The First Day

Harry furiously tightened his grip around Seamus' arm, unable to speak. He Apparated them both to the alley behind the building where he was staying in Belfast, towing Seamus through the door and into the flat, throwing him against the wall. 'What am I thinking? What are you thinking?' he snarled, shoving Seamus roughly into a chair. 'My God, Seamus, didn't you get enough of that kind of shite last year?'

*****

'What does it matter to you?' Seamus shot back. 'It's got nothing to do with magic!'

'And how do you know?' Harry yelled, rage simmering so close to the surface, he fancied he could feel heat radiating off his skin. 'How do you know there aren't Dark wizards stirring things up?'

'And how d'ye know there are?' Seamus retorted angrily.

'I don't,' Harry huffed, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. 'But you shouldn't be there.'

'Ye're not me mam,' Seamus countered. 'Ye can't tell me what t'do!'

Harry exhaled strongly through his nose. 'Seamus,' he began, 'have you listened to what they're saying?'

'They want the English out of Ireland,' Seamus said with a shrug.

'The same way they wanted Muggle-borns out of the community?' Harry hissed. 'Or what about witches and wizards that married Muggles?'

'It's different,' Seamus insisted.

'Yeah? Then tell me how.'

Seamus sat in the chair, his lips pressed together.

'It's not so different, is it?' Harry asked softly. 'I heard that bloke talking today. He said, "any means necessary," didn't he? I know you live here, Seamus and you can't be totally ignorant of what's happened.'

Seamus looked away from Harry's penetrating gaze. His jaw clenched and the tendons of his neck stood out stiffly from the strain. 'Ye know what's different?' he asked in a low voice. 'I can fight this time.'

'What's that supposed to mean?'

'I was alone the entire year!' Seamus shouted. 'You, Ron, and Dean didn't come back and Neville was too busy playin' the hero!' He pulled his wand from his pocket and began Banishing random items across the room, shattering several small ornaments. Harry stood quietly, not interfering, nor saying anything, waiting patiently until Seamus's arm dropped, and the room filled with the sounds of his harsh panting. 'They were everywhere,' he said tonelessly. 'Corridors, classrooms. No matter how hard I tried to stay with the others, one of the Slytherin students would put a Silencing charm on me, Petrify me, and...' he choked.

'And what?'

Seamus shook his head violently.

Harry stared at Seamus, remembering how Seamus had been beaten beyond recognition when he'd seen him in the Room of Requirement before the battle started. Seamus squirmed under Harry's scrutiny, unable to meet his eyes. 'Did they just beat you up?'

Seamus flushed, then immediately paled, leaving his face mottled and splotchy. He darted from the chair and lunged for the door, tugging on it, but it refused to budge. 'Why won't it open?' he breathed, anguish making his voice tight.

'It's charmed,' Harry said flatly. 'You can't open it from either side unless one of the other Aurors here or I touch it.' He walked to Seamus and laid a hand on the other boy's trembling shoulder. To his surprise, Seamus cried out, then whirled on him, punching Harry soundly in the jaw.

'Don't touch me!'

Harry staggered a few steps, rubbing the aching area of his face. 'What happened to you?'

'Let me out,' Seamus pleaded, turning back to the door, his arms wrapped around himself. 'Please...'

Harry sidled around Seamus, giving him a wide berth, making sure Seamus could see him, eyeing him warily. 'I'm going to touch the door now,' Harry told him softly. 'All right?' Seamus nodded, keeping his on the polished wooden floor under their feet. Harry reached for the doorknob, and as his fingers brushed over the brass handle, a soft click reverberated through the room. Seamus yanked on the door and darted through the opening, his footsteps soon fading on the stairs.

Harry pulled the cap off, running his hand through his hair. It crackled with static from the wool of the cap. He dropped the cap into the chair Seamus had vacated and dumped his coat on top of it, then trudged into the kitchen, tapping the teakettle with his wand. He was sitting at the table, with a cup of tea cradled between his hands when Peter walked into the kitchen. 'I take it you knew him?'

'Who?' Harry asked dully.

'The person you brought back with you.'

Harry glanced up sharply at his supervisor. 'You heard?'

'I wasn't trying to eavesdrop,' Peter said apologetically, pouring himself a cup of tea. 'The two of you were pretty loud.'

Harry's shoulders hunched. 'Sorry.'

'It's all right.' Peter stirred milk into his tea, and took a sip. 'How'd you know him...? Seamus?'

'Same year at school. Same house, too.' Harry gingerly touched the spot on his jaw where Seamus had punched him. 'Didn't know he had a wicked right hook...'

'Looks like it's going to leave a nasty bruise,' Peter commented. 'Here, let me...' He pulled out his wand and gestured toward Harry's face.

'No, it's fine. Thanks.'

Peter shrugged and put his wand away. 'All right.' He studied Harry for a moment, then picked up his cup. 'Assault isn't about inflicting pain,' he said nonchalantly. Harry's eyes flicked to Peter, then back to the surface of his tea. 'It's about power. It doesn't matter how they go about it.'

'What do you mean?'

'You really are pretty naïve about some things, aren't you?' Peter said, softening his words with a small smile.

'Erm...' Harry shrugged helplessly.

Peter gave Harry a hard look. 'Women aren't the only rape victims,' he said bluntly.

Harry's shook his head slowly. 'Not Seamus,' he said.

'Maybe not,' Peter allowed. 'But it's a possibility.' He allowed Harry to digest that bit of information, then smoothly changed the subject. 'See anything at that rally?'

'No. It was breaking up when I grabbed Seamus.'

'Hm.' Peter pulled a manky scrap of parchment from his pocket, and shoved it across the table. 'There's a list of known pubs where they're known to gather.'

Harry drained his tea and tucked the parchment in his pocket. 'Right.'

'Charm your glass, then,' Peter cautioned. 'You won't be any use to us if you're so pissed you can't find your arse with both hands and Four-Point spell.'

'Yeah.' Harry's face set into pensive lines and he strode into the sitting room for his coat and cap.

Peter trailed after him, watching Harry carefully pull the cap over his hair and forehead once more. 'Harry, about your mate...?' Harry shoved his arms into the sleeves of his coat and didn't say anything, but looked at Peter expectantly. 'Don't give up on him, eh? Don't pressure him, but don't give up on him, either.'

Harry nodded in acknowledgement and slipped out of the door.

*****

George stood outside Katie's door, and raised his hand to knock on the door, but checked the movement and gave his jumper a cautious sniff. He hadn't bothered to go home after closing the shop, and it bore the signs of work in the back room. Before he could actually knock, the door behind him creaked open. 'She's not home.'

George turned around to see the wizard that lived in the flat next to Katie's. 'What do you do?' he asked idly. 'Keep tabs on her?'

The wizard chuckled wheezily. 'No. Just an eye.' He leaned against the door frame and gave George a long look. 'Stays late most Thursday nights at that mag of hers to help with the layout.'

'Oh.' George's face fell slightly. 'Do you know when she'll be home?' he asked hopefully.

'Not 'til late, lad.' The wizard gave George another long, appraising look. 'The office is in that small building between Eeylops and the cauldron shop,' he hinted. 'The top floor.' George gaped at him and the wizard snorted in derision. 'And if you can't read between those lines, lad, you're thicker than that bloke she just threw over.'

George began to clatter down the stairs. He stopped on the next landing. 'Thanks!' he called up the stairs, then continued down to the ground floor, hitting the door at a run. He pelted down Diagon Alley until he came to a small, nondescript building, almost lost between the bright cauldron shop and the novelty of Eeylops. He pushed the heavy door open and climbed the dark, narrow stairs to a set of stuffy, dingy rooms. Most were dark and empty, but a few had dim light seeping into the corridor. George crept down the corridor, peering into the rooms.

'Can I help you?' a middle-aged witch reminiscent of Molly asked tiredly.

'I'm looking for Katie...'

'Is Katie still here?' the witch asked the other person in the room.

'Yeah. Helping set up the features section.'

'Second door on the right,' the witch told George.

'Thank you,' George said, and quickly found the room where Katie sat on a spindly stool frowning at a collection of photographs and drawings. 'Hi,' he said breathlessly.

Katie jumped, scattering photographs on the floor. 'George! What are you doing here?'

'I was wondering if you might be hungry,' he said lamely.

'I can't...' Katie said, stooping to pick up the photographs.

'Right, well you look like you're busy. You got plans for tomorrow night?'

She shook her head. 'Not really, but...'

'Brilliant! I'll pick you up at seven?'

Katie sighed and flicked her wand at the door, closing it. This wasn't the place she wanted to have this conversation, but she felt anything else would be dishonest. 'No.' She set the photographs back on the table and laid her shaking hands over them. 'George, I really like you,' she began. 'And I would like nothing more than to go have dinner with you and anything else you've got in mind.'

'Okay,' George blurted, perplexed.

'But I can't do it,' Katie said painfully. 'I just can't...'

George gasped shallowly for air, feeling as if Katie had punched him in the solar plexus. 'Why?'

Katie's head bowed until her hair fell forward, hiding her face. 'I just can't...'

'But I thought...' George's mouth was dry, making it impossible from him to speak. 'I thought you...'

'I do,' Katie said quickly. She pressed her lips together. 'It's just that three people in a relationship are a bit much,' she confessed softly. 'I'm sorry,' she added, her voice breaking. She waited uneasily for George's response, but the only sound she heard was of the door quietly, almost soundlessly opening and closing.

*****

Ginny sat in Defense, chewing her lip, not paying attention to anything being said around her. Carter's classes were usually interesting, filled with lively discussions about when and how to use certain spells, and when something crossed the lines of defense and moved into offensive magic, but she ignored everything around her in favor of her homework planner. She had been crossing off days instead of taking notes. The tip of her quill tapped in each square as she counted the days with a heavy line crossing it off. Eleven days... she said to herself. She had a long letter to Harry in her beside table that she'd written in her usual habit of adding a bit to it every day, but it was now twice as long as a normal letter.

'Miss Weasley?' Carter said. 'Miss Weasley?' he repeated a bit louder.

Luna elbowed Ginny in the ribs, making Ginny drop her quill. 'What?' she said stupidly.

'I was askin' if there's ever a reason to use one of the nastier hexes, jinxes, or curses that cause lots of mayhem and damage,' Carter told her. He glanced at the hourglass on his desk and sighed. 'But that's it for today, ladies and gentlemen. Homework for the weekend: twenty-four inches of parchment on the ethics of usin' questionable spells. Due at the beginnin' of class on Tuesday.' The students began to shove their things into their bags and filed out of the room chattering and complaining about the amount of homework they had for the coming weekend. 'Miss Weasley, could you stay behind for a moment, please?'

Ginny, who had half-risen from her seat, slowly sat back down. 'I'll save you a place at dinner,' Hermione murmured, before sliding from the desk and following Luna and Hannah from the room.

Carter jabbed his wand at the door, closing it, but as he turned back to Ginny, he self-consciously flicked his wand at the door, opening it halfway. 'What's goin' on, Ginny?' he asked.

'Nothing,' Ginny said evenly, toying with her quill.

'Nice try,' Carter snorted. 'Let's try this again, okay? What's goin' on?' he repeated patiently. 'You always participate, you always have somethin' germane to add to the discussion in class, and you do happen to have a lot of practical experience with this stuff, but since classes started on Monday, you've been distracted and haven't paid attention to anythin' goin' on around you.' He perched on the edge of the desk in front of Ginny, his arms crossed over his chest. 'I know you're plannin' on playin' Quidditch professionally, but what if somethin' happens to you and you can't play any more, hmmm?' He reached out and pulled the abused quill from Ginny's hands.

Ginny sighed and spread her hands flat over the surface of the desk. 'It's silly,' she muttered.

'Must not be so silly if you're this worked up about it.'

'You remember Harry?'

'Yeah.'

'He's out...' Ginny waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the window. 'I can't write to him, and he can't write to me, and every morning, I snatch Hermione's paper away from her to see if there are any stories about his team in...' Ginny mouth tightened. 'I don't even know where they are.' She shrugged. 'He said it wasn't dangerous, but he's got a funny notion of what the word "danger" means.'

'I see.' Carter slid off the desk and into the chair, folding his arms over the back of the chair. 'I gave up being an Auror because my wife worried so much about me.'

Ginny stole a glance at his left hand, but it was bare. 'You're married?'

'No,' Carter replied quietly. 'But that's beside the point. I know you're young, but if you're goin' to go into this for the long haul, whether you marry him or not in the end, you can't live like you've been doin' for... How long has he been gone?'

'Eleven days.'

'I'm not tellin' you not to worry. You should worry. There's always a chance somethin' can go wrong. But you can't let it overtake your life. People are goin' to think you don't care, because you're not twiddlin' your thumbs, waitin' by the window for him to come home.'

'That sounds so selfish,' Ginny observed.

Carter grinned, but it held a note of sorrow. '"To everythin' there is a season and a time to every purpose under heaven," Miss Weasley,' he quoted. 'And that includes a time to weep and a time to laugh. It's all about balance, and if you don't learn how to find that, you're goin' to be very unhappy.' He eased himself from the desk and strode to the front of the classroom. 'Take your time to weep, Miss Weasley, but don't neglect your time to laugh.' He rifled through the quiz he'd given them to see how much they'd forgotten over the holiday. Ginny's was blank. He Vanished it with a careless wave of his wand. 'I've got a detention tonight with some of my fifth years. Come back at seven and I'll give you a make-up exam.'

'Thank you, sir,' Ginny said, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

'One more thing, Miss Weasley...' Carter began. 'Outside of your family and friends, it doesn't matter what everyone else wants to think. They're not inside your head. Or your heart.'

'Yes, sir,' Ginny said, a thoughtful expression settling over her face.

*****

Harry trudged down the walk, heading toward one of the pubs on his list. Avery had a separate list of English pubs, while Harry, after living with Seamus for six years, could do a passable approximation of his Irish lilt, and was much less obvious in the pubs the Irish frequented. He was a block away when a silver rooster dropped at his feet. 'What the...?'

'Harry, get out of there!' it hissed in Avery's voice. 'Get out of there -'

The rest of Avery's message was lost in as an explosion blew out the window of the pub. Harry instinctively threw an arm over his face, as he was thrown back several feet, rubble raining over his unconscious body.

Seconds later, amid the wailing sirens, Emma and Peter Apparated in an alley near the blasted pub. 'Do you see him?' Peter asked Emma urgently.

'No... Not yet. What color jumper was he wearing when he left the flat?'

'Red, I think.'

'That'll make him easier to spot,' Emma commented wryly.

'Is now the time, Em?' Peter snarled.

'I think I see him...' Emma darted into the street, followed by Peter. She knelt next to Harry, searching frantically for a pulse. 'He's alive...' she breathed, taking in the rest of the damage. His glasses were bent, the lenses broken. Blood trickled from an ear, and his hands were bloody and raw from flying rubble.

'How is he?'

Emma quickly looked around and pulled out her wand, and began muttering spells. 'We need to get him to St. Mungo's. Now.'

Peter nodded, and pulled off one of Harry's trainers. He pointed his wand at it, and muttered, 'Portus.' He grasped a handful of Harry's coat sleeve, and laid his hand on the trainer. 'Go find Avery, and go back to the flat.' He disappeared and landed outside the entrance of the hospital, cradling Harry's limp body against his, lest he be jarred in the landing. Peter jabbed his wand at Harry, strapping him tightly to a stretcher he conjured, then levitated him to the window. 'Peter Wilson. I have an injured Auror.' The mannequin beckoned and Peter lunged through the window. He handed Harry off to the Healers that swarmed over them.

'What caused this mess?' one Healer exclaimed.

'Muggle bomb,' Peter said tersely.

'So uncivilized,' the Healer muttered.

'And cursing someone into oblivion is?' retorted another.

Peter, satisfied Harry was being treated, swiftly made his way to the lone Floo connection on the other side of the reception area. Throwing in the Floo powder, he growled, 'The Ministry of Magic.'

*****

Shacklebolt hesitated as he stood outside the Burrow. He could hear the wireless playing music, while Molly prepared dinner, and hated to disrupt the warm, cheery atmosphere. He knocked on the door, and Arthur opened it, smiling. 'Kingsley! Care to stay for dinner?'

'Arthur, I need to talk to you. Molly, too.'

'George and Ron haven't been caught importing Venomous Tentacula seeds, have they?' Arthur said with a smile.

'No.' Shacklebolt stepped inside the house and closed the door. 'Were you aware that Harry listed you and Molly in his file in case we had to notify someone of injury or death?'

'N-n-n-n-no,' Arthur stammered. 'Is he...?'

'Injured. Badly, according to his supervisor. He's at St. Mungo's right now.'

'I'll go fetch Molly,' Arthur said quickly.

*****

Molly and Arthur clustered inside Harry's hospital room, white-faced and anxious, listening to the Healer list Harry's injuries. 'Concussion, ruptured TM -'

'What's that?' Molly interrupted.

'Eardrum,' the Healer replied patiently. 'Lacerations to his hands and face, three broken ribs, and several puncture wounds from debris. That's just from the initial examination.'

'Will he be all right?' Arthur asked nervously.

The Healer tried to smile reassuringly. 'We've treated the lacerations and puncture wounds, and we're trying to do something about the eardrum rupture. It should heal on its own, but we're trying to speed up the process. He might not be able to hear you clearly for a while, though. The ribs are next on the list, and there don't appear to be any internal injuries, but we're going to do a more thorough one soon. He's quite lucky.'

'What about the concussion?' Arthur asked.

'He regained consciousness about half an hour ago, but we gave him something for the pain, and it's made him quite drowsy. He'll sleep for a while.' The Healer allowed a small smile to grace her features. 'He's a rather difficult patient. Refused to stay in bed. He needs to rest.'

'Can we stay?' Molly asked.

The Healer glanced at a clock on the wall near the door. 'Until visiting hours are over. You've got a couple of hours.' She left the room, and Molly held the door open.

'You can come in now,' Molly said shakily.

George took one look at Harry's still body, before he bolted for the waiting area. 'George!' Molly called. 'George!'

He ignored her and pelted down the stairs to the street outside St. Mungo's. His head turned frantically, searching for a secluded alley. He ran into a dark side street, and Apparated in the shadows of a large rubbish bin. He appeared on the lane between Hogwarts and Hogsmeade and headed for the large wrought iron gates that guarded the school. George hurled himself at them, and bounced off, landing ignominiously on his rear in the dirt. He launched himself at the massive gates, trying to rattle them. He couldn't slip through the bars, because the spaces between them narrowed when he tried. 'Send a Patronus, git,' he muttered to himself. 'Think of something happy...'

It was easier said than done. At first, George tried to use the day he and Fred opened the shop, but it was now accompanied by a pang of sorrow. He considered and discarded Katie. He didn't have a happy enough memory with her, and her rejection still stung too badly. 'Think, you bloody wanker!' George hissed. He fell to his knees, wracking his brain for something he could use. He returned to his first thought of using the day the shop opened, not having anything better in mind. 'Expecto...' he choked. Fine silver mist drifted from the tip of his wand. 'Opening the shop, doing what we wanted,' he reminded himself. 'On our terms...' He took a deep breath. -Ginny needs you... 'Expecto Patronum!' he bellowed, but it was no use. The mist grew thicker and took on the vague outline of a fox before dissipating in the cold night. Exhausted from the effort, George fell against the gates. 'Somebody, please...' he rasped.

'George?'

George's head jerked up, and the shape of Flitwick bobbed into the light. 'Professor,' he croaked. 'I need to see Ginny.'

Flitwick rose on his toes to tap the lock with his wand. 'Of course. All you had to do was ring the bell,' he said severely. 'The boars told the gargoyles at the staff lounge you were making quite a racket.'

'It's an emergency,' George said flatly, trying to stay with Flitwick, but growing visibly impatient. 'Sorry, Professor,' he mumbled, before breaking into a run. He skidded into the Great Hall, spying Ginny's flame-bright hair among the Gryffindors. He bypassed her, and went straight to the staff table. 'Professor McGonagall,' he panted. 'I need to take Ginny home.' He was aware of the sudden silence that descended over the students. George glanced over his shoulder at the Gryffindor table. Ginny and Hermione sat next to each other, their faces frozen in shock, drained of all color. 'Hermione, too.'

'Whatever is the matter, Weasley?' McGonagall asked.

George threw another anxious look over his shoulder and mouthed to McGonagall, 'Harry's hurt.'

If she worried about Harry at all, McGonagall didn't show it. Instead, her lips pressed together in a thin line - thinner than George had ever seen before. She nodded wordlessly and swept from her chair down the eerily silent Great Hall. 'Miss Granger, Miss Weasley... Come with me, if you please.'

Ginny's eyes closed, but she calmly stood up and picked up her bag, following McGonagall from the Great Hall. Once they had left, Ginny turned to George. 'Is it Mum? Dad?'

George couldn't bring himself to reply. He just shook his head and said, 'We ought to go.'

'George, what's going on?' Ginny demanded. Fear curled through her stomach in a wave of nausea.

'You can Floo from my office,' McGonagall interjected, leading them to the entrance to the Head's office, and murmuring the password.

'George?' Ginny asked, much more tentatively than she had before.

Hermione slipped an arm around Ginny's waist. She had known, with the way George searched for Ginny when he burst through the door, it wasn't either Molly or Arthur. 'It's Harry,' she murmured.

George gave her a grateful look, relieved he wasn't the one that had to say it.

Ginny could feel the blood begin to rush in her ears in mingled fury and apprehension. 'How bad is it?'

'I don't know,' George admitted. 'But he looks pretty bad.'

The door to McGonagall's office opened and she strode to the fireplace, picking up an urn with Floo powder. George and Hermione each dipped a hand into it, but Ginny stood stubbornly to the side. 'What happened?' she asked stiffly.

George's hand clenched around the handful of Floo powder and he turned to Ginny. 'I don't know,' he repeated. 'Dad came to fetch Ron and me from the shop...' He glanced at his watch. Was it only an hour ago? 'When we were closing and told us to go to St. Mungo's.' He grabbed Ginny's hand and opened his fist over it, letting the Floo powder trickle into her palm. 'Fourth floor. There's a hidden doorway at the top of the stairs behind a tapestry of Janus Thickey. Password's "lethifold".'

Ginny's eyes narrowed, but she walked to the fireplace and threw in the Floo powder, gripping her bag tightly.