding his secret inside, bursting to show Ginny every moment he spent with her. Finally, the day of Ginny's birthday had come, and surprisingly, the day started abruptly as Ginny appeared at the crack of dawn in the twins' room where Harry slept, jumping on his bed.

"Wake up, Harry, it's my birthday today!" she said brightly.

"Happy birthday, Ginny," Harry said with a yawn, reaching for his glasses.

"No presents?" Ginny said with a fake pout.

"Would I forget your birthday?" Harry said patiently.

"So I do have a present!" continued Ginny triumphantly. "Ron told me, he said it was pathetic."

"Remind me to kill him at breakfast," Harry said, sitting up.

"No can do, he and Hermione went off to St. Mungo's again, didn't you hear the Knight Bus honking and blaring outside?"

"Nah, I don't wake up for anything but a pretty redhead jumping into my bed," Harry said, smirking.

"Well at least you admit you think I'm pretty," said Ginny cheekily.

"Obviously," Harry said, and to his surprise Ginny looked sad suddenly. "What's wrong, Ginny?"

"I... well, nothing."

"I can see you're lying, I do that myself," said Harry. "Come on, what's the matter?"

"Maybe you'll understand some day," Ginny said, her voice now sounding forcibly bright. "So what did you get me?"

"You'll have to wait until after dinner," said Harry sternly. "You know your mum's rules, and I don't want to give her another excuse to cut down on my rations."

"Oh as if things could get any worse," Ginny scoffed.

"Well," Harry said. "In the meantime, it is your special day. So what do you want to do? I'll go along with anything."

"Anything?"

"Just for you," Harry said, grinning.

"Okay then," Ginny said. "C'mon down to my room."

"For what?" Harry said, getting up and grabbing his clothes from a nearby chair, slightly self-aware that he was dressed in nothing but boxers and a shirt, but Ginny did not seem to notice at all.

"Whatever I want!" she said cheerfully. "You've got a tomato sauce stain on your shirt, by the way."

She leaned over, and rubbed the spot on his chest playfully, sending strange sensations to Harry's mind.

"I'll clean that up for you when you come down," she said, smiling.

With that, Ginny gracefully bounded out of the room, leaving Harry to collapse down on to his bed once more.

"Tomato sauce stain," said Harry to no one, shaking his head. He grabbed a pair of shorts but left the dirty shirt on, vague thoughts about Ginny running through his mind.

Walking down the stairs as quietly as he could, he found Ginny's door slightly open, and smiled when he saw her bright brown eyes peer at him through the crack.

"Come on in," she whispered, pulling him into her room by the wrist.

Harry quickly looked around Ginny's room, and found it quite different to the other rooms in the Burrow. The walls were scarlet in color, and covered in various paintings that Harry assumed were the work of a younger Ginny, there was a small camp bed where Harry knew Hermione slept, as well as a slightly larger bed with two large fluffy pillows and a bouncy mattress. On Ginny's bedside table, he saw a small clock with broomsticks as hands, a delicate looking glass vase with a single white tulip. He also saw many photos, of Ginny as a baby, with a new one for every year, until he saw the rather mischievous grin on the fifteen-year-old Ginny Weasley as the photo looked at him from the picture frame. Also on the table was a Weasley family portrait, which Harry assumed was taken at least two years ago, judging by Ron's height.

Ginny flopped down on to her bed comfortably, whereas Harry continued looking around her room. He saw a small table next to Hermione's bed, containing nothing save a stack of schoolbooks. A bit further along was Ginny's wardrobe, with a few items of clothing showing that invoked thoughts that made Harry flush slightly.

Seeing this, Ginny smiled at him not unkindly, patting the bed next to her.

"So, what have you called me down here for?" Harry asked.

"A photo," Ginny said simply.

"A... photo?" Harry said, confused.

"Yeah," said Ginny, sitting up and reaching into a drawer. "We don't have any photos together, just you and me. Of course I have tons of you, what with your Daily Prophet fame."

She emerged with a camera and a small smile.

"I know you don't like it, but at least it gives us longing girls a source to find good pictures."

Harry smiled at Ginny's peculiar sense of humor.

"So," he said, putting an arm comfortably around her shoulders. "Snap away."

Ginny leaned in closer to him, until her cheek touched his, and positioned the camera with her right hand, and wrapping her left arm back around Harry's head.

"Smile," Ginny said.

"As if I needed any further motivation to," Harry said.

The camera clicked, and Harry felt Ginny turn her head around slowly, until they were eye to eye, mouth to mouth, Harry could see his own eyes reflected in Ginny's pupils, taste her breath on his lips, she had clearly ate some strawberries this morning...

Harry gulped. Her lips are so close, if only I just move a tiny bit closer...

Harry crushed this dangerous line of thought immediately, but surprisingly, he thought he felt Ginny close the gap, and brush his lips ever so lightly, so that he was left wondering if it had even happened or if it was just in his fanciful wishing.

"Thanks, Harry," Ginny said, as if nothing had happened, as she took a small roll of film out of the camera. She took out what Harry recognized as a developing potion, and a few waves of a wand later, Ginny had produced two copies of the picture, handing him one.

"Here," she said. "Just in case you ever want to see plain old Ginny."

Harry took it, feeling slightly dizzy. He decided quickly that Ginny had not just kissed him, for she showed no reaction to any such act.

"And what will you do with yours?" Harry asked.

Ginny answered by placing the picture neatly into a heart shaped picture frame, and placed it on the edge of her bedside table.

"I'll let it be the last thing I see before I fall asleep. Should bring good dreams."

Harry felt his throat tighten. A prickly feeling ran through his chest, and he resisted an urge to hug the girl sitting next to him. He was lucky that he did, for just that moment, Hermione opened the door to Ginny's room rather rudely without knocking.

"Oh," she said in a small voice as she saw Harry sitting next to Ginny on her bed. "Oh..."

The expression on her face turned shrewd and satisfied.

"Well don't let me hold you up, I'll just go have breakfast now."

Harry saw Hermione shoot Ginny a strange look, and was rather annoyed to see that both girls erupted into silent giggles, stopping only when Hermione closed the door behind her.

"Well, I'm going to go change," Ginny said, motioning at her nightdress. "Charlie mailed me these robes, I'm going to wear them today... wait for me here so we can go down to breakfast together?"

Even though there was only one flight of stairs down, Harry smiled and agreed.

Absently, he began looking around Ginny's room, pausing as something on Hermione's table caught his eye.

A small, mundane looking leather book occupied the top of the pile of books. Etched into the faded leather, was the simple word, 'Diary'.

Slowly, peering to the door to see that no one was there, Harry reached for the book and opened it.

Dear Diary,

Today was a wonderful day, my nine-month torture experience has ended, and I have been blessed with a beautiful little daughter. Already she has some messy brown hair, she'll grow to be like her mother, I'm sure...

It took Harry a few seconds to realize that this was not Hermione's diary, but her mother's. Propelled by a strange burst of nosiness, he flipped to the back of the book, and his eye caught a sudden change in handwriting, turning to Hermione's familiar style.

Checking the door once more, he read the first entry.

Dear Diary,

I know you haven't had much new content for a few years, but my mother has always claimed that writing down one's thoughts gave one clarity of mind, and I think despite everything, I'm ready to give it a shot. You see, I have had certain reservations about keeping a diary, ever since my friend Ginny Weasley, who, incidentally I'm currently a guest of, was possessed by an enchanted diary that used to belong to the greatest Dark Wizard of all time. Farfetched, I know, but that is nothing. Recently, I've been told that the diary was actually a Horcrux, or in simple terms, a fragment of a soul. Seeing as my friend almost died because of it, and was only saved by a twelve year old boy defeating the King of Snakes, the imprint of Lord Voldemort's soul, all with one gigantic stroke of luck.

That boy, I suppose, is one of the most important people in my life. His name is Harry Potter, and he is known by many in the world as the Chosen One or the Boy-Who-Lived, a hero and source of hope. It wasn't always that way, he's had his ups and downs just like everyone else, but that's a tale for another time. To me, the most important thing is that he's Harry. Brave, loyal, sweet, and hilariously clueless at times, he's probably the closest thing I have to a family now.

Tragedy touched my family a few weeks ago. My mother, my grandmother and my grandfather, all of whom I loved and still love very much were taken from me by those who we wizards and witches fight to eliminate. My father still lives, but is in a deep coma, and though I pray for his revival, the best potions and spells have failed to have any effect, and I fear that he may too be forever lost to me.

I suppose I might seem a bit heartless, writing this all down like this, but I'm not quite sure how I am meant to react. I know that I will never again hear my grandparents bicker, or see my mother making me a batch of dental friendly snacks. And though it is true that when I dwell on memories, I never feel more scared, more alone. And then, my other best friend comes in, the one that makes me forget all the pain when I'm with him, makes me truly happy when I couldn't possibly feel any worse (even though he also does the opposite at times). Ron Weasley, the most caring, special, prat of a boy I've ever met. A roommate of mine, Lavender Brown, once asked me why I choose to bestow my affections upon Ron instead of Harry, when she insists that they both seem to like me equally. Harry and I, of course, are probably closer to siblings than lovers, although I do admit that once before, the thought crossed my mind...

Harry stared at the diary, mouth slightly open in shock. Hermione had thought of him as a lover at a time? He had to resist a snort at the thought of Ron's reaction if indeed she had pursued that train of thought. He continued reading.

...but he is destined for someone else, and I must say, being a hero does tend to make you a bit intense, sometimes so intense that he lashes out, hurting those who try to help him. Ron, however, is every bit of a hero himself. It isn't easy, being Harry Potter's best friend, your accomplishments often seem dwarfed by comparison, I know the feeling myself. But through the years, Ron Weasley has really grown. At age eleven, he was prepared to risk his life for myself and Harry, and as he grew, so did his loyalty and spirit. He's always been somewhat of an enigma to me, sometimes so annoying you'd wish death on the boy, and sometimes so sweet he makes you wish you could live forever just to be with him. Not to mention his looks, he really is a...

Harry shut the diary, suddenly realizing how much he was violating Hermione's privacy. It was a stroke of luck for him, as Ginny's door creaked suddenly, and Harry quickly dropped the diary where he had found it.

"Ready?" Ginny said, walking into the room, sporting a silky set of dark green robes, her hair let down and looking as though she was about to attend a ball.

"Feeling a bit underdressed standing near you, but yeah, I am," Harry said, taking Ginny's hand. He shot Hermione's diary a small glance before making his way out of Ginny's room. He closed the door behind him, and continued down the stairs.

He caught Hermione's eye at the table, and suddenly found that he understood her a bit better.

"How's your love life going, Hermione?" Harry said cheerfully as he took a seat next to Ginny.

Ron turned slightly red, coughing hard his head submerging beneath the table. Hermione surveyed Harry with an almost detached expression.

"As good as yours, I'd venture," she said, before disappearing behind a copy of the Daily Prophet.

Harry turned, and to his surprise, saw Ginny Weasley smiling serenely at him.

Sharp girl, that Hermione.

***

Harry was happy to note that Ginny Weasley's birthday passed far more peacefully than his own. Through the day, they had played a game of three on three Quidditch outside with the twins joining in, as well as locking themselves in Ginny's room where they played Mini-Quidditch away from Mrs. Weasley's watchful eye. Hermione, although dreadful in real Quidditch, was surprisingly good at Mini-Quidditch, as Harry, Ginny, and Hermione easily beat Ron and the twins, making up for a humiliating loss by two hundred points earlier that day when Ron, Ginny and Fred had crushed Harry, Hermione and George.

At long last, however, was the moment Harry had been anticipating all day. They had just finished a huge birthday dinner, in which Mrs. Weasley could not help but feed Harry and Ron healthy portions, her face looking teary and guilty. After everyone finished their last helpings of cherry pie, Mrs. Weasley announced that it was finally time to give Ginny her presents. Ron reached into his pocket and tossed Ginny a box of Jelly Slugs.

"Thanks Ron, an upgrade," Ginny said cheerfully, setting the box down on the table.

Fred and George disappeared out of the kitchen but reappeared almost instantly, holding a box each.

"Birthday package," Fred said simply, handing Ginny a box.

"And a little something special for our little sis, now that we've heard her... intentions."

Harry could've sworn George shot him a discreet look, but was not sure, as Ginny happily took the two boxes.

"Thanks Fred, George," she said, beaming.

"And your father and I got you the new broomstick you wanted, Ginny dear," Mrs. Weasley said, as Mr. Weasley summoned the long package from somewhere.

Ginny tore apart the package frantically.

"Wow, Mum, Dad, a Nimbus! Thank you!" Ginny jumped up and hugged her parents.

"I've left your present upstairs," Hermione said, bounding up.

"Me too," Harry said, following her quickly up the stairs. He opened his trunk and took out the two small packages, before rushing back downstairs, where Ginny was now opening Hermione's gift, which Harry was surprised to see not a book but what appeared to be silver nail polish.

"Unlimited supply," Hermione said with a smile.

"Wow thanks," Ginny said, placing the bottle happily next to her other presents.

Bill, who with Fleur had returned from their honeymoon, had sent his little sister a strange contraption from France that was supposed to help with potion-making somehow, and Fleur had sent along an intricate hair-tie which Ginny had tried on immediately. Even Percy had sent his sister a book titled 'Success and How to Achieve It'. Finally, everyone turned to Harry, as he held out his two presents sheepishly, now feeling awfully aware of how the Weasleys and Hermione would react to the presents, not to mention Ginny herself who was looking at him, amused.

"Here, Ginny," said Harry, handing her the two boxes. "Happy birthday."

"Finally," Ginny said, quickly tearing open the first box, taking out the small teddy. "Aww... thanks Harry, it's cute."

"Did my sister just get a teddy bear for her sixteenth birthday?" Ron asked in false shock, grinning at Harry.

"Beats a box of Jelly Slugs," Harry said, shrugging.

"I'll have you know those were the deluxe kind..." Ron started indignantly.

But Ginny had opened the other box, and let out a squeal of delight that drowned out the rest of his words.

"Oh, Harry!" she exclaimed, taking out the necklace delicately. Everyone, including Harry, stared at the necklace for a few moments as the strange crystal shimmered in the candle light. Still holding the necklace, Ginny tiptoed and kissed Harry on the lips once more, but this time, he was sure it was not an illusion. "It's beautiful."

So are you, he thought, before mentally berating himself.

"Could you put it on for me?" Ginny said, ignoring the stares they were suddenly receiving.

"Sure," said Harry, now receiving smirks from Ron, Fred and George, and even the Weasley parents looked mildly amused as he lightly placed the necklace on Ginny, fastening the clasp from behind, painfully aware of everyone staring at him. "You look beautiful, Ginny."

"Eh Hem," Mrs. Weasley said, suddenly stern. "I think it's time for cake."

Ginny squeezed his hand before stepping away to help her mother with the plates and cutlery.

"Nice, Harry," Hermione whispered, sliding into Ginny's seat next to Harry.

"What?"

"You and Ginny, I always knew it was only a matter of time," she said.

"What do you mean?"

Suddenly Hermione's face turned sour.

"Oh... Harry, you clueless wreck," she said, and rose out of the seat, leaving Harry feeling confused and slightly embarrassed as Fred and George snickered good-naturedly.

He was spared any ridicule, however, when Mrs. Weasley came bustling in, holding a large chocolate cake not unlike the one that went to waste at Harry's birthday party. This time, however, there was no bleeding Remus Lupin breaking down the door in interruption, and the handsome cake was placed down onto the table, and a moment later, Ginny came in carrying a stack of plates and cutlery, which Mrs. Weasley took from her immediately.

"Will you do the honors, Harry?" Mrs. Weasley said, handing Harry the candles.

Harry nodded, putting sixteen candles on the cake. Focusing very hard to light only the candles, he muttered, "Incendio!"

At that moment, Mr. Weasley had also dimmed the other lights in the room, so it was only the light from the cake candles that lit the room. Ginny's face appeared from the darkness as she stepped up towards her cake.

"Make a wish, Ginny!" her brothers told her.

She looked strangely illuminated by a warm red glow, as if she was basked in a warm light, looking almost heavenly, and Harry momentarily wondered if it wasn't his mind playing tricks on him until all the Weasleys stared at Ginny with expressions of wonder.

"Just what is that stone on the necklace you gave Ginny?" Ron whispered, but Harry ignored him. Ginny had caught his eye now, she smiled, winked, and blew out the candles, leaving the room in darkness.

"Lumos," someone muttered, and the lights came back on.

It was a strange thing that happened, then and there as Harry watched the girl he loved happily cut up the cake in front of them. Maybe it was Mr. Weasley looking down at his daughter with a tired smile, or maybe it was Ron and Hermione who had chosen that minute to catch his eye - he suddenly realized that times like this could not last, not with Voldemort still out at large and he the only one that could stop him. Hermione's family had been nearly all killed, what if Ron's family was next? Harry did not think he could bear it if any of the Weasleys, let alone Ron or Ginny were killed, and because he stood by, idle.

He quickly rearranged his expression as he saw Ginny look up at him, concerned.

This was her night, Harry thought. Anything else can wait.

But through a series of silent looks and gestures, he notified Ron and Hermione that they needed to talk.

***

"I'm sorry Mrs. Weasley," said Harry calmly. "But we have to go, today."

He had already endured a long hour of frantic yelling and shouting which had started when Mrs. Weasley had seen Harry, Ron, and Hermione walk down the stairs with a large pack each, as well as their trunks bewitched to fit in their pockets. Hedwig and Crookshanks were now screeching and mewing angrily in their cages, indignant at being shut in a cage for so long without any reason. Pigwidgeon, who was to stay at the Burrow to allow easy communication, hooted happily above Hedwig's cage, causing the snowy owl to ruffle her wings in annoyance.

"Go where?" Mrs. Weasley cried. "Out into the world, without NEWT education, how will you..."

"Survive?" Harry finished grimly. "I won't lie to you, I hardly think that NEWTs will help much when Voldemort comes after me, and sooner or later he will. So I'm going to find a way to beat him."

"But... how?" Mrs. Weasley said helplessly, now grabbing on to Ron's shoulders as if she could stop them from leaving with brute force.

"I have a few ideas," Harry said, turning away.

"You can't just leave home, what about food, sleep, what about school?" Mrs. Weasley said, now pleading.

"Food, we'll be fine. Sleep, Harry's got Grimmauld Place now, hasn't he? We might as well clean that up. School, we've already told you, Mum, we're not going back," said Ron, speaking for the first time.

"Harry," said Ginny, her voice small. "Will you let me come with you?"

"Absolutely not!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked.

"Your mother is right, Ginny," said Harry sadly, unable to look at her. "This journey isn't meant for you."

"I will find a way," Ginny said, her voice now louder and strung with emotion. He heard Ron mutter the word 'mental' from somewhere behind him. "I'll find a way, Harry. Not even you can escape fate."

Unable to resist any longer, Harry looked at Ginny, puzzled.

"Fate?"

"When the time comes, you'll realize," Ginny said, looking him straight in the eye. "And I'll be there for you."

On that note, she turned away and hugged Ron and Hermione goodbye. She shot Harry one last look that was so intense, Harry couldn't look away, and even after Ginny had left the room, he stared numbly at the spot where she had stood.

"Where will you be tonight?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"Grimmauld Place, if everything goes to plan," Hermione answered for Harry.

"Thank you for your hospitality," Harry said formally, regaining his senses.

"Oh Harry dear you should know by now you're like another son," Mrs. Weasley said, hugging him. "Well if you must go... please stay in contact with us, I don't think I could bear it otherwise..."

"I promise I'll do my best," said Ron, looking relieved that his mother had stopped yelling.

Mrs. Weasley suddenly let out a loud sniff, and Harry was dreadfully frightened that she might start crying.

But she seemed to recover herself, and looked at Ron, Harry, and Hermione with an expression Harry interpreted as pride.

"Look at you three, all grown up. I suppose I can't help it if you're all destined for more than what I'm comfortable with... take care of each other. Dumbledore's always shown a great deal of faith in you three, his favorite pupils. It's just... well... you're all still children, of age or not..."

"We'll look out for each other," Ron said. "Don't worry, Mum, we'll be fine."

"You do that... look after yourselves... this house will always be open to you, always..."

"Thank you," Harry and Hermione said.

"Tell Ginny I'll miss her," Ron said, as he picked up his pack.

"Same for me," Hermione said.

"She'll know that I'll miss her," Harry said, shrugging. "But just in case, same goes for me."

On that note, Harry picked up his pack, gave Mrs. Weasley a brief hug, and led the way out of the Burrow, followed closely by Ron and Hermione.

"So, let's go put our stuff down at Grimmauld Place first," Hermione suggested.

"And then it's back to Godric's Hollow," Harry said. "And off on our trip to save all wizard-kind."

"Sounds exciting," said Ron. "Oh wait, that's our life? Bummer."

The three friends laughed, and continued down the road. As they climbed a small hill, Harry looked back down towards the Burrow, where he saw a curtain of red hair flap wildly in the wind.

She was watching them go, Harry realized.

"Bye Ginny," he whispered under his breath.

***

Grimmauld Place, to put it mildly, was a complete mess. It looked as if it hadn't been used for years, the house looked a wreck, and it was nearly twenty minutes until they even found the place at all.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had each thought 'Number 12, Grimmauld Place is the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix' over and over in their minds, but there was no result, the building remained invisible.

It wasn't until Ron had angrily said, "Some home this is. Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, residence of Harry James Potter, the Chosen One, the Boy-Who-Lived..."

But after the word Potter, suddenly the house appeared out of nowhere.

"Nice one, Ron," Hermione said, impressed.

Harry took out his wand, and unlocked the door.

"Wonder why the secret has changed," Harry said, looking inside the dirty house.

"Probably," Hermione said, making a face at the grim and dust that had settled as she walked in. "Because it isn't the headquarters of the Order anymore."

"All the better," Harry said. "No one coming in unexpectedly. I hope. Do you think we can arrange for another Fidelius Charm?"

"I don't know, Harry, it's really difficult..." Hermione said.

"Nothing you can't do," Ron said confidently. "C'mon Hermione, if we're going to be living here, we might as well make it safe."

Hermione sighed.

"We don't even know who put the current charm, I'm guessing it's Dumbledore, but who was Secret Keeper?"

"It might've been Snape," spat Harry, even as he took out his wand and began cleaning the room.

Ron shut the door behind them.

"If it's Snape, then we're not safe here," Ron said. "I don't know, maybe we should just go back to the Burrow..."

"If Voldemort can take us here, he can take us at the Burrow," Harry said firmly. "We'll need to find a way to set up the Fidelius Charm, Hermione can you maybe mail Flitwick?"

"Why me?"

"Because you're his favorite student, you're most likely to pull off the charm, and you're least likely to be suspected of any strange activity seeing as you're going back next year as Head Girl. Pretend it's a summer research project or something."

"I'll get on it," Hermione said, resigned. "I suppose I better help you two clean this mess up too, I don't think I'll find a clean place to write a letter, let alone a place that Hedwig would stand so I can send it off."

"Housework," Ron said, raising his eyebrows. "Just a few steps down from Knighthood, is it?"

"Every hero starts somewhere," Harry replied, grinning.