Well of Shadows
School's End
By Ruskbyte
Chapter Twenty Nine
~ School's End ~
It had the makings of a magnificent morning. The sky was a deep, dark blue, which was only just beginning to lighten as the sun crested over the horizon. The birds were starting to sing and a few
reluctant students at Hogwarts were struggling to open their eyes and get out of bed.
"Oooooooooooooh."
Harry woke up feeling worse that he had ever done in all of his sixteen years - which was truly remarkable, if you took into account his frequent awakenings in the Hospital Wing. Without even opening his eyes he knew that this morning was not going to be a pleasant experience. His mouth tasted worse than one of Snape's potions and drier than the Sahara desert, his ears were ringing fit to challenge a fair sized cathedral's bells and he had the distinct impression that if he were to attempt to sit up, his head would fly off his shoulders.
"Oooooooooooooh," Harry moaned again, reaching up with a hand to tenderly hold his head as he opened his eyes. He immediately used his other hand to try and wandlessly stop the bedroom from spinning around so violently.
"Harry..." whispered a hoarse voice by his side.
Harry grit his teeth and shut his eyes when it became apparent that his wandless magic was not accomplishing anything. He closed his eyes as a last resort to keep the room from spinning any more than it already was. "Gin," he rasped, "don't shout so loudly."
Ginny, who seemed to be in as bad a condition as Harry, turned her head to face him - moving very, very slowly. Her eyes were narrowed to such fine slits it seemed almost as if they were not open at all. She swallowed convulsively several times before venturing, just as softly as before, "It feels like my brains were smashed out of my head by a slice of lemon wrapped around a large gold brick."
"What the hell happened to us?" Harry asked, opening his eyes for a brief moment before shutting them again when this revealed that the room (though by now he suspected it was just him) was still spinning merrily round and round.
"It was that blue stuff," Ginny croaked. "Romulus told us how to make it about halfway through the party. Said it would go down stronger than the Fire Whiskey and smoother than the Butterbeer."
The party. Ah. That explains it, Harry thought a trifle blankly. The memories of the previous night were a bit fuzzy, after a point, but he was slowly beginning to recollect some of what had happened. "It was some kind of ale, I think."
Ginny nodded, but winced immediately as the action doubtless only served to make her pounding head hurt even more than it already was. She took several deep and, hopefully, steadying breaths before she asked plaintively, "Harry?"
"Yeah?" asked Harry, cautiously cracking one eye open so that he could look at her.
She tried to swallow, failed utterly, and said, "Stop the room from moving. Please?"
Harry, who was trying to breathe as quietly as he could --so as not to move the bed too much-- blinked his eyes open fully. Forcibly swallowing, more successfully than Ginny, he licked his lips and tried to ignore the painful dryness of his mouth and throat. "I don't think it's the room that's spinning, Gin. I think it's just us."
Ginny, who was looking paler by the second, closed her eyes tightly. "Oh, gods."
"Maybe," suggested Harry, "we could call Madam Pomfrey."
"D'you think she can help?" asked Ginny, sounding both hopeful and doubtful all at once.
Harry considered it for a moment, thankfully able to ignore how nauseous he felt for those few brief seconds, before answering, "I don't know. Probably, but I can guarantee she'll lecture us about how stupid we were."
Ginny opened her eyes to protest. "We weren't the only ones. Half of Gryffindor..."
"Somehow, I don't think that will stop her."
"If she'll make me feel better - I'm willing to risk it."
Not nodding, since that would only make his head fall off, Harry swallowed very carefully and told her, "I'm going to try and sit up."
He could feel the bed moving beneath him as he pushed himself into a sitting position and, in perfect unison with Ginny, swallowed rapidly and repeatedly. Closing his eyes and breathing deeply, Harry tried not to think about the queasy twists and turns his stomach was making as their private dormitory room pitched and yawed while he sat there.
Ooooooh, this was a bad idea...
"Harry," Ginny whimpered pathetically, "I don't feel so good..."
About to respond, Harry instead found himself trying not to cry out in protest as the curtains surrounding their bed were pulled aside. Sunlight flooded inside and, with malicious accuracy, stabbed into both his and Ginny's eyes like red hot pokers. Clamping his mouth shut and gritting his teeth so tightly they creaked, Harry looked blearily at their visitor.
It was Hermione. And she looked almost as bad as Harry felt.
"The two of you look even worse than I feel," was the first thing she said, looking over the both of them with slightly red shot eyes. "And that is saying something this morning."
"Do you have to yell?" complained Ginny, one arm thrown across her head and shielding her eyes from the glaring sunlight now streaming onto the bed.
Harry, who was squinting against the light, noticed that Hermione was not standing quite as straight as she usually did. In fact, at second glance, it was apparent that she had a distinct list to one side and was actually swaying slightly as she stood by the side of the bed.
"I'm not yelling," she told Ginny, earning only a baleful glare from the red-haired girl. She looked from Ginny to Harry and, reaching behind her, pulled a floating tea tray into view. Resting on the tray were three glasses full of something thick and green and almost as slimy looking as Snape's hair. Just looking at it, which was unavoidable after Hermione picked up a glass and handed it to him, Harry felt his stomach roll over.
"What are you trying to do?" he asked, trying to hand the glass back. "Make us feel even worse?"
"Don't be childish, Harry," Hermione insisted, pushing his hand and the gelatinous green potion towards his mouth. "Just drink the bloody thing. It'll make you feel a bit better, I promise."
"What is it?" asked Ginny, looking very interested after having heard Hermione's pronouncement. Her interest dimmed somewhat when she got her first look at the potion-filled glass Hermione promptly handed to her.
Hermione hesitated before answering. She shivered slightly and swallowed, as if in memory, and sincerely told them, "Trust me... you do not want to know."
Harry looked closely at his friend and, seeing that the front of Hermione's blouse was stained just a bit with what looked like the same green goop that was in the glass he was holding, he decided that she was right and that he probably did not want to know. Eyeing the drink with suspicion and some trepidation, Harry took a deep breath and quickly gulped the contents down.
Oh gods, this was a bad idea.
It was quite possibly the vilest concoction Harry had ever tasted, making even the Polyjuice and Skele-gro Potions pale in comparison, but somehow he managed not to spit it out. It took a great deal of willpower and determination, but not only did he choke down the entire portion, he also managed to keep it from rising back up and out again. It was a close thing at first, but after several touch and go moments, Harry was surprised to discover his nausea beginning to subside, as well as the pounding in his head and the perpetual spinning of the room.
As his mind grew less murky and coherent thought became less difficult, Harry began to recall some of the broader details of the previous night. There had indeed been a party in Gryffindor Tower, mostly to celebrate the end of the school year, but also a few other things. Such as the great initial and continuing success of Fred and George's joke shop (they had been the ones to supply the students with a crate of Irish fire whiskey - so it was deemed only fair that their business acumen be celebrated as whole-heartedly as everything else).
Unlike the previous year, in which they had almost ended up with negative points thanks to Fred and George's lunatic farewell pranking spree, Gryffindor had managed to win the House Cup. Hufflepuff had came in a close second, surprisingly enough, followed by Ravenclaw and lastly Slytherin. Even though Ravenclaw had won the Quidditch Cup the month before, based on points aggregate (thanks to a tie against Gryffindor and their crushing defeats over Hufflepuff and Slytherin), the reclaiming of the House Cup was --everyone felt-- sufficient cause for a party.
There had also been the much-appreciated news, as reported by Rita Skeeter in the Daily Prophet the morning before, that Minister Fudge and several other top Ministry officials had been taken into Auror custody and detained indefinitely. The official inquiry and trial by the Wizengamot was scheduled to commence at the start of the second week of July and testimony from various sources --which no doubt included Harry-- would probably begin a week or so later.
It was this last piece of news, more than anything else, which had finally convinced Hermione to not only turn a blind eye to the party (not to mention the liquor) but actually join in the festivities. This in itself was something of an accomplishment. As she had explained it to the others, ever since suffering her injury Hermione's principal goal for the year had been to bring about Fudge's political demise. Having apparently succeeded, she quite rightly felt that she could be excused for breaking the rules this once.
Looking back it was something of a minor miracle that they had not been caught out in the act by any of the professors. It seemed the Silencing Charms, cast by Harry and Ginny early on, had exceeded all expectations and completely hidden the fact from Professor McGonagall that her students were getting utterly tanked.
Butterbeer, smuggled into the school by methods only the gods knew, had been passed around to just about every student present. The fire whiskey, however, had been restricted to only those in fifth-year and above - mostly because the older students were less willing to share such a prize as they were the more common (not to mention less alcoholic) Butterbeer.
It had been sometime between midnight and one o'clock in the morning that the party's supply of fire whiskey had run dry - prompting Harry and Ginny (at the urging of everybody else) to attempt to find a substitute. At this point Harry's memory of events began to become a bit fuzzy again, no doubt because of the blue stuff, and he decided that he did not really want to remember any more of the details.
"I'm never going to drink again," Harry managed to say once his stomach was no longer heaving dangerously.
"I'm never going to even look at a drink again," swore Ginny, having finished her own concoction and grimacing in distaste as she returned the empty glass to the floating tea tray. ~Especially if this is something I have to suffer through the morning after...~
We're definitely in agreement on that account.
Hermione looked at them both wryly and said, "It wasn't only the drinking that got us - it was when we started drinking that blue stuff you two conjured up after the fire whiskey ran out. What on earth was it? It certainly had one heck of a kick to it."
*Romulus' ale makes Fire Whiskey seem like water by comparison; even a bad batch,* announced Heracles, signalling the emergence of the Order members. His voice sounded very amused and a bit smug as he added, *Last night's batch was definitely a good batch.*
Neither Harry nor Ginny bothered answering, settling instead for having Harry slam shut the proverbial door between their minds and the Order with a reverberating clang. It may have been a completely mental action, but the noise rang through their heads like sharp metal pikes. Still, considering the teasing the Order would undoubtedly subject them to if they were able, it was a small price to pay for some inner peace and quiet. If only for the time being.
Looking around, very slowly as his head still felt less than securely fastened to his neck, Harry asked Hermione, "Where's Ron? I thought he'd be with you."
"Your room is on the way to the sixth-year boys' dormitory," she explained patiently, reminding Harry that he and Ginny were no longer sleeping in the same room they had been for most of the school year. Dumbledore had, using Ginny's anxiety over her O.W.L.s as an excuse, transferred them into a private dormitory the same night that Fudge had tried to have Harry arrested. The suite, much to their surprise, was the one normally set aside for the Head Boy (when the position was held by a Gryffindor). As Daniel Jackson, a Ravenclaw, was this year's Head Boy the rooms had been unoccupied.
When Ginny had remarked on this, Dumbledore's eyes had twinkled in a way that Harry wished he could duplicate and had answered with a succinct, but bemused, "Precisely."
Hermione had by now gathered up Harry and Ginny's empty glasses and set them back on the tea tray next to the remaining glass. She looked at them. "I thought the two of you would likely need as much help as the rest of us. I'll be seeing if Ron's awake now that I'm sure you're not going to throw up your livers."
"Oh, don't say something like that," Harry moaned, feeling his stomach quiver at the thought.
"The room's stopped spinning," said Ginny in a voice filled with amazement as she managed to sit up properly and gaze around their bedroom.
Harry, who had tentatively risen to his feet, suggested, "Then why don't we all get up and go see if Ron's still alive? It's our duty in a way. Misery is supposed to love company, y'know."
Gingerly, as though the bed was planning to unexpectedly launch her into the air, Ginny got to her feet. Together the three friends made their way, slightly unsteadily in Harry and Ginny's case, out the suite and to the staircase. After climbing what felt like far more stairs than usual they arrived at the sixth-year boys' dormitory and entered. Carefully squeezing past Dean, who was sprawled out on the floor - having apparently not reached his bed before passing out, they reached Ron's curtained bed and paused; Harry and Ginny had to catch their breaths; Hermione to carefully arranged the tea tray (which had floated after her) and its sole remaining glass of green slime into a position she could manage more easily.
Even though his head still felt as though it were stuffed full with cotton wool, and the fact that the room still seemed to sway just a bit whenever he moved his eyes, Harry was still lucid enough to pick up on something odd. He frowned as he noticed it and tried to turn his perceptions of magic towards Ron's bed more fully, but found himself unable to focus properly enough to do so.
"That's strange," he settled for saying.
"What is?" asked Hermione, reaching for the curtains surrounding the bed.
Harry looked thoughtfully at the curtains. "I know Ron's magical aura as well as I know yours or Ginny's or my own. What I'm feeling from behind there is definitely not Ron."
Hermione frowned as well and began to draw the curtains open as she asked, "But who would be sleeping... in... Ron's... bed..."
Considering the sight which greeted them, it was not surprising that Hermione trailed off the way she did. It was a sight that would have rendered anybody speechless from shock. Actually, it was a sight more likely to render a person unconscious from shock, but somehow all three managed to stay on their feet and gape stupidly at the occupants of Ron's bed.
Um...
First there was Becky Silver, a pretty seventh-year witch with short, dark hair. Then there was Parvati Patil, who for some reason seemed to be snoring in a manner rather reminiscent of Neville. Lastly, laying comfortably between the two witches, was Colin Creevey - who had such a smile on his sleeping face that it was almost possible to count his molars. All three were still more or less fully clothed, though it was not for lack of trying if appearances were anything to go by.
"Bloody hell!" exclaimed Ginny.
This, quite naturally, managed to disturb the slumbering students. Becky, who was resting her head on Colin's shoulder, shifted fitfully about and mumbled something about idiot younger brothers and the uses of Silencing Charms. Parvarti, on Colin's other side, stopped snoring for a moment to tell her sister, Padma, not to use all the hot water in the shower. Then both girls froze in place, clearly registering the fact that they were not alone in the bed.
Colin remained blissfully asleep.
Yes, it was undoubtedly a magnificent morning. The sky was a rich azure blue, while the sunlight bathed everything in a soft golden light. The birds were singing merrily and the screams coming from Gryffindor Tower could be heard throughout the castle.
***
Breakfast was a muted affair that morning as far as the Gryffindors were concerned. This probably had something to do with the fact that hardly any of the older students were able, or willing, to put in an appearance. Those fifth-, sixth- and seventh-years which did turn up were certainly not in decent enough condition to make any attempt at conversation.
Ron, hugging a toilet bowl and periodically emptying the contents of his stomach into it, had finally been discovered in the bathroom. From what Harry could gather he had spent most of the night, after the party had ended, in that position. Whenever he attempted to leave and go to bed, his stomach reacted violently to the motion and promptly sent him running back to the toilet. Fred and George, had they been present, would doubtless have been inspired by the sight.
As it was, it took Harry the better part of fifteen minutes to pry his friend away from the toilet and back into the dormitory to reclaim his bed from Becky, Colin and Parvati. After that it took them nearly half an hour to convince Ron to take Hermione's hangover cure - which produced mixed results in that it cleared Ron's head, but at the same time cleared the remaining contents of his stomach shortly thereafter.
Taken all together, it was not an auspicious start to the morning.
By the time the intrepid foursome reached the Great Hall Ron's stomach had thankfully settled down, though the young wizard was left looking a pale and uncomplimentary shade of green. It was only the greenish tinge of his face which set him apart from his friends and sister, as Harry, Hermione and Ginny were also paler than usual. Despite this, however, they did look considerably more chipper than the rest of the senior Gryffindors.
Taking his customary seat at the table, Harry barely paid much notice to anything beyond what was immediately in front of him (moving his eyes too much made the world sway uncomfortably) but he was still aware of his housemates and their obvious discomfort.
Neville was sitting very still, almost like one of the castle's statues, several seats down. It looked almost as if he were still asleep, save for the fact that his eyes, while heavily lidded, were not closed. At his side sat Carmen Ryder, one of Ginny's fifth-year friends, hunched over and leaning heavily against him for support since her body appeared to be boneless (though not literally) and in imminent danger of sliding off the seat and pooling on the floor.
Opposite them sat Seamus, who was staring listlessly at his empty plate and being constantly and loudly harangued by Moira. Apparently she was lecturing the poor boy on the evils of alcohol and its after effects - which Harry thought was a bit odd. He could more or less clearly remember Moira, who was only a third-year, badgering Seamus into sharing some of his Fire Whiskey and later some of his share of Romulus' ale during the party. How she managed to appear not the least bit under the weather was something of a mystery that Harry resolved to discover just in case he ever found himself in a similar situation sometime in the future.
"Post is here," announced Hermione softly as several dozen owls flew into the hall.
"Just the Daily Prophet," Harry said while spreading the bare minimum of butter onto the slice of toast he had picked up - he was unsure whether or not his stomach could handle anything more extravagant.
Ginny inclined her head, rather than risk nodding. "Yeah, or another subscription. Nobody should be getting actual post on the day we leave. What would be the point, since they'll be seeing their families when we get to King's Cross?"
This pretty much signalled an end to the morning's conversation, aside from Harry's soft request for Hermione to pass the honey, which he then applied to his second, and last, slice of toast. He simply did not have the appetite for more than that. Neither did any of his friends. Ron, who usually ate like a horse, did not even touch any of the food placed on the table though he did drink several goblets’ worth of pumpkin juice.
"We should... go back to the tower and start packing," Hermione eventually said, having finally finished sipping her way through the cup of coffee she had been drinking. She looked decidedly unenthusiastic about the idea, even though she was the one suggesting it. She checked her watch and said, "The Express will be leaving in a couple of hours."
"Does that involve standing up? And walking?" asked Ron, his face still a bit green.
"Yes," answered a reluctant Ginny.
"Uuuhn," Ron groaned, closing his eyes and very carefully dropping his head to the table. "Then just leave me here. I'll spend the summer at school."
Harry, who had been the first to stand up after Hermione's announcement, grabbed Ron by the arm and hoisted him up. Feeling a bit more fortified now that he had eaten something, he managed to grin and urge his friend, "Come on."
"Ahem."
The quartet had just been leaving the table when Professor McGonagall had approached and caught their attention. Looking particularly stern this morning she peered keenly at them from over the rims of her rectangular glasses and enquired, "Dare I ask what exactly is going on? Why have half of my senior Gryffindors not come down for breakfast?"
"Don't ask," Harry answered, not so fortified that he thought himself capable of explaining what had happened the previous night to his head of house. He shook his head. "If we told you, you'd have to take away so many points; Gryffindor would be in negative figures for the rest of the century. Maybe the next as well."
"And if it's at all possible... please don't shout so loudly?" pleaded Ron, who was looking as though the castle walls had collapsed on top of him.
"I see..." said McGonagall, looking from one student to the other. Her expression grew even sterner (if possible) as she raked them with a penetrating stare of disapproval and, perhaps, just the tiniest bit of sympathetic amusement. "Very well then. If there's nothing else, I will see the four of you again at the start of next term."
The four Gryffindors nodded and continued on their way, but were stopped once again.
"And I trust this morning's... situation... will not be repeated," McGonagall said to their retreating backs, her voice making it clear that if the situation were to be repeated, the consequences would be most dire. And she was not referring to the following morning's hangover.
"Trust us," Ginny assured her fervently, "it won't."
Walking out the Great Hall and back towards the tower, Ron groaned once they were well out of McGonagall's earshot. "That went well."
Hermione looked at him wryly. "Speak for yourself."
"I just did."
"Please don't," she pleaded, "I'm really not feeling up to having an argument this morning."
"That's good. Neither am I."
Harry laughed quietly and added, "You can add me and Gin to that list as well."
"Come on," insisted Ginny, picking up the pace a little. She looked back at the other three and explained her haste, "The sooner we get packed, the sooner we can get to the station, board the train, find a compartment and close our eyes again."
"Let's go!" exclaimed Ron, eagerly increasing his steps until he had passed Ginny, leaving the others to catch up.
"I thought you said not to shout," observed Hermione as they strode down the corridor.
"Only for unimportant things," he told her. "And going back to sleep is more important than anything else to me right now."
Hermione arched an eyebrow and looked pointedly at him before saying sarcastically, "Thanks, I feel so much better hearing you say that."
It took several seconds before Ron realised his mistake.
"Aw, crud."
***
"Anything off the trolley, dears?" asked the smiling old witch on the Hogwarts Express, who had been going up and down the train, selling her wares, since time immemorial (if Sirius’ and Remus' tales were to be believed).
"A couple of Chocolate Frogs, please," Harry told her, rising from his seat next to Ginny and going up to the trolley. He looked over the assorted snacks and sweets arrayed there and looked over his shoulder at Ron and Hermione to ask, "You two want anything?"
Hermione looked up from the massive tome she was reading, Every Spell, Curse, Hex and Charm Ever Written, Spoken and Otherwise From the Beginning of Time Through Till Next Week Tuesday, and smiled gratefully. "A Cauldron Cake would be nice, thanks."
Ron, who had been slouched next to his girlfriend for the entire train ride thus far, cracked one eye open and shook his head fractionally as he declined. "Nothing."
"You sure?" asked Harry.
"I'm still not hungry."
"Suit yourself."
"Here you go, young man," said the trolley lady, handing Harry the two Chocolate Frogs and one Cauldron Cake.
Harry accepted the sweets and paid her the required Sickles and Knuts. He smiled his thanks as she closed the door to their compartment and moved on. Returning to his seat next to Ginny he handed her one of the Frogs before leaning across to give Hermione her Cake.
"Ugh, I'm getting sick just thinking about you lot eating, let alone me," said Ron, who was still feeling the after-effects of the previous night's drinking. For some reason he had not recovered as quickly as his friends and sister. He groaned and closed his eye, leaning his head back and telling them, "I'm going back to sleep. Wake me up when we get to King's Cross."
"Then I guess you're not interested in getting Ptolemy?" asked Ginny, who had just opened her Chocolate Frog and had a look at the card which came with it.
Ron cracked his eye open again and asked in confusion, "Eh?"
Harry, leaning close to Ginny so that he could see the card, nodded as he reminded Ron, "The Chocolate Frog Card? You've been looking for Ptolemy and Agrippa for years now, since before I met you, remember?"
*Who on earth would want a card of that bore Ptolemy?* Osiris' voice spoke up, sounding amazed by the idea.
*Young Ronald, from the look of things.*
*Is the boy daft?* Osiris asked incredulously. *A card of Ptolemy of all people?*
~Oh, be quiet, you lot,~ interrupted Ginny silently, sharing a bemused look with Harry. They both knew how the Order, and Osiris in particular, could be sometimes. ~That's my brother you're talking about after all.~
Osiris was reluctant to let the subject pass. *Perhaps, but still... Ptolemy?*
Ron sat up straighter and repeated, "Ptolemy?"
"Here," said Harry, taking the card from Ginny and handing it to Ron. He chuckled when his friend held the card up and looked at it, clearly not quite able to comprehend the fact that something he had been searching for for years had so unexpectedly fallen into his lap. Harry slung his arm around Ginny's shoulders as they watched Ron blink repeatedly and stare at the card, Hermione looking on fondly from his side.
"Ptolemy?"
***
Their arrival at King's Cross was heralded by a thick layer of pewter grey clouds that had settled low over London. Harry, noticing the change in the weather as the train passed the city limits, had dug into his trunk and extracted his trench robe. The black dragon hide would easily shrug off any rain or sleet that might start falling.
"Wonderful start to the summer," grumbled Ron as he rooted through the contents of his trunk, also in search of something warmer to put on.
"It's not that bad," Harry placated mildly. "At least at The Burrow I'm reasonably guaranteed that I won't be shot the moment I step through the front door."
He grimaced just a bit at the memory of walking into the kitchen at number four Privet Drive, exactly one year ago, and finding himself on the wrong end of a gun barrel. His recollection of what followed was still little more than a blur, but that single instant when Uncle Vernon had pulled the trigger was indelibly etched in Harry's memory.
Since that rather traumatic experience, the Ministry had re-evaluated the prudence of leaving the famous Boy-Who-Lived under the so-called guardianship of the Dursley family. Regardless of whatever blood bond might have existed between Harry and his Aunt Petunia, the sanctity of that bond had been broken when Vernon had tried to kill Harry.
As a result --based on reports from several prominent Aurors, a petition drafted by Arthur Weasley and almost every Ministry official that had been present, as well as Dumbledore's recommendation-- Harry would now be staying at The Burrow until he came of age (which was only one month away). Of course, there had been some opposition --mostly from that sycophant Minister Fudge-- until a team of Unspeakables, from the Department of Mysteries, had given The Burrow an all clear.
Harry still felt a small swell of pride when he thought about the complex series of protective wards he had placed around The Burrow. They were still his finest spell workings to date, which was understandable considering how he deeply he felt for the family he now considered his own. While it was in his power, Harry had no intention of allowing his presence in their home to jeopardise the safety of the Weasleys. After adding the latest additions (which he had devised over the past year) even Hogwarts would seem an easier nut to crack by comparison.
"No, but you might just get hexed," warned Ginny playfully.
Harry looked at her curiously and asked, "Why d'you say that?"
Ginny's smile was a smug one as she told her, "You're my boyfriend."
"What's that have to do with it?" Harry asked, thoroughly confused. The fact that he and Ginny were as close as they were (which was close) was not something he was likely to ever forget. And how that relationship might endanger him... Ah, I think I know where you're going.
"I have six older brothers, remember?" Ginny told him, still smiling. Silently she confirmed his deduction, ~Six highly over protective brothers~
"It's rather hard to forget," admitted Harry.
"You're forgetting, Ginny," Hermione pointed out, "Harry here isn't scared of your brothers."
Harry looked at her incredulous and asked, "Are you joking? I'm positively terrified... of Fred and George."
Ron rolled his eyes and protested, "You're their business partner and principle investor. You gave them one thousand bloody Galleons, for Merlin's sake! They won't touch you."
"I wouldn't be so sure of that."
"They didn't do anything last summer," said Ginny, reminding Harry of what had been the best two months of his life (if you excluded the part where Vernon had shot him). She frowned in puzzlement, when she noticed he was shaking his head, and asked, "Why do you think these holidays will be different?"
"Look out the window," Harry answered dryly.
His three companions exchanged bewildered looks before leaning against the window and peering out at the platform. There, dressed in lurid green dragon hide jackets, were Fred and George - both engaged in a seemingly enthusiastic conversation with Blaise Zabini. Standing in front of the twins, her arms crossed over her chest and head tilted to one side, Blaise was listening to them with what looked like bemused approval.
Hermione summed up the scene best, saying succinctly, "Oh dear."
"I can't believe that a Slytherin's got a crush on not one, but two, of my brothers and I'm not doing anything about it," moaned Ron, as he turned away from the window and fixed Harry with a stare that made it seem as if it were his fault that the most beautiful witch at Hogwarts was infatuated with his siblings.
"As if you could," replied Ginny. She watched through the window for a few extra moments before turning to Harry and stating, "I don't see what the problem is."
"I think do," stated Hermione, clearly trying to stifle a grin.
Harry motioned where Blaise, Fred and George were still deep in conversation. "It looks like Blaise has gained herself some new friends," he explained patiently. "And we can all imagine how that is going to turn out. Three lunatics to worry about instead of just the two... and the third bringing with her a healthy dose of Slytherin guile."
"Well, Harry," said Ron, clapping him on the shoulder. "All I can say is that Zabini was always your problem, the twins became your problem when you gave them your winnings, and now the three of them are still your problem."
"Yes," Ginny nodded, gesturing at her trunk with Harry's wand and levitating it into the air so that she could manoeuvre it through the door and out their compartment into the passage. "I think we can all agree that it's safest to leave them in your capable hands."
Harry watched as Ron and Hermione followed in Ginny's footsteps, leaving him alone in the compartment. He looked around and finally settled his gaze on Hedwig, who had been let out of her cage and was perched on one of the luggage rack. Seeing that he was apparently looking at her for guidance, the snowy owl bobbed her head and hooted encouragingly. He shook his head and sighed, "I'm doomed."
~Come on, love,~ Ginny's thoughts called to him from outside the train, on the platform, ~the family's waiting for us.~
Using his talent for wandless magic to lift his trunk, Harry made his way outside to join his friends, family and loved on. Stepping of the train and onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, he silently repeated, I'm doomed.
"Oh, stop being a pessimist," Ginny told him, smacking him lightly on the arm as he came to where she had been waiting for him.
"Pessimists are what optimists call realists."
"Come on, Harry," she playfully chided him, slipping her arm around his waist and leading him to where Ron and Hermione were arranging their trunks on the trolleys the twins had secured for them to use. She hugged herself close to him, pressing comfortably up against him, and asked, "After the year we've had... what could possibly go wrong?"
"With our luck," he answered, "we'll soon be finding out."
TBC...