Harry Potter and the Heart of Regenesis

Chapter Five

Going Home

It took several minutes before Harry was able to regain control of his legs - let alone his power of speech. Out of all the questions inside his head the ones which came to the front were 'how?' and 'why?' - and then 'how?' again! Hermione tried to explain to him what she understood of the situation:

"Dumbledore called me and one of my colleagues to his office last week. He asked me how I was and asked to be remembered to Ron, that sort of thing, then he asked me if I'd heard from you at all. I had to tell him that you were still over here but 'on your own' - that Ginny had left you and you were teaching PE in the Quaker school. You know his eyes tell you so much about him? He seemed to look...sad as if he could feel your pain when I told him about Ginny - but there was also something about him which looked as though he knew that this would happen - as though he had always known it. I dunno...maybe I just imagined it?" She shrugged and, when Harry didn't interrupt, she continued.

"Then he came right out with it - the problems they'd had at Hogwarts, the recruiting, the suspected 'dark' meetings in the Slytherin dungeons.

"He said that what the school needed was a hero. Someone the pupils could look up to. To aspire to their greatness. For one awful moment I had a vision of someone like Lockhart making a visit to sign posters and books and things. Then I saw him smiling and looking up at the framed photograph on his wall. It's actually an enormous montage - lots of scenes from other photos - all taken on the day we got our Order of Merlin medals. There's you singing, and Snape and Ruth, then all of us getting our medals round the outside, a facsimile of the parchment scroll with the names of those students who were honoured posthumously and - right in the middle - there's you smiling. You must have been 'blind' at the time but you'd never know it. He looked right at you, that lovely twinkle in his eyes, and said that no-one in the world knew as much about how to prepare young people to defend themselves from dark witches and wizards than Harry Potter.

"For one moment I wondered if he could have possibly forgotten about your...your..." She hesitated, unsure of how exactly to continue tactfully. Then the word came to her.

"Your sacrifice. Forgotten about your sacrifice. Then I just knew he hadn't. I remembered reading about a great guitar player who had lost a hand in World War II. He knew he could never play his beloved instrument again - but he became one of the greatest guitar teachers in the world. Then I realised that one of my own cello teachers had never demonstrated anything other than how to hold the bow and things like that. I don't think I ever heard him play a note. Oh, Harry - you can do this! You know what to do, you know what to say and, above all else you know what is right!

"My colleague was not immediately convinced. Sorry, Harry - I can't mention his name. It's no-one you know, though. It's the 'secrecy' thing, you know? Our names are 'unspeakable'" - and she made a noise like the Twilight Zone theme tune with her eyes wide open and a shock/horror look on her face. Harry grinned in response - then remembered he didn't feel exactly like grinning at that moment. He was still trying to get his head round this!

"But Dumbledore...well, you know him as well as I do. If there's something he wants he'll get it. My colleague was trying to quote rule books about squibs and what they are and are not allowed to do in the Wizarding World - he even accused Dumbledore of breaking the rules by having Filch work at the school! Dumbledore shouted,

"Accio, rule book!" and it flew into the air. Before it reached his hand, however, he intoned "Incendio!" and it burst into a ball of rainbow coloured flame which, with a wave of his hand, Dumbledore managed to make fly round and round his adversary's head before extinguishing itself with a jet of water.

"And I'm not allowed to do that to an Unspeakable, so..." and he held his hands out, wrists together, "Kindly arrest me, sir!"

"I'm afraid I just burst out laughing," Hermione said. "For one brief moment I really thought my wet-headed partner was going to try to arrest Albus Dumbledore for conjuring a firework but then he, too, started to laugh. He's not that much of a 'stuffed shirt' usually - it's just that people have...certain expectations of Unspeakables.

"After that, everything was fine, though. Dumbledore asked me to come here as soon as I could and told me to 'bring you home'.

"I said that America was your home - you were already home - but he smiled again with those eyes and said you'd know what he meant."

When Harry heard her say those words he did, indeed, know exactly what his old mentor meant. Harry had only ever been really at home at Hogwarts. He had hated having to go back to the Dursleys every summer and had steadfastly refused to contemplate going back there for Christmas or Easter. Only after moving to Cresheim with Ginny had anything else ever come close to feeling like 'home' and now, without her, the place in which he was living was no longer 'home' at all.

A look of unadulterated joy spread over Harry's face now. He was going HOME. Home to Hogwarts, the place he loved more than anywhere else on earth and where he - even the he of today - was wanted. He wondered why he'd ever left.

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After Hermione had relayed Harry's decision to Dumbledore via some sort of Top Secret International Floo-link system, Harry and Hermione drank another mug of coffee each and decided to go for a walk in the school grounds while they discussed what would have to be done before he could leave for Hogwarts. He used his muggle mobile phone to call the Headmaster of Penn College, Dr Binge - but when he got through to his primary employer he was told that, apparently, someone from the British Government had called on him the week before and had already arranged for Harry to be released from his duties! The Head sounded rather surprised that Harry had not known about this until now.

The same thing happened when he entered Cresheim School and tried to give in his notice as part-time Quidditch groundsman. "Oh! Are you still here?" was the response he received. Undoubtedly, Dumbledore had worked quickly and used his own methods to smooth Harry's path! Harry didn't think that Dumbledore would have pre-empted his decision and really arranged it all last week. Would he?

As they walked back from the school buildings towards the cottage Harry and Hermione talked about how soon Harry could now return to Britain. He would have to fly (in an aeroplane), of course and his belongings - those he could not carry as luggage could follow later. There seemed to be no reason why could not be returning as soon as tomorrow. It was amazing. He pinched himself and confirmed he was not dreaming.

As they passed the Quidditch pitch he saw the same house team was practicing, as had been the other day. And there, sitting on the grass again watching was Jem. Now he had Hermione beside him he found that he didn't see quite the similarity between the pair that he'd seen before at all but, nevertheless, he called out to her,

"Hi, Jem!" Jem rose and walked across to meet them.

"Hi, Nev," She replied and added, "Who's this, then?"

"This is Lavender," he lied. She paid me a surprise visit - she's the girl I thought you looked like. I told you about it the other day, remember?"

"What?" Jem seemed surprised. "She's much prettier than I am!"

"There you go! Putting yourself down again. Don't do it - you're lovely!" He touched her under the chin with his forefinger, lifting her head up. Then Harry decided that he owed Jem a little bit more than that - and he was leaving the next day.

"Actually," he said to her in a serious voice. "Her real name's not Lavender." Hermione threw him a shocked glance. He wasn't about to give away her real name was he? But there was no need for Harry to elucidate on Hermione's true identity for he continued,

"I'm leaving in the morning. Going back to England. But, thank you for your chats, Jem. It's been nice to meet you and I hope you have a good life and all that.

"Can you keep a secret," he asked her, smiling a little secretively.

"Yeah, course I can," she replied looking just a little sad that she was losing her new friend. Harry smiled even more broadly and said,

"My real name's not Nev, either." Jem drew her lips into a straight line and furrowed her eyebrows.

"What is it then?" - she looked almost betrayed that her new friend would lie to her.

Harry did not reply in words but he slowly bent his head towards her, kissed her lightly on the cheek and then, as he straightened himself again - even more slowly - he looked her in the eyes and gently lifted his hair away from his forehead, revealing to her a bold, lightning-shaped scar. He heard a gasp and then she disappeared from his eyeline.

If Harry had felt somewhat floored several times in the past day or so it was nothing compared with poor Jem. She swayed gently backwards and hit the floor quite hard - but with that certain degree of grace that boys can never manage. After a moment and a quick exchange of grins Harry and Hermione lifted her back to her feet. Jem's mouth moved, as if she were trying to talk, but nothing came out and, before she fully regained control of her senses, the other two were halfway back up the hill, facing her, laughing and waving goodbye.

What a story she had to tell back in her dorm! If her room-mates didn't believe her story straight away then they did a few days later when a cat basket arrived beside her bed one morning with a card reading:

"Hi again, Jem! I told you I was going away and wanted to give you a present before I left. Please look after Bainbridge. She's a lovely cat and I know she'll be good company for you now Bludger is gone. She's yours. If you ever come over to 'England' pop in and see me at Hogwarts! All the best, love Harry (Nev)"

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Chapter Six

Hogwarts Prepares

In the most serenely decorated set of living quarters in the suite of Staff Rooms at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Severus Snape was changing yet another nappy. Being the father of twins was a part of life's rich tapestry he had not envisaged even a decade earlier, when he had fully expected to spend the remainder of his life as a confirmed bachelor. Then, in the year that Voldemort was finally defeated; he had met and fallen in love with Maggie Dougherty (once known as Peggy Weasley). Snape had been on his own for so many years largely because he never truly believed that he could ever love again. His heart had been given unconditionally and, in the truest, most romantic sense, completely to the one girl who had ever adequately met his own lofty ideals. He had counted himself so utterly fortunate that she had reciprocated his attentions, too. She was beautiful, loving, kind and gentle...and she had, wholly unwittingly, even he now acknowledged, completely broken - if not shattered - his heart.

Lily Evans - even now the name brought a jump to his heart, a film of light sweat to his brow - he felt that he ought to colour at it too, except his pallid skin had always failed to redden (or even pinken) whatever prompting it received. For Lily had fallen in love with someone else. Someone else whom he hated. Someone whose gang of 'marauding' friends had tormented him, abused him and generally made his life a misery for the whole of his time at Hogwarts. The ones who thought he was a vampire, the ones who had even tried to kill him on one occasion - except it was Lily's true love that saved his life. Saved his life 'and then took it away again' he'd thought for so long. Apart from Lily the only other romance in his life had been a happy but all too brief encounter with Maggie once before. She had been knocked overboard by the boom while taking sailing lessons on the Firth of Clyde; The Patricia, Snape's uncle's boat, had been nearby and they had helped rescue her. The rest, as they say, is history... He taught her how to sail...and a few other things besides!

His only other encounter with the female sex at all had been when he was rather horribly seduced - almost 'raped' he preferred to think now - by Narcissa Anderssen (later Malfoy) at a party some Slytherins had gate crashed at Ascog Castle, Sirius Black's family home. This last encounter had been enough to put him off sex for years - he was repulsed by the memory of her chasing him, water, from the pool in which the whole gang of gatecrashers had been skinny-dipping, glistening on her slim, long body. Her wet, blonde hair had been whipping his face as she kissed him roughly then she had wrapped her long legs around him and he had found her large, rounded breast in his palm, the nipple finding its way between his fingertips and then he had entered her, equally roughly, pulsing her eager body against the wall of the ante-room. Her cries of "Sevvy, Sevvy!" had really annoyed him - no-one had ever - EVER - called him 'Sevvy!' He was thrusting both savagely and trance-like - too revolted by his own participation in such a sordid act to get even close to climax - when the pair were discovered...it was far too horrid for him to even try to recall. New Azkaban was too good for her, Snape thought.

Loving Maggie had healed many of these wounds, however. Snape had been surprised when he gradually discovered that he could still love. He had thought that that particular emotion was closed off to his psyche for all time. His hair, which he had left to be long, lank and greasy for years returned to something like a 'style'- his hair pulled back into a pony-tail and the return of the short, neat facial hair of his youth seemed to have changed his whole appearance and demeanour. If Harry had been able to see him now he would have been more reminded of the 'father' he'd so enjoyed being in the company of in the 'other life' of his 6^th Year rather than the oft-hated Potions Master who had made his own life so miserable so often during his own schooling.

Snape and his wife spent their summers sailing the Scottish Lochs. They now had their own boat - a 25 foot sailing vessel which they had christened Beatrice after Maggie's adopted mother. It had been during her maiden voyage sailing from one side of Scotland to the other through Loch Ness the summer of two years before that Maggie had discovered she was pregnant. Molly had been pressuring them for years to start a family - she loved the role of doting Grandmother; George and Angelina's twins (they ran in the family, apparently!) were frequent visitors to The Burrow and Molly was once again knitting sweaters in absurd colours and baking cakes a-plenty just as she had done for her own nine children! When they discovered that they, too, were to be parents of twins Maggie had nagged her husband so much he had to give in to her and sail right down the West coast of England and all the way round Wales to reach North Devon so they could break the news in person. Maggie was, of course, unable to Apparate in her condition.

Now, in mid-April, the twins had just had their first birthday. Savannah was thin, pink-faced and a red-head - a real Weasley baby, Stuart had a fine head of black hair but his skin was as white as paper. Initial tests (conducted by Maggie's sister Anita, who had her own practice in Diagon Alley) had already confirmed that he had inherited his father's porphyria. Not that his father felt much sympathy right at this minute. He was too busy holding little feet in the air, wiping the foul-smelling residue away and trying to stop little hands wandering down to the messy area to think of anything else. He chastised himself for not having some anti-smell potion to hand - or better still, he thought, some wizard should by now have invented self-changing nappies!

Just as he was finishing his least favourite task Maggie breezed in from the next room.

"Ooh, Stu! You little stinker!" she laughed, waving her hands in front of her nose comically. "Are you still sulking," she teased her husband who was holding the used disposable in the tips of his fingers. Maggie took pity on him. "Give it here, you silly thing." She took it from him and dropped it into the metal cylinder in the corner of the room, twisted the lid and the words 'Diaper-Dispozer' flashed in red and green to accompany the 'whirr' which took it away. "Well? Are you?" she repeated.

"I am not now, never was and have no intention of sulking, my good woman," he sneered, obviously doing exactly what he had just strenuously denied. "If Dumbledore thinks it's a good thing to have Potter back here then who am I to question the greatest wizard of the 19^th, 20^th and 21^st Centuries?" Sarcasm dripped from his words. Snape's opinions on both Dumbledore and Harry Potter were now far more positive than they had once been. He admitted that, contrary to years of public opinion, he didn't really even want the Dark Arts job - but something about Potter having been chosen to come back - as a squib - and teach it brought out some of the old 'worst' in him.

"I merely question the wisdom of hiring him in...in his unfortunate...present state." He had to search for words - something Severus Snape had rarely ever had to do. "I have no doubt that, if he were...fully equipped for the task, Harry Potter could be a more than adequate Master. However..." he trailed off with a resigned shrug.

"Well, I think he'll do just fine," his wife whispered, getting close to his face so she was unable to resist giving her grumpy husband a quick kiss. He, though, took her in his arms and swept her off her feet and onto his lap as he collapsed onto the sofa.

He had long found that he could not stay grumpy for long with Maggie around. She could dissolve away his bad moods like boomslang skin just disappeared when dipped into orchid juice. She made him feel alive and he was eternally grateful to have her as his wife.

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Dumbledore had announced Harry's imminent arrival back at Hogwarts at a special Staff Meeting a few days after met the Unspeakables in his office. Harry would never know it but his old headmaster had pre-empted his decision to accept the proposal and, yes, he had smoothed his quick release from his previous employers. One of the things, which had made Albus Dumbledore the most powerful wizard of the last three centuries, was his ability to know exactly how far to push his luck!

There had been general approval of the idea amongst the staff although there had, of course, been a few murmurings of concern. If Harry had been 'magic-less' when he was just ten years old, after all, he would not have even been sent a Hogwarts letter. Squibs were excluded from Hogwarts (much to the shame of their wizarding parents) and only one had ever been admitted (as a student) to the school at all. As things stood there was no official term, though, for a wizard like Harry Potter. He had not been born a squib but had grown to be an extremely powerful wizard. He had gained extra skills from Lord Voldemort when the Dark Lord's 'Avada Kedavra' curse had rebounded on its source when Harry was simply a baby but he had lost all but this extra skill through his sacrifice.

As wizards did not, and never had previously, lost their skills like this (the Enuma Elish charm having only been successfully completed on a handful of occasions over thousands of years.) there was no 'official status' for anyone in Harry's position. There had been all sorts of confusion caused in Harry's last year at school when a well known squib, Geoff Davies - the only squib to have spent time as a student at Hogwarts - had encountered Voldemort and had had his dormant magical powers 'switched on' inadvertently by the Dark Lord. He had then been able to do the same for others, including Harry's Aunt Petunia of all people, and had become something of a celebrity, under the name Rodney Jeffries, in the Muggle World. What he succeeded in doing for the Wizarding World was send it into a freefall panic! Eventually he had lost his powers again - as did those he had also 'empowered' and he was the man killed by Cho Chang in her erne form in St Mungo's.

As far as Dumbledore's enquiries had been able to ascertain Harry's official status was still that of wizard - and a wizard with the Order of Merlin (1^st Class) to boot. Therefore there was no possible reason why he should not be classified as a Hogwarts teacher. When Dumbledore stated something as a matter of fact that was it. Fait Accompli! Harry was rubber-stamped by the Governors and he was on his way.

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Three thousand miles or so away and a mile or so higher up Harry sat on a Boeing 747 flying from Philadelphia to London Heathrow. He laid back in a first class seat (the exchange rate for English Galleons to American Dollars was particularly good at this time) with his CD player plugged into his ears listening to a Nirvana album he'd bought in the airport's 'Departure Plaza'. He'd never taken enough interest in muggle pop and rock music, he thought. He had enjoyed opera and other classical music but even these he had had to be introduced to by Hermione, Ruth Pelta and others. Dudley had given him that 'Goth' tape for his fifteenth birthday (it seemed like a lifetime ago - Harry would be twenty-six in a few months!) but he had only listened to that whilst gardening because he had no other tapes of his own. Nirvana was near enough, he found, to that sort of sound to make him think about Dudley while he listened. He was glad that they'd been able to finally be friends (even though it had been brought about by a congeniality charm) but, conversely, he couldn't help thinking, once again and for the millionth time that, had they not been friends, Dudley would probably be working somewhere in an office as Vice-President of Grunning's Drill Factory, his father's business.

Harry was asleep by the fourth track and woke a couple of hours later to find a very pretty stewardess leaning over him and asking him if he wanted to eat and drink. He received from her a salmon meal with a reasonably fresh salad, apple pie and cream and a small bottle of white wine. He had never been a wine drinker - in fact he had never been a drinker at all, really. One sip of watered down whisky in Snape's office had been enough to put him off 'strong stuff' for life and a glass of champagne at Alicia Spinnet's 'phoney' wedding reception (to Roger Davis. She was now with Sirius, of course) was just about all else all he had tried until he left school. Since then, he and Ginny had always kept a couple of bottles of wine in a rack in their kitchen in case guests arrived. Harry had sipped a few glasses on these occasions and on the romantic, candlelit dinners Ginny had prepared for them on wedding anniversaries etc. as well. He looked at the small bottle of Californian Chardonnay in front of him now and poured himself a small measure into the plastic tumbler provided. He was surprised how well it complimented the salmon and a while later, having enjoyed the light meal far more than he had expected, he sat back in his seat and reflected again on the hectic last few days.

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Having left Jem down by the Quidditch pitch Harry and Hermione returned to the cottage to find Hedwig waiting with a letter from Ginny and the latest Quidditch Monthly magazine lying on the doormat.

Hedwig immediately flew to Harry and he stroked her feathers and took an owl treat from the saucer by the window which she crunched as he removed the parchment from her leg. She hooted contentedly, stretched her wings and looked at Harry wondering if she was going to be sent on another errand or if she was free to rest on her perch and sleep. Harry smiled and shook his head, Hedwig flew gently over to her perch and Harry opened the small scroll she had delivered.

Dear Harry,

We have to talk. There are things - important things - we need to discuss.

I hope you will be in this evening - I have to leave to go to a reception at 7.30 so I'll be in the grate at 7. Hope this is OK and I'll see you later.

David sends hugs and kisses,

Ginny

"Short and to the point," Harry muttered through his teeth as he thrust the letter towards Hermione to read. She simply shrugged as she scanned it and gave it to him back.

"That's an hour. Do you want me here or shall I stay?" she asked him. He had no idea what he wanted - did he want her to be present if their meeting turned into a slanging match. How would Ginny react when he told about his new job back at Hogwarts? Then, he thought, 'Hermione's her sister-in-law - why shouldn't she hear both sides of this situation - it might help when I bump into Ron again'.

"I'd like you to stay please, Hermione." He sounded certain so she left it at that - her thought processes having somewhat mirrored his over the last few moments. Strangely enough the only real difference between these thought processes were that when Harry had thought of having her there for 'moral support' Hermione, with her more flirty nature had automatically thought 'immoral support'. That would have explained the slightly saucy smile she had suddenly splashed across her face. Harry had noticed the smile and momentarily wondered why but more important things were monopolising his mind.

They spent the next half hour making a list of 'things to do', which included packing and making plane reservations, then the clock chimed and with a loud crackle Ginny's familiar face appeared in the fireplace.

"Hi Harry," she smiled, nervously. She was obviously dressed ready for the reception. He could only see her head and shoulders but she was wearing an off the shoulder dress and a shawl and she had a rather large-brimmed hat on her head. Harry thought she looked like one of those ladies he'd used to see on the Dursley's TV going to the races at Royal Ascot. Her hair was rather shorter than he was used to and the hat cast a large shadow over part of her face.

"Hello," he replied managing to smile as kindly as he could at his estranged wife. "How are you?"

A slightly puzzled expression crossed Ginny's face.

"Aren't you angry? I thought you'd be furious with me?"

There was something going on Harry had obviously missed. He looked at Hermione who had not yet been spotted by Ginny and she was equally perplexed.

"Ginny, I haven't a clue what you're talking about! What have you done - sent me divorce papers? If you have they haven't arrived!" he laughed as if the thought of such a thing had never even crossed his mind. "What's wrong, Ginny?"

"Haven't you had this month's 'Quidditch Monthly'?" she asked him. "I thought as soon as you'd seen it you'd blow fuses!" He thought it was strange to hear Ginny starting to develop an American accent - they'd been in the country several years and had both always managed to keep sounding English. Harry had always been fascinated by accents. He remembered hearing himself speak in a broad Scottish brogue when he 'met his alternate self' at Godric's Hollow and also how Hermione herself had developed a Transatlantic twang at that 'time'.

"It arrived today. I've been...rather busy," he told her. "Hermione's here!"

"Ginny glanced across. Oh, Hi Hermione! How's Ron?" For a brief moment Ginny's defences dropped. As she spoke to Hermione about her brother she seemed to lose the stern façade, which had become so familiar to Harry of late. Then, just as abruptly - as if she remembered she wasn't supposed to be 'that' Ginny any more - she switched her other persona back on. If Harry didn't know better he'd have thought Ginny might be under Imperius. He had come to the conclusion that she just preferred being the 'new' Ginny more.

Harry had made his way over to the doormat where the unopened magazine still lay. Picking it up he was shocked to see a radiant, extremely beautiful Ginny was smiling in a full-face photo on the front cover. The story headline beneath read: "Potter Snitched: What Next for Ginny and Jeremy? (see page 11)"

But it was not the headline that made him gasp.

"Ginny!" he exclaimed. "They've airbrushed out your scar!"

A horrible, horrible silence filled the air for what could have been an hour but was probably only 10 seconds or so. Then it became clear that Ginny was crying.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," she sobbed. "When I saw what they'd written in the magazine I panicked. I scribbled the quick note and gave it to Hedwig this morning when she brought your letter for David. I never meant for any of this to happen. I know I've been awful to you and you must have been wondering what has been going on for so long."

She was gabbling, talking way too fast for the words to come out coherently but Harry could understand as he stood and listened in silence while she relayed to him so much of what had happened over the last nine months. How she had immediately been accepted by the US Quidditch team, treated like 'one of the lads' and secretly 'fancied' by all of them (except Arty Mintz, who fancied most of the rest of the team even though he had a 'settled partner' in Bryan Catchpole, the famous journalist.)

She told him how the general banter and flirting had got out of hand one night when she was offered a lift back to her hotel by the team captain Jeremy Malkovich and he had taken her in his arms and kissed her.

Harry could tell that this was as difficult for her to tell him as it was for him to listen to. He was also near to tears on several occasions himself as the story unfolded. She had, apparently resisted his advances for some time but had, eventually agreed to a dinner date and, reading between the lines of what Ginny told him and the magazine headline, they were now as good as a couple. His anger was rising the longer she spoke.

How had he not known? Did he always have to be the gullible fool? He felt like shouting out loud, shouting at Ginny, throwing things at the walls. What hurt him more, he wondered? His rejection or the thought of Jerry Malkovich, the all-American hero with his Elvis quiff and pearly-white smile, sleeping with his wife?

In times gone by this was the sort of anger that had blown up Aunt Marge or caused pigeons to evacuate over Petunia but, right now, it was with a sardonic mix of anger and irony that he spat out his response:

"Thank shit I haven't been using the bloody amulet!" he managed. He actually felt quite a lot of relief he hadn't found out about all this by using the basilisk amulet. That would have been too hard - and it would also have mirrored the experience of its inventor Salazar Slytherin who had found out about his own fiancée's infidelity through touching it.

Hermione rose and held Harry's arm, which had the desired effect inasmuch as it calmed him down slightly. He would not shout at Ginny again. Instead, he began to tell her about his own plans. About why Hermione was in Philadelphia. It was Ginny's turn to be surprised, now, but she listened with interest and then she wished him well (which was far more than he had done to her).

They were about to say goodbye when Hermione piped up.

"Isn't there anything else you want to tell Harry, Ginny?" she asked her, knowingly.

Ginny knew straight away what Hermione meant. Hermione was holding in front of her the magazine picture. Ginny was floored. Then, with what seemed like real sadness in her voice and eyes she looked again at Harry.

"Harry." She stopped - this was going to be hard. "It's gone."

She hoped he'd realise what she meant but he didn't and he had to ask her in reply,

"What?"

"It wasn't an airbrush, Harry. Hermione's right. It's gone." Ginny, on the other side of the floo link, slowly removed her hat. Like Harry, at least for the last 7 years, she had always worn her hair over her forehead. Now it was swept back. The scar was not there. The last 'special link' between her and Harry was broken.

There was no more to say.

Then, with a quieter, almost apologetic crackle, Ginny's head disappeared from the fireplace.

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