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Chapter 11 - An Unhappy Inheritance
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It was dawn, but still quite early. The sky was a glowing deep purple and in the dim light it took Harry a moment to adjust his eyes and clear his head. He slipped on his glasses and patted the edge of his bed where Hedwig hopped to his side. He untied the post from her leg and held it in his hands. The dreams of the night before were washed from his mind as he looked at the writing. It was addressed simply: Harry, My Love. His heart began to pound. “This is silly,” he thought. “Get a hold of yourself.” Before he slipped the seal, he took in a deep breath and resigned to stay the course he had laid down. He would not be swayed. She was safer where she was and that was the end of that. Carefully, he opened the letter.


My dearest Harry,

Hedwig was in my room waiting for me when I got home. Mama asked why I was crying so, and I told her that you had gone. I saw them gathering your things through the window. It was Fred and George. I grabbed Fred when he came out; I think I frightened him a bit. (Tell him I’m sorry I was so rough.) He walked with me and we talked. He’s not too bad, really; in fact, he’s sweet. He says you’ll be off to school soon.

You have nothing to be sorry for. There’s nothing I would have ever done differently. You say you travel your path alone, but you don’t. From what Fred tells me, there are many others who walk on either side. I’ll be happy to stay a few steps back, for now if that’s what you want. Don’t think you’ll get too far ahead--you won’t. I’m keeping your heart and soul though. I’ve got this pretty little box Mama made to keep them in. I think you might be surprised how quickly you will have us all back.

I’m going to the store tomorrow to buy some decent food for Hedwig. I expect to see her again, and before too long. I asked Fred to let me keep one thing of yours -- just something to remember you by when I brush my hair at night. I hope you won’t mind, but it’s Padfoot’s mirror. I guess if you do mind, you can come to get it.

I’ve glimpsed a bit into your heart, and if you look into mine you’ll see that I will hold yours warm and safe in my little box. You’ll also see that I love you, and will wait for you to return.

Love--now and forever,

Gabriella


He read the note several times, and with each reading his smile widened. He had thought of giving her the mirror himself, but it was foolishness to think he would use it to speak with her. He would do all he could to shield her from the Wizarding world. One day, they might reunite and just knowing that she had the mirror made him feel happier. Hedwig gave a little hoot.

“I’m sorry girl,” he said. “All I have is a bit of bread. There might be some mice outside.” She nipped at the piece of bread. “We’re leaving to Grimmauld Place today. If you decide to wander off, meet me there, okay?” He stroked her feathers and she flew out the window. As soon as she left, Harry got up and put his clothes on. He winced as he pushed his arm through his T-shirt. His mind flashed back to when his body was sliding along the pavement. Looking at the bandages, he stretched the fingers on his right hand. He was lucky he even had an arm.

The basin by the mirror had been filled again with water. He splashed his face, ran his fingers through his hair, and toweled off. He put his glasses on and walked over to the flowers. He remembered the day he saw Gabriella looking at the flowers in her new garden and then he remembered his own loitering outside looking for weeds he knew weren’t there. “Was she outside on purpose?” he wondered. “Waiting for me?” That moment, Mrs. Weasley entered his room.

“Good morning dear!” she said smiling. “Good, I see you’re dressed. We can go now or after breakfast, which would you…”

“Let’s go now. I just need to know… my wand?” he asked.

“Oh yes, I nearly forgot.” She reached into a large handbag and pulled out his wand. “Here you go, dear.” She paused and checked the room. “The twins have gathered all your other things and brought them to the house. Shall we go?” Harry looked around at the room, then up to the open window. The sun was starting to fill the frame. He nodded and walked out the door, Mrs. Weasley at his side.

St Mungo’s was the same as he had remembered. He thought of the Longbottom’s and touched his forehead. “What if this belonged to Neville instead?” he thought. As they walked down the corridor, they past a sign: ARTIFACT ACCIDENTS. “Mrs. Weasley?” he asked.

“Yes, Harry?” They entered the main atrium.

“Mr. Weasley had two others in his room with him. I was by myself. Why?”

“It was just safer, dear.”

”So, I’m still being watched?” he asked coolly. Her face reddened.

“No one’s been watching you; we’ve just been making sure you’re safe, that’s all.”

“Because you think he’s after me?” The pink in her face turned ashen. She nodded. “Do you know why?” he asked simply wondering what her answer might be. Instantly, the blood returned to her face, and fire lit her eyes. She placed one hand to Harry’s cheek.

“He’s pure evil Harry. Even when he was simply Tom he would never consider failure an option. Now he sees himself all-powerful and yet a mere child has bested him. Well, not so much a child anymore, are you?” She now had to look up to see his eyes. Pausing for a moment, she took his hand. “He won’t stand for it. He’ll risk all to rid the world of you, Harry. It’ll be his ruin; I think we both know that. But, it also means we must be watchful. YOU must be watchful. This is not the year to go off wandering the grounds at night, or playing with giants in the Forbidden Forest.” Harry’s eyes widened. They stepped to the street where a limousine was there to take them to Grimmauld Place. She looked up and down the street. “We must all be extra careful this year.” They stepped to the car and soon left St. Mungo’s behind them.

When they walked through the front door of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, Harry stood awestruck. The first thing he noticed was the light. It wasn’t dark and dingy but bright and airy. The next thing he noticed was the smell, or rather the lack of smell. The air was fresh, not dank and moldy. The first words out of his mouth were, “Where’s his mother?”

“Oh yes, well, that required Dumbledore’s help. He stopped by the house here only a few nights after… well, after Sirius had left us. The old hag began to scream bloody murder calling Sirius a mudblood lover and a traitor to Wizarding kind. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Albus quite so angry. He simply raised his wand and she was gone. He hasn’t said how or where. None of the Order could even get her unglued from the wall and believe me we all tried. Makes for a nice change, I think. Well, let’s see who’s here.” She started forward to the kitchen door, but Harry’s feet were somehow stuck to where he was. “Come on, dear.”

He didn’t want to move. He couldn’t move. He felt weak; perspiration began to prickle on his forehead. It was suddenly very hard to breathe. He reached for the edge of the door as the room began to spin upside down. Mrs. Weasley quickly grabbed him by the arm just in time to stop him from collapsing to the floor.

“Harry, what’s wrong?” He couldn’t answer. The room’s air had disappeared. His sight was failing; everything was turning dark. “Ron! Hermione!” he heard her yell as if from far, far away. Soon, everything was black.

A voice echoed from the darkness. “He’s not gone you know, just on the other side.” It was Luna Lovegood, but he couldn’t see her. “The voices… didn’t you hear them? If only we could find a way to see them. But you know the way, don’t you, Harry? Can’t you see the key? It’s right here.” But Harry couldn’t see anything. “If anyone can find a way, Harry, you can. If you see my mother, tell her I miss her so.” The voice was fading… “Harry, can you hear me…” Another voice broke the blackness.

“Harry! Can you hear me?”

It was Hermione. Cool air seemed to rush into his lungs; he could breathe again. Slowly his eyes opened. He was in bed in the room he had stayed the summer before. The same empty portrait of Phineas Nigellus hung on the wall opposite. The bed was bigger, and he looked up to find four faces staring down at him: Mrs. Weasley, Hermione, Ron and Remus Lupin.

“I don’t know,” Mrs. Weasley spoke first. “Perhaps it was too early to bring him home. They said he’d had a bad night.”

“Give him time, Molly,” Remus replied. “Harry, how are you feeling?” Harry brought his head off his pillow. He was a bit confused.

“I’m okay,” he said, not really sure how he felt. “I don’t know what came over me,” he lied. He knew exactly what it was. He knew before he’d walked through the door. It didn’t matter how much Mrs. Weasley had cleaned. He didn’t want to be here. The thought of Sirius hung in the air. It was part of the walls that still had the portraits of the Black family. It would be only a matter of time until he saw Sirius’ photo again, as Moody had shown him the picture last year of his parents before they had been murdered.

“Here,” Lupin said, “try this.” He handed Harry a large bar of chocolate. Harry was still somewhat unsteady.

“Dementors?” he asked thinly.

“No,” said Lupin with a smile, “great deal on Fizzing Fudgebars at Honneydukes. Then he turned to the others in the room. “What do you say we give Harry some time to rest?”

“No,” Harry said taking a bite of chocolate, “I’m okay really.”

“Now dear,” said Mrs. Weasley taking Harry’s hand, “they said you should just rest for a couple of days.” Everyone began to file out of the room. He was desperate; he didn’t want to be left alone, not here, not now.

“Remus?” he called. “Do you have a minute?” Remus returned and sat down in a new chair that was not in the room last year. Harry searched for something to say--anything. “Where’s the other bed?” he asked.

“Well, Molly’s spread things out a little. Fred and George aren’t here this summer, Ron’s in their room. She and Arthur are staying in,” he paused, “in the master bedroom. Ginny and Hermione are still rooming upstairs. We haven’t decided what to do with Buckbeak, yet.” He shifted in his chair and looked uncomfortably at the empty portrait. “The fact is Harry we need to talk; I just don’t think now’s such a good time.” Harry put the half-eaten chocolate bar on a small table next to his bed.

“All I have is time, Remus.” His words were hollow.

“Then… then you should know that the Weasleys are only living here temporarily. It’s Arthur’s new position that puts him and his family at risk--just a precaution really. They were too exposed out at the Burrow.” He paused, again searching for words to say. “Harry, Sirius has left the house to you. There’s more than just the house; we found the papers downstairs after he died. Essentially all he had, all the Black family had goes to you, Harry.”

Harry looked at the walls. They were clean, and looked freshly painted. The carpet, a light baby-blue, looked as if it had just been installed. Tears began to fill his eyes, and he looked to the ceiling. “I don’t want it,” he whispered.

“He didn’t want it either,” Lupin said kindly. “Too many memories… too many bad memories, really. But you have a chance to start some new ones Harry--maybe some good ones.” Harry didn’t answer; the tears were falling back on his pillow. “Well,” Lupin said as he stood up, “you need to know it’s yours. Molly’s been waiting to get your permission to take care of a number of things. One of those is Buckbeak.” He walked over to the window, the sun glowing off bright-white curtains. “You also need to know that there’s more to the Black estate — other homes and, of course, an account at Gringotts. Well, not really an account, more like a fortune.”

“I don’t want it!” Harry yelled. “I don’t want any of it!”

“Of course you don’t, Harry. No good soul wants to come into money like that, but it’s yours. It’s never about how much, Harry. What you do with it, how you use it and to what purpose, that’s what makes the difference.” Remus walked over and sat at Harry’s bedside. He took Harry’s hand. “Your father and Sirius were my family. They were closer than brothers. I’d be dead now if it weren’t for the two of them. Before Sirius died, I made a promise in case something should happen to him. I swore I’d watch out for you, and I will.” He squeezed Harry’s hand tight. “And I swear to you now, Harry. We will destroy those who took them away from us.” For a moment, fire flashed in his eyes. Harry could make out the werewolf in Lupin’s face, but the look soon softened and the grip on Harry’s hand relaxed. “There is much to discuss, Harry, but not now. Now, you need to rest, if only for an hour.” He started out of the room. “Ron and Hermione have missed you terribly. Perhaps, you could put on a face of reciprocation.” He paused for a moment, looking down at his shoes. “Cherish your time with your friends, Harry. It is precious,” he choked and left the room.

Harry turned on his side and cried. The tears soaked his pillow, and still he cried. All the money in Gringotts couldn’t bring them back. All he would ever have was pictures. He held his bandaged hand flat against the wet white sheet. He needed her here; he felt so terribly alone -- it hurt.

Harry did not leave the room that morning. It was not until Mrs. Weasley came to the door that he lifted his head off the pillow. “Harry, dear,” she said, “you really must eat something. I can bring it up if you’d like to be alone.”

“I’ll be down,” he called. “Just give me a minute.”

“Take all the time you need dear; we’re not going anywhere today.”

He sat up at the side of his bed. His hair was wet. He felt miserable. He walked over to the dresser where Mrs. Weasley had set a basin of water and fresh towels. On the wall was a mirror. He looked at his reflection. He not only felt miserable, he looked it. His face was puffy and his eyes swollen and red. His wet hair hung down limp like the greasy strings dangling from Snape’s scalp. He took a towel and leaned over to dry his hair as best he could. “Get a hold of yourself, Harry,” he thought. He closed his eyes and tried to relax, standing up with the towel over his face. His hands were flat against his cheeks, and his fingers gently pressed his eyes. He took a long deep breath, tossed the towel aside and reached for a brush in a hopeless attempt to set his hair straight. When he looked back to the mirror, he stood frozen.

The reflection looking him in the face was not there a minute ago. The puffiness was gone, the circles around his eyes were gone and, he leaned closer, the redness had disappeared. “That’s impossible,” he whispered. He looked down at his two hands turning them over in front of him. “Who are you?” he said out loud, and then, looking back at his reflection, he said “What are you?” He could hear his name being called from downstairs. “Coming!” he yelled. With his left hand he felt the bandages on his aching right arm. He reached for his wand in his back pocket. It wasn’t there. He glanced across the room and saw it lying on his bedside table. It was some ten feet away, not much more than it had been last year. He held out his right hand. The door to his room creaked open and at the very same instant he called “Lumos!” The wand burst into a brilliant white light.

“It’s true!” said Hermione standing at the door, a slight look of surprise on her face. Behind her, looking over her head stood Ron, his jaw hanging somewhere around his shoes.

“Bloody hell,” was all he mustered.

Harry felt the fingers in his right hand begin to tingle. He made a small fist and stretched his hand, and the odd sensation disappeared. He knew they were standing there, but he wanted to try. He raised his hand again and commanded, “Accio wand!” Nothing happened. “Accio wand!” Again, nothing happened. “Well, not so spectacular is it?” He sighed and walked over to pick his wand up.

“Are you kidding?” Ron exclaimed. “That was fantastic. I mean… well… here.” He put his own wand on the bedside table. He walked over to where Harry stood, held out his hand and called “Accio wand!” Nothing. “Accio wand!” Nothing. “Lumos!” Again, nothing. Hermione let out a great sigh. Ron glowered at her. “Well, let’s see you try then!”

“I’m not going to try,” she said. “I can’t do it. I don’t know of anyone that can, not like that. I mean, we all can do a little something without our wands, right?” Ron just looked at his shoes. “Magic slips out, usually when we’re emotional or upset. Chants and incantations for charms or hexes require constant eye contact and tremendous concentration.” She looked at Harry and shook her head and then repeated, “I don’t know anyone who can do it like that. But I’ll find out if there have been others when we get back to Hogwarts.” The cogs of Hermione’s mind began to turn. “It won’t be in any of our old books. Maybe I can look while we’re at Floursih and Blotts buying supplies.” For a moment, Hermione was lost in concentration, then shook her head and returned to the present. “Let’s go, Harry. You need to eat, and besides you know better than to…” A sudden flame burst in the center of the room, a note, and a tail feather… a phoenix tail feather. Harry grabbed the note.

Harry,

As much as I admire your capabilities, magic by students is forbidden outside of Hogwarts, with or without a wand. And please be sure to remind Mr. Weasley as well.

Headmaster Dumbledore

He stared at the note dumbfounded. “But how?” he whispered.

“How what, mate?” Ron took the note and read it. “Blimey, that’s impossible! He’s half-way around the world trying to recruit supporters.” He looked at Hermione. “It’s from Dumbledore, he knows Harry’s done magic!” He handed her the note. She read it and shook her head.

“Well, however he knows, you’re lucky Dumbledore’s in charge again, Harry. You could have been expelled,” she chastised. Ron rolled his eyes. “And that goes for you too, you know,” she added.

“I’m hungry,” was all Harry could say. “Let’s eat.”

The three made their way down the stairs to the kitchen. The smell of browning sausages and roasted potatoes filled the air.

“Well, it’s about time,” Mrs. Weasley scorned. Then turning to Harry and directing him to a chair she asked consolingly, “Are you feeling alright, dear?”

“Much better, thanks.” Mrs. Weasley filled their plates, and they began to eat. Harry was famished. It was the first time he could remember asking for a second plate before Ron. Half way through he noticed. “Where are the others, Remus and Ginny?”

“Remus had some work to take care of,” Mrs. Weasley said, “and Ginny’s visiting the Thomas’s.”

“The who?” he asked.

“Dean,” injected Hermione. “She’s visiting Dean and his family. They’re traveling up on the… Well, on vacation.”

“Is that safe?” Harry asked.

“Exactly what I said Harry.” Ron jumped in. “Traipsing off all over the country when You-Know-Who’s trying to kill us all.”

“Oh, Ron,” Mrs. Weasley scolded, “be quiet. You know perfectly well Mad-Eye’s with them, and if he’s there, nothing’s going to happen.” Ron seemed to slump somewhat.

“It’s just not…”

“Ron,” Hermione interrupted, “we’ve been over this time and time again. I know Harry hasn’t heard it all, but would you please wait until later so I don’t have to hear it again for the two-hundredth time?” Ron just sat and sulked.

The afternoon was growing late. Harry had had his fill, and was feeling somewhat tired again. His head still didn’t seem to be on all the way straight. He sat up off the bench and started to the door. “I’m sorry, but I think I’ll rest for a bit.”

“Hey mate, you dropped something.” Ron reached to the floor, and picked up a small white folded envelope. Harry’s heart skipped. It had fallen from his back pocket.

“Oh, yeah, that’s mine.” Harry walked briskly to snatch it from his hand just as Ron was pulling the folded paper closer to his face.

“…my Love,” he read out loud before Harry had a chance to tear it from his hands. Harry quickly slipped it back into his pocket and began to walk to the door. But before he made his escape Ron queried, “My Love, what?”

“I don’t know, just found it at St Mungo’s.” Harry was grasping for ideas to cover his tracks.

“Found it?” Ron asked again blankly. “Well, then, let’s have a look. Might be kind of fun. Have you read it already?” He stood up and was walking toward Harry, when Hermione stood up blocking his path.

“Come on, Ron,” she said. “You heard Harry. He’s tired. Let him rest.”

“Yes, Ron,” Mrs. Weasley added to Harry’s defense. “Leave the poor boy alone. Go on Harry. Ron, you can help wash these dishes and make sure they clean themselves properly this time.” She waved her wand and brushes began to soap the plates in the sink. Ron sighed and sulked over to the sink grabbing his wand and pointing it at a towel. “Come on Harry, let me walk you to your room.”

“I’m alright, really.”

“I know; there’s just one thing I want to talk to you about.” As they were climbing the stairs, she said. “You understand we’re only here temporarily.”

“I know, Remus told me,” he replied.

“Yes, of course. And you know then that this… all of this… belongs to you.” Harry nodded, swallowing hard. “I’ve tried to leave as much of Sirius in the house as I could. I wouldn’t presume to know how you feel. I can take it all down or leave it all up, or anything in between. Just give the word, Harry, it’s your house, and we’re grateful we can stay here.”

“You can have it,” he said with an empty voice. “I don’t… I don’t…” He began to shake and Mrs. Weasley reached out and held him tight in both arms.

“I know, dear, I know. We’ll get through this together; I promise you that. But, maybe you could promise me something?” She held him back and looked into his eyes. “Don’t try it on your own, Harry. Have faith in those around you, those that love you, and those that you love. They’ll bring you strength, Harry.” She let go and escorted him into his room rubbing his back.

She picked up the wet towel and scanned for anything else. “Fred and George brought your trunk last night. You have your broom and a few more items in the closet out in the hall. They say they had help making sure you got all your things. I guess it’s about time that uncle of yours started acting like a human being. Later, I’m afraid, we need to discuss two more items… Buckbeak and Kreacher.”

“Kreacher!” The hair on the back of Harry’s neck rose instantly and he started for the door. Mrs. Weasley took his arm.

“Kreacher’s dead, Harry. He came back to die. We think he returned to fulfill his one true dream of being mounted with the other house elves in the hall. Arthur has him in a box upstairs. We can’t… well, it’s not for us to decide, Harry.”

The film in Harry’s mind began to play again… Kreacher’s betrayal, Harry’s folly, Sirius’ death. He wouldn’t have the head mounted in the hall to remind him everyday of how Kreacher outsmarted him, of how he stood there and lied to his face, and how stupid Harry had been for believing only because he wanted Hermione to be wrong, only because he wanted to be right, to be the hero. He began to shake again. Mrs. Weasley walked him back to his bed and sat down beside him.

“I knew I should have waited, but Arthur wanted you to know the day you got home. He said that each day I waited would make it more difficult. Oh, Harry, I’m… I’m so sorry.” She began to cry, holding him in her arms again. “I know you loved him; we all did in our own way, and now we all miss him so.”

They sat there like that, the two, for some time. Finally, Mrs. Weasley stopped shedding tears, and Harry stopped shaking. Indeed, his eyes were quite dry. “You need to rest, dear. We’ll talk more later.” She stood up and made her way to the door, when Harry’s voice stopped her.

“Mrs. Weasley?” he called. His voice was suddenly steady, but cold as ice. “Can you get the others off the wall? The other house elves?” Without turning to look at him she nodded. “I want them out of the house. Take Kreacher and all the rest, and get rid of them. I don’t care if you give them a proper burial, burn them, or throw them in the dustbin. I don’t give a damn. I… I never want to see a bloody house elf again! To hell with them all!”

Her back still toward Harry, another tear began to streak down Mrs. Weasley’s face. “Yes, dear,” she said calmly, closing the door behind her.

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Harry Potter and the Burden of Becoming

Chapter 12 - A Scar Too Deep
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Buckbeak seemed to smile at Harry as he entered to spend yet another evening with the Hippogriff. The day had been cloudy and offered one of summer’s first respites from the heat. Harry bowed low and when the creature returned the gesture he patted it on the neck and fed it a rabbit. Harry sat down on the floor of straw finding it difficult to think about anything other than Gabriella. For two weeks the Hogwarts students had remained in the house. Hermione tried to analyze Harry’s powers, but unable to try some of her ideas until they returned to Hogwarts, they soon dropped the subject completely. Harry kept quiet about Tonks’ hint that he might be a Metamorphmagus. In fact, he kept quiet about a lot of things. He couldn’t bring himself to talk about Gabriella in front of Hermione, and he was never alone with Ron long enough to tell him. Harry had decided they would release Buckbeak when they all left for school. He would be setting free yet another reminder of Sirius, and he found himself spending much of his days alone with the creature listening to the Walkman Tonks gave him.

He had sent no more letters to Gabriella. There had been several attempted starts and stutters, but he always found he had nothing to say. His letters became lists of twenty questions asking about Duncan, Emma, or the other things that were going on in town. If he hadn’t been such an idiot, her hands could be around his waist right now. He was imagining the two of them on his motorcycle riding down a country road, but then his mind flashed to the accident, which had now so often played like the film of Sirius’ death. He could see them in slow motion flying through the air, the policeman, Gabriella lifeless on the ground. A stabbing sensation shot down his right forearm.

He’d left the bandages on because his arm still ached and because of his last memory of what it looked like--ground hamburger meat. It had started to smell a bit and he imagined it would be terribly scarred. Of course they’d probably be able to heal that, or maybe had already. Still he was strongly apprehensive, even when Mrs. Weasley suggested he take it off at breakfast earlier that morning. Buckbeak walked to the far corner of the room when Harry decided to take a peek.

He started at the bicep and began to unravel the bandages. The first layer revealed a second thinner wrapping around his forearm. The foul smell grew strong, but his upper arm seemed unscathed. Slowly, he began to remove the bandage around his forearm. All looked well until he noticed a small bit of scarring on the soft fleshy inside of his forearm. “To be expected,” he thought. He unwrapped another turn. The scar appeared to be a shape. “What?” he whispered. Another turn of the cloth, and there was no mistaking an odd looking lightning bolt and the tail end of a serpent. He froze as adrenaline began to pump through his veins. “How?” His heart raced. “No!” he whispered again. His mind was flashing to the marks of the Death Eaters. “It can’t be.” His breathing quickened. Finally, in a sudden flurry, he unwrapped the cloth completely and held his forearm tight with his other hand and examined it closely.

Thinly etched on the soft skin, as if carved with a knife, were the winding coils of a snake. The tip of its tail began where two small lightning bolts crossed, then wound up to form the handle of a sword. Below the hilt, the coils flared out to make the guard and then wrapped more tightly, straightening, until halfway down his forearm the flat blade erupted from the snake’s mouth poised ready to strike. The blade extended to a sharp point just above Harry’s wrist. It looked to Harry like a Basilisk spitting the Sword of Gryffindor. It wasn’t the Dark Mark of Voldemort, but what was it?

He was frightened, but the pace of his heart began to slow. At first he was hesitant, but then slowly the fingers of his left hand traced the edges of the scar. It didn’t hurt, but it was real; it was his skin. Had they done something to him at the hospital? Was this some kind of trick? And if it wasn’t, what then? Most wizards would probably take it as the Dark Mark, nobody would think there was a difference, or perhaps they’d think he did it on purpose, just trying to get attention.

There was a knock on the door. Ron poked his head in. “Hey, mate., mind if I…”

“Er, no,” Harry said panicking, “Buckbeak, he’s… he’s really in a state tonight.” Buckbeak continued to stare placidly at the wall munching on a rabbit bone.

“Seems okay to me,” Ron said and started to enter.

“No! Really, I uh, I…”

“You took the bandages off! Did it heal okay?” Ron continued to press toward Harry who was now looking for an escape that wasn’t there. Harry put his arm behind his back.

“It’s not too good Ron,” he said. “I think I’ll need to put the bandages back on again. You really don’t want to see.” The ploy failed and only made Ron more curious.

“Let’s give it a look then.” Harry closed his eyes and screwed up his face. If he was going to tell anybody, he could tell Ron, right?

“Swear to me you won’t scream and run out the door?”

“Just let me see the thing!” Slowly, without looking, Harry brought his forearm around revealing the fleshy underside to his friend.

“Oh no!” Ron screamed. “It’s horrible… just horrible!” He held his hands to his face his eyes wide, and then he started to laugh and shoved Harry on the shoulder. “You’re so full of every-flavor beans. Come on, mum’s got dinner ready and we have guests! Ginny’s back with Mad-Eye.” Ron started out the door.

Harry was lost. He watched Ron leave, and then looked back down to his arm. The scar was gone. His arm was perfectly smooth as if nothing had ever happened. He was dumbfounded, where did it go? He picked the bandages up off the floor and put them in the dustbin. On his way down to dinner he stopped at his room and put on a long-sleeved shirt. If it was going to pop out again, he didn’t want anyone noticing.

When he walked into the kitchen, everyone had already started to eat. A place had been set next to Mad-Eye who had yelled out “Hello Harry!” just before he opened the door. As he entered the kitchen, Mrs. Weasley started for him.

“Ron says the bandages are off. Let’s have a look!” He’d had his hand on his forearm the whole time, and hadn’t felt the scar rising on the skin. Quickly he pulled back the sleeve, showed her the back of his arm and elbow, and pulled the shirtsleeve down. “How does it feel?” she asked.

“Just fine,” he lied, hiding the fact that it still ached. “Everything looks wonderful!” He took his seat at the table.

“Hi Ginny!” said Harry with a smile.

“Hi Harry! How was your…”

“What’s that on your ear, Potter?” Mad-Eye asked, not turning his head from his plate; although Harry knew that his magical eye was probably turned right at him.

“An earring,” he answered.

“Yeah? Where’d you get it? Not off some stranger, I hope. It might be charmed! Hasn’t anyone checked?”

“Erm, it’s fine, really.”

“Molly! You let the boy come here with that in his ear. I hope you tested it to make sure it wasn’t hexed!”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” she spoke up in Harry’s defense. “Still, if he wants, we can have Remus take a quick look when he gets back.” Harry, his mouth full, nodded his head and that seemed to satisfy Mad-Eye. Ginny passed him the milk.

“How was your summer, Harry?” she asked. “I heard you had an accident.”

“I dropped Sirius’ motorcycle, and hit the curb. I was just going too fast.” Ginny gave a small gasp.

“He was almost taken is what happened,” Mad-Eye interjected. The whole table turned to Mad-Eye. Harry had deliberately been vague about the accident and the news was a surprise.

“Now Mad-Eye,” Mrs. Weasley spoke out, “we don’t know that Harry was almost taken.”

“Don’t we Molly? A police officer was on the scene of the supposed accident. He had a fourth-degree stunning spell slammed straight into his chest. If they hadn’t gotten there the moment it happened he would have died, and Harry would have been next!” Hearing Mad-Eye’s words everyone gasped.

“Harry!” Hermione sputtered. “You didn’t say anything about being stunned!”

“I wasn’t stunned. I-I left before it all happened. There were people coming out of their houses, and I just… I left.” His shoulders slumped. Hearing the words from his own mouth churned his stomach; suddenly he wasn’t hungry anymore. Mad-Eye gave a small grunt, but nothing more. Harry, pushing the beans around on his plate, felt a dozen eyes staring at him. Ginny tried to break the tension.

“Well, I like your hair and your earring Harry. It grew pretty fast in just a couple months.” Harry simply nodded.

“Thanks,” he said. Then Harry tried to change the subject. “How was Dean?” he asked, and a broad smile broke out on Ginny’s face; it was just the right thing to ask.

“He was perfect. His family was so sweet and kind.”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Weasley with a bright smile, “the Thomas’ have always been the very best of people.”

“What did you do?” Harry asked.

“Er, Harry,” Ron interrupted, “can I talk with you for a second.”

“Harry is talking to me now, Ron,” Ginny snapped. “You can wait.”

“Well, I don’t need to hear more about Dean Thomas this, and Dean Thomas that, do I?” he yelled, and he stood from the table and left the kitchen in a huff. Harry was confused. Hermione sighed.

“Let me go talk to him,” she said and left to bring him back.

“Good riddance,” Ginny continued, clearly agitated. “He’s been nothing but a royal pain-in-the-neck since I told him about Dean on the train. You’d think I’d stolen the boy away from him, honestly!” She took a spoonful from her plate. “Anyway, we had a wonderful time. Spent most of the week up on the North Coast. The humpbacks are migrating. They were spectacular! One whale flew straight out of the water,” her hand shot up in the air, “turned on its side and CRASH! What a huge wave!”

“Humpbacks?” Harry asked, one eyebrow raised. “How was the weather?”

“Wonderful really, not nearly as hot as down here, but you could still wear a T-shirt. Dean bought me this.” Around her neck was a gold necklace from which hung a bluestone whale charm. Harry could see that her eyes were twinkling just thinking of Dean. He was truly happy for her.

“That’s fantastic. I always knew Dean had good taste,” he said with a grin and Ginny blushed.

“Well, Miss Weasley,” Mad-Eye said with a growl, “you’d better have that little token checked as well, before you wake-up in the middle of the night with it choking you to death.” At that both Harry and Ginny had to laugh.

“And what about your summer, Harry?” Ginny asked. “Were the Dursleys awful again?”

“No, not too bad.” His mind wandered. “Uh, look I better go check on Ron. We can talk more later, okay?”

“Sure,” she said. “Maybe tomorrow at Diagon Alley?” she asked and Harry nodded.

He stood up from the table, thanked Mrs. Weasley for dinner and excused himself. Outside the kitchen door, the entranceway was empty. He started toward the study, but the thought of seeing the Black family tapestry on the wall turned him to his own bedroom. Perhaps he’d try a letter again tonight. The stairway was now unadorned with the heads of house-elves; a simple shimmering blue covered the walls. When he arrived at his room, he heard arguing further up the stairs; it had to be Ron and Hermione. He took a few steps upward. He could make out Hermione’s words first.

“Well, if he didn’t have a pretty clear idea at the hospital, he’s dead sure now.”

“I didn’t think…”

“No, you didn’t think! You never think. We agreed we wouldn’t tell him, right?”

“Well, that was before.” Ron was trying to find his voice in the argument.

“Before what?” she snapped.

“They tried to kill him, Hermione! Didn’t you hear Mad-Eye? Harry didn’t tell us that, did he? Why not, do you suppose? He’s hiding something, too.” Suddenly Ron’s voice softened. It was almost tender. “Hermione, I’ve never kept a secret from him, not like this. I can feel the tension in the air whenever we’re together. He has to know.”

“You know what it’ll do to him? Oh Ron, we can’t,” she pleaded. “We were off battling for the Order and Harry was left out of it for his own safety. Leave it alone.”

“I don’t know,” he whispered.

“Harry has to be on top of his game this year. He can’t be distracted. We’re talking about his life, Ron. Leave it alone.” There was a long silent pause.

“Okay,” he said with a sigh, “for now.”

“It’s the right thing Ron, really.” They started toward the stairs and Harry quickly stepped down and into his room leaving the door ajar. Hermione was first in with Ron close behind.

“Hey, mate,” Ron said. “Diagon Alley tomorrow, eh?” Harry shrugged his shoulders. Sitting in his chair, he feigned reading the Daily Prophet. “I wish I’d done as well in my O.W.L.S. as you two,” said Ron forlornly. “I guess this makes the first time that…”

“Yep,” Harry interrupted not looking up from the paper. “The first time we’re not in the same classes.”

“Well,” said Hermione, “that’s not completely true. We’ll all have Defense Against the Dark Arts, won’t we? And then there’s Charms too.” She seemed to be making Ron feel worse. Ron had not done well. He was not admitted into McGonagall’s N.E.W.T., nor Snape’s -- Transfiguration and Potions. The tension Ron had spoken of began to fill the air. Harry continued to read the same page of the paper. Finally, after a silent five minutes, Ron spoke.

“I think I’ll go to bed. See you in the morning.” He was clearly down, but Harry was in no mood to pick him up. Ron had folded under Hermione’s thumb.

“Yes, I’m rather tired too,” Harry said pointedly at her. She opened her mouth to say something, but simply stood up as well.

“Goodnight, Harry,” she said. “Should I shut the door?”

“Yes,” he said, “I think you’re smashing at it.” Her eyebrows furled, but rather than fight back she closed the door behind her. He was alone. But then, when wasn’t he alone? “You’ve been alone since you walked in the door,” he thought. He pulled the sleeve up on his right arm. He could see nothing. Had he imagined it? His fingers stroked his forearm. He grabbed parchment and quill and began to write.


Gabriella, my love.

I miss you. I miss the twinkle in your eyes. I miss the small dimple in your cheek when you smile. Your letters mean all the world to me. I will continue to write, I swear.

Could you ask your mum a question for me? I saw a drawing of a snake coiled around a sword with the blade springing from its mouth. Its tail ended in the crossing of two lightning bolts. Does that mean anything? Just thought it looked interesting is all.

Tomorrow I’m off to buy books for school. Such a simple thing, really. And yet, I hate the thought. It takes me one step further from you and one step closer to the end. I wish I could see the future and tell you all will be okay. I guess we’ll both know soon enough.

I love you,

Harry

It was all he could do to not throw the entire note in the dustbin. Instead, he gave it to Hedwig and sent her flying. He turned to see his reflection in the mirror. He stared, trying to assess the person standing before him. “Who are you, Harry Potter?” he whispered. Again he rubbed his right forearm, but nothing was there. “Was it a dream?” he thought. He took his clothes off and climbed into bed. Outside his door he heard Mrs. Weasley and Ginny ascending the stairs. Ginny was still going on about Dean. Harry smiled; at least someone was happy in the house tonight. He took a deep breath and cleared his mind. Soon, he was asleep.

The next morning was warm, but Harry slipped on an oversized long-sleeved shirt anyway. He was still unconvinced that the mark had disappeared forever. The breakfast conversation was quiet and Mr. Weasley was quickly off to the Ministry. Harry noticed that the lines in his face had returned. After they ate, Mrs. Weasley gathered the four Hogwarts students to travel to Diagon Alley by floo powder. Mad-Eye would be tagging along today. Harry knew he was there for extra protection. “Potter duty,” said Harry sighing to himself. Was he to be watched for the rest of his life? “Well that might not be too long, eh?” he thought dully. Thankfully Lupin, who had returned during the night, would stay behind. He was still sleeping when they left.

When they arrived, they found Diagon Alley a mass of students.

“Dean said he might be here today,” Ginny said brightly scanning the crowd.

“Nobody wanders off today,” Mad-Eye lectured the group. “You stay within sight of me or Molly, is that clear?” All nodded.

“First stop is Floursih and Blotts,” Mrs. Weasley said brightly. Hermione surveyed Harry for the slightest moment.

“Yes,” she said, “there are a few things I need to find out.”

It took only a few minutes for Ron and Harry to gather their books. Ginny was off with her mother and Hermione had disappeared behind the stacks, Mad-Eye keeping his magical eye fixed in her direction.

“Mister Moody,” Harry called, “can Ron and I sit out in front? It’s getting awfully hot in here.” The perspiration was beading on his brow,

“All right,” he said. “These women will have us here all day. Don’t move more than ten feet from the door, agreed?”

“Agreed!” Ron said, glad to be free if for only a moment.

The two sat at the curb just outside the door. Quite a few students came up and said hello. Many, to Harry’s surprise, were greeting Ron first. His brilliant play in last year’s Quidditch victory had made him quite a celebrity; even Padma Patil stopped to speak with Ron, after only giving Harry a polite, “Hi, Harry.” He watched the passersby as Ron and Padma chatted. He was looking behind Ron, when something caught his eye. The T-shirt Ron was wearing had pulled up his back revealing a deep red scar that traveled from below his waistline and disappeared up into the shirt as it curved around Ron’s side.

When Padma walked away, Harry had to ask, “What’s that on your back?” Ron quickly pulled down his shirt.

“Nothing,” he said nervously.

“Ron, don’t give me that. What is it?” Ron was silent. Then Harry remembered. “I thought they’d healed; I thought you were okay?” His voice was anxious. It was Harry’s fault Ron had been hurt in the first place.

“It’s nothing, mate, really.” But his voice was too nonchalant to be convincing.

Harry looked him in the eyes, and then said, “Not this too, Ron.” The redhead quickly looked at his shoes, then out into the street.

“Well,” he said slowly, “Madame Pomfrey did all she could. There were just some marks that ran too deep, that’s all.”

“There’s more than one? Let me see.” Harry reached to look at Ron’s back.

“No!” Ron stopped him. Harry sat back on the curb glancing at Ron’s back and then back to his face. “I haven’t told anybody, Harry. Not Mum, not Hermione…” He looked at the sky. One lone cloud sat motionless against a bright blue background. “I mean, they can see the scars on the outside, but I haven’t told them… the healers… they… they couldn’t get it all.”

“What do you mean? The scars? They couldn’t get the scars?” The pitch in Harry’s voice was raised.

Ron looked at Harry and held his arm. His eyes were fixed and his jaw set. “Swear, Harry… swear you won’t speak of this to anybody.” For a moment he saw the same eyes Ron’s mother had shown in St. Mungo’s.

“You know I won’t,” he said.

“The brain at the Ministry didn’t just wrap itself around me,” he said slowly. “It grew into me.”

“What!” Harry cried out. “How? Where?”

“Shhh,” Ron hissed. He pulled back his collar revealing the nape of his neck. A deep red scar curled and plunged toward Ron’s spine. “They tried to take it all out, but it had wrapped around my spine and… and into my own brain.” Harry was stunned; his face turned white. How could he have let this happen?

“But, but you’re okay, right?” he stammered. “I mean, it doesn’t… it hasn’t done anything to you, has it?”

“Before I left Hogwarts, I asked Madame Pomfrey not to say anything to my parents. She agreed as long as I let her check in on me over the summer. That’s why she came for a visit last week.”

“And?”

“And as far as she knows, nothing’s changed. In fact the marks are going down, so she figures I’m healing myself… ‘Rejecting the foreign invasion,’ she said.” He looked down at his shoes again.

“But you lied to her, didn’t you?” Harry asked quietly. Ron nodded. “What’s happening, Ron?”

“Voices,” he whispered. “When it had me, I thought… I thought I was going to die. I don’t know how to explain this... it was like drowning… drowning in thought. I had lost myself in a sea of voices. Other minds all fighting with each other for control. When I woke up at Hogwarts, they had disappeared. I thought they were gone forever, but…”

“But what?” Harry prodded.

“They’re coming back. Usually, when it’s crowded, I hear them; and, if I try to concentrate…” He glanced over across the street. Andrew Kirke was there looking at a parchment in his hands. “He’s going to yell for his father,” Ron whispered. A moment passed, then another. Harry was starting to think Ron was pulling his leg when Andrew’s face suddenly became vexed.

“Dad!” he yelled down the street. A dark haired man in brown robes came trotting up to his side. “I can’t get this all myself! You said you were going to give me a hand.” Moments later the son and his father walked into a shop at the corner. Harry sat in shock.

“You can read minds?” he asked. “Legilimens?”

“I don’t want to, Harry. I can’t stop it. I’m afraid if it gets to be too much, like it was in the ministry…” Ron shuddered and gasped for air.

“Then tell someone,” Harry urged. “Tell Madame Pomfrey.”

“She’ll tell my folks, and then… well, you said it Harry, I’ll become some kind of experiment or something.” He shook his head. “No, it’s not that bad. If it gets worse, I’ll let someone know.” Harry looked at him doubtfully. “I swear Harry, I’ll tell.” Ron suddenly closed his eyes. “Oh, no. He’s here.” Immediately he got to his feet and Harry followed. The same instant a familiar drawl hit their ears.

“Well, if it isn’t Potter and Weasels holding hands again.” Draco Malfoy had just come around the corner dressed in leather pants and a sweatshirt. It was too hot to be wearing long-sleeves, Harry thought touching his arm. Malfoy was thinner than Harry expected; his blonde hair without a wisp out of place. As usual, he was flanked by Goyle, but Crabbe was absent.

“Hello, Draco,” Harry spat. “Where’s your boyfriend Crabbe? Gone to visit his dad at Azkaban? Or, maybe yours?” Malfoy’s face suddenly contorted.

Malfoy reached for his wand; Harry was an instant faster. Suddenly a searing pain ran down Harry’s shoulder. He grabbed his forearm, facing Malfoy but wincing.

“Harry!” a gruff voice boomed. “Put it down! You too, Malfoy.” Draco hesitated at Moody’s command. “I hear you make a great ferret,” Mad-Eye said holding his wand straight at the blonde’s head. Reluctantly, Draco slipped his wand back up his sleeve.

“It’s only a matter of time, Potter,” he snapped. “They’ll be free, you’ll see. And you’ll pay! I swear you’ll all pay.” He turned and stomped away, Goyle following his footsteps.

“Come on boys,” Moody called, “back inside. Let’s find the girls and be on our way.” Ron and Harry followed Moody back into the bookstore. The door shut behind them ringing a small bell. Harry began to rub his arm.

“What is it Harry?” Ron asked.

“My arm,” Harry replied, “it still burns a little.” He sat in a chair as Ron watched. Carefully he slid his thumb under the cuff of his shirt. He felt the tip of the sword running to his wrist--the mark had returned. His face became panicked.

“Come on, Harry,” Ron pressed, “what is it?” Harry sat silent. It was his turn to stare at his shoes.

Suddenly his mind was asking him to speak, to tell Ron, what was going on. A vision of the police officer stepping out of his car flashed in front of his eyes. Then a voice in Harry’s mind called back, “No!” The film turned off and another began to play… he was surrounded, captured, choking… In the bookstore, there was a commotion and the film stopped abruptly. Harry looked up to see Ron tripping backwards over a stack of books on the floor as if someone, or something, had just pushed him.

________________________________________
With one hand Ron began to gather the books he’d scattered across the floor while he rubbed his head with the other; Harry helped him straighten the pile. No sooner had they finished, than Hermione walked in through the front door. Harry had to look twice.

“I thought you were in the stacks?” he asked.

“I was,” she said simply, “but I needed to get new quills.”

“But Moody said you shouldn’t leave his sight,” Ron warned.

“I’m not the one whose life’s being threatened; it’s you two and Ginny. Mad-Eye won’t care if…”

“Where were you?” Moody’s voice boomed from across the bookstore. He was clearly distressed. Hermione’s voice suddenly became smaller.

“Just getting quills,” she said holding a bag of feathers in her outstretched hand. Moody stomped up in front of her, staring down at it.

“Quills? From where?”

“The stationery shop across the street. I didn’t go far.”

Moody’s face became even more concerned. He turned his head to look behind him into the stacks, then looked out the window. Clearly something was bothering him, but what it was he wouldn’t say. His good eye was fixed on Hermione, its eyebrow raised. The magical eye had spun backwards.

“Finally,” he said, exasperated, “Ginny has all her things. Let’s get out of this place.” A moment later, Ginny and Mrs. Weasley appeared from behind some shelving. A note of concern appeared on Mrs. Weasley’s face. Harry saw her eyes dart from himself to Ron.

“What’s the matter with you two? You’re both so pale.” Harry looked more closely at Ron and indeed he did look a bit peaked. He also realized his arm was still aching and a quick check with his thumb confirmed the scar was still there. Before either of them had a chance develop an explanation, Moody spoke.

“It was Malfoy, the little ferret. Tried pullin’ his wand on Harry here.” Mrs. Weasley gasped. “Bit too fast for him though, weren’t you boy?” Moody slapped Harry on his bad shoulder making him cringe. “Tell me, what was the spell going to be?”

“Well,” Harry said, somewhat encouraged by Moody’s praise, “I thought I’d…”

“That’s enough of that sort of talk,” Mrs. Weasley cut in. “We still have loads to buy, and very little time.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent purchasing all sorts of supplies. Mad-Eye had gone off with Hermione. Punishment, Harry thought, for running off without permission. He was still a bit confused about how she could have run past him and Ron in the front of the store without being seen. He found himself with the Weasley family. By the time the afternoon sun began to wane, they all had most everything they’d need for the year. Ginny had just purchased a new cauldron and all that was left was a broomstick maintenance kit for Ron.

“I’ve got to keep it in good shape, don’t I?” he said. “We’ll have a shot at winning the cup this year.” He glanced at his sister and smiled. “I imagine the team will have two Weasleys, eh?”

“I won’t make a very good Chaser with the broom I have, Ron,” said Ginny with a frown. “I doubt I’ll even be able to make the team.”

They had just threaded their way through a large crowd to the front of the broomshop. The crowd had gathered at the storefront window where on display was the year’s latest model. Harry had never seen a crowd like it, not even for the Firebolt; people were lining up into the street just to get a glimpse. It was too much effort to try to push their way to the window.

“Well Ron,” said Mrs. Weasley, handing him some money, “run on in and get your kit. Don’t dawdle.” He grabbed the coins, gave his mom a wink, and ran inside. His smile simply made Ginny seem more miserable. Harry couldn’t think of what to say. She was right, her broom was awful, and Chasers had to have speed.

“You’ve got tremendous skill,” he said finally. “You’re sure to make the team.”

“No, Harry,” Mrs. Weasley spoke up, “really, her broom is bloody awful.” Both he and Ginny looked at her in surprise. She was always one to be satisfied with their financial circumstance. “So, I spoke to Arthur yesterday and,” a twinkle was glinting in her eye, “he thought that an early birthday gift might be in order.” Ginny gave out a tremendous squeal.

“Are you serious Mum? Really?” Mrs. Weasley nodded. Ginny wrapped her arms around her mother, kissing her face and nearly knocking her over.

“Well,” she said, “your father’s doing a bit better with his new position, but we won’t be able to buy anything new.”

“That’s okay!” Ginny yelled again. “I don’t mind, I was thinking…”

“I said it was a gift Ginny,” her mum said, “and Ron’s in to get it now. Your father was here last night and made the arrangements.” Both Harry and Ginny spun around to face the shop; Ron was still inside. Suddenly, Harry had an idea. He held his hand to his stomach.

“Uh, Mrs. Weasley? It’s been quite a while,” he said rubbing his hand in a slow circle. “I really need to, er… you know. Can I go inside?”

“Oh, very well, but straight in and straight out, and tell Ron to hurry; tell him I just couldn’t keep it a secret,” she said with a bit of excitement in her own voice.

Harry had been in the broomshop every time he’d been to Diagon Alley. He ran in just as Ron was coming to the counter. He grabbed his arm, whispered in his ear and headed to the back. “It’ll only take a few minutes,” he called to Ron. At the rear of the shop was a large fireplace. A wizard and his son were just emerging from the ashes. In a blink of an eye, Harry was at the entryway to Grimmauld Place. There stood Lupin.

“Sorry, Remus!” he called running up the stairs. “Can’t talk now!”

Lupin caught him on the way down the stairs. “What’s going on, Harry?”

“You said it yourself, Remus, right? It’s what we do with it that matters!”

A flash, and Harry was back in the broomshop. Ron was waiting anxiously.

“When Mad-Eye finds out he’ll have a fit!” he said. Harry simply grinned. The two went to the counter, and after an exchange of some money Harry was first to emerge from the broomshop. Ginny and Mrs. Weasley were sitting on a bench in the shade across the street. Ginny stood up first and ran to Harry.

“Is that it? Is that it?” she called.

“Sorry, Ginny,” Harry said walking to the bench. “This one’s mine; I couldn’t resist.”

In his hands was the greatest broom known to the Wizarding world--The Caduceus. At first Ginny just sighed looking past Harry’s shoulder to see if Ron was coming. There was a commotion down the street: “Potter’s got one!” someone yelled. Moments later they were surrounded by the crowd.

“Give me a look, Harry!” yelled Geoffrey Hooper, a fellow Gryffindor. “Blimey, that’s beautiful. Man, I know I could fly better if I had a broom like that! My dad just wastes his money; he has no idea. Do you think I could still try out for the team, Harry? Who’s the Captain this year? I heard it might be Katie; I hope not, I don’t think she likes me very much.”

“That’s because you whine all the time,” Harry thought. He really hadn’t had time to admire the broom in his hands, or to think about it at all. The crowd was pressing in on him a bit too much; it was starting to get uncomfortable.

“Hey, clear out now!” a voice boomed. “Give the boy room ter breathe, why don’ yeh!” It was Hagrid! Harry beamed and gave him a hug before the half-giant could say another word. “Well, now,” he said patting Harry on the back, “I’m happy ter see yeh too. Wha’ makes yeh so popular now?” he asked with a broad smile. “Oh my, if yeh haven’ changed yer look some, Harry.” He touched the side of Harry’s head, his hand blocking out the sun.

“It’s great to see you too, Hagrid!” said Harry warmly. Mrs. Weasley stood up and walked over to them.

“Wonderful to see you Hagrid!” she called. And then she looked squarely at Harry. “I thought you needed to use the bathroom!” she scolded, squinting one eye in his direction. Harry smiled back.

“Well, I never said…” he began, but Ginny stopped him short with another squeal.

“Is that it? Is it? It is!” Ron had emerged from the shop with a broom in his hands. Ginny finished squeezing her mother and ran to Ron. “It’s perfect! It hardly looks used at all,” she said at first, just looking at the broom’s shaft and not paying much attention to the design

“Locked up for most of a year,” Harry whispered to himself.

“Oh mum! A… a… Firebolt,” she beamed, “it’s fantastic!” She held the broom in her hand examining every inch. “Will we see Dad tonight?”

Mrs. Weasley seemed a bit confused. Clearly she had been expecting the Nimbus 2000 that Ron had almost purchased when Harry ran into the store, but Mr. Weasley had made the arrangements and perhaps there had been a change. Unsure, she decided not to say anything about it.

“Yes, we will,” said Mrs. Weasley, a bit vexed. “I want to speak with him too.”

“Well, Ron yeh jus’ won’ stop growin’, will yeh!” Hagrid ruffled the redhead’s hair. “Where’s Hermione?”

“Off with Mad-Eye,” Ron answered.

“Well, tell her I said hello. I’m off ter pick some things up fer school.” He winked and was off.

“Well,” Mrs. Weasley said, adjusting her blouse, “it’s been a long day. Alastor said they’d meet us back at home if we didn’t get together on the street.” She suddenly looked very tired. Harry saw her eyes wander off somewhere and a glance at Ron’s expression showed it wasn’t a happy place.

“Mrs. Weasley,” he said, “how ‘bout we get a bite to eat before we go. There’s no reason you should have to cook tonight.”

“I don’t know, Harry,” she said looking at the sky. “It’ll be dark soon.” There was the faintest hint that twilight would soon be upon them.

“Come on, Mum,” Ron said putting his arm around her shoulder. “You saved a bundle on that old used thing.” He shook his hand and it rang with the clang of coins. “I’ll buy!” he said grinning.

A few minutes later they were all seated at a table in Dedalia’s Diner. The meal was warm and filling. Ginny, against her mother’s protestations, kept the Firebolt at her side during dinner. She only took her hands off of it to put another forkful in her mouth. Harry set his broom up against the wall and it soon was the center o