The First Day

Harry upended his schoolbag onto the bed in Bill's room, leaving a welter of books, scraps of parchment and more than one broken quill scattered across the mattress. He supposed he could have used the knapsack that slumped drunkenly in the corner of Bill's room, but it reminded him of too many things he'd rather not think about right now.

Molly had been more than a little upset that he, Ron, and George hadn't come home last night, but once she got a good look at their haggard faces, in spite of the hangover potions they'd drunk, she merely huffed something about them learning their lesson about overindulging in drink. Harry privately agreed. He could still smell it on his skin, even after he'd nearly scrubbed himself raw in the shower. The faint, musty odor of stale bitter made his stomach lurch at odd moments when the breeze coming through the open window shifted. Harry glanced out the window and frowned at the low, grey clouds on the northwestern horizon. Rain was a distinct possibility, and with it, a potentially bone-numbing chill. He contemplated the clothing on the bed. The only jumpers he had that weren't ragged were the ones that went with his school uniform. Sighing, he dug through his school trunk and unearthed a couple of the dark grey Hogwarts jumpers, and spread them over the other end of the bed. Using a Severing charm, he removed the Gryffindor badge that was sewn on the front, and folded them neatly, tucking them inside the bag. His jeans followed, making Harry grimace in distaste at their condition. They were terribly frayed around the hems and the knees were closer to threadbare than he had realized. Sighing, he shoved a handful of clean socks and boxer shorts into the bag and tucked in a cake of soap he'd pilfered from the stash in the bathroom, wrapped in a facecloth and folded into a towel.

Harry didn't know how long he'd be away, but Peter Wilson, the Auror overseeing this case, had advised him to bring a few days' worth of clothing. He closed the bag and securely buckled the latch. 'Running away?' Arthur asked from the door, a cup of tea cradled in his hands.

Harry smiled. 'Not yet.' He Banished the clothing scattered on the floor back into the trunk and flicked his wand at the lid, making it shut. He picked up the bag and swung it to the floor at the foot of the bed. 'I have to go away for a few days,' he said.

'Case for work?'

Harry nodded. 'Yeah. I shouldn't be gone too long, though.'

Arthur took a slow sip of his tea. 'You haven't told Molly, have you?'

Harry shook his head. 'Not yet.'

'Do you want me to tell her?'

Harry started to say yes, but found himself saying, 'No, I'll do it...'

'You'll do what?' Molly stood on the landing behind Arthur.

'Oh, well, I...' Harry twisted his fingers into a knot behind his back. 'I'll be away for a bit for work...' he said lamely. 'I'm leaving in the morning,' he coughed.

Molly pressed her lips together and, to Harry and Arthur's surprise, merely nodded and continued up the stairs.

Harry glanced at Arthur from the corner of his eye. 'Why do I feel like that's just the calm before the storm?' he murmured.

'Because it probably is,' Arthur replied. 'I've been married to her for nearly thirty years, and I can count on one hand the number of times she's been so upset by something that drives her to speechlessness.'

'Bugger,' Harry muttered, rubbing his temples. 'I'm in a lot of trouble, aren't I?'

Arthur gazed up the staircase and turned his attention back to Harry. 'I'd say between the morning after Ginny's birthday and the time the twins cut each other's hair. She could barely form words.' He rubbed a hand over his balding head. 'I think if she manages to shout at you in complete sentences, you're all right. It's when she goes into incoherent phrases that you've got to worry.'

'I'd better apologize, hadn't I?' Harry sighed. 'This family thing...' His hand swept around the room, encompassing the house. 'It doesn't get easier, does it?'

Arthur's eyebrow rose as he considered what Harry had just said. 'Families aren't hard, son. You just have to remember you're not on your own anymore.' He gave Harry a small shove between his shoulder blades. 'Go and talk to Molly.'

Harry gulped and nodded. He slipped up the stairs to the fourth floor, where Arthur and Molly's bedroom was. Knocking on the partially-open door, he called out softly, 'Molly?'

The door swung open of its own accord and Harry peered into the dimly-lit room. Molly was sitting in a small chair, knitting furiously, another set of needles clicking rapidly in mid-air next to her. 'Your jumpers are a disgrace,' she said tightly. 'You'll need a few new ones while you're out doing Merlin-knows-what with the Aurors.'

Harry edged into the room, and stood just inside the door, feeling for all the world like a small child who had broken a valuable vase by accident when he'd been doing something barmy, like play Quidditch indoors. 'I'm sorry,' he said to the toes of his trainers. 'I'm not really used to telling people what I'm doing.' He paused, rubbing the toe of one trainer into the rug. 'Well, not people who care about me.' He cleared his throat. 'And I didn't want you to worry.'

'You think I wouldn't worry when you didn't come home from work tomorrow?' Molly retorted tartly.

'Erm... I guess not.'

Molly sighed and put her knitting down in her lap. 'Harry, you're of age, and I don't expect you to tell me your plans every time you leave the house. And I do appreciate the need for secrecy in your job.' She resumed knitting and let a few stitches go by before she spoke again. 'Next time you have to do something like this, give me a little warning. More than the night before, mind,' she added.

Harry stood open-mouthed in the doorway. 'That's it?'

Molly grinned wryly. 'Would it make you feel better if I fussed?'

'A little...' he mumbled.

Molly's lips twitched. 'Harry James Potter! How could you not tell me you have an assignment like this?' she said, raising her voice slightly. 'I would have been worried sick about you...' Harry bit his lip in an effort to not laugh. 'Better?' Molly asked.

'Yeah.'

'Now then,' Molly began briskly. 'What time are you leaving?'

'I have to be at the Ministry at six,' Harry replied with a moue of distaste. He still didn't like to wake up early.

'I'll have a nice breakfast for you before you go then,' Molly stated decisively. 'You need to eat.' Harry started to object, but the beady-eyed look she gave him made him reconsider. He nodded left the room.

*****

Harry rubbed his eyes, slumping against the wall of the lift. He hadn't woken up this early since his birthday, but at least then he'd been able to have a kip after lunch. 'Wakey, wakey, Potter,' sneered Avery Carmichael. 'You're playing with the big boys now.' Harry ignored Avery, studiously polishing the lenses of his glasses with the hem of his shirt.

'That's enough, Carmichael,' Peter said mildly.

'But...' Avery protested.

'Enough.' Peter shot Avery a slightly menacing look. The doors to the lift opened, and Harry stepped out, followed by Avery and Peter. 'Potter, go on the training room. We'll meet you down there in a moment.' Harry's eyes darted between Avery and Peter, but he nodded and set off down the corridor. Peter's hand shot out and closed around Avery's elbow. 'Pull your head out of your arse,' he said harshly. 'He's done more than most of us in fighting Dark wizards, and you of all people are not going to begrudge him.' His grip tightened a little, and leaned forward a little, lowering his voice. 'And if it weren't for him, lad, you wouldn't be here right now, would you?'

Avery gulped and paled. He was Muggle-born. 'I guess not...' he replied faintly.

Peter nodded once and released his hold on the other man's arm. 'He will not get treated any better, or any worse, than any first year Auror.' He studied the slightly sullen man in front of him. 'I don't hold with any of that hazing nonsense. Not for trainees, not for beginning Aurors. So whatever idea you've got forming in your head, you leave it here. If you so much as attempt to make this assignment any more miserable than it's already going to be, then I will place you on report with Gibson, and you will spend the next two months doing paperwork.'

'I thought you said he wasn't getting special treatment,' Avery retorted.

Peter smiled thinly. 'I would do that for any beginner. If they had the misfortune to be assigned to their first case with you.' With that, he strode down the corridor after Harry, ignoring Avery's gawping expression.

*****

Harry perched on the edge of a chair in the tiny kitchen, his hands clasped between his knees. 'So how many got away from the castle?' He glanced apologetically at Peter. 'I wasn't paying attention to much of anything right after the end of the battle. And Gibson didn't tell me until Friday right before she went home, and by the time I could get out of a meeting with some of the Wizengamot, MLE, and the Minister, nobody could tell me what the details were.' He paused. 'And I didn't think it was prudent to send an owl and ask.'

Peter gave Harry a contemplative look. 'You don't trust people,' he stated bluntly, figuring the best way to deal with Harry was to be direct. 'Do you?'

Harry shrugged. 'There's not many that I'd trust straightaway,' he admitted.

Peter sketched thoughtfully in the margins of his notes. He speared Harry with a hard glare. 'You're going to have to learn to trust us.' Harry's mouth opened, but no sound emerged. 'I'm not saying you have to trust us with details about your personal life. But none of us will ever do anything to deliberately cause you harm. If you don't trust us with your life, how do you expect any of us to trust you with ours?'

Harry nodded tightly. 'I understand.'

'It's the only way we can work, Potter.'

Harry swallowed the sarcastic retort that rose to his lips, and merely replied, 'Yes, sir.' If I hadn't been able to trust Ron and Hermione last year, I wouldn't be here. I do understand how that works... he thought mutinously, his hands knotting into fists.

'So, the details...' Peter shuffled through a few notes. 'It's Miles Nott. He was spotted outside Montrose last week.'

Harry's eyes closed, and an image of Nott in the Department of Mysteries appeared. 'Thin, almost emaciated-looking? Shorter than me with thin dark hair that looks like it needs a wash?'

Peter blinked. 'Exactly.'

'I've seen him before,' Harry said shortly.

'Right...' Peter breathed. He'd read Harry's file when Gibson had said in passing that Harry would be joining him on this case. Harry had tangled with Nott before. 'Well, the best we've been able to piece together is that he managed to slip away as the Death Eaters invaded the castle, before you and...' He trailed off uncomfortably. 'Well, you know...' He took a deep breath. 'Anyway, the few we've been able to talk to have said they saw him in the Forest, then he wasn't there during the invasion. He's been seen by Muggles shoplifting food, but before anyone can catch him, he's Disapparated.'

'Feels safer around Muggles, eh?' Harry snorted. 'That's ironic, considering he used to torture them.'

'Well, who would -'

Harry interrupted Peter. 'Who would think to look for him in a Muggle neighborhood? Everyone in magical areas would be looking for him.' Harry pulled the paperwork across the miniscule table. 'How do you know it's him?' he asked curiously.

Peter shuffled through the papers, until he unearthed a sketch. 'We got this from the police last week. It's based on witness descriptions.'

Harry pulled the paper closer. 'He looks like he's in a bad way,' he commented.

'You feel sorry for him or something?' Peter asked.

Harry shrugged a little. 'Not in the way you think.' He knew all too well what could drive one to steal food in the open like that. 'When was the last time he was seen?'

'Three weeks ago. We've narrowed down the neighborhoods where he might be.' Peter tapped a piece of parchment with his wand, and a three-dimensional map of Montrose and the surrounding area appeared. 'We think he's been hiding out here, in the abbey. It's not said to be haunted, but there have been reports of odd noises and flickering lights from the tourists.'

'So what are we going to do?'

'You're going to be with me. And I've got Carmichael with Emma Greene. She's been here since last week, gathering information.'

'O-o-o-okay...' Harry tried and failed to stifle the yawn. He hadn't slept much the previous night.

'You and I will take the overnight shift watching the abbey. If something happens, we'll investigate it. If we see him, we Stun him, and contact MLE and they'll send someone to transport him to Azkaban.' Peter gathered the rest of the paperwork and stuffed it into a folder. 'Go on into the other room and get some sleep. It's going to be a long night.'

Harry didn't argue, but stumbled into bedroom he and Peter would share with Avery and fell into one of the camp beds. He pulled his glasses off, and blinked at the pattern on the pillowcase and fell asleep.

*****

Harry tucked his hands into the sleeves of the dark green jumper Molly had stuffed into his bag Monday morning. He was grateful for the warmth it provided. He had hoped they would have captured Nott by now, but three nights of prowling the abbey hadn't put them any closer to their goal. He repressed a sigh and rolled his shoulders, trying to work out the kinks that had taken up seemingly permanent residence in his back.

Peter caught the motion and chuckled softly. 'Never say it's like this in all those bloody brochures at the school, do they?'

'No, they don't.' Harry smiled a little. 'At least I'm not the one being chased this time,' he muttered, his eyes fixed on the large O-shaped opening on the towering transept. He began to walk toward the door that led inside the abbey.

Peter jogged to catch up with him. 'What do you think you're doing?' he hissed.

Harry stopped just outside the arched opening and pointed to the flicker of light from the Abbot's House. 'Look,' he whispered. 'You said to keep an eye out for something odd, well, there shouldn't be blue flames coming from there at this time of day, should there?'

'That could just be lights from the town,' Peter argued.

'Well, we won't know until we go look, will we?' Harry slipped through the opening, and drew his wand from his pocket.

'Potter, wait!' Peter's hand closed around Harry's arm. 'You can't just charge in there like that!'

'I don't plan on blundering into the house,' Harry snapped. He pointed his wand at the door, murmuring, 'Homenum revelio.' The door briefly glowed red then faded. 'Someone's in there.'

Peter gaped at Harry. 'Where did you learn that?'

'Last year,' Harry grunted. He turned his attention back to the house. 'Even if it's not him, at least we'll know, won't we?'

Peter hesitated. 'I'll be right behind you.'

Harry nodded shortly, and crept to the heavy wooden door. Okay, think... He swept his wand in a small arc, thinking the incantation to open the door. To his surprise and delight, it silently swung open a little. The flickers of blue grew stronger, and Harry slowly edged toward them, keeping his back pressed against the wall. He peered around the doorway into a large room, and jabbed his wand toward the figure crouching in front of the fire. Stupefy! The jet of red light landed squarely between the person's shoulder blades and he toppled over sideways, unconscious.

'Is it him?' Peter said softly.

'Don't know.' Harry strode to the wizard and used the toe of his battered trainer to nudge him onto his back, the light of the fire falling on his face. He met Peter's eyes, and his shoulders slumped. 'It's him.'

*****

Harry trudged up the paddock to the Burrow, a small smile playing over his mouth. Warm lamplight fell from the kitchen windows, and he stood for a moment, watching Molly and Arthur prepare their nightly cup of tea, moving in smooth precision. It was almost like watching a ballet. He shook himself from his reverie and continued up to the house, walking into the kitchen. He found himself quickly smothered by Molly's tight hug before he even had a chance to put his bag down. Without thinking, he returned it, breathing in the scents of what he had come to associate as home. She pulled away slightly. 'Are you hungry?'

'Famished,' he replied. 'Peter Wilson is a horrible cook. He made breakfast this morning, then kept us at the Ministry completing the paperwork until ten minutes ago. Wouldn't even let us stop for dinner,' he complained.

'Go sit down,' Molly directed, flicking her wand at the cupboard. A plate floated out and landed on the table in front of him. In seconds it was filled with roast chicken, potatoes, and sprouts.

'Oh, thank you,' Harry breathed fervently, cutting into the chicken.

'Hey, when did you get back?' Ron asked, coming into the kitchen.

'Just now,' Harry replied around a mouthful of potatoes. 'Heard from Hermione again?' She had finally returned from Australia with her parents last week.

Ron shook his head. 'No. But she's supposed to come over tomorrow.'

'That's good,' Harry said, cutting a sprout in half and stuffing it into his mouth.

'Andromeda called earlier. She said if you were back by tomorrow, she'd bring Teddy over if you felt up to it.'

Harry felt a smile spread over his face. 'I'd love it.'

'She's going to leave him with you overnight,' Molly interjected. 'Said she could use a break.'

'Oh.' Harry's brow furrowed in thought. He didn't want to keep Ron awake all night with a baby. 'Can we put him in Bill's room with me?'

'That will be fine,' Molly said. She and Arthur finished their tea and went upstairs.

Harry put his fork down and looked at Ron. 'We caught Nott,' he said, without preamble. 'Did you know that only half the Death Eaters were arrested after the battle?'

Ron's face paled slightly. 'Which ones?'

Harry chewed a bite of chicken. 'The Malfoys, the Carrows, Macnair, Crabbe, and Goyle.' He swallowed. 'Nott, Avery, Rookwood, Selwynn, Urquhart, Jugson, Flint, Mulciber - they all managed to get away in the melee.'

'Where was Nott?' Ron whispered.

Harry crammed a chunk of potato into his mouth. 'Arbroath Abbey, outside Montrose.' He barked in ironic laughter. 'Hiding amongst Muggles.' He pushed a bit of chicken around the plate. 'I almost felt sorry for him,' he said. 'He was stealing food and living in a ruin.'

Ron snorted. 'Yeah, because we don't know what that's like...'

Harry nodded and quickly finished his dinner. He rose from the chair and went to the sink, washed the plate and cutlery, and put them away. 'I'm going to bed,' he said tiredly. 'If Teddy's coming tomorrow, I need all the sleep I can get.' He picked up his bag and started up the stairs. 'Hey, Ron...?'

'Yeah?'

'If you need to talk...' Harry shrugged, leaving the sentence unfinished.

Ron twisted the hem of his t-shirt. 'Thanks, mate...'

Harry continued up the stairs. 'You can thank me later. I just gave you and Hermione an entire night of privacy.'

Ron shook his head. 'I don't think that's going to happen,' he muttered. 'I don't want her to think I'm a total pig.'

Harry threw his bag into the corner of Ron's room. 'Either way, the two you can have some time alone.'

*****

Ginny examined the students who had come out for the Gryffindor team tryouts. She sent the Beaters to one end of the field to find protective gear, while she put the prospective Chasers into groups of three. She knew most of them and tried to organize them into groups she felt wouldn't work at cross purposes with each other. She chewed the inside of her cheek, then placed Euan Abercrombie in a trio with Demelza, who worked well with anybody, and Natalie MacDonald. This was the first year either Euan or Natalie had come out for the team, and Ginny wanted to put them with someone with experience. If any one of the fifteen that had shown up could keep up with Demelza, who was nearly as driven as Ginny herself, she'd have her Chasers.

Setting the Chasers to warm up with a Quaffle a bit, Ginny trotted down to the other end of the pitch. 'All right, guys.' She flicked her wand at a mannequin, not unlike the one Carter had them use in class, sending it floating above their heads. 'I want you to take turns flying around the pitch, and try to aim the Bludger at Buster up there.'

Ritchie Coote snickered. 'Buster?'

'Yeah, because that's what happens to him when he gets hit by a Bludger,' Jimmy Peakes chimed.

'Everyone's a comedian today,' Ginny sighed. This was a position she wasn't too concerned about. Jimmy and Ritchie were fairly good players. Not on the level Fred and George had been, but Ginny had always had a suspicion they could somehow talk to each other without speaking. Only five other people, besides Ritchie and Jimmy had shown up for Beater, so it didn't take long for Ginny to see Ritchie and Jimmy were her best bets. Out of the ten attempts to hit Buster, the two of them managed to hit the mannequin eight times. The next highest score belonged to a third year who only managed five hits. Sending the Beaters into the stands, Ginny sent the five groups of Chasers into the air by twos and basically had them play against each other without Beaters, Keepers, or Seekers. She wanted to see how well the personalities would jell, or if they would clash under the relatively low-stress situation.

Natalie and Demelza worked well together, even though Natalie let the Quaffle slip from her fingers a few times. But Ginny felt that could be remedied with some intensive practice sessions before the first game. But as for Euan, Ginny refrained from throwing him off her pitch. He gasped and ducked the first time a Quaffle came his way. Right, Ginny mentally sighed to herself. I'd rather try to be Captain as a Chaser than as a Seeker, like Harry... poor sod. She looked down at the clipboard she carried and jotted a few notes on it. Two solid options for Chaser, besides me. And a couple of those others weren't too bad. Maybe they can be Reserves...' She chewed the end of the quill, thoughtfully and turned her gaze to the three students who had come out for Keeper. 'It's pretty simple,' Ginny began. 'Whoever blocks the most goals out of ten will be the Keeper, the next highest will be the Reserve. All right?' At their nods, she sent the first one up to the goalposts.

It wasn't pretty. It made Ron's worst efforts his fifth year look like international quality play. None of them managed to stop more than six goals out of the ten. One of the three only managed one, and that was because he hit it with his broom trying to get a hand on the Quaffle. Ginny ground her teeth, glaring at her notes. They could get away with somewhat average Chasers and Beaters. But they needed a good Keeper and a good Seeker. Maybe Dean can play... she mused. Dean Thomas had come back for his seventh year, and he'd had some experience playing Chaser her fifth year, and was quite coordinated physically, she wasn't quite sure how to approach him with it. He hadn't really talked to her much since classes had started two weeks ago.

'Um, Ginny?' Demelza muttered.

'Hmmm?'

'What about the Seekers?'

'Oh...' Ginny's eyes focused slightly as they fell on the one person who had come to try out for Seeker - Dennis Creevey. She strode purposefully to Dennis. 'Are you sure you want to do this?' she asked in a low voice.

Dennis nodded, his lips compressed into a thin line. 'It would have made Colin happy.'

Ignoring the other students around them, Ginny pulled Dennis away a bit. 'I can't let you try out if that's your only reason,' she told him, wincing at how harsh she sounded. 'You ought to try out because you want to.'

'Ginny... I need to do this. I need to find something that Colin didn't do, so that everything I do here isn't tainted with some sort of memory of what he and I did together.' He turned his head away from Ginny, in a gesture she recognized from her brothers. 'I'm not awful at it,' he insisted, his voice cracking. 'I'm just not as good as Harry.' He rubbed the side of his hand under his nose. 'My dad, he's a Muggle, right? And for some reason, he likes this game called baseball, and it involves throwing and catching a ball. It's not as small as a Snitch, but it's not always easy to catch, all right? Anyway, he would take Colin and me out to the village green and play catch with us during the summer hols. And to make it interesting, he'd make us try to catch the ball on the run.' Dennis' voice turned slightly desperate. 'I'm even the right build for it! I'm small, light... Please...?'

'I'll need to see you fly first,' Ginny said finally, after staring at Dennis for a long while.

'Brilliant!' Dennis mounted his broom and kicked off.

Ginny took a few steps into the pitch, and shaded her eyes with one hand. Dennis had been honest with her. He wasn't nearly as good as Harry, but he could be good enough, with enough practice. 'Oi! Dennis!' she yelled. 'I'm letting out a Snitch!' She jogged to the crate in the middle of the pitch and picked up the Snitch, releasing it as soon as it was free of the crate. It zoomed off, glinting in the afternoon light.

Ginny traced the path of the Snitch with her eyes. Again, Dennis had been honest with her. It took him a full fifteen minutes to catch the Snitch. While it wasn't a horrible margin, in some cases, it would be enough for the team to lose the game. 'Dennis! Let it go and try again!' she shouted. 'See if you can find it quicker!'

'Okay, I'll try...' he called back, his voice nearly carried away on the breeze.

Ginny had Dennis release the Snitch and find it four more times. While his times didn't necessarily get better, they didn't get worse. It was a start, at least. And it meant that Ginny wouldn't have to step in and play Seeker. Dennis landed next to her, breathless. 'How did I do?' Ginny smiled and patted him on the back. 'Not too bad,' she said.

'When are you going to announce the team?' called out one of the girls who had tried out for Chaser.

Ginny frowned and looked at the clipboard. The first game was in the middle of November. They would have to start practices soon if she was going to shape them into a team worthy of Gryffindor. 'Monday.' She looked up into the stands, and saw Dean talking with Luna. It's now or never, she thought grimly.

*****

Ginny hauled her bag into the library to study. If she thought her O.W.L. year had been hard, it was nothing compared to the year she was having now. Carter had set them to write a twelve inch essay on the properties of Patronus charms. That wasn't going to be a particularly difficult essay for most of the people in her class. They had all learned to do them years ago under Harry's patient guidance. But Carter wanted them to research what a corporeal Patronus form meant. He had some rather strange ideas about it, but Ginny just thought it had more to do with his being an American, since they learned things a bit differently there.

She opened her book to the chapter on Patronus charms and opened her notebook, fully intending to take notes for her essay, but found herself staring at the blank page. She picked up a quill and instead of writing down the theory that one's Patronus was an extension of one's personality began to write...

-13 September 1998

Dear Harry,

School is all right, and I know you're concerned about Professor Carter, but really, he seems fine. The new Transfiguration professor is a lot nicer than McGonagall in class. We don't move on from something until everyone has managed to attain at least an Acceptable. It's actually nice to take our time, and really figure it out before we have to try something new. Oddly enough, the way she teaches the class, what we do in the next lesson builds on what we've just mastered, so we end up mastering the new concept faster. Nothing against McGonagall, but it makes a nice change.

I had Quidditch tryouts yesterday. Can you say "disaster"? Ugh. It made my head hurt. Why, oh why, do people with no skills at all bother coming out for the team? It just makes it harder to dash their dreams to bits and tell them they didn't make the team. Because they look so hopeful at the tryout. It's not as bad as it sounds, though. Demelza and I are playing Chaser again. Do you remember Natalie MacDonald? She's a fourth year. She's kind of tall, about George's height, dark blonde hair... She's from Dundee and it's a bit hard to figure out what she's saying at first. Anyway, she's not bad as a Chaser. She's not great, but I don't think she'll lose us any games. I kept Ritchie and Jimmy on as Beaters. Nobody else even comes close to those two. For Seeker, I'm going to try Dennis Creevey. Now, don't give me that look. He was the only one who came out, and I'd much prefer to try and Captain the team as a Chaser than a Seeker. It means I can concentrate on the team and not miss the Snitch, because I'm yelling at the Chasers or Beaters. Besides, he's not unfortunate at the position. Better than some I've seen.

Now, for Keeper... I, uh... I asked Dean... Do you mind? The three that tried out were so awful that I was afraid I'd have to play the position, and I've never played it before. And he was there with Luna, and I thought, "Maybe..." He said he wasn't sure, but he'd let me know by tomorrow morning at breakfast.

Some days I'm not sure I can handle all this. I mean, it's not just the schoolwork, or the commitment to Quidditch. It's seeing all these things that remind me of Fred. Did you know Professor Flitwick still has their swamp in the corridor? It survived. When I saw it, I almost burst into tears, because it reminded me of the day they left. I've heard rumors that they want to turn one of the front corridors of the school into a sort of memorial for the people who died at the battle. You know... Photographs, names, dates... I already don't go down that corridor on the second floor. You know the one. Will there be any corridors left for me soon?

This is going to sound horrible, but I hope they don't do it. Not until I leave at any rate. I would like to have one year of school where nothing horrible happens or be reminded of anything horrible. I mean, for the love of Merlin, is that too much to ask?

I need to go do my homework. If I don't do it now, it'll be two in the morning before I get to sleep.

Ginny's quill hung suspended over the paper. Her hand shook slightly, dripping ink over the bottom of the page.

I hope you're all right. I'll write again soon.

Love,

Ginny

*****

A/N: There's a television show called 'Mythbusters' where these two guys attempt to debunk all sorts of urban myths and things you see in the movies. Their hapless test dummy is called, yes, Buster.