Comments:
I want to thank everyone who's come to the party, whether they reviewed or not. It's always an honor just to be read.
A question was raised over Harry's vacillation where his feelings for Hermione are concerned. Let's remember that Harry is only just turning seventeen. He's still thinking as much with his hormones as with his heart (as a future chapter will demonstrate quite clearly). The title of this novel-to-be says it all. Harry has many decisions to make this year. One of them involves Hermione and his future with her. How he deals with that forms a large part of the story - one, unfortunately, that must wait to be developed. So far we've seen only the tip of the iceberg. If I can finish this before a real ice age swallows us up, all will be revealed in the end.
On the subject of Hermione, I'm a bit curious about how some people can hear the words "not pretty" and automatically assume they are a synonym for "ugly." There are many celebrities who are by no definition pretty, yet who radiate a singular beauty that completely obscures their physical shortcomings. Katherine Hepburn wasn't pretty in the conventional sense, but that didn't stop her from shining brightly on the silver screen over a career lasting six decades (and winning a record four Oscars in the process). This is how I see Hermione. She may not be as pretty as Cho or the Patil twins, but she is far more beautiful than they will ever be (even before Madam Pomfrey shrank her teeth, and without need of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion). At least, that's how I see it, and Harry - prompted by my personal Muse - agrees.
I did my best to get the bugs out of this chapter on such short notice. Time to see if any sneaked through.
And did someone wonder where Ron was last time? Wonder no more.
When they had finished their butterbeers, Harry and Hermione mounted the stairs to the hired rooms situated above The Leaky Cauldron. Hermione used her wand to maneuver Harry's trunk ahead of them and into her room, Harry opening the door with the enchanted key provided by Tom. As Harry's trunk settled to the floor next to Hermione's, he saw that her bed was littered with an abundance of books, as well as new quills, sealed bottles of ink, and scrolls of fresh parchment.
"I bought my supplies yesterday," Hermione explained. "I spent the day with Mum and Dad. It was the last time I'll see them until Christmas, so I wanted it to be just the three of us. You don't mind that I didn't come for you until today?"
"No," Harry said at once. "I'm sure you all had a lot of goodbyes to say, and I would've just been in the way."
"You're never 'in the way,'" Hermione assured him. "But I did want to give them my full attention, and that would've been impossible with you there."
She gave Harry a look that a starving wolf would have had difficulty matching, and he blushed even as he felt very pleased.
When Harry's broom was locked safely in his trunk, he stood up and surveyed the small room casually. He'd spent a fortnight here four years ago, the time he'd fled the Dursleys after the incident with Aunt Marge. But as his eyes swept over the familiar furnishings to linger on Hermione's school supplies, he realized that something was missing.
"Where's Crookshanks?" he asked.
"Funny thing about that," Hermione said. "Shortly after I got home, he started going off at night. He'd turn up the next morning, wanting to be fed, after which he'd curl up in his bed and sleep all day. As soon as the sun went down, he'd wake up and prod his bowl again. Quick as his bowl was empty, off he'd go again. It went on like that for about two weeks. Then, one morning, he just didn't turn up. I don't know where he is, or for that matter, where he went all those nights. I was worried at first, but..."
Hermione paused, and Harry waited for her to continue. When she remained silent, Harry said, "We always knew that Crookshanks wasn't an ordinary cat. He knew Scabbers wasn't what he looked, and he spotted Sirius for a wizard when we all thought he was a Grim." Hermione raised an eyebrow, and Harry amended, "Most of us thought." When Hermione nodded approvingly, Harry said, "I think he's out there doing his part, doing things none of us can, you know? Maybe he can talk to animals, the way he and Sirius communicated. It's like he's made himself our advance guard. He's scouting the enemy, seeing that no one gets too close to surprise us. Maybe the time to worry will be when he finally does turn up again. Until then, I reckon he's okay."
"That's what I think, too," Hermione said with a fond smile. "If something had happened to him, I'd feel it inside. Does that make sense?"
Harry's answer was a smile and a reassuring squeeze of her hand. Hermione turned and opened her trunk, kneeling before it. She began to rummage around, and Harry asked, "What are you looking for?"
"My money pouch," Hermione said. "I thought it wise not to carry too much wizard money with me when I came to fetch you. If something unexpected had happened and my pockets somehow got turned out, how would I explain my having a pouch filled with funny-shaped gold and silver coins with images of goblin faces on them? In the end, I put a few coins in my change purse, just in case I needed them - which, it turns out, I did - and left the bulk behind."
After a few seconds' searching, Hermione drew forth a small drawstring pouch that clinked dully. Tucking this in one of the oversized pockets of her shorts, she began to replace the items she had dislodged, and Harry leaned closer with a curious expression.
"What are those?" he asked as Hermione began to neatly fold a number of what appeared to be dresses of various colors.
"Robes," she said, her hands working methodically as she regarded Harry over her shoulder. "I realized over the holiday that this might well be our last time as citizens of the Muggle world. It seemed like a good idea to start weaning myself from wearing Muggle clothing and start accustoming myself to wizarding attire. So I went to a fabric store near my house and bought some bolts of dressmaking fabric and started turning them into robes. It wasn't difficult. I just followed the pattern of our school robes, but where those are uniformly black, I made these different colors."
That made sense to Harry. Apart from Snape, whom Harry had never seen wearing any color but black (perhaps as an outer manifestation of his polluted soul, Harry reflected), every adult witch and wizard at Hogwarts wore robes of varying colors. None had pushed the boundaries of this freedom further than Gilderoy Lockhart, whose robes ran to the limits of the visible spectrum, from mauve to canary yellow to (on Valentine's Day) shocking pink.
"Maybe I should do that, too," Harry said as Hermione finished her task and closed the lid of her trunk, locking it with a twirl of her wand.
"You should," Hermione agreed. "Besides," she added, running her eye up and down Harry's magically altered clothing that had so recently been large enough to cover him three times over, "unless you have a magic pocket in those jeans containing a week's change of clothes, I expect you'll grow tired of wearing the same thing every day until we board the Hogwarts Express."
"And I expect you and everyone else will grow tired of smelling the same clothes on me every day," Harry chuckled.
They left Hermione's room, Harry re-locking the door with the magical key, and went downstairs. Harry handed the key to Tom, who hung it on a specially enchanted board behind the bar. If anyone but the bartender tried to take a key down, the protective spells would stun the would-be thief senseless. Harry had seen it happen when he had stayed here four years ago. Tom could safely guarantee that no one would enter Hermione's room in her absence.
Their first stop was Gringotts Wizarding Bank, where Harry, after a wild ride through the tunnels deep under London, collected a bagful of Galleons, Sickles and Knuts from the now enormous pile in his vault. His yearly withdrawals had been depleting his parents' original legacy, but now, augmented by Sirius' gold, the pile was larger than it had ever been. Looking at it, Harry felt his old insecurities return, reinforced by the sight of so much treasure that by rights should never have been his. It would take a supreme effort of will for him not to rush to pay for everything for himself and Hermione. He would try, but he knew it would not be easy.
They bought Harry's supplies, which differed little from Hermione's, save in one key area. In preparing himself to go off in search of Voldemort's Horcruxes, Harry was indirectly pursuing his dream of becoming an Auror, so his books were predominantly devoted to the Dark Arts. Hermione had chosen another path, that of becoming a Healer. She had as many books as Harry, most of them in the same categories - Transfiguration, Charms and Potions, which skills were common to both of their chosen fields. But Hermione's books were almost the direct opposite of Harry's. The spells and potions she would learn this year were aimed primarily at preserving life. Harry's, by stark contrast, dealt mostly with ways of harming living creatures rather than healing them. Hermione knew this was a necessary part of his training, but that did not quell her unease by any measure.
"All that's left is my wizarding robes," Harry said. "My new ones, that is. I reckon my school robes still fit well enough, and as this is our last year, there's no point in replacing them."
"Will we be going to Madam Malkin's?" Hermione asked.
"I was going to," Harry said, "but I changed my mind."
"Why?"
"Well," Harry said hesitantly, "you know that the Weasleys generally wear second-hand robes because they haven't the money to spare for new ones - I mean, there's a reason why I never ran into Ron in Madam Malkin's shop on my first visit six years ago, like I met Malfoy - " Harry's voice caught for a moment before he resumed, "I thought it might be in bad taste for me to start parading around the Burrow in brand new robes, especially in front of Ron. He still hasn't got over wearing those moldy old maroon dress robes to the Yule Ball. Yours are hand-sewn, so Ginny shouldn't be too put off by them, but I reckon I'm better off going to the place where Mrs. Weasley bought Ron's robes and seeing what I can find. If some of them don't fit quite right, maybe you can alter them for me."
"I'll be glad to," Hermione said, taking Harry's hand and squeezing it affectionately. "It's very sweet of you to have thought of Ron like that."
They found the second-hand shop in a dingy corner of Diagon Alley, surrounded by dirty brick walls beyond which lay the back alleys of Muggle London. After searching the shop thoroughly, they found five sets of robes that Hermione assured Harry she could alter to his measurements. A couple of them needed patching, and Hermione would have put them back, but Harry stopped her.
"The more patches I have," he smiled, "the better Ron'll like them."
When they left the shop, Harry's money pouch was considerably heavier than it would have been had he opted for expensive new robes. He enjoyed having extra money that he could spend on others than himself. In particular, he wanted to buy Hermione something special for her birthday. He had yet to decide on a gift, but he was determined that money be no object. He did not forget Hermione's admonition regarding his finances, but birthdays were an exception to the rule, which reasoning he would employ to override any protests she might put forth.
Their arms fully laden with bundles, they returned to the Leaky Cauldron. Hermione was carrying Harry's robes, which were much lighter than his school supplies, the weight of which was beginning to make his arms ache. Hermione considered enchanting them to negate their weight, but Harry's ire over being unable to do so himself might be roused, so she refrained, watching helplessly as he mounted the stairs one leaden step at a time until at last they reached the door to Hermione's room. Setting her bundles down, Hermione opened the door and stepped aside so Harry could stagger through before he would have collapsed in the corridor. He was about to drop everything on the floor, but Hermione stopped him.
"If you're going to be studying so many important subjects," she said, placing his robes on her bed next to her school supplies, "you'd best start by becoming organized."
Hermione drew her wand and described a complex rune in the air. Harry was surprised when his school supplies rose from his arms and, hovering before him, began to sort themselves into groups. Books, potion ingredients, ink, quills and parchment all separated. The scrolls of parchment arranged themselves into a pyramid, which settled onto the floor next to Harry's trunk. The ink bottles settled in next to them, four square, with the quills leaning up against the slanted side of the parchment.
With the writing implements taken care of, Hermione next addressed Harry's potion ingredients. The box of bottles, bags and tins detached itself from his still-hovering books and floated easily to the floor beside the parchment. All that remained now was to sort the books. This Hermione did, creating separate stacks divided into Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, and general Dark Arts categories with seemingly effortless waves of her wand.
"We won't have as many classes together this year," Hermione said as she surveyed her handiwork with approval. "I hope you'll take my advice seriously, because I won't always be there to keep things in order for you. You'll have to take your own notes and keep them organized. There are more than grades and N.E.W.T. scores at stake now, as I'm sure you know better than I."
This last statement bore a hidden meaning that did not escape Harry. He still had not told Hermione why he had changed his mind about leaving Hogwarts and heading off to search for Voldemort's Horcruxes straightaway. He had sent letters to both her and Ron, via Hedwig, informing them of his sudden reversal. In their return letters, both had sounded grateful at Harry's decision, but curious about his reasons, which his letters did not reveal. He had assured his friends that he would tell them everything when they were all together. That moment was now approaching, and Harry hoped he could explain everything to their understanding. There were many things that he still did not understand. Those answers awaited them all at Hogwarts.
Harry avoided Hermione's questioning eyes by looking at his watch. "The Weasleys should be here any time," he said. "I don't suppose I'll have time to try on any of my robes."
"I'll look them over properly tomorrow," Hermione promised. "Besides," she added, "Mr. Weasley loves to study our Muggle clothes, and if you remember how he was dressed at the Quidditch World Cup, I think we should give him all the support we can." Harry nodded his agreement, grinning.
"We can have another butterbeer while we wait," Harry suggested. He wisely avoided adding, "My treat." If he was to learn financial discipline, he thought, he might as well get some practice here. Would that the obstacles facing him in the coming year were as easy to overcome as this one.
They walked downstairs, but just as Hermione was handing Tom her key, there was a great whooshing sound from the other side of the pub. Harry and Hermione looked as one, and as one their faces broke into bright smiles. In a burst of soot and ash and flickering green flames, a figure was disgorged from the fireplace. Unfolding his long, gangly arms and legs like a spider (which analogy would have horrified him), Ron Weasley stood up, assuming his full and very considerable height. He shook his head so that soot flew in dark clouds from his fiery red hair. He looked around, blinking soot and ash from his eyes, and spotted Harry and Hermione. His freckled face broke into its patented grin.
"Oi!" he called. "Escaped from the Muggles again, Harry?"
"For the last time," Harry said, his eyes twinkling at the sight of his oldest friend.
Ron stepped aside just in time to avoid being engulfed by another belch of soot and flame. A moment later, Ginny Weasley stood beside her brother, her long red hair painted with soot. Ron quickly drew his wand and pointed it at his sister's head.
"Evanesco!" he said smartly. The soot vanished, leaving Ginny's hair as blazing red as Harry had ever seen it.
Ron pulled Ginny aside as the fireplace coughed again. Molly Weasley emerged, looking dignified despite the soot tumbling from her hair and shoulders. Ron repeated his cleansing spell on his mother, who thanked him with a kiss on the cheek that caused his ears to go pink.
The last Weasley now appeared. Tall as his son, Arthur Weasley was nearly bald, though the fringe of hair ringing his head was as red as that of his wife and children. Molly cleaned off her husband as Ron had done her and Ginny, and Arthur turned to greet Harry and Hermione. But before the words could leave his mouth, both Ron and Ginny had leaped forward to give their friends a proper greeting. Ginny wrapped Hermione in a tremendous hug, while Harry and Ron pounded each other on the back before clasping hands.
The foursome then switched partners. Hermione threw her arms around Ron's neck, and he lifted her off her feet as he crushed her in his arms. Ginny emulated Hermione by flinging herself at Harry, who instinctively wrapped his arms around her. They all separated just as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley walked over, the latter looking Harry and Hermione over with narrowed eye before a smile appeared on her round face.
"Oh, Harry, dear," she exclaimed, gently edging Ginny aside to hug Harry with motherly affection. Backing away to cast an appraising eye over him, she asked, "How have you been? Have the Muggles been feeding you properly?" Harry grinned, knowing from experience the only way to answer that question.
"Not nearly as well as you, Mrs. Weasley."
Looking supremely pleased at this response, Mrs. Weasley then turned to Hermione as her husband shook Harry's hand. "And how have you been, Hermione?" she asked politely.
"Very well, thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said.
"Ron tells me that you're taking preliminary Healer courses this year," Mrs. Weasley said, not sounding as interested as she might have done. "A hard walk, that. But as Ron's always said you're the best witch at Hogwarts, I'm sure you'll do nicely."
Ron looked embarrassed at having his name brought in. He looked away as Hermione's eyes flickered momentarily in his direction.
"I'll certainly do my best," Hermione said.
"I'm sure you will, dear," Mrs. Weasley said in a detached voice from which even rudimentary interest seemed to have evaporated. She added as if to herself, "I hoped Ron would look into Healing as a career. It would have been grand to have a Healer in the family." Her tone of voice seemed to imply that it would have been even grander to have Ron and Hermione sharing every class, especially since Harry was guaranteed to be absent from most of them.
It would have been injudicious, not to say insulting, for Hermione to point out that Ron's grades were not high enough for him to aspire to such a career. Instead, she said, "Whatever career he chooses, I know he'll do smashingly."
"I'm sure he will," Mrs. Weasley replied. "Arthur and I have high hopes for our last two, don't we, Arthur?"
But Mr. Weasley seemed not to hear his wife, engaged as he was in a discussion of the Dark Arts with Harry.
"I can't tell you how glad I am that you've decided to stay at Hogwarts, Harry," he said. "When Ron read us your letter, Molly and I were very relieved, I can tell you." Unspoken, but no less clear, was Mr. Weasley's relief that his youngest son would not be following Harry into the dragon's jaws for at least another year. "I've had a few chats with Kingsley and Tonks, and it sounds like you have your work cut out for you. Not everyone can be an Auror. Still, if anyone can manage it, I know you can."
"Thanks," Harry said. "I intend to work harder than I ever have this year. As Hermione said, there's more at stake than test scores. I have to be at my best when I go off to - "
Harry came up short, having caught himself just in time. No one except Ron and Hermione knew about the Horcruxes. He wasn't even certain that Dumbledore had told Professor McGonagall. It was best for now that no one who did not need to know be told. The fewer who knew, the less chance that Voldemort would find out and increase the security on the remaining Horcruxes. Harry's job would be hard enough without warning his enemy in advance. All anyone had known was that Harry intended to leave school early, and given Mr. Weasley's knowledge of the Prophesy involving Harry and Voldemort (he'd been one of its guardians in the shadowy corridors of the Department of Mysteries), he had pieced together a reasonable facsimile of the truth. In Harry's judgment, that was all he, or anyone apart from himself, Ron and Hermione, needed to know.
"When I go after Voldemort," Harry finished quickly. As expected, Mr. Weasley flinched at the sound of Voldemort's name, which effectively swept away any suspicion that may have been aroused by Harry's momentary hesitation. The older wizard would assume that Harry was merely being circumspect in regard to speaking the Dark Lord's name in public.
"I understand," Mr. Weasley said.
Turning to address all of the Weasleys, Harry asked, "How long are you staying? Will we be having lunch here?"
"Oh, no," Mrs. Weasley said at once. "We're having lunch at the Burrow, so mind you don't fill up on sweets."
Ron looked annoyed when his mother's eye remained fixed primarily on him. Turning to Harry, he asked, "Got your school supplies yet?"
"We both have," Harry said, nodding toward Hermione.
With the subject of school supplies having surfaced, Ron and Ginny both produced a folded sheet of parchment on which the Hogwarts crest was just visible. But before either of them could speak, their mother cut them off.
"Oh, don't you bother with your supplies," Mrs. Weasley said to her children as she snatched the lists from their hands. "Your father and I will take care of that after we stop off at Gringotts. Go off and have a good time and we'll catch you up shortly. But remember - "
"Stay away from Knockturn Alley," Ron and Ginny chorused. Ron grumbled something about being of age, but he did not press this argument. Harry smiled inwardly. Mrs. Weasley was living proof of the adage against waking sleeping dragons. Her fiery temper was formidable when aroused, and it was better to keep that fire from kindling than to try to extinguish it once it became a roaring inferno.
As the elder Weasleys departed for Gringotts, Ron and Ginny turned anxiously to Harry and Hermione.
"Right," Ron said in a hushed voice. "Let's go somewhere private where we can talk." The intensity with which his eyes pierced Harry's made the true essence of his statement all too clear. Let's go somewhere private so you can tell us why you've decided to remain at Hogwarts.
The foursome began to walk past the shops of Diagon Alley. Some of these were still unoccupied following the devastation wrought by Voldemort and his Death Eaters months earlier. Many of the original merchants had remained, putting their shops in order as best they could. There were even a few new shops, inspired, Harry did not doubt, by the lower rents resulting from the general exodus last year.
By unspoken agreement, their first stop was Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, the joke shop operated by Ron's and Ginny's twin brothers, Fred and George. They were not surprised to find the shop humming with customers. Harry remembered telling Fred and George that, with Voldemort back, the world would be likely to need all the laughs it could get. His words had proved prophetic, the brothers having profited handsomely in the two years since their shop was opened. Harry remembered also Hermione's advice regarding Quidditch at Hogwarts. If the one had been proven, the other was just as likely to be valid. Harry could not deny that, even with the challenges facing him, the prospect of playing Quidditch again was compelling. Hermione would have said it was because of those challenges that he looked forward to the physical and emotional release of Quidditch. Right again, Hermione, Harry thought with a smile as they reached the doorstep of Number ninety-three and pushed through the door.
The front counter was completely obscured by dozens of Hogwarts students, all of them shouting orders and waving handfuls of coins. One by one those hands were emptied, to be filled instead by an assortment of wizarding paraphernalia that would no doubt be making Filch's life miserable again this year. Harry, Ron and Ginny smiled, but Hermione kept her face neutral against the onset of a disapproving frown.
When the last customer was served, the crowd melted away, revealing the front counter and, perforce, the two proprietors standing behind it. Fred was first to spot the new arrivals, and he elbowed his brother sharply.
"Good to see you, Harry," Fred said, shaking Harry's hand. George followed with his own greeting a moment later.
"Looks like business is good," Harry observed.
"Never better," George beamed. He caught sight of Hermione's expressionless face, and his smile dimmed somewhat.
"Anything on special today?" Ron asked as he peered in every direction avidly.
"Family discount always applies, little brother," Fred said.
"And," George added, avoiding Hermione's eyes, "if you get a photo of Filch suffering as a result of a Weasley item, send it along by post-owl to get an extra ten percent off your next purchase." He pointed to a space on the wall behind the counter that was papered with moving wizard photos of Argus Filch, the Hogwarts caretaker, fussing and fuming, his eyes bugging out of his head and his mouth forming silent words that it was well the soundless snaps could not convey to the onlookers' ears.
"Come on," Ron said to Ginny. "If we pool our pocket money, we can afford something really good."
"As in, really bad," Ginny said with a wink in Harry's direction.
As Ron and Ginny prowled up and down the rows of magical objects, Harry stepped close to the counter and spoke in a low voice.
"You don't seem surprised to see me here," he said.
"We already heard you're going back to Hogwarts," Fred said.
"How?" Harry asked. "I only owled Professor McGonagall a week ago. She barely had time to send me my book list."
"We have our sources," George said, tapping his nose with his finger.
"I'll wager one of them is about two feet tall," Harry said slyly. "With mismatched socks and a tea cozy on his head. Any takers?"
"Even Ludo Bagman won't take that bet," Fred chuckled.
Hermione was pretending to read the warning label on a box sitting on the far end of the counter. George nodded in her direction as he said in a low voice, "Still a bit upset, is she?"
"Can you blame her?" Harry said without rancor.
"Reckon not," George sighed.
"You know we weren't trying to hurt anyone," Fred said.
"I know," Harry said. "I'm as much to blame as anyone."
"I'm glad it all worked out," George said sincerely.
"Me, too," said Fred.
"I know," Harry said with a small smile. "Thanks."
Ron and Ginny returned, having found something they could agree on. They scooped some coins from their pockets and started counting Sickles and Knuts. When they had the price (less the family discount), Fred gathered it up while George bagged their purchase for them.
"New bags," Fred told Ron quietly so that Hermione could not hear. "See the rune pattern on the side opposite the shop logo?" Harry, Ron and Ginny looked together and nodded. "Touch any three runes in succession with your wand, going clockwise," Fred instructed. "That activates a security spell so no one can else open the bag to see what's inside."
"Not without getting a nasty surprise," George grinned.
"And when you want to open it," Fred said, "you repeat the procedure in reverse, going counter-clockwise."
"With each customer setting his own sequence," George said, "it ensures that no one can open anyone else's bag."
"The spell is good for ten openings and closings, or six months," Fred concluded. "Whichever comes first. And mind you don't forget what pattern you set, if you know what's good for you."
"What happens if someone tries to open the bag without entering the proper sequence?" Harry asked.
Casting an eye toward the end of the counter, George said, "Remember that hex Hermione used on the D.A. parchment the year Fred and I took our leave of Hogwarts in spectacular fashion?"
"You're joking!" Harry exclaimed as his eyes flickered toward the place where Hermione stood apart from the rest of them.
"Care to test it out yourself?" Fred suggested with a canny smile.
"Excellent," Ron grinned as he caught up the excess of his money (what little there was) and returned it to his pocket.
"See you, then," Harry said, again shaking hands with Fred and George. As Harry turned, Fred added in a whisper, "Good luck finding the you-know-whats." Harry's head jerked about sharply, but Fred was tapping the side of his nose again.
"Dobby," Harry muttered.
"What's that, Harry?" Ron asked.
"Nothing," Harry said. He walked over to Hermione and tapped her shoulder.
"Are we leaving?" she asked, a touch of frost in her voice.
"Yes," Harry said. "You want to say goodbye?"
"I don't think a goodbye is necessary if one hasn't said hello," Hermione returned primly.
"Uh...right," Harry said. As they followed Ron and Ginny out the door, Harry turned to wave at Fred and George. Hermione continued to look straight ahead.
Speaking very softly to Hermione, Harry said, "You're the one who's always telling me not to hold onto my anger, to let it go. Shouldn't you take your own advice with Fred and George?"
"I'm not angry," Hermione said.
"You're doing a good imitation of it," Harry smiled gently.
"I'm not angry," Hermione repeated, her voice now very quiet. "I'm hurt. Some wounds run deeper than others, and it takes longer for the pain to go away."
"It worked out alright in the end," Harry reasoned, putting his arm around Hermione's shoulders.
"So the end justifies the means, does it?" Hermione returned coolly, her hand finding Harry's and touching it lightly.
"We have a lot to do this year," Harry said. "Both of us - no, all of us." His eyes swept over Ron and Ginny, who were peering into the windows of empty shops as they walked, giving Harry and Hermione the privacy to speak as if they were alone. "We have so many obstacles to overcome, I don't think we can afford even a moment to spend on another, much less one we place in our own path."
Hermione's hand folded around Harry's as it rested on her shoulder.
"I love you, you know," Harry said.
"I know," Hermione said. "Even when you don't say it in words, you say it in other ways."
"I want to say it out loud as often as possible. I love you, Hermione. We've overcome a lot to get where we are, but now that we're here, nothing is going to keep us apart."
Hermione allowed her head to rest against Harry's arm. She closed her eyes, trusting him to lead her as they walked.
"Hey," Ron said suddenly, "look there!"
Harry and Hermione looked together. Ron was pointing to a shop that neither of them recognized. Clearly this was a new establishment, erected on the ruins of one destroyed in last year's rampage of destruction.
"It's a tea shop," Ginny exclaimed happily. "Let's pop in, shall we?"
"Didn't your mum say we shouldn't fill up before lunch?" Hermione reminded Ginny.
"What, fill up on tea?" Ginny laughed.
Leaning close so that his mouth was next to Hermione's ear, Harry whispered, "I recall you saying something about the two of us never having been on a date to a tea shop. Here's our chance."
Looking up at Harry, Hermione smiled. "I accept."
But when they reached the front door, they found a sign, apparently attached by a Sticking Charm, reading: OPENING SOON.
"Bugger," Ron said. "They're not open yet."
"When do you suppose they'll be open for business?" Harry asked no one in particular.
"There's one way to find out," Hermione said, and promptly knocked on the door. After about half a minute, the door opened, revealing a witch who might have been in her mid to late 20's. Her hair was black and shiny as a raven's wing, so dark that Harry's looked charcoal-colored by contrast. Her eyes were bluer than Ron's, and they seemed overly large. Harry was reminded of Luna Lovegood, with a sprinkling of Sibyll Trelawney thrown in for good measure. The witch smiled at her visitors, and Harry saw Ron's face go blank for a moment. When the witch spoke, it was in a musical voice that a veela would have envied.
"May I help you?" she asked.
"We were just wondering when you expect to be open for business," Hermione said.
"If all goes well," the witch replied, "I hope to be open by the middle of next week."
"Splendid," Hermione said. "If all goes as planned, we'll be visiting Diagon Alley next Thursday, Harry and I." She nodded in Harry's direction. The witch, hearing Harry's name (and immediately recognizing him from his photos in the Daily Prophet), did the obligatory search for his scar. Her eyes widened momentarily as they came to rest on that most famous brand in the wizarding world. Hermione went on, "After we've finished our business, I expect we'll pop in to celebrate."
"I'm getting my Apparation license," Harry explained.
"That would be lovely," the witch said. She reached into her robes and pulled out a small card, which she handed to Hermione. "Tell your friends about us, won't you?"
After reading the card, Hermione looked up and said, "Of course. I hope you do well here. It takes a bit of courage to open a new business, after what happened last year."
"I'm not giving in to that lot," the witch said sternly. "I wouldn't give them the satisfaction."
"Good for you," Hermione said. "Anyway, we won't keep you. I imagine you have loads to do before the grand opening."
"You don't know the half of it," the witch nodded. "With all the work that needs doing, I wish I'd learnt how to brew the potion to grow extra arms."
"Need a bit of help, do you?" Ron asked, finding his voice at last. "I'd be happy to - "
But Ginny cut him off sharply. "We have a wedding to plan. Have you forgotten your brother is getting married in only nine days?"
The witch's large eyes brightened. "A wedding? Smashing! Do you have a place to hold the reception?"
"It's a small family ceremony," Ginny explained. "They're heading straight off after."
"Ah, well," the witch said good-naturedly. "Considering how much I've left to do before opening, I probably wouldn't have been on my game. But if you hear of anyone else who's getting married..."
Her dark eyes flickered over Harry, who flushed slightly. The witch laughed.
"See you next week, then?"
"Definitely," Ron said, ignoring Ginny's audible grunt.
As the foursome resumed their interrupted journey, Harry saw that Hermione was reading the business card the witch had given her. He peered over her shoulder, and he let out a small laugh.
"What's the joke?" Ron asked, seeing the delight in Harry's eyes.
Rolling her eyes, Hermione said, "I expect Harry's laughing because of this." She handed the card to Ron, who read it before passing it to Ginny. Ginny promptly laughed in much the same way Harry had.
The business card read:
"She's a fortune teller?" Ginny grinned. "I thought you didn't believe in that rubbish, Hermione."
"I admit, I used to be a little...tight-arsed," Hermione said, eliciting a chuckle from Ron. "But we've all seen that real predictions do occur. And even if she is a fraud like Professor Trelawney, it's all in fun, right? It's not like we have to pretend to see things that aren't there just to get a passing mark, or an O.W.L. And don't give me that innocent look," she reproved through a knowing smile, looking directly at Ron. "You never saw anything in Divination that wasn't all in your imagination. Neither of you did, come to that," she expanded, turning her eye onto Harry.
Harry exchanged a grin with Ron. But when they both looked to Ginny for confirmation, they were surprised to see her looking introspective.
"Come off it," Ron said, accurately reading his sister's expression. "You're not saying you actually saw something in Trelawney's ruddy tea leaves and bird entrails?" He grimaced at the memory of that distasteful area of one of his and Harry's long-past Divination classes.
"Ginny?" Hermione said with growing interest. "Have you seen something in one of your classes?"
After a long pause, Ginny said, "I didn't exactly see anything."
A sudden, alarming thought occurred to Harry. "Did - did Professor Trelawney have - I mean, did she - "
"Hang on," Ron interrupted, his eyes fixing Ginny intently. "You don't have Trelawney, do you? You're in Firenze's class!"
Harry didn't know if this revelation was for better or worse. The only times Sibyll Trelawney had made a genuine prediction, both had been about Lord Voldemort. Knowing that she had not had another such vision was a relief, especially if it had included Ginny. But was Ginny any better off in the hands of Firenze? The centaurs were true seers, though their methods were as far above human understanding as the stars on which they gazed continually to glean glimpses of the future (and which knowledge they guarded jealously amongst themselves). If Firenze had seen something in the stars that concerned Ginny, that was not necessarily an evil omen. It all depended on the nature of the prediction.
Finding her voice at last, Ginny said in a low, cautious voice, "It happened in the last class of term - you know, just before - "
Ginny's voice trailed off, but none was in any doubt about what she meant. Just before the Death Eater attack - the attack in which Dumbledore died.
"Did Firenze see something?" Hermione asked in a near-whisper. "Something about you?"
Ginny nodded.
Hermione's interest intensified. Like Harry, she knew that Firenze came from a race of true seers. Their ways and means of divining events were usually far beyond the scope of human minds to comprehend, much less interpret. Even they themselves did not understand all they saw. Hermione had heard Firenze declare on their first meeting in the Forbidden Forest that, "The stars have been read wrongly before now, even by centaurs." That being so, whatever Firenze had seen in Ginny's class might or might not be of any worth. Either way, Hermione was keen to know what Firenze had seen, and from their expressions, Harry and Ron were just as eager as she to hear Ginny's answer.
Prodded by three pairs of anxious eyes, Ginny said at last, "We were burning some plants that Dobby had picked in the Forbidden Forest - Firenze can't go in there, you know. None of us saw anything in the smoke, but Firenze seemed to see something. We all waited for him to tell us what he'd seen, but instead he just prodded the fire and sent another cloud of smoke into the air. It was almost as if he wanted to erase what he'd seen, to put it out of his mind."
"Was it something to do with Voldemort?" Harry asked, unable to remain silent. If somehow Ginny's safety had been compromised by her relationship to him -
"No," Ginny said. "At least, he didn't mention him by name."
"But he told you something," Ron pressed. Ginny nodded. "What did he say?"
"I was just leaving class when he called me back," Ginny said. "I didn't know what it was about. I never gave a thought to it being connected to some kind of vision. He looked down at me and said, 'I saw two shadows in the smoke earlier, Miss Weasley. One shadow had your face. The other I could not see clearly, though I suspect from earlier visions whose it was. I saw the two shadows merge into one. I do not yet know what this means. If I see anything more, I will tell you.' And then he just turned and walked out of the classroom."
"That's it?" Ron exclaimed. "Two shadows, one with your face? What's that supposed to mean?"
Harry's fears jumped another notch. What if the other shadow did belong to Voldemort? And Firenze's description of the two figures merging - Harry swallowed dryly. There were times during his fifth year when Voldemort had invaded Harry's mind, seen through Harry's eyes. That was why Dumbledore took such care to avoid Harry that year, fearing that Voldemort might see something through the windows of Harry's eyes that he shouldn't. Nor were those fears groundless. In their painful talk following Sirius' death, Dumbledore had spoken of Voldemort, telling Harry that he had 'thought to see a shadow of him stir behind your eyes' on more than one occasion.
That danger was now past. When Voldemort realized that Harry could see through his eyes as easily as he saw through Harry's, he severed the bond between them. He would no more risk Harry divining his putrid thoughts by possessing him in such manner again.
But - Harry's blood ran cold at the thought - what was to prevent Voldemort from possessing another person as he'd once inhabited Harry? The two shadows in Firenze's vision, merging into one - could Voldemort be planning on inhabiting Ginny so as to spy on Harry? It would be too obvious for him to possess Ron or Hermione. The three of them were so intimate that Harry believed he could spot any aberration in either of them at once. But Ginny - hovering on the periphery of Harry's life, going virtually unnoticed - how easy would it be for Voldemort to observe Harry through Ginny's laughing, innocuous eyes?
Harry made a silent promise to keep a close watch on Ginny this year. He wasn't sure what he would do if he suspected that Voldemort was, in fact, using Ginny as a conduit to observe the goings-on at Hogwarts. Ordinarily, he would have gone straight to Dumbledore. He supposed that he could tell Professor McGonagall. He realized for the first time that, with Dumbledore gone, he didn't know who would take over as leader of the Order of the Phoenix. But Ginny was his primary concern now. He made a second promise like unto the first, to remain alert this year to learn if Firenze had any more visions concerning Ginny and the mysterious "shadow without a face." If that face did indeed belong to Voldemort, he wanted to know at once so he could take whatever steps he could to safeguard Ginny's life. Too many people close to him had died. He would do everything in his power to keep Ginny's name from being added to that list.
"Well," Hermione said with a reassuring smile, "I wouldn't worry about it. For all you know, the hidden face could be that of the wizard you're going to marry."
"Yeah," Ron said. "Hey, maybe next time you can have Firenze see who I'm going to marry. I mean, I don't want to waste a lot of time and money on a bird who's only going to throw me over for some other bloke. Better to pick the right one the first time, I say."
The tension seemed to be melting away. "Thanks, everyone," Ginny said. "I'm glad I told you. It's been on my mind a bit lately, what with all the precautions we're taking for the wedding."
"That's what friends are for," Harry said, submerging his apprehensions behind a smile he hoped did not look as forced as it felt to him.
They were just approaching their designated meeting place when they all seemed to realize at the same time that Harry had not yet explained to them his mysterious reason for returning to Hogwarts. That would now have to wait until they returned to the Burrow, for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were now approaching, the former's arms laden with the books and supplies they had purchased for Ron and Ginny.
"Did you have an interesting time?" Mrs. Weasley asked.
"Yeah," Ron said, casting a sidewise glance at Ginny. "I guess you could call it that."
"I hope you didn't fill up on cakes and butterbeer," Mrs. Weasley said. "I'll have lunch on the table in an hour. That will give you plenty of time to de-gnome the garden and pick some vegetables for supper. You'll work up a good appetite that way."
"Great," Ron said enthusiastically, and Harry knew from long observation of Ron's dubious acting skills that this was no sham for his mother's benefit. As Mrs. Weasley led her husband toward the Leaky Cauldron, Ron edged up to Harry and said, "That'll be the perfect time for you to tell us why you're coming back."
Nodding, Harry said, "Okay." In a softer voice, he asked, "Should we tell Ginny? Not about the Horcruxes," he clarified quickly, his voice falling to a whisper. "Just about why I'm coming back."
"I think we'd better," Ron said. "She'll find out anyway. There's a lot of Fred and George in her, and I dunno yet if that's a good thing or not. Either way, better if she hears it straight from the dragon's mouth."
"Right," Harry said. He had been of a mind to tell Ginny from the start, though he wasn't sure why he felt that way. Now that Ron had given his approval, the burden was off Harry as far as the decision went. All that remained now was to find a way to explain his reasons that made sense.
Back at the Leaky Cauldron, Harry and Hermione packed their school supplies in their trunks, after which Hermione and Ron used their wands to levitate them down the stairs. Harry looked on jealously, wishing he were of age to use magic openly. It would only be a few more days' wait, but he still envied his friends their earlier birthdays. Ginny seemed to understand Harry's chagrin as she fiddled with the wand in her robes as if longing to use it. There were a lot of things that Ginny and Harry understood that no one else did or could. He was glad to have her at hand at such times as this. It made him feel less alone, less put upon by rules and regulations that seemed to exist for no other reason than to cause him misery.
The Weasleys were now queuing up at the fireplace, which suddenly had a very long line of students and their families waiting to Floo home. Harry stared at the milling throng for a long minute, then he stepped forward suddenly. "Look," he said, "this is going to take forever. Ginny and I are the only ones who aren't allowed to Apparate. Why don't you all just go on ahead and we'll follow you in the fire?"
"You're certain, dear?" Mrs. Weasley said.
"Yes," Harry said. "No sense standing around here when you could be back home getting lunch ready," he smiled. "Don't worry, we'll catch you up."
Receiving an approving nod from her husband, Mrs. Weasley handed Ginny their pouch of Floo powder. The bag was far from full, but as there had obviously been enough remaining to transport the entire family back to the Burrow, there would be more than enough for Harry and Ginny to make the journey.
As the elder Weasleys turned toward the door, Hermione came up to Harry and slipped her arms around his waist. "Are you sure, Harry? If it comes to that, we've already Apparated together once today. What's one more?"
"That was different," Harry said. "No one was there to see us then. I wouldn't put it past some Slytherin - or Ravenclaw (he added this with unnecessary savagery) - to recognize me and report me to the Ministry. After all the MLE's put me through in the past, the last thing I need is to be charged with unlicensed Apparation in a public place. Besides, if I Apparate with you, Ginny will be all alone to wait in line. These are dangerous times, and I don't think Mrs. Weasley would want her only daughter put at risk that way."
"Then I'll stay with you while the others go on," Hermione said.
"It's such a useless waste of time," Harry returned. "Look there," he nodded, "while we've been standing here, six more have joined the queue. Anyway, didn't you tell me you wanted to start practicing some healing spells straightaway? You can be ready in case one of us comes up with a bite during the de-gnoming."
"I do have a lot to learn this year," Hermione admitted, "and the sooner I start, the better."
"Off you get, then," Harry smiled. "Keep a plate warm for me."
"I'll keep more than a plate warm for you," Hermione replied as she bared her teeth ferally.
Harry kissed Hermione, then shooed her off toward Ron.
"Save some gnomes for me," he called out to Ron over Hermione's head.
"The one with the sharpest teeth is all yours," Ron promised with a laugh.
As Harry and Ginny watched, their companions proceeded to step outside (the inside of the pub was warded against Apparation, to prevent anyone from ducking out without paying) and vanish one by one. Ron went first, his mother loading his arms with his school supplies, leaving Mr. Weasley still holding Ginny's. With an inarticulate grunt, Ron vanished with a sharp snap.
"You next, Hermione," Mrs. Weasley said solicitously.
"I just thought," Hermione said as she turned in the doorway leading to Diagon Alley. "Your house must be protected by anti-Apparation spells, just like the pub. I won't be able to get through since I'm not family."
"Oh, don't worry about that, dear," Mrs. Weasley said. "We had those wards modified ages ago. You can come and go any time you please. We've always thought of you as a member of the family." When Hermione responded with an amazed expression, Mrs. Weasley added, "And Harry, too, of course."
With an uncomfortable look at Harry, Hermione stepped into the enclosed courtyard and vanished, with a very soft popping sound that would have gone unheard next to Ron's louder report. Mrs. Weasley turned to Ginny and said, "Mind you don't lose the pouch, now."
Harry saw Ginny's brow furrow with annoyance at this chastisement, especially in a room full of strangers (not to mention Harry himself, in whose presence she was often self-conscious). Looking aggrieved at being treated like a child, Ginny smiled indulgently and held up the pouch as her mother smiled back and nodded.
"You'll see that nothing happens to Ginny, won't you, Harry?" Mrs. Weasley said as Ginny thrust the pouch forcefully into her pocket, looking sullen.
"No worries, Mrs. Weasley," Harry assured her. "I'll take care of her."
An odd sort of look passed over Mrs. Weasley's eyes as she smiled at Harry and Ginny. But before Harry could devote any thought to the matter, Mrs. Weasley turned to her husband and said, "Let's go, Arthur. Ginny will be in good hands with Harry."
"See you, Harry," Mr. Weasley said as he was ushered outside. He and his wife vanished, leaving Harry and Ginny alone. They blinked once, then stepped quickly to the end of the queue.
Whereas Harry and Ginny had been conversing normally only minutes before within the foursome, they now fell into a tense silence. Harry thought he knew the reason for Ginny's sudden lack of communication, and it had nothing to do with Firenze's vision. When Madame Ariadne had glanced at Harry in concert with her reference to future weddings, he could have sworn that her eyes had lingered for heartbeat on Ginny. If Ginny had seen this as well (and this was all too likely - she had demonstrated her alertness any number of times in regard to spotting imperfections in Ron), then her awkwardness was easily understood. Her childhood crush on Harry might be a thing of the past, but there were times when Harry thought he detected a spark of the shy young girl who had sent him the singing valentine in his second year (her first) hiding beneath the surface of the bold young woman she had become.
Unable to avoid looking Ginny's way any longer, Harry smiled and asked her, "What sort of courses do you have this year?"
Harry knew that last year had been Ginny's O.W.L. year, but in the mayhem following the Death Eater attack - and with so many students having been withdrawn by their parents immediately after - final exams for the school - including O.W.L.'s and N.E.W.T.'s - had been cancelled. Presumably, seventh-year students could take their exams later by special arrangement, most likely at the Ministry. He wasn't sure what the O.W.L. students would do. In all likelihood, they would choose their sixth-year courses based on their teachers' assessment of their work throughout the previous year, aided by their career evaluations from their heads of House.
"Nothing special," Ginny said with a small shrug, not quite looking at Harry.
"What did you and Professor McGonagall talk about during your career chat?"
Harry remembered his own chat with the head of Gryffindor House on the occasion of his impending O.W.L.'s. He had told her that the only career he had ever seriously considered was being an Auror. She had promised him that she would do everything in her power to see that he realized his dream. Would she be able to fulfill that promise now that she had assumed the post of Headmistress of Hogwarts? With that mantle of responsibility suddenly laid on her, would she even be able to retain her position as Transfiguration teacher, as she must have already relinquished her place as overseer of Gryffindor?
Ginny answered Harry's question with another shrug. "I wasn't interested in anything special," she said. "To tell you the truth, I didn't know what I wanted to do after I left school. I realized I probably felt a bit like Ron must have done, and I sort of understood him a little better - but don't tell him I said that," she smiled. Harry grinned, and Ginny let out a sigh. "In the end," she finished, "Professor McGonagall advised me to take Advanced Transfiguration and Charms. She said I had an aptitude for both, and I'd get in automatically if I got an E in my O.W.L.'s in both subjects. Even though I never got to sit my exams - " Ginny hesitated before going on, "McGonagall and Flitwick both reckoned I'd have got an E on my O.W.L.'s, so they scheduled my courses based on that."
"So, maybe we'll have some classes together," Harry said. The Advanced classes were so specialized that only a few students from any House ever qualified. Even combining the sixth and seventh years, the classes were still only half as large as a normal one. That meant that each student received more attention and encouragement from their professors, promoting excellence befitting the classes' Advanced status.
"I thought you were going to be studying Defense Against the Dark Arts subjects," Ginny said in mild surprise.
"I am," Harry said. "But first I have to learn the basics. There are special disciplines I'll need to master before I learn the really dangerous spells. When the new term starts in January, I'll begin learning the forbidden spells I'll need to know as an Auror. That'll be in Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts, of course. Until then, my Defense classes will mostly be learning how to apply the spells I'll eventually be using. The new teacher, whoever it turns out to be, will drill me on how to react in various situations. An Auror faces life and death situations every day, and I can't afford to make a mistake that might get someone killed - especially me," he grinned. "It's like learning to duel with a wooden sword. They won't give you a real one until you've proven you won't cut your head off, or the instructor's. But a swordsman only has to master one weapon. An Auror has to know hundreds of spells, even thousands - and he has to know when to use each one, and when not to. Only when I've learned all that will it be safe for me to learn the spells themselves."
"Will Hermione be in the same Advanced class?" Ginny asked cautiously.
"No," Harry said. "She needs to learn very special spells that aren't covered in even the Advanced classes. Madam Pomfrey will be teaching those classes, which will be limited to students with similar career goals."
Ginny digested this for long moments before looking up at Harry with new interest.
"Professor McGonagall entered me in those Advanced classes after talking with Mum and Dad," she said. "She sent them an owl to tell them how my career chat went. Percy told me once that's standard procedure. Sometimes the parents respond by owl, but others prefer a face-to-face meeting."
Harry smiled inwardly at the thought of the Dursleys receiving an owl informing them of their nephew's career choices as a wizard-in-training. Even more amusing was the image of Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia turning up at Hogwarts to meet with Professor McGonagall.
"Apparently," Ginny went on, "Mum and Dad told her I could handle anything. I wish they hadn't done that."
"Why?" Harry asked. "It sounds like they believe in you. I wish I had parents like that."
This simple statement seemed to take Ginny by surprise. Recovering herself, she said, "I don't know if I'm as good as they believe. I mean, I know I got high marks in my classes, but afterward I thought that was more by luck than skill. A week later, I couldn't remember half of the spells I did that won all those points for Gryffindor. If they'd asked me to do them over..." She paused, her eyes dropping away for a moment before rising to meet Harry's again. "If things get sticky this year, will you - will you help me to get through? Mum will be disappointed if I don't meet her high expectations. I know she's already had two school Heads in the family - and even Ron got a prefect's badge, though Merlin knows how he did it. But it's different with them. They're boys, and it always seemed that what they accomplished was more a reflection on Dad than Mum. Being the only girl, I feel I'm the repository of all the dreams Mum never got to fulfill when she married Dad. Maybe that sounds stupid, but all the same, I'd hate to let her down. So - would you?"
"Do you even have to ask?" Harry said in genuine surprise. "Of course I'll help you. You may have to help me a time or two," he said in an effort to boost Ginny's confifdence. "I only got E's in those subjects myself a year ago. The only O I got was in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and that's not going to be much help when I'm pretty much starting all over again with spells I've never seen. I reckon a bit of a refresher couldn't hurt."
"We'll help each other, then," Ginny said, looking up at Harry with a vague sort of expression. "We'll get through it together."
"Together," Harry nodded, holding out his hand to seal the bargain. Ginny took it with a grateful smile that, to Harry's surprise, faded almost at once.
"Harry?" Ginny said, her hand pressing against his with a kind of wordless urgency. "Would you do me another favor and not tell anyone? About the shared classes, I mean?"
"Why not?" Harry said in surprise. "Everyone will find out eventually, won't they?"
"Yes, I suppose. But we really won't know for sure until we get our schedules, will we? Until it's official, would you mind keeping it just between us?"
"No, if that's what you want."
"Thanks, Harry," Ginny smiled, leaning forward to give him a peck on the cheek.
"Oi!" an impatient voice called out from behind them. "Keep it movin', you lot! Others is waitin'!"
Harry was startled to see that he and Ginny were now at the head of the queue. How had the time passed so quickly? The same thought seemed to have occurred to Ginny as she hastened to release Harry's hand so she could dip into her pocket and pull out her Floo pouch.
"Time flies when you're having fun," she smiled awkwardly. When she made to open the pouch, Harry saw that the drawstring was loose. Ginny had spotted this as well as she said in a deflated voice, "The string must have come loose in my pocket." Harry remembered the force with which Ginny had jammed the pouch into her pocket, but he said nothing of this, responding with a sympathetic nod. Hefting the nearly weightless pouch meaningfully, Ginny said, "It looks like there's only a pinch left. Whatever spilled out in my pocket will be useless, contaminated with lint and such. Sorry." She smiled apologetically at Harry.
"No problem," Harry smiled back. "If we're sharing classes, we might as well share the Floo."
"Get a move on, then," the irritated voice behind them said.
Ginny scooped up the last pinch of silvery powder between her thumb and forefinger and tossed it into the grate, which instantly erupted in emerald-green flames. Linking arms to avoid in-flight separation, Harry and Ginny stepped into the flames and said together, "The Burrow!"