Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows (Page 216-229)

that what we’re doing is right. It’s working, and it’s the only thing that’s going to stop Voldemort."
Again, there were several muffled gasps and shifting around the table. Members of the Order had become accustomed to Dumbledore using the name, but it still startled them to hear it from someone else.
"Look," Harry said, making a decision. Something told him it was the right one to make. "I know you’re all as dedicated to stopping this war as I am, and I do need some help. If I concede to some stipulations of yours, can you agree to trust the fact that I can’t tell you everything?"
"Fair enough. Dumbledore never shared everything with us anyway," Mad-Eye said before anyone else could agree or disagree. Looking around the table, Harry could tell by their expressions that not everyone was happy with Moody’s decision. Still, there were more that appeared ready to compromise than there had been at the beginning of the meeting.
"The next time you have to leave, we want to know. No more waking up and finding you missing," Moody said, and Harry knew he was beginning with something Harry wouldn’t have a problem agreeing with. It wasn’t like sneaking out again would work, anyway.
"Agreed," he said.
"And we want to know where you’re going and have a way to contact you should the need arise," Remus said.
Harry shook his head. "I can’t tell you where we go. I’m sorry, but I can’t."
"Harry…" Mr. Weasley began.
"No. Not only would Voldemort kill you for that information, it would jeopardize everything if he finds out what we’re doing. I can’t tell you where we are, but I do think I have a way for you to contact us that would be safe," Harry said.
"Which is?" Mr. Weasley asked.
Harry looked towards Remus. "Sirius once gave me a mirror. He said he used to use it to talk with my dad when they were in detention. D’you know what I’m talking about?"
A grin appeared on Remus’s face. "I do."
"I— er...I broke the one I had. D’you think you could charm another couple of mirrors to act the same way? We’ll keep one, and you can keep another here," Harry said.
Remus nodded. "Yes, I can do that. I think that will work nicely."
"That seems to indicate that you think Ron and Ginny will be going with you again," Bill said, frowning.
"Damn straight, we will," Ron said hotly.
"We’re not letting Harry do this alone," Hermione said, speaking for the first time.
"Ginny is not going anywhere," Mrs. Weasley shouted, her face very red. "I won’t have it."
"Oh yes I am," Ginny said, firing right back at her mum. "The others never would have got out of there if it weren’t for me. They need me."
"You’re underage," Mrs. Weasley cried.
"It’s because I’m underage that my magic was undetected. Professor Dumbledore discovered it last year when Harry went with him. Voldemort is too arrogant to believe that anyone underage could be a threat to him. Don’t make the same mistake, Mum." Ginny said, her eyes flashing.
"That’s enough, Ginny," Mr. Weasley said firmly.
"Ginny is your baby sister," Bill said, glaring at Ron. "You never should have allowed her to go along with you."
"She’s not a baby anymore, Bill," Ron said, raising his chin.
Ginny flushed with pleasure and cast a grateful smile at Ron.
"‘E usually ‘az much more common sense except when eet comes to ‘’iz leetle sister," Fleur said, patting Bill on the back.
Fred, George and even Charlie had to cover their snickers. Bill whirled on them.
"You can’t tell me you’re all right with Ginny traipsing across the countryside and living with Harry," he said incredulously.
Anger flooded Harry’s cheeks. How could they be worried about the impropriety of where Ginny might be sleeping when Voldemort had Inferi on the loose killing people? It was just too much.
"I don’t believe this," Harry roared. "I wish the biggest concern in my life was hiding what Ginny and I got up to from all of you, but that’s just not the way it is. We’re fighting this war, the same as you."
"We know that, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said, placating him. She again rested her hand on his arm, and this time he didn’t pull it away. "But you have to understand that she’s our child. We won’t stop being parents simply because there is a war raging."
Harry nodded, chastised. "I understand. You really have nothing to worry about; I’d protect Ginny with my life."
"We know you would, dear. That’s partly what we’re afraid of," Mrs. Weasley said tearfully.
"Look," Harry said. "You all know the prophecy, or basically what it says. You know what I’m up against. I might not have a lot of time to give her-"
Shouts of disagreement and dismay met this statement, but Harry held his hands in the air, silencing them.
"Let’s be realistic, all right? There are no guarantees — for any of us. That’s been made painfully clear. This little bit of time might be all I have go give her, so I’m going to take it while its there," Harry said, amazed by his own cheek.
"And what happens afterwards?" Bill asked. "When the war is finished, and you have managed to survive? What happens between you and Ginny then?"
Harry smiled, looking down into Ginny’s warm brown eyes. "Well, that’s the plan. If we manage it, anything that comes after is the whipped cream."
Ginny beamed at him.
"All right, back to the Order," Kingsley said, still scowling. "You won’t tell us where you go, but you will leave us a method to communicate."
Harry nodded. "And what I could use from you is some information. How do you go about tracking a wizard?"
"There is no way to track You-Know-Who, Harry. Don’t you think we’ve tried?" Mr. Weasley asked softly.
"I’m not talking about him," Harry said. "I want to find the location of the fathers of two of my former classmates. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle’s fathers are both Death Eaters. I bet the guests upstairs know their first names. I need to know where they are, that’s all."
Moody nodded. "I can look into that. Does this have something to do with whatever it is they’re guarding?"
"Yes," Harry said shortly. He suspected he knew the location of one of them already, but he thought it best not to announce he was leaving again so soon to check it out. It would be better to let them think he was following one of their leads.
"There is something else I want you to do for us," Kingsley Shacklebolt said, staring intently at Harry.
He saw Professor McGonagall shift slightly while Remus looked away. Tonks gripped his shoulder supportively. Harry knew instinctively that he wasn’t going to like this.
"What’s that?" he asked.
"I would like you to resume Occlumency lessons," Shacklebolt said evenly.
"What?" Harry exploded. "They were a disaster; Professor Dumbledore even agreed on that. Besides, Voldemort hasn’t tried to get into my head for over a year."
"The reason they were a disaster could have been that Snape," Shacklebolt fairly spat the name, "wasn’t doing his best to teach you. If you are hiding something as critical as you say, we cannot take the chance that You-Know-Who can find it without your knowing."
"He couldn’t," Harry said.
"He’s done it before," Shacklebolt fired back, causing Harry to flinch.
"Harry," Remus said gently. "I think this is a good idea. Dumbledore did believe it was a good idea before Snape convinced him otherwise. I think it’s worth the effort."
Harry’s shoulders slumped in defeat. He couldn’t deny their words, but something inside him told him Occlumency wasn’t the answer. "Fine. Who’s to teach me though? You?"
"No. I’m not qualified to instruct you. We do have a couple of people here, however, who are qualified. If you agree to it, that is," Remus said, his eyes shifting again.
"Here? Who? I thought the reason Snape had to teach me was that there wasn’t anyone else qualified?" Harry asked.
"They weren’t on our side then," Remus replied.
"You can’t be serious," Hermione shouted, looking back and forth wildly between Remus and Kingsley. "You can’t let them inside Harry’s head. No way."
Harry blinked for a moment, trying to figure out what Hermione was saying. The answer hit him like a blow to the gut.
"No way! If you think for one minute I’m going to let Draco Malfoy inside my head-"
"He’s a capable Occlumens, Harry," Remus said mildly. "Weren’t you the one who said he managed to keep Snape out last Christmas?"
"Yeah, but…" Harry stuttered, thunderstruck. "He’s Malfoy."
"He learned from his mother and his aunt. Obviously we can’t trust them completely, but we can use them while they’re here. They’re using us for the same reason; it’s mutually beneficial to both sides," Kingsley said. "Remus has agreed to monitor the situation at all times, so you won’t be alone with them."
"I don’t believe this," Ron shouted, unable to contain himself any further. "First you’re all over Harry about being too young and not trusting you with the answers to things he absolutely can’t tell you, and now you want to let Malfoy and his mother have free reign inside his head? Have you all gone mad?"
"That’s enough, Ron," Mrs. Weasley snapped. "Of age or not, I won’t have you using that disrespectful tone."
"You’re all barking," Ron mumbled mutinously.
"It’s your decision, Harry. What do you say?" Remus asked.
Harry sighed, running his hands through his hair. "I told you I’m willing to make some compromises, but this is a big one. I’ll give it a try, but I’m not promising to stick with it if I think things are going badly. And I want you all to remember this the next time I have to do something that you’re not too happy about."
Ginny clutched his hand beneath the table.
What had he just done?
Chapter Thirteen
Setting Things to Rights
The next few weeks at Grimmauld Place were rather tense. Although the air had been cleared amongst them, everyone still walked on edge. Mrs. Weasley kept the foursome under close watch, as if she was afraid they’d disappear under her very eyes. Harry suspected that although she had resigned herself to their continued involvement in the war, she wasn’t happy about it. She appeared to be waiting with extreme apprehension for the announcement of their next departure.
Mr. Weasley had held true to his word and kept them apprised of Scrimgeour’s activities. He’d also told them how the press had reported their appearance in Diagon Alley in vivid detail. Harry’s instructions on how to fight the Inferi had been front-page news for a fortnight, and the Ministry had taken up the cause as if it had been their idea. There were now regular reminders and updates in each edition of the Daily Prophet.
Percy had returned to work without saying much to any of them, his upturned nose expressing his disapproval. Charlie, however, had remained behind, claiming to need a holiday. Harry suspected he was attempting to snap Bill out of his funk. Bill was the only one who apparently still held a grudge about their disappearance, although Harry still felt uneasy around Mr. Weasley, as well.
He had carefully stored Helga Hufflepuff’s charred cup in his trunk along with the diary and the ring. Three down, and he knew what the fourth one was, if not where. That left only himself and one other unknown item. The task still seemed overwhelming, but he was making progress.
Harry’s greatest concern at the moment, however, was Hermione. She wasn’t taking the loss of her hair well, but Merlin help anyone who tried to point that out to her. She was completely irrational on the subject, and refused to listen to anyone’s suggestions. Poor Ron had spent more time trying to dig out of a blunder he’d unwittingly caused than anything else. He’d been desperately trying to be sympathetic, but had only ended up getting on her nerves.
Hermione had virtually barricaded herself in the library, and was rarely seen elsewhere. She’d even skipped most meals, preferring to have a tray sent up to her. At first, this behavior didn’t seem out of the ordinary, but as the days passed, the others had become concerned. While it was true that Hermione was scouring the books, Harry suspected she was hiding more than working.
She spent as much time reading medical journals as she did anything related to Voldemort. Hermione was having a lot of trouble realizing that there was no solution to her hair loss other than to wait for nature to fix it. She couldn’t stand being let down by the library and apparently took it as a personal insult.
Whenever anyone offered to help her, she declined and retreated further behind her books. Ron’s expression waffled between hurt and bewilderment as Hermione most often released her pent-up aggression on him. Harry knew that she tended to act irrationally when she felt overwhelmed, but he was confident she’d pull it together when the logical side of her brain took control. Waiting for that to happen, however, was difficult to endure.
Hermione had kept her navy blue handkerchief wrapped tightly around her head, and she jerked away from anyone who attempted to touch it, particularly Ron. Harry had noticed how often she adjusted it and suspected her fidgeting was due to self-consciousness. He wished he could think of a way to help, but he was at a loss. He knew Ginny was concerned as well, since he’d caught her staring speculatively at the older girl on several occasions.
The one benefit to Hermione’s distress had been the thawing of Mrs. Weasley’s demeanor. She’d remained distant and aloof for several days after the Order meeting, but she’d obviously noticed Hermione’s increasing agitation. Ginny had finally approached her mother for help, and Mrs. Weasley had thrown herself to the task with her typical gusto. It was as if she’d been waiting for the opportunity to swing back into mother mode, and Harry was happy to see her bonding with Ginny again.
Harry was struck by the realization that Mrs. Weasley wanted to be needed. Somehow, he’d always assumed that being an adult meant you grew past that kind of insecurity. It was jarring for him to see otherwise. Still, it felt right to have her bestow warm smiles and fond hugs once again. Harry was startled to realize how much he’d missed it. Ron and Ginny, too — he’d noticed both of them were far more affectionate to their mum since their return. He hoped Mrs. Weasley could help reach Hermione.
Tonks had suggested getting Hermione a wig, and both Weasley women had stared at her blankly. Tonks had to explain how Muggle women sometimes lost their hair after certain medical treatments, and that a variety of stores carried wigs for them to wear in the meantime.
Although she knew exactly what a wig was, Hermione had absolutely refused to accompany them to look for one. She instead burst into tears and accused them of only wanting to make it easier for everyone to look at her. Fleur had joined the conversation, trying to convince Hermione to give it a try and told her not to be ridiculous, but a crying Hermione had fled the room. Surprisingly, Ron had shouted at Fleur —
with whom he’d always been smitten— to leave her alone and went tearing after Hermione.
It was later that evening when Harry and Ginny were sitting in the library — supposedly doing research but actually spending more time studying one another — that Fred and George burst through the door. Harry and Ginny broke apart guiltily and moved to opposite ends of the couch.
"Why, brother, do you have the distinct impression we’re interrupting something?" Fred asked, leaping over the back of the couch in order to sit between Harry and Ginny. Disgruntled, Harry straightened the collar of his shirt while Ginny narrowed her eyes at her interfering brothers.
"I do, brother mine, but what could we possibly interrupt while these youngsters are holed up in here diligently working…behind closed doors…all alone…and so far from the prying eyes of our beloved mother, who only has their best interests at heart?" George asked, also wiggling his way onto the couch between the pair.
"What do you two want?" Ginny asked, rolling her eyes dramatically.
"Now, what kind of attitude is that from our wee wayward lass? I would think you’d be groveling at our feet after frightening us so," Fred replied, holding his chest and batting his eyelashes.
Before Harry had the chance to explode, George laid a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Keep your knickers on, Harry."
"And you keep yours on as well, by the way," Fred added, waggling his eyebrows at Ginny.
She punched him in the shoulder — hard.
"I’m not here to give you a hard time. That’s Bill’s job," George said.
"He’s being impossible," Ginny said, scowling.
"He’ll get over it, Gin Gin. He still tends to see you as the spunky little sprite you were when he left for Hogwarts," George said.
"I was only a year old when he left for Hogwarts. Certainly he’s noticed a difference," Ginny said, mutinously crossing her arms across her chest.
"Exactly. You were a baby, Ginny, and just a little kid when he came home for summers. He’d already moved out on his own by the time you developed your attitude," George continued as if she hadn’t spoken.
"Now, here you are out fighting the war he wants to fight, but he can’t because everyone keeps coddling him. He was the one left to console Mum after you disappeared, and she was even more adamant about protecting him after you were gone. He’s been unable to go back to work, and even on the Order missions it’s Fleur who gets the more dangerous assignments rather than him because no one wanted to upset Mum any more than she already was."
"That’s not going to sit well with any self-respecting wizard," Fred replied.
"And we really haven’t helped," George admitted grudgingly.
"I suppose we’ve been taking the mickey out of him a bit," Fred conceded. "But we thought we were helping."
"When you and Ron came back, he’d just reached his breaking point. His baby brother and sister are smack in the middle of it, and it was too much for him," George said. "And, lately, the full moons always seem to make him a bit grouchy."
Ginny’s face had softened, but she still appeared unwilling to let it go completely. "Well, he’s going to have to get used to the idea, because I’m not a little girl."
"Never said you were," Fred said easily.
"Yeah, we’ve been on the receiving end of enough of your hexes to know better," George said, sighing. "Maybe you should hex him a few times so he realizes it."
Ginny giggled and lightly shoved George’s head.
"So, you’re okay with it. With Ginny helping me, I mean?" Harry asked, picking at a stray thread on the couch.
"’Course we are. We just wish you would’ve let us come with you, as well," Fred said eagerly. When Harry opened his mouth to respond, Fred held up his hands in a defensive posture. "I know you can’t, but that doesn’t mean I don’t wish it was different."
"Or that you would at least let us help you," George said, leaning forward.
"Yeah, but then we remembered that you did ask us for help. You asked us to locate Dung’s old flat. Which we did," Fred said, his eyes sparkling.
"You did?" Harry asked, sitting up straight. "When? Where is it?"
"It’s in a really dodgy Muggle area of Birmingham. The building owner let us inside. He’s really hacked off that he hasn’t had any rent from Dung in months. He said he was going to let the place to someone else, but I don’t think there’s a long line of people who want to take it since it’s really close to where those fires burned over the summer," George said.
"We went in and looked around, but there’s not much there. It’s filthy, and the stench drove us away before we could take a really good look," Fred said, grimacing.
"Can you take us there?" Harry asked.
George shrugged. "Whenever you want to go."
"Now," Harry replied, standing up.
"Harry," Ginny said, grabbing his arm. "Hermione’s not in any condition to do this."
"I know," Harry said, sighing. "But I need to check."
"I understand, and she would too, if she was in a reasonable state of mind," Ginny said.
Harry watched as she worried her lower lip, as if struggling with something. "Why don’t you and Ron go along with the twins this afternoon while I’m with Hermione?" she said at last.
Harry furrowed his brow. "You’re okay with not coming along?"
"Just this time. We have some plans this afternoon, and they’re important, too. Besides, it’ll be an added bonus to keep Hermione occupied and let Mum ease into letting us go. It might be easier for her if it’s just Ron the first time."
"What are you doing with Hermione?" Harry asked.
"Never you mind about that," Ginny said, standing up and kissing him on the cheek. "Fleur had an idea, and I think it’s a good one, so we’re going to try it."
"You’re going along with one of Phlegm’s ideas?" Harry asked incredulously. He tried unsuccessfully to control the grin that spread across his face.
"Don’t call her that, Harry," Ginny said reproachfully, as if she wasn’t the one to come up with the nickname in the first place. "It’s for Hermione."
Harry bit the inside of his cheeks and nodded solemnly. After Ginny had left the library, he raised a speculative eye towards the twins.
"What do you reckon?" he asked.
"I reckon she’s got you right in her back pocket," Fred said, grinning. "I think you would have agreed no matter what she said, mate."
"Yeah, so when’s the wedding? That’s certainly a way to cheer up Mum," George replied, his grin matching Fred’s.
Harry felt his face burn. "Her back pocket isn’t a bad place to be," he said cheekily and quickly left in search of Ron before had they had time to comment — or smack him upside the head.
**--**--
Since they’d previously been there, the twins were able to Side-Along-Apparate Ron and Harry right into Dung’s old flat. All four of them immediately gagged from the overpowering stench.
"Are you certain Dung doesn’t have a dead body in here somewhere?" Ron asked, gasping. He’d been worried about leaving Hermione in her depressed state, but Ginny had promised to stay with her. Ginny had remained very tightlipped about their plans for the afternoon, but both she and Fleur had been giggling like schoolgirls.
Even Hermione’s spirits had appeared to improve. That alone had convinced Ron that some time with just the girls would be good for her. At lunch, he’d announced that he and Harry were running an errand with Fred and George.
Mrs. Weasley had fretted over both of them, following them right to the door and insisting the twins swear to protect them. She hugged them both fiercely before they left, but she held true to her word and allowed them to go.
"I think it’s coming from the refrigerator," Harry said, attempting to breathe through his mouth while cursing Dung for living in a Muggle flat. He tried to ignore the overwhelming odor, but eventually pointed his wand at the refrigerator and muttered, "Scourgify."
The stench evaporated instantly and was replaced with a fresh, lemony scent.
"Better than Dung deserves," Fred said, taking in a deep breath.
"What about using magic in Muggle areas?" Ron asked, glancing uneasily at the window as if he expected a Ministry owl to appear any moment.
Harry shrugged. "There are no Muggles here now, and I couldn’t concentrate with that stench."
"So, what are we looking for?" Fred asked.
"The last time we saw Dung, he had a suitcase full of trinkets that he’d nicked from headquarters. I need to see what’s in that suitcase," Harry replied, looking at Ron significantly. They’d brought the Spell Detector, but he hoped to avoid having to explain to Fred and George what they were doing with it. Ron removed it from his pocket and quietly slipped into the bedroom.
Housecleaning spells were certainly something Dung hadn’t bothered with, for the flat was a mess. They found an abundance of empty Ogden’s Firewhisky bottles in addition to a variety of Muggle alcohol and little else.
When Fred located a stack of magazines stored inside a footstool, he whistled loudly. "Dung, you old dog. These PlayWizards date back to Dad’s Hogwarts days."
Ron and George quickly peered over their brother’s shoulder as he flipped through the pages. Harry, who had been searching through Dung’s closet and had nothing to show for it but a nasty Doxy bite, was irritated. He was about to snap at them to get back to work when he caught a glimpse of the centerfold they were unfolding. Harry felt his skin coloring. He’d heard the blokes in his dormitory talking about that, but to see it…
After a fairly lengthy delay, they finally dragged their attention away from the magazines and went back to work. The four boys searched Dung’s flat as thoroughly as teenage boys were able to do. They’d found loads of questionable items, including a folded flying carpet tucked under Dung’s mattress, but no suitcase.
Fred and George confiscated the carpet, along with several various odds and ends that they had stuffed inside their pockets.
"It’s not like it was really Dung’s to begin with," Fred said when Harry raised his eyebrows.
"Yeah, he just nicked it from someone else," Ron added, admiring the carpet that Fred still held. "Besides, Harry, don’t tell me you don’t want a go on this thing. They’ve been illegal forever. Dad’s never even been able to sneak one home."
Harry grinned. "The way I see it, Dung has a load of rubbish here that’s part of my inheritance. The carpet calls us even — he probably found it at headquarters anyway."
"He did," George said, examining the underside of the carpet. "It’s got the Black family crest embroidered on it."
"Then I get first go," Harry said, grinning.
Fred and George looked at one another, their facial expressions changing in that odd way of silent communication that Harry had seen them use previously.
"Fair enough," Fred said, "but we get to keep the other stuff. Besides, Dung’s landlord is going to chuck it all out before Dung is released, anyway."
"The suitcase isn’t here," Harry said dejectedly. As one final idea occurred to him, he said, "Accio suitcase."
Nothing happened.
"Accio locket," he tried again, holding his breath. Still, nothing happened.
"What do we do now?" Ron asked, glancing around the messy apartment. "Where do we look next?"
Harry frowned, considering his options before an idea struck him. "Do any of you know what happens to your stuff when you get arrested? I mean, if Dung was hauled in by the Ministry, and the suitcase was with him, where would it be?"
"Considering they chucked him into Azkaban without benefit of a trial," Fred said bitterly, "I’d expect it’d still be in a holding cell at the prison."
"Then we’ll have to go out to Azkaban," Harry said, failing to suppress a shudder. He knew most of the Dementors were gone, but even one was too many as far as he was concerned.
"Er…Harry. How exactly do you propose to do that?" George asked, stunned.
"And what’s so bloody important that you’d want to go?" Fred exclaimed incredulously. "Look, Harry, I know it’s your stuff that Dung nicked, but…what could be worth a trip to Azkaban? They’ll let Dung out eventually and then you can ask him for whatever it is you want back."
Harry shook his head. "It’s not that simple. It’s…er…it’s something of personal significance" Harry said, coloring slightly. He hated lying to the twins. "And I’m not the only one who might be looking for it."
George shrugged. "I still don’t see how you’re going to get out to Azkaban. It’s not like you can just stroll right in. Or maybe you can. Rufus Scrimgeour would love to have you owing him a favor."
Harry shook his head. "I’d prefer to do this without Scrimgeour’s input, if possible. I’ll talk to Tonks. She’s been out there on guard duty, or at least she was before we left."
"Yeah, she’s still been going, and looking a right mess whenever she returns. Are you certain about this, Harry? You haven’t always had an easy time with the Dementors," Fred asked, ducking his head. His ears were bright red, something that Harry had seen in the past from Ron and various other Weasleys, but never the twins.
"I know. I’ll deal with it when I get there," Harry said, nodding.
"We’ll deal with it," Ron said, his eyes boring into Harry’s. "Don’t think you’re going out there alone, mate."
"Ron, I don’t even know if I can get out there, never mind bring anyone else along," Harry said, running a hand through his hair.
"You’ll just have to find a way," Ron said firmly.
**--**--
Dinner that evening was a quiet affair. Harry had hoped to speak with Tonks about her duties at Azkaban, but neither she nor Remus was in attendance. Mrs. Weasley said they’d gone out on a date. Harry was pleased to hear it; Remus deserved to grab a little happiness when he could find it.
Mr. Weasley was working late, as he frequently did, and since returning from Dung’s place, Harry hadn’t seen any of the girls. Mrs. Weasley said they’d been holed up in Bill and Fleur’s room all day. They’d even kicked Bill out without telling him what they were doing. He and Charlie sat at the kitchen table with a bottle of wine between them.
"Care for some wine, Harry? Ron?" Charlie asked.
With their nods of consent, he poured two additional glasses.
"How did everything go for you lot today?" Charlie asked, and Harry noticed Bill listening intently, though trying to appear disinterested.
"It was a bust," Harry said, sighing. He knew it was too much to hope that he’d find the locket that easily, but he’d still hoped anyway.
"I don’t suppose you want to share whatever it is you’re looking to find?" Bill asked casually.
"Not really," Harry replied, sipping his wine.
The tension was broken by Mrs. Weasley’s startled gasp. Harry looked up quickly to find Ginny standing alone in the doorway. His attention was instantly drawn to her head where her glorious, waist-length hair had been cut so it barely reached her shoulders.
She stood still in the doorway, her eyes avidly searching the room until they rested on him and locked her gaze with his.
"Oh, Ginny! What have you done to your beautiful hair?" Mrs. Weasley moaned, moving toward her daughter and reaching out to pull at the shortened locks.
"What did’ya do that for?" Ron demanded with his mouth full. Bill and Charlie simply stared at her, awaiting her response.
Harry felt as if he’d been hit in the gut, and he swallowed heavily. Ginny’s hair had always attracted him, he hadn’t fully realized how much until he saw her without it. He felt frozen to the spot and simply stared back at her, blinking.
Everything suddenly became clear to him when a beaming Fleur and a hesitant Hermione followed Ginny into the room. Harry felt a bubble of warmth spread inside his belly. Hermione no longer wore the handkerchief that had become her talisman, but instead sported a short, pixyish haircut in the same shade of Weasley red as everyone else at the table, save Harry.
Hermione shyly watched everyone’s expressions, appearing as if she was ready to bolt from the room at the slightest provocation.
"Just what this place needs," Charlie said, grinning. "Another redhead. I didn’t think we had enough of them here."
"There could never be enough of them," Bill said, beaming at Fleur with the first genuine smile Harry had seen on him since their return.
"Eezent eet magnifique? Who knew I’d be zo talented with ‘air? Eet was Ginny’s idea to copy ze Muggles and create a wig, but ‘Ermione deeden’t want to go shopping. Zat is very strange, no? Anyway, she agreed to let us try eet ourselves. I’ve never cut anyone’s ‘air before, but I zought I could do eet," Fleur said, plopping down into Bill’s lap and kissing him soundly. "And I can."
"Hermione," Ron said, blinking, his glass of wine still frozen halfway to his mouth.
Hermione smiled tentatively before sitting down next to him. Ron leaned over and whispered something in her ear that caused her to blush and smile widely at the same time.
"What’s that, brother mine?" Fred asked. "Did I just hear you tell the fair lass that you knew she’d always wanted to be a Weasley?"
"And why wouldn’t she be?" George asked. "Of course, isn’t it really up to you to correct that situation?" George said, smiling smugly at the blushes that suffused both Ron’s and Hermione’s faces.
"Sod off," Ron said, swatting George without ever taking his eyes off Hermione.
"Harry," Ginny said softly. She’d moved from the door to the chair next to him, tentatively looking into his eyes. She worried her lower lip as she waited for his response.
Harry felt a large lump materialize in his throat over what she’d done for Hermione. He didn’t think he could ever be more proud. "You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen," he whispered, running his hands through her new, shorter haircut and pulling her close so he could kiss her.
Ginny’s eyes filled with tears as she leaned into him. "You really think it’s okay? I know you liked it longer, but it’ll grow back," she said, sniffling.
"It doesn’t matter. What you just did for Hermione makes you more beautiful than any hairdo ever could," he said, kissing her again despite the presence of her family at the table.
"Harry’s right," Bill said. Harry and Ginny both looked up to find Bill staring at them, his eyes suspiciously bright. "That was a wonderful thing to do, Ginny. You just reminded me how strong your bond of friendship is with each other. I’d let myself lose sight of that. Hold onto it, embrace it, and don’t let anyone — especially older brothers with chips on their shoulder — stand in the way of it. I don’t think V-V- Voldemort stands a chance against it."
Ginny pushed back from the table and hurried over to Bill. She threw her arms around him and hugged him fiercely. "Thanks, Bill."
"I’m sorry, Ginny," he whispered into her hair. Releasing her, he looked up and stared intently at Harry, " I owe you an apology, too."
"Never mind," Harry said, waving his hand dismissively. "It’s like you said, as long as we stick together, Voldemort can’t win."
"Right, even if we sometimes act like prats," Bill said, smiling.
"Don’t worry. Harry knows that even Weasleys can act like prats on occasion," Ron said, joining the conversation.
"Well, he must be very well aware of that since he’s been stuck living with you for the past seven years," Bill said, chuckling.