In Nomine Amoris

Chapter Seven: The Greatest Compliment

Harry left the Dursleys the next morning, after a prolonged, teary good-bye from Aunt Petunia, during which she told him to come visit some time for a cup of tea. He assured her he would consider the offer, though he knew he would probably not have the time to do as she wished. If I kill Voldemort...no, when I've killed him, I definitely will come by to see the Dursleys. I will...

Uncle Vernon and Dudley took turns shaking his hand, wishing him well. Mr. Weasley stood off to the side, observing the scene with what appeared to be high interest.

"Harry," Mr. Weasley said curiously, as the Dursleys shut their door behind them, "what happened?"

"I'm not really sure...an epiphany, I guess," said Harry, shrugging. "Whatever it is, it's for the better."

Mr. Weasley accepted his answer, and together they grabbed the Portkey, which transported them back to the Burrow's front lawn. Harry immediately spotted Ginny, who was sitting on the outside steps of the house, apparently waiting for his arrival.

"He's here!" she screeched, in such a pitch as to rival her mother's. She raced towards him and embraced him tightly.

"Ginny," said Mr. Weasley, after a few minutes of watching Ginny's obsessive hugging, "Harry needs his oxygen just like the rest of us, you know."

"Oh." She let him go. "I'm sorry--I was just worried about you. You were ten minutes later than you were supposed to be! Mum's a nervous wreck, and she was rubbing off on me." Mrs. Weasley walked across the lawn as well, looking frazzled.

"Where have you been?" she asked, furrowing her brow in concern.

"Harry spent a little more time with his relatives than I had expected," Mr. Weasley explained.

"Did they try to keep him there?" asked Mrs. Weasley.

"No," Harry said with a tired sigh. "It's a long story." He felt rather done with the task of explaining the strange things that kept happening to him.

"Well, come on in. Did they feed you breakfast, Harry? Even if they have, I'm sure it was nowhere near substantial." Mrs. Weasley said all this while prodding him into the house, Mr. Weasley and Ginny following them.

"Mrs. Weasley, I'm well fed, I promise. I'll just go upstairs and unpack," Harry offered, taking his trunk from Mr. Weasley.

"And Mum, I can help him. That way I can watch him to make sure he doesn't pass out or anything," said Ginny humorously.

Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips and squinted at them. "Fine," she decided. "I am going to need your help later; we didn't finish cleaning up after the wedding guests yesterday. And tell Ron and Hermione to come down for breakfast themselves, will you?" she called as Harry and Ginny climbed the stairs with difficulty.

"Ugh," Ginny muttered as they reached the first landing. "Hey, how about we both bring your trunk up to Fred and George's room, but then I start unpacking your stuff. You can go find Ron and Hermione."

"Why can't you find them?" asked Harry.

"Because, I found them yesterday, and let's just say it wasn't something I wanted to see."

"Like what?"

"Don't be coy, Harry," Ginny said sharply. "Just because your two best friends think any room in the house is their own private snogging rendezvous--"

"Okay, don't finish that thought."

"See what I mean?"

Harry nodded.

"And that is why you, not I, will be finding them."

"No way, I don't want to witness them in that position!" Harry retorted, heaving one side of his trunk towards the next set of steps.

"I refuse to walk in on another one of Ron's kissing sessions. Again! And last time I checked, blood beats friends."

She had him there. "All right, but you owe me."

"Fair enough," she replied, grinning. They went all the way up to Fred and George's landing and parted.

Harry trudged up to Ron's orange bedroom, which was open just a crack. Cautiously, he tapped on the wood of the door. All he received in turn was a soft laugh, one Harry was fairly sure belonged to Hermione. Obviously, his friends had not heard his knock.

Please, please don't be snogging. Preparing himself for the worst, he opened the door the rest of the way. And he was completely surprised by the sight of Ron's bed.

Or, rather, what was on it.

A slightly disheveled Hermione sat beside Ron, who was casually lying down, propped up on his elbow. The rest of the entire bed was covered in out-dated copies of The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, causing Ron and Hermione's eyes to lift from the old comic books.

"Hello, Harry," said Hermione brightly, rising from her seat on the bed.

"Glad you're back mate," Ron quipped. "How were the Muggles?"

"Unexpectedly inquisitive," said Harry. Ron raised a questioning brow. "Tell you later," Harry assured him. "Your mum wants you and Hermione to go down to breakfast."

"You go ahead, Hermione," Ron told her. "I need to tell Harry something."

She left, but not without a fleeting glance back at the two of them.

"Harry," Ron said excitedly, "I told her."

"Told who what?" Harry asked in mock confusion.

"I told Hermione I love her!" said Ron exasperatedly. "And I thought I was daft."

"Wow," said Harry, taken aback by Ron's straightforwardness. "Congratulations. What did she say?"

"Thanks, and that's between me and her, Harry. You know that. But it does mean a lot to me to have your blessing."

"Why wouldn't I give it to you?"

"I figured, what with you and Ginny apart--"

"Ron," he interrupted, "Ginny and I are all right." Stupidly, Harry had forgotten to tell Ron of what had happened after he and Hermione had left them the other day. "In fact, we're back together."

"Ronald Weasley, get down here this instant, or I'll feed your breakfast to the gnomes!" Mrs. Weasley yelled from the bottom of the stairwell.

"Got to go," grumbled Ron. "But, that's great! I'm happy, Harry--for the both of you."

Harry smiled slightly as Ron turned to leave, and then he descended the steps as well, stopping, of course, at the landing where he had departed with Ginny.

The door to his temporary room was wide open, revealing a hard-working Ginny. All of Harry's robes were sorted by type, as well as his Muggle shirts and pants. He leaned against the doorpost, watching her silently.

When she finally realized he was there, Ginny told him, "Mum washed your dress robes yesterday; they're hanging up to dry as we speak."

"You take such good care of me," Harry said in gratitude, shutting the door behind him.

"Someone has to," she replied, blushing prettily. "You know, Harry," she continued, "I missed you."

"It was only a day," he said, wrapping a protective arm around her waist.

"No, it wasn't," said Ginny, shaking her head. "We weren't together for the past couple of weeks. Not really, anyway."

"You're right," Harry agreed after some consideration. "It's my fault."

"Mine too," she protested. "We both were quite stubborn."

"But Ginny, you do understand my motives, don't you?"

"Yes," she said. There were traces of sadness in her voice. "I just wish it didn't have to be like that. Why the hell are O.W.L.s considered important when people are dying everywhere? I don't know what to think anymore, honestly. The world I've come to care for so much seems as if it's betraying me all of a sudden. It's causing you pain, it's killing people, and it's tearing people apart inside!" Ginny's face was wet from her crying, as was the shoulder of Harry's black tee shirt.

"Why can't things just be normal again?" she asked the room at large.

"Ginny," Harry said softly, "I've thought the exact thing before. But now, I understand. These events--death, despair, devastation--have something in common. They happen for a reason; they challenge us, strengthen us. Without them, we wouldn't be able to identify the good in this world."

Ginny smiled fondly through her tears. "When did you start to sound like Dumbledore?"

"I suppose he's rubbed off on me after all these years," Harry joked, chuckling in spite of the fact Ginny had given him possibly the greatest compliment he had ever received. "Why, is that a bad thing?"

"No, no...not bad. Good, actually," she assured him. "I was wondering...what are these?" She walked over to one of her piles of his clothes and pulled out a pair of socks. They were the ones Dobby had made for Harry for Christmas in his fourth year--one was decorated with golden snitches, and the other with broomsticks.

Harry laughed, and Ginny joined him, all her prior fears forgotten for the moment.

"Hey," Harry remembered, "you owe me something from before, Ginny."

"Oh, that's right." Ginny pretended to ponder this, facing the ceiling. "I think I know what might be a suitable repayment..."

Very soon, the two found themselves in such a position as they would not have wanted to view Ron and Hermione.

Harry spent the next week savoring the time he had left with Ginny before his departure, and planning the hearing of Dumbledore's will, which was to be held three days past his birthday.

"Happy Birthday!" someone yelled, waking up a now-startled Harry. He fumbled around for his glasses so he could identify the culprit.

It was Ginny sitting at the foot of his bed. "Good morning," she chirped brightly. "How does it feel to come of age?"

"I'll tell you when I'm awake enough for it to sink in," mumbled Harry, burying himself in his blankets.

"Oh, come off it. It's not everyday you're seventeen," said Ron, who was lounging in a chair in the corner. "Hopefully it'll be more memorable than my birthday," he added thoughtfully.

"Considering you were unconscious for half of your birthday, I think Harry's got a good chance at remembering his," Hermione offered from the arm of said chair.

"Yes, thanks to this method of waking me up." Harry's voice was muffled.

"No choice, mate," Ron said matter-of-factly. "Apparition testing today."

Harry grunted in response. Apparition had completely slipped his mind, mostly due to the fact he was occupied with Ginny once again.

"It's really not that bad," Hermione attempted to reassure him.

"But Hermione, you're a bloody genius! Regular blokes like me can't do it as easily as you," Ron declared, an uneasy expression coming over his face.

"Not helping, Ronald." Hermione glared at him.

"I'm okay with Apparition. I've done it before," Harry said, having resurfaced. Ginny took the opportunity to kiss him.

Ron shuddered. "I'm already taking a test today, so please refrain from sickening me any further."

"I think it's sweet," said Hermione, smiling at Harry and Ginny. "Come on, Ron. I think you could stomach some breakfast."

"But Harry hasn't opened his presents yet," Ron argued.

"Come on," she prodded him.

"All right already," Ron muttered. "Why are you...oh." He finally understood Hermione's hinting.

Hermione pushed him out the door, saying, "I can't believe how dense you are today."

Ginny let out a soft laugh. "I think that was the least-subtle hint Hermione has ever dropped."

"Definitely," Harry agreed. "So...what did you get me?"

"Anxious, are we, Mr. Potter? Thank goodness we're back together, or I'd have sent you some undiluted bubotuber pus as a gift," she said, laughing again.

Harry laughed as well. "You're joking, right?"

"Nope," replied Ginny truthfully. "I got you this"--she pulled a wrapped box from behind her back--"and this." She kissed him for the second time that morning. "Now open it!" she ordered him, pushing it toward him.

"Oh no," Harry said, shaking the box next to his ear. "It's not a 'My Sweetheart' necklace, is it?"

"A what?" Ginny repeated with incredulity.

"Well...don't mention this to Ron, but Lavender gave him one for Christmas last year," Harry uttered secretively.

"Knew it sounded sick and wrong," Ginny said, sticking her tongue out in disgust. "And no, it's not that."

"Okay..." Harry tore open the wrapping paper. It was one of Fred and George's day-dream charms. "Cool! Thanks."

"No problem. I figured that, maybe, you could use it while you're away. Then I know you'd be thinking of me," she said, turning slightly pink.

"I don't need a day-dream charm to remember you!" Harry insisted. "I think of you all the time."

"Really?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Er...yeah."

They were silent for many excruciating moments, until Harry suggested they go down to breakfast, as Mrs. Weasley was probably waiting for them.

Ginny consented, and as they left, said quietly, "Thanks for that, Harry. It does mean a lot to me."

Harry only smiled in response, leading the way downstairs.

Breakfast was fairly uneventful, with the exception of Mrs. Weasley's deafening cry of delight upon Harry's entering of the kitchen. After everyone else had given Harry his presents, Mr. Weasley brought Harry and Ron to the Ministry of Magic for their tests.

They flooed to the Leaky Cauldron and arrived at the Ministry via a specific out-of-order telephone booth near the heart of Muggle London. Harry and Ron both received visitors' badges, each bearing the wearer's name and the encryption 'Apparition Testing.'

Following a wand check at the front desk of the atrium, the three of them were about to file into one of the countless lifts when a rough voice called, "Arthur, wait! I'd like a word with you and the boys."

It was Moody. "Yes, Alastor?" Mr. Weasley turned to greet him.

"Just wanted to say thanks for the old report on those rancid rubbish bins, and to give Potter his birthday gift," he growled.

"No trouble at all," said Mr. Weasley. "Harry, we'll go on ahead, in case there's a line. It's level six, just follow the signs to the Apparition Test Center."

"See you later," Ron gulped, waving shakily as the lift descended.

"Potter, some of the Order"--Moody lowered his voice on this word--"put a bit of money together for you, and they had me choose a present," he informed Harry. He then pulled a brand-new hip flask from one of his pockets.

"There are instructions for checking for poison in the water source you use to fill it inside the actual thing. I know it's not that special," Moody continued, "but it'll come ruddy useful in time."

"Thanks," Harry said, marveling at the odd gift.

"Of course. I figured it would be appropriate given the--uh--circumstances. Tonks and Shacklebolt pitched in, so I'll pass on--"

Moody was interrupted by a piercing siren that echoed throughout the atrium and, Harry imagined, the entire Ministry.

A calm female voice sounded over the siren. "Black alert. Black alert. Black alert. This is not a test. All personnel to atrium. All personnel to atrium. No one may leave the facility. All entrances are being magically sealed..." The woman's message continued repeating as witches and wizards poured into the atrium from the lifts.

"My God," muttered Moody. "An alarm like this hasn't been set off since I was a little thing."

"What does it mean, sir?" Harry asked, despite his feeling of foreboding.

"It means that those of, should we say, higher status in the Ministry believe the Minister of Magic to be dead."