Making Mistakes

Ginny slid out of bed before anyone else was awake. She pulled on her dressing gown, cinching it tightly around her waist, and ran her fingers through her hair, wincing as her fingers pulled at the knots and snarls. She slipped into the bathroom, and perched on the edge of the bathtub, her hairbrush clutched in her cold fingers. Ginny worked the bristles through the tangles, her movements slow and deliberate. She ran an experimental hand through her hair, checking for snarls. The tangles gone, she wound her hair into a knot, not wanting to deal with washing it today. She quickly showered and dressed, needing to reach her destination before it got too late. Ginny tiptoed to the bed, and picked up her wand, shoving it into the pocket of her trousers. She padded down the stairs, stopped long enough to put her boots on, and grabbed her coat by the kitchen door.

She Disapparated as soon as her booted feet cleared the back door.

It was early. Not yet eight in the morning. Few people would be at the Ministry, but she knew Hermione would be in her office. Hermione always came in early to get some work done before everyone else came in.

Ginny used the visitor's entrance and pinned the badge of to coat lapel. She punched the lift button, with a serenity that reminded her of the night she confronted the Dursleys. That frightened her. It was one of the few times Ginny could remember being truly furious.

Today seemed to be one of those times.

She'd spent the better part of the night tossing restlessly, seeing Harry's face close as he told her, 'I can't tell you.' Seeing Harry, Ron, and Hermione with their heads together reminded Ginny unpleasantly of the weeks before her sixth year of school, when the three of them spent every spare moment away from Molly's anxious eyes, furtively planning their quest. She had felt horribly left out then, too. The following summer, Harry had said it had been for her own protection. Ginny didn't like it then, and she really hated it now. Knowing the three of them were doing it again made her stomach churn with something that had nothing to do with her pregnancy.

Ginny strode down the corridor to Hermione's office and peeked through the open door. Hermione was already hard at work, poring over several dusty law tomes, a precarious stack of parchment next to her elbow. 'Hermione?'

Hermione looked up with an irritated expression at being interrupted, but her face softened when she saw Ginny. 'Morning, Gin.' She didn't seem surprised to see Ginny there.

Ginny fidgeted with the clasp of her bag. 'Yesterday...' Ginny hesitated. 'What was that about?'

Hermione struggled to her feet and pulled Ginny into the office. She closed the door and took one of Ginny's clenched fists. 'I wanted to tell you, Gin,' Hermione said earnestly. 'I do, but - ' Hermione bit her lip. 'Harry made me promise not to tell you.'

'What did he do? Make you take an Unbreakable Vow?' Ginny asked sarcastically.

'Not quite. But I haven't seen him this worried in a long time, Ginny.' Ginny pointedly looked away. 'He's not trying to shut you out. He just wants to keep you safe.'

'Because that worked so well the last time,' Ginny retorted.

'Gin...' Hermione laid a hand on Ginny's shoulder. 'I know you can take care of yourself. He knows it, too.'

'He's not acting like it.'

'For what it's worth, I think he's wrong to not say anything to you.'

Ginny shrugged and pinched the bridge of her nose to keep the tears that suddenly gathered in her eyes from falling. 'I have to go.'

'Ginny, wait.' Hermione grabbed her hand. 'Don't be angry at him.'

'I'm not angry.' Ginny pulled her hand from Hermione's grasp. Just disappointed and hurt. 'I'll see you later.' Ginny walked out of the room and blindly made her way to the lifts. People had started to trickle in and she waited patiently for a Floo connection to clear, so she could go to the Prophet office. She had an article to write, previewing the upcoming match between the Harpies and Puddlemere.

When it was Ginny's turn to use the fireplace, she ducked to the side, and went to the exit that would take her to the street. She was seized by a sudden desire to walk.

Ginny stuffed her hands into her coat pockets, her head bent against the wind. She saw a window from the corner of her eye. Jeff's was stenciled on the glass. It was a Muggle hair salon. Ginny pushed a strand of hair from her eyes, examining her reflection in the window. She bit her lip, worrying it between her teeth. The salon opened at ten. It was barely eight-thirty. Ginny ran a hand through her hair, considering. She knew both the Harpies and Puddlemere very, very well. It was an article she could write blindfolded. Ginny looked at her reflection once more, nodding, coming to a decision. She spun on her heel, and ran to the Prophet office.

******

Ginny scrawled the last sentence of her article and all but ran to the new editor's desk. Flanagan had mercifully left the Prophet to work for Quidditch Quarterly at the end of last year. Eleanor Selwyn, who had been the senior reporter, took over his duties as Quidditch editor. She was just as exacting as Flanagan had been, but much less abrasive. Ginny handed Eleanor the sheaf of parchment. 'Eleanor? Do you mind if I go run an errand while you look over that?'

'How long will it take?' Eleanor looked at Ginny over the rims of her reading glasses.

'An hour or so.'

'I'll have this on your desk when you get back, then.'

'Thanks.' Ginny quickly walked to her desk, and rummaged in her bag for her pocketbook. She grabbed her coat from the back of her chair and left.

Minutes later, Ginny found herself swathed in a smock, with Jeff himself running his hands through her hair. Jeff, it turned out, looked like a reject from the Weird Sisters, and was as an American married to a woman from Maidstone. But he seemed to be a nice enough man. 'So what do you want to do?' Jeff asked.

'Cut it.'

'How much?'

Ginny took a deep breath. 'A lot.' It was currently past her waist, the ends just brushing the small of her back.

Jeff held the edge of a comb just above Ginny's elbow. 'Here?'

'Shorter.'

Jeff moved the comb halfway to her shoulder. 'Here?'

'Shorter.' Ginny smiled slightly. It reminded her of the scene in Roman Holiday when the runaway princess cut her hair. The comb moved up to her shoulder. 'More.' Jeff's eyebrows rose higher. The comb unwaveringly inched to Ginny's collarbone. 'Just a bit more.' The comb came to rest halfway between Ginny's chin and the base of her neck. 'There,' she pronounced.

'Are you sure?' Jeff eyed the length of hair he was going to cut.

'I have a sixteen-month old son at home. I'm sure.' Still, once he had shampooed her hair, Ginny's eyes closed tightly before Jeff could make the first cut.

'Why don't I just turn you around?' Jeff slowly swiveled the chair around so Ginny couldn't see him cutting her hair in the mirror. Nevertheless, Ginny gasped softly as she saw the long, coppery strands of hair slide to the black and white tile floor with each snip of Jeff's scissors. She transferred her gaze to her lap, and tried very hard to ignore the tickle of the air currents on the back of her neck.

'You all right?' Jeff's concerned drawl intruded into Ginny's thoughts.

'Yeah. I've just had it long for years.' Ginny let out a shaky breath. 'It's just hair. It'll grow back if I don't like it.'

Jeff laughed softly. 'I wish more ladies had that kind of thought process.' He ruffled Ginny's shorn locks. 'How do you like it?' he asked, spinning Ginny around to face the mirror once more.

Ginny studied her appearance in the mirror. 'It's...' She felt tears sting her eyes. 'My husband, he'll be... Surprised.'

'You don't like it?' Jeff's voice held a slightly anxious note.

'I do!' Ginny exclaimed. She did. It made her looked different. Not older, really, but different. Tears clung to her eyelashes.

Jeff handed her a tissue. 'Why the tears, then?'

Ginny sniffed. 'Hormones.'

******

Harry knew when Ginny got up and left. He knew she hadn't slept any better than he had. He also knew what Ginny must be thinking.

Harry heard James babbling in his cot. He figured he had a good half hour before James became restless, so he dashed through a shower and threw some clothes on. Harry walked into James' room and smiled at his son. James was standing, clinging to the top rail of the cot, bouncing with glee. 'Morning, James.'

'Dahdee!' James held up his hands, and Harry swung him out of the cot, noisily kissing his round cheek. James' dark blue eyes searched over Harry's shoulder for Ginny. 'W'ere Mummy?' he demanded.

'She's not here.' Harry already felt worn out.

'Wan' Mummy,' James said mulishly.

'Well, I'll just have to do this morning, eh?' Harry informed his son. James didn't wake up in the best of moods, and he seemed to have picked up on his father's ill temper. He began fussing as soon as Harry tried to dress him for the day.

Harry plopped James into his chair at the table and reached for a box of Owl Os on the counter. He dropped a handful of cereal on the table and sliced a banana into a bowl for James. He filled the teakettle and tapped it with his wand. Steam wafted from the spout, and Harry quickly made himself a cup of tea, sighing in bliss as the liquid slid down his throat. He leaned against the counter, trying to figure out what to do with James for the day. Normally, Ginny worked from the house, and went to the office for a few hours each week. If Ginny had to work at the office, Harry would work from home, or even take James with him to the Ministry. The witches who worked in the Muggle Worthy Excuse office could somehow smell the trail of half-chewed ginger biscuits and talcum powder, and were more than willing to baby-sit for a few hours, if needed.

That wouldn't do today. Harry had no idea how late he might be at the Ministry. He made a mental note to talk to Shacklebolt someday about setting up a childcare room at the Ministry for its employees. He sighed and picked up James' coat from its hook by the door. 'James, you want to go see Grandmum?' James shoved the last banana slice into his mouth and nodded. Harry quickly wiped the sticky banana goo from James' mouth and hands, and managed to put James into his coat, then Apparated them both to the Burrow. Harry went back to the house and went into his office, and picked the letter up from his desk. He Flooed to the Ministry and went straight up to the Minister's offices.

Harry went to Percy's desk. 'Hey Perce.'

'Morning, Harry.' Percy didn't waste time with speech for once. He silently opened his desk, and pulled out a folded sheet of parchment. He handed it to Harry with an expression of revulsion on his face. Harry nodded and went to the door that led to Shacklebolt's office, and knocked.

'Come in.'

Harry opened the door and strode inside, stopping when he saw another person already in the office. The man resembled Shacklebolt, save for the head of close-cropped hair. 'Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know you had someone in. I'll come back later.'

'Harry, come in. This is my brother, Gareth. Teaches Defense at the Salem Institute in San Francisco. Gareth, Harry Potter.'

Gareth Shacklebolt rose to his feet and crossed the room to greet Harry. 'Pleased to meet you. Kingsley speaks very highly of you.'

'Nice to meet you.' Harry shook Gareth's hand.

'Gareth's here until the Easter holiday to observe at Hogwarts and Beauxbatons.'

'Oh. Watch out for Peeves. He's the Hogwarts poltergeist,' Harry advised.

'Thanks. I'll make sure to tell that to Rafa.'

'Rafa's also a teacher at Salem. Does Muggle Studies, and teaches N.E.W.T.-level Defense with Gareth. Also does a class of beginning Arithmancy,' added Shacklebolt.

'Whatever they're telling you, it's lies.' An olive-skinned man with black hair and eyes sauntered into the room. 'Rafael Moreno,' he said, introducing himself to Harry. 'Salem Institute, San Francisco, but I'm really from Santa Fe, New Mexico.'

'Harry Potter.' Harry looked at Shacklebolt. 'I'll come back later.'

Shacklebolt looked closely at Harry. He'd seen a lot of moods on Harry's face over their ten-year friendship, and he could see the faint strain behind the blandly smooth exterior. 'No, we can talk now.' He motioned to a chair. 'Gareth, Rafa, I'll see you at lunch.' Gareth and Rafa left hand-in-hand, and Shacklebolt closed the door. 'What's the problem, then?'

'This.' Harry pulled out the letters that had been sent to Hermione and Percy and handed them to Shacklebolt.

Shacklebolt's eyes widened as he read the letters. 'Why aren't you taking this to Gibson?'

Harry hunched his shoulders. 'She won't bother to investigate. Or she'll halfway look into it or palm it off to someone else who won't do it thoroughly.'

Shacklebolt nodded. He was well aware of the Gibson's shortcomings as Head Auror. 'You want to lead this one, don't you?'

'Yes.'

'What do you know so far?'

'Not much,' Harry admitted. 'They just show up. Have been for about six weeks. I just found out about this Saturday.'

'Owls bringing them?'

'Not that Percy or Hermione can tell.' He took the letters back. 'I'm going to arrange for surveillance on Percy and Hermione's homes. There are some trainees who are really good at that sort of thing. I'll get that set up as soon as I get to the Auror offices.

'That's fine.'

'Thanks.'

Harry headed to Level Two, plans already forming in his mind. He stopped by the large room where the Auror trainees had lessons, worked on cases with Aurors, and practiced some of the more common charms, hexes, and jinxes they would use in the field. Harry knew all of the trainees, having worked with them at Hogwarts their seventh year, so they could have a means of assessment beyond N.E.W.T scores. There were eight of them in the room. Harry walked into the room, and closed the door. He cast several Silencing and Anti-Eavesdropping charms on the door and around the room, with no more effort than he had once put into Expelliarmus.

Harry wanted to use the trainees simply because he believed in making sure they received as much on-the-job training as possible. Surveillance was one of the best ways to teach them stealth and disguise. They had to make it as unobtrusive as possible, and be able to observe anything that might be unusual. Plus, Hermione and Percy lived in Muggle areas of London, so they had to be even more careful.

Harry sat at the round table without preamble and looked at each of the faces in front of him. Was I ever that young? he thought. Eric, Lucy, and Benjamin were in their first year of training, less than a year out of school. Moira, Iain, Kathleen, and Andre were in the second year, and Brianna and Kevin were the only third years. 'Bree, I need you to keep an eye on Mrs. Granger-Weasley while she's here. That means that you will follow her everywhere she goes. Even if she goes to the loo.' Brianna raised a dark blonde eyebrow, but said nothing. 'The rest of you need to take turns watching Percy Weasley's flat, as well as the Granger-Weasley flat.' Harry could feel a chill settle in this stomach. Referring to his family members by their last names gave him a sense of detachment he was going to sorely need until they solved this. 'I don't care how you do it, alone or in pairs, but someone needs to watch their flats at all times.' Harry noticed the glances the other trainees gave each other, but they nodded in agreement. 'I want a schedule of when you will be there before lunch. It needs to be charmed so that if someone needs to switch a shift, the parchment I have will signal that. I assume you can all do a Protean Charm?' The trainees all looked at Brianna.

She spoke for all of them. 'Everyone but Eric and Kathleen can do one successfully all the time. But they just need some practice.'

'Good. I want you to start your surveillance as soon as you can. Preferably tonight.' Nods of assent all around. Harry laid the letters on the table. 'Now then, what can you tell me about these?'

Moira Summoned one of the letters, and snorted sardonically. 'It looks like they've been reading too many bad Muggle mystery novels.' She ran a fingernail around the edge of one of the letters trying to pry it off. 'Looks like a Permanent Sticking charm, too.'

Iain picked up the other letter. 'The cutouts are all from magazines and not newspapers,' he commented, as he tilted the parchment toward the light. 'See? The cutouts have that slick texture from magazine paper.' He ran a fingertip slowly over the letters, rather like a blind Muggle reading Braille. 'They come from different mags, though.'

'How can you tell that?' asked Lucy, running an experimental finger over the paper.

'Quidditch Quarterly uses thicker paper than say, Witch Weekly,' said Andre. 'Transfiguration Today has a sort of texture to its paper.' He shrugged, grinning weakly. 'My mum and dad read everything. Even Muggle mags.'

'Could be any mag, though,' pointed out Eric. 'But judging by the content of the letters, they're using wizarding mags.'

Kathleen took a letter from Moira, and examined it impassively. Harry leaned forward expectantly. Kathleen didn't say much as a general rule, unless she had something significant to add, a quality Harry appreciated. 'They could be using Muggle magazines to throw us off,' she said quietly. 'It's what I would do.' The others looked at Kathleen in surprise. They tended to forget she had been Sorted into Slytherin at school, but mostly because she had the crafty kind of mind that would be well served in Slytherin, rather than any particular attitude toward blood status. She was an asset to the Aurors because of it.

'Right.' Harry sighed.

He sent Brianna to tail Hermione and set the others to the task of making their schedule. Kevin made copies for everyone, including Brianna, and put Protean charms on them all. 'That way we'll all know if someone's had to switch,' he explained. 'The D.A. and those coins are still the stuff of legend at Hogwarts, you know.' Kevin pointed to the schedule. 'We've got Andre going to Mr. Weasley's place and Lucy to Mrs. Granger-Weasley's after lunch.'

'Good. This would be a good time to practice Disillusionment charms and communicating with your Patronus, if you can make one.' The trainees moved to the other side of the room, where a large space was marked on the floor to practice their charm work. Harry ignored the noise and began to make a list of questions for Percy and Hermione, as well as a list of any potential enemies. It was depressingly long.

******

Harry's head was pounding when he got home. All he wanted was a stiff drink, and a hot bath - in that order. He was also primed to snap at someone - anyone, given how tense his whole day had been. Harry opened the back door of the house, coming to a dead stop when he saw Ginny setting the table for dinner. 'What the bloody hell did you do to your hair?' he hissed.

Ginny's head snapped up, and her face flushed with anger. 'I cut it,' she replied coldly.

'Obviously,' spat Harry. 'Why?'

Ginny shrugged. 'I felt like it.'

Strangely, it made Harry want to weep. He loved Ginny's hair. He reached out and slid a lock between his thumb and forefinger. As long as he'd known Ginny, her hair had always been long. He could still see it trailing in the dirty water and of the Chamber, and being irrationally annoyed in Dumbledore's office as he watched Ginny sob into Arthur's shoulder, that the ends were caked with ink. He had wanted to scrub the evidence of the diary from her hair right then and there. He looked down at her face. The shorter hair made her eyes seem bigger. 'It's fine, Gin,' he said hoarsely. 'Just wasn't expecting it.' He ran his fingers though her hair. It was even wavier than it had been before. 'I've never seen it this short before,' he said lamely.

Harry sighed and wrapped his arms around Ginny. 'I'm sorry. It's been a rough day.'

Ginny stiffened and struggled to refrain from asking why it had been so bad. She didn't want to see that shuttered expression on his face, nor hear his evasive answers. She just wanted to put the day behind her.