Harry Potter and the Last Goodnight

Harry and Ron were both anxious to get to Muggle Studies the next day. Ron had struggled through Charms earlier that morning. Ron had spent most of lunch whining about how hard his classes were, and he only stopped after Hermione promised to help him out when Harry had Occlumency that night. A break in Muggle Studies was exactly what they needed.

"Wonder who the speaker is?" Ron said. "I hope we don't have to take notes or anything. My hand is still cramped from when Flitwick launched into the necessary motions for that reflection spell."

"I don't think I've ever seen him write quite so fast," Harry agreed. "Hey, if you get the last of the spell regulations from Hermione, will you let me copy yours?"

"Sure." Ron nodded. "You know, Harry, I've, er... Well, I've been spending a lot of time with Hermione lately and have you, er, noticed anything?"

Harry tried to hide his grin. Ron looked like he'd never been more uncomfortable. He was staring at his own feet as they hurried along the first floor corridor. He was nervously running his fingers through his red hair. "What do you mean, anything?"

"D'you think... Oh, never mind." Ron scowled. "I feel stupid. Forget it. Forget I mentioned it."

"No, come on, Ron. What were you going to say?"

Ron stopped in his tracks. He looked around, making sure that the two of them were alone. They were already running behind schedule and the hallway was deserted because everybody was already in class. "Say, Harry," Ron whispered, his voice barely audible, "what do you think my chances are with Hermione? I mean, as a... a boyfriend?"

Harry couldn't hold his laughter back anymore. He snorted and broke out into a hearty chuckle. Ron, on the other hand, was not smiling. He looked like he'd just been slapped in the face. He tried to laugh it off.

"Yeah, pretty crazy idea, huh?" Ron said sadly. "Just joking, mate. Really." He turned around and began walking towards the classroom.

"Ron, wait," Harry said. He caught up to him and blocked his pathway. "I wasn't laughing because you have no chance."

"Then why were you laughing?" Ron demanded. He was blushing hideously.

"Because it's taken you so long to realize that you do have a chance," Harry replied. "I mean, I think you should go for it."

Ron brightened up immediately. "You really think so?"

"You git," Harry snapped. "I've been a witness to the tension between the two of you since the day you met each other. I don't think I could take another year of it if you two don't get your act together."

Ron's grin was stretching from ear-to-ear. "Yeah. You're right." He paused. "You know, I remember when we first met her on the train and how she..."

He quickly stopped talking as a group of third years passed by. Not wanting to reminisce with Ron about his romantic feelings about Hermione, he said quickly, "We should get going. We're going to be late." Ron nodded and the two of them walked silently down the corridor.

Ron was no doubt hatching a plan of how to win Hermione's heart. Harry, on the other hand, was feeling guilty for selfishly thinking only of himself. He wanted to be happy for Ron that he'd finally realized his true feelings for Hermione. However, if Ron and Hermione got together, what would become of the friendship he shared with each of them? Would he become nothing more than a third wheel? Would Hermione and Ron sit next to each other in every class? Would Harry have to be partnered with Neville for every project? His grades would surely suffer.

But the question that was really burning in his mind was if Ron gained a girlfriend, would Harry lose his best friend?

They were the last to arrive in the Muggle Studies classroom. The two of them found their seats in the second row.

Professor Avis was already at her desk. She glanced at them as they sat down just before the bell rang. Harry couldn't tell if she was angry or not. Promptly, she stood and walked to the front of the class.

Today she was wearing a jean skirt and a bright orange sweater. She would have looked positively muggle if it weren't for the leather jacket and matching feather boa she had tied around her waist. It was very hard to take a teacher seriously when she dressed like Professor Avis did.

"Good afternoon, sixth years. As you are all well aware of, today is the day we will begin our weekly discussion with our guest speaker. He will be lecturing the class for the first hour. I want you all to treat him with the same respect you would give any other teacher. He has kindly taken time out of his busy schedule with the Ministry to educate all of us on the wonders of Muggle Life. I'd like you all to welcome Mr. Arthur Weasley."

There was some applause as Mr. Weasley stepped out of Professor Avis's office. Harry heard Ron make a small squeaking noise. He sank low into his chair, trying desperately to become invisible.

"Thank you, thank you, you're too kind," Mr. Weasley said. He took over Professor Avis's spot at in front of the chalkboard. She took a seat at her desk and folded her hands in front of her, watching Mr. Weasley inquiringly. "Once again, good afternoon to all of you. As Professor Avis mentioned, I am Arthur Weasley. I work at the Ministry of Magic Headquarters in London. I work in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, where we often work with Muggles and some of their amazing devices."

Mr. Weasley scanned the class, his gaze stopped when it reached Ron and Harry. He winked. Ron sank lower into his seat. "Please don't talk about me," he whimpered. "Please don't talk to me."

Harry didn't understand why Ron was embarrassed to have his dad lecture the Muggle Studies class. If anything, Harry thought he would have been proud that his father was so involved with the class.

He cleared his throat. "Now, throughout my lectures, please don't hesitate to interrupt and ask questions. I understand that some of you know very little about Muggle life, especially those of you who come from ancient wizarding bloodlines. Some of you may also be very familiar with the ways of Muggles. Some of you may have even thought you were Muggles up until you received your letter from Hogwarts. But I digress..."

Mr. Weasley began to pace the front of the classroom. "Now, to stick to Professor Avis's plan, we'll first be discussing the daily life of a Muggle. Does anybody have any questions before we start?"

A hand shot into the air. It belonged to Ravenclaw boy. Mr. Weasley called on him, and he asked about what Mr. Weasley did at the Ministry.

"I have been involved with raids of illegally enchanted objects. I am also first on the scene during Muggle Relations incidents. For example, if a Muggle somehow ends up with a bewitched object, I go to where the accident occurred. I assess the damage and also working with the Wizarding Task Force to perform memory modifications and emergency spells, if necessary. Last week we had a problem with one of those flesh-engraving quills. A poor chap was trying to address a love letter to his mistress and wound up with her address etched on his forehead for his wife to see. Needless to say, it was a very messy cleanup, not to mention all of the morality issues we had to deal with."

A flesh-engraving quill? Harry wasn't aware there was a name for Umbridge's cruel detention tool. When Harry looked down, he could still sometimes see the scars reading, I must not tell lies on his hand.

Mr. Weasley launched into stories about some of the most complicated and funniest situations he'd ever run into at the ministry, including stories of shrinking keys. After a few tales of misfortune, Ron was no long embarrassed by his dad but seemed proud. He had even joined in on some of the stories. "Dad, tell the one about the spitting tea pot!" he cried.

The class also had the utmost respect for Mr. Weasley, listening carefully to his stories. Harry didn't need to take notes on the lecture - he was sure he would remember all of it. There wasn't a moment of boredom. The hour had passed by so quickly that everyone was sad to see Mr. Weasley leave. He assured everyone that he would be back again next week and they would stick to the topic at hand. "I'm afraid we went off on a bit of a tangent," he added.

"That's quite all right," Professor Avis said. "I hope all of you realize that these tales of Muggle misfortune may seem funny, but they are very serious."

"Indeed," Mr. Weasley agreed. His voice was grave. "It is very difficult for the Wizarding World to remain secret when there are so many wizards out there with a sick sense of humor. Muggles have also been killed in these so-called harmless practical jokes. And the Ministry is not just trying to keep our world a secret, but also protect the innocent. Teaching tolerance is the only way to prevent these incidents from happening."

Harry expected Mr. Weasley to mention something about Voldemort's return and the threat to the Muggle world, but he didn't. After saying goodbye to the class, he headed back into Professor Avis's office, where Harry assumed he had a Portkey waiting.

Professor Avis spent the rest of the class talking about the punishment for such practical jokes played on muggles. "Many cases have resulted in heavy fines, breaking wands, magic bans, or even sentences in Azkaban. This is a serious issue and has jeopardized many of our Muggle relations. Now, for next week, I'd like you all to read the first three chapters in your textbooks. And take good notes. We'll be having a discussion about it on Monday, and I'll also be passing out our Muggle fiction novel. That's all for this week."

The bell rang, signaling the end of the class. All of the students were quickly taking their books and leaving the room. Ron turned to Harry. "Bet Hermione'll be kicking herself now. Thought she wouldn't learn anything," he said. "I'm sure we'll be learning loads from my dad."

Harry didn't say anything out loud, but he doubted that Hermione would agree. At one point, she had wanted to take Muggle Studies to see how professors in the wizarding world would teach about Muggles. But now she just thought that the class was a waste of time in her case.

The two of them returned to the dormitory and dropped their books on their nightstands. "It's my afternoon off," Ron announced, plopping on his bed. What should we do?"

"Homework?" Harry suggested, grinning. "Nah."

"Want to play some Quidditch?" Ron asked. "Have to keep you in shape since you don't have to tryout on Thursday."

"That's only because I've got Occlumency," Harry muttered.

"No it's not, Harry. You know that you've got your Seeker spot back. You've got nothing to worry about. Things can just go back to normal."

Harry knew that things would never be normal now. Playing Quidditch didn't bring the relief to him that it used to now that Ron was the captain. And then he felt ashamed for his envy. Why couldn't he just accept the fact that he couldn't have everything? Was he so self-centered that he could only think of himself?

"How about helping me come up with some plays or something?" Ron questioned, disturbing his thoughts.

"I don't know." Harry stared out the window. It was a humid day and there were dark clouds in the distance. The gray smoke from Hagrid's chimney rose high into the sky and blended into them. "Might rain."

"If we're quick, we could make it," Ron said hopefully.

Harry shook his head, still staring at Hagrid's lonely little hut. "There's something else I've got to do." The weight of guilt was finally too much for him to handle. He had been terrible to Hagrid last night. He'd acted like a child. He felt so humiliated. Was this how he treated his friends? The people who cared about him the most?

"What's more important than Quidditch?"

Harry sighed. "I've got to apologize to Hagrid. Last night, well..." his voice trailed off. He turned to face Ron, but didn't meet his eyes. "I said some awful things."

"Because Fang killed your stick bug?" Ron asked.

He smiled sadly. "Hagrid didn't give me an insect. He gave me a motorcycle. Sirius's motorcycle."

"Oh. Oh," Ron said. "So that's why you were in such a ruddy mood."

Harry nodded. "I didn't know how to react. It was just... there. It was hard to look at." He fell silent. His feelings about Sirius's motorcycle were not something that Harry wanted to share with Ron. Ron would think he was stupid for his confession - or worse, he would pity him. Harry just couldn't take being pitied by his best friend. "So I've got to go apologize."

"Are you sure? Hagrid would understand, you know."

"He's only blaming himself. I'm sure of it." Harry stood up from his bed. "I better go now. I don't want to make things worse by waiting." He quickly left the dormitory.

In truth, Harry didn't quite know what to say to Hagrid. He was sorry for the way he acted, but he just couldn't understand how it had been a wise decision to give him the motorcycle in the first place. What was Harry supposed to do with it? Come visit it every few days like a shrine to his godfather? It made no sense. He couldn't even ride it.

He left Gryffindor Tower and walked swiftly to the grounds. He could feel the heat against his skin. It was pooling beneath his hair, on the back of his neck. He wished it would rain. The weather seemed only fitting to his mood.

As he approached Hagrid's Hut, he could hear voices echoing through the trees of the Dark Forest. Hagrid was teaching a group of students. Harry had forgotten that not everyone's schedule was the same as his.

He was about to turn back, but Hagrid had already spotted him and motioned for him to join the class at the edge of the forest. It was a group of fifth years. The Gryffindors were there, along with the students from Ravenclaw. They were gathered around a freshly-dug earthen bed. There was a handful of Nifflers - furry creatures who searched for shiny objects. Ginny was holding one on a leash. She waved to Harry as he stepped closer.

"'Ello, 'Arry," Hagrid greeted. His face seemed to brighten up a little. We wasn't wearing his teaching coat that he'd worn the night before, but he did have his hair tied back neatly in a ribbon. His shirt didn't even appear to have any holes in it. The sleeves were rolled up and he was glistening with a touch of sweat from the humidity.

"Hi, Hagrid," Harry replied. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize that you were in the middle of a lesson."

"'At's all right. You're welcome to come anytime. One of me favorite lessons today. Kids enjoy 'em too, those Nifflers. Thought I'd give them a familiar creature to start the new year off with."

Harry nodded. He remembered his own Niffler lesson years ago. He watched as the class laughed as their Nifflers playfully searched the dirt for coins that Hagrid had buried in the ground. An apology on the tip of his tongue, he turned to Hagrid. "I'm sorry. About last night. I didn't know what I was saying. I was completely inconsiderate..."

"Aw, 'Arry, you don't need to apologize," he interrupted. "I know it's been rough on ya. We should've known yeh weren't ready." He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the sweat from his brow. "I'll just 'ang onto it. Yeh can visit 'er anytime."

"Well, thanks," Harry replied. "What do you mean - we?"

Hagrid smiled. "We're just lookin' out for yeh, Harry. That's all. Careful, there, Henry!" Hagrid bellowed at a Ravenclaw fifth-year. "He'll go right through yer hand ta get ter them coins."

Ginny had handed her Niffler over to one of her friends. She made her way over to Harry. Harry felt strangely uncomfortable. Her face was set as though she were on a mission. He seemed to sweat even more as she joined him and Hagrid.

"Harry, we need to talk," she said.

Harry felt his stomach lurch. No conversation that have ever started with the phrase ever worked out well. Hagrid cleared his throat. "Right, well, I'd better go see who's collected the most coins. Don't take too long, Ginny," he added as he walked towards the other fifth-years.

"I... I can't right now, Ginny," Harry explained. "Ron and I were hoping to play some Quidditch before it rained." The humidity was so thick in the air it was hard for him to speak. Or was it just that Ginny looked as though she were about to ambush him again.

"My brother can wait," she said. "This is about us."

Us. Harry gulped. "What do you mean?"

"We need to talk about the night before your birthday."

"Oh, right." Harry would have given anything to be in a different place or a different person. Why was Ginny talking about this now? In front of everyone during Hagrid's lesson? But as Harry searched the grounds, looking everywhere but Ginny's eyes, he realized that nobody was paying attention to them at all. Hagrid was busy counting coins and the students were carefully petting Nifflers and rewarding them with some bits of treats that looked like chocolate.

"I should have told you sooner," she began. "I should have told you right after I did it, but it just happened so fast. Not to mention that all of my brothers were around at home."

Harry pretended to know what she was talking about, but the more she said, the more confused he was. "Okay..."

She swept a piece of red hair behind her ear, removing it from her face. "There's just no easy way to say this, Harry."

He gulped. "Well, then, maybe you shouldn't say it all." Ginny could not confess her love for him right there, right then. Harry would probably keel over and die on the spot.

"I have to. I've got to put an end to all of the wondering." She took a step closer to him, her voice barely above a whisper. "Harry, I just want you to know, that you don't have to worry about me."

Confused, Harry took a step back. "What? What are you talking about?"

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "I said you don't have to worry about me." When he still looked confused, she put her hands on her hips and tapped one foot impatiently. "Haven't you been wondering why I kissed you?"

"Kissed?" Harry cried. "Is that what you call it? And yes, of course I've been wondering."

She was laughing now. "You don't get it, do you? I had to try it. I had to try it or for the rest of my life I'd be wondering what might have been."

Frustrated, Harry ran his fingers through his unruly dark hair. "What the hell are you talking about, Gin?"

"I'm not in love with you," she said finally. "I kissed you because I had to make sure that there was nothing between us. I kissed you because I knew that if I didn't, I'd always wonder. I'd always worry about what might have been. But now I know. I don't have any true romantic feelings for you."

Harry's mouth dropped open. He couldn't believe that she'd been so honest. So direct. She winced, looking as though she may have hurt him. But on the contrary, somewhere inside, he was relieved. Had Ginny been in love with him, it only would have added more stress and more obstacles in his life. Although his ego was a little bruised.

And now that he thought back to their kiss, he didn't feel anything romantic about it either. He had been confused, and then he'd waited for it to end. There were no fireworks, no bells and whistles.

He grinned at her. "Well, that's... that's actually..." He didn't know quite what to say. "I'm so glad you told me!"

She laughed. "Me too. I mean, lately I've been feeling as though you're walking on eggshells when you're around me. I don't want it to be that way. You're my friend, Harry, and I'll always love you. It's just not a romantic love."

"I know exactly what you mean," he replied. And he did. He knew that Ginny would always hold a special place in his heart. But loving her was not the same as being in love with her.

"Well, I'd better get back to class before Hagrid gets mad," she said. "I'll see you at dinner!" She quickly turned around and sauntered off to join the rest of the class.

As Harry walked back up to Hogwarts, his steps had never seemed so light. Even the air did not weigh as heavy on his shoulders as it had earlier. He had so much respect for Ginny. She was a smart girl. She knew exactly what she wanted - or in his case, what she didn't want - and she went for it. She was fearless.

Harry was feeling truly happy for the first time since he'd arrived at Hogwarts. He still had his position on the Quidditch team, he'd apologized to Hagrid, and Ginny had fixed things between the two of them. Despite all of his troubles, Harry could finally enjoy himself again. Charlie was right: he didn't need to be in love to be happy.