Chapter Thirteen: Introspection

In the months since Harry, Ron and Hermione had Apparated away to the Ministry leaving Kreacher swooning with worry hours later alongside a fully-set dinner table, the house elf had spent hundreds — no thousands — of hours in fretful evaluation of his long life and servitude to his multitude of masters.  As much as he was loathe to admit it, the three friends had blessed Kreacher with something the elf had never truly known: love and respect.

Kreacher was ashamed of his vile, vicious behavior and his hateful, prejudicial ways.  For decades he had served his mistress with blind faith in her beliefs, never questioning her viewpoint or orders — even to the extreme of accepting his own death at the hand of Voldemort in the underground cave and allowing the death of his beloved Master Regulus.  For years Kreacher had grieved his choices and actions regarding Regulus Black, yet his long-dead mistress’s principles had still prevailed over his judgment upon the return of her prodigal son Sirius, who had been all but acquitted of his crimes and heralded by his peers as a hero.

Although Kreacher had known Voldemort’s true nature, of Regulus’s sacrifice and the circumstances regarding Sirius’s return, Kreacher had chosen to follow the creed instilled by decades of servitude to Mrs. Black: Toujours Pur.  Instead of embracing his mistress’s first son, he had turned his back on him, renouncing his authority.  Kreacher had made his return to Grimmauld Place hell, bestowing on Sirius years of pain and grief over his loss of Regulus.  Instead of embracing the Order of the Phoenix as the group who would denounce and overthrow the terror of the Dark Lord, Kreacher did everything possible to make their occupancy in his home unpleasant and problematic — even going to the extreme of lying to young Harry Potter about the whereabouts of Master Sirius, which in turn sealed his fate and sent him to his death in the Department of Mysteries.

Because of Kreacher’s dreadful decisions the dark side had taken both sons of the house of Black — and for that Kreacher was very, very ashamed.

Much to Kreacher’s confusion and consternation, the elf had eventually been forced to divulge his secrets and was curiously rewarded for his honesty by Harry Potter — someone Kreacher had purposely hurt and wheedled mercilessly — leaving him completely beside himself with remorse, the consequences of his actions weighing squarely upon his small, wrinkled shoulders.  The young man had looked past all Kreacher’s wrongdoings without question and had instead treated the elf as a person worthy of forgiveness: something Kreacher had never experienced in his long, long life.  Then Harry Potter’s friends, his loyal, noble friends, had also extended themselves, something Kreacher never would have expected given his behaviour towards the companions of his new master was equally, if not more, deplorable than what Harry himself had experienced.

Kreacher had many long months to consider atonement, many long months during which he worried for his new master and his devoted friends’ safety; long months during which he carefully began setting Grimmauld Place back to rights; dreadfully long months during which Kreacher had unlimited time for introspection.

Then one glorious day Kreacher was given the chance to avenge the man who’d wrecked his life and ripped apart his family one-by-one.  Appearing in the kitchens of Hogwarts alongside the other house-elves, he’d led the elfin resistance against Lord Voldemort, feeling the rush of years of bottled-up anger and a surge of overwhelming pride for his new master coursing through his veins like new life — giving him the energy to fight for the saviour who had finally come to fulfill his prophesy and rid the world of the monster who had plagued the house of Black.

Once the battle was decided and his new master victorious, Kreacher had immediately gone about tending to Harry’s needs along with those of the Weasleys and the remaining members of the Order.  Kreacher considered these duties his very first in a long list of necessary measures he intended to perform to prove his loyalty and servitude to the light.

As the hours passed, Kreacher realized with growing horror how the humans in charge of Hogwarts were about to create very dangerous circumstances for his new master.  He also understood how Harry’s bravery and noble spirit — along with his tendency to act first and think later, a trait very much like Sirius’s — would send him once again into harm’s way without consideration for his own safety or future.  Kreacher would not let this happen.  And much to the elf’s fortune, Mistress Ginny and the steadfast Hermione had agreed, pointing the obvious dangers out to Harry in time for him to make a more informed decision about his reasoning.

In all, Kreacher did not disagree with his master’s final decision about returning in time to analyze the events and consequences of the battle — he felt it would prove consequential in the health and healing of the young boy’s tortured mind.  Kreacher believed the opportunity to look back, along with the infinite love of his new mistress, would do wonders to heal Harry’s traumas, leading him with confidence and self-assurance into the new world he’d sacrificed his childhood to create.

No, Harry and Ginny had no need to place themselves in danger to attempt Harry’s inspiration of bringing back the people they’d lost.  Kreacher knew just how to bring about the changes Harry so desired without altering the course of the battle.  He knew just the person to help him.  He would prove his worth as his new master’s faithful and loyal servant.

* * *

Visions of the final encounter flashed through Kreacher’s mind as he moved silently behind the man in the flowing black cloak.  The words he’d shouted over the din, “Fight! Fight!  Fight for my master, defender of house-elves!  Fight the Dark Lord, in the name of brave Regulus! Fight!” still resounded with him as he followed the man who had helped wreck so much havoc upon the dignified house of Black.  This man, who had purposely wrought so much pain upon Harry — this man who claimed to align himself with both friend and foe.

Fighting the urge to punish himself, Kreacher levied a vengeful glare upon the back of the man who had so cruelly mocked his new master.  Young Harry had traveled back and extended his hand to this treacherous beast only to have it thrust back at him coldly…Kreacher would use this man to accomplish his master’s wishes despite his insistence to Mistress Ginny they would not alter the course of time.  Kreacher was going to avenge his masters Black — by bringing back the friends Master Harry and Mistress Ginny loved so dearly.

* * *

“D’you suppose Harry and Ginny will be back soon?” asked Ron to Hermione.  “I agree with Bill and Fleur: we need to get Mum and Dad out of here.  They’re not going to leave until Harry and Ginny get back.”

“They’ve been gone a long time,” agreed Hermione listlessly as she sat with her legs crossed, her arms wrapped protectively about her chest.  “We’re all tired.  You’re right — staying here is pointless.  Fred is gone and being here is just making it worse on your parents.”

“Ron, Hermione,” interrupted Bill, “we’re all going back up to Gryffindor Tower.  I’ve convinced Mum to go by telling her you’ll stay here to wait for Ginny and Harry.  Could you do that, please?”

“Of course we will, Bill,” replied Hermione gently before Ron had a chance to speak.  “Have you discussed when you’ll be going back to the Burrow yet?”

“We have,” said Bill with a furtive glance back to his parents.  “I think we need to get them out of the school — we need to get home where we belong.  We’ll be able to think better there.  We thought about leaving tomorrow morning.  Once we get Mum and Dad home, Charlie, Percy and I discussed coming back for Fred.”

“What about me?” growled Ron defensively.  “Am I not supposed to be part of this?”

“Of course you are,” reassured Hermione lovingly as she gently patted Ron’s knee.

“Anyone who wants to help can come, Ron.  Don’t be such a tosspot.  We just need to do the best thing for Mum and Dad now…we’ve got to get them away from the scene of the battle.  They both need rest — they’re not going to get any as long as they’re here.  You know that,” said Bill with an impatient grimace towards his youngest brother.

“I know,” mumbled Ron as he concentrated on his lap.

“Besides, Ron, somebody has to be with George.  You know you’re the best one for that job.  If anyone can help him, you can,” persuaded Bill smoothly.

Ron brightened.  His relationship with George was much closer than his relationship with his older brothers.  Perhaps Bill was correct in saying he would be a better shoulder…  “You’re right.  I’m sorry I growled at you.  I just don’t want to be left behind.”

“Ron, you’ve proved you’re definitely not one to leave out.  We all know that now.  Let’s get everyone home where we can pull together as a family to work through this.  We’ve got plenty of time to talk about the rest,” said Bill wearily.  “So you two’ll stay?”

“We will.  Don’t worry, Bill,” promised Hermione.

Bill turned round and went back to his wife, who then began slowly shepherding the crowd of Weasleys out of the hospital wing.  Once they’d gone, an eerie quiet settled back over the ward, causing Hermione shudder with a chill.  Ron wrapped his arm around her protectively and pulled her close.  “Can you believe it?” he asked as he shook his head.

“No.”

“I mean, all these years — all this time we’ve known Voldemort was back, I never quite believed we could really do it.  I mean, that Harry could do it,” clarified Ron with a lift of his eyebrows.  “I don’t think Harry thought he could do it.”

“Harry’s always downplayed his strengths,” added Hermione.

“’mione, I don’t think Harry thought he’d see the other side of this alive,” admitted Ron.  “All those nightmares…those nights I’d watch him writhe in bed, sweat soaking through his sheets, waking up screaming…”

“It must’ve been very difficult.”

“It was,” said Ron.  “He’d wake up holding his scar and I’d wonder how on earth he was supposed to vanquish Voldemort.  I mean, we were just kids…”

“Well, we’re not anymore,” argued Hermione.

“We’re just kids and we brought down the darkest reign of terror since Grindelwald.  I just can’t believe it,” said Ron, still shaking his head in wonder.

“Believe it, Ron,” said Hermione as she looked directly into Ron’s bewildered stare.  “It’s over.  We’ve done it.  Harry can have a life now.  We can start planning for our futures instead of worrying whether we’ll have them.”

“What do you want to do with your future, Hermione?” said Ron, looking at his friend intently.

Hermione smiled.  “Oh, I don’t know,” she rattled.  “Y’see, there’s this guy I met awhile back.  I’ve liked him forever, and well, things just never clicked between us.  For the longest time I wondered whether he liked me at all, or whether he just spent time with me for revision help.  But I’m a bit confused: just yesterday the bloke kissed me like there was no tomorrow — and well, I keep thinking about it and wondering whether he really meant to do it at all…or if it was just the circumstances surrounding the situation,” she said pensively as she rubbed her chin.

“I think he meant it,” said Ron as his ears burned red.  “He’d have to be some real arse just to use you for revision,” he said with a smile.  “A girl like you could have any bloke she wanted.”

“You think so?”

“Sure.  I think Harry’s the only one in Gryffindor Tower who hasn’t noticed that,” said Ron with an odd lilt in his voice.  “The bugger is, Harry’s usually the bloke getting all the action…you know, the hugs and kisses and all.”

Hermione laughed.  “Ronald, that’s just because Harry’s like my brother.  I’ve never thought twice about hugging or kissing him — or showing him any type of affection for that matter.  I’ve never thought about him that way.  Now, to be honest, the bloke I do have my eye on made me quite nervous to be around.  I could never have acted that way with him.  Besides, Harry’s all about Ginny.  No other girl will catch his eye ever again now that your sister’s staked her claim.”

“The bloke you were talking about,” asked Ron, steering the conversation back to its last subject.  “D’you reckon if he kissed you again you’d be all right with it?  I mean, especially considering you’re not about to die and all?”

Hermione blushed prettily and looked through her lashes at Ron.  “I think that bloke would be insane not to kiss me again.”  She took a deep breath and released it slowly as she concentrated on her shoes and continued her thought.  “I love him.”

“Love him?” squeaked Ron like a field mouse.

“Yeah,” said Hermione dreamily, lost in another world.  “I reckon I do.  It’s kind of weird to finally say out loud, especially since I’ve felt this way since practically my fourth-year.”

“Fourth-year?” breathed Ron sceptically looking like he’d been slammed in the head by a Bludger.

An amused look crossed Hermione’s face.  “I never thought I’d be sitting here like this and talking about this person with you,” she said quietly.  “You’re my best friend, y’know?  After everything we’ve been through it’s been incredibly hard not to tell you about someone so important to me.”

“Yeah?” croaked Ron, still searching fruitlessly for his voice.

“Y’see, he’s incredibly handsome…wickedly smart and adorably sweet.  He’s got an amazing family.  Sometimes he doesn’t have a lot of confidence in himself, and that bothers me.  He’s the most incredible person I’ve ever met — I hate to see him look down upon himself.  It’s quite bothersome.”

“Hermione?”

“Yes, Ron?” said Hermione with a bashful bat of her eyelashes.

“I think I’d like to meet this bloke,” he grinned as he pulled her into him so that their noses touched.  “I’m going to tell him I’m about to steal his best girl.”

Ron kissed Hermione then: not the desperate, feverish kiss from the corridor outside the Room of Requirement; but a slow, meaningful, passionate kiss, one into which he poured seven years of longing and friendship.  He stroked the side of her cheek and raked her hair between his fingers, inhaling her scent as he explored her mouth.  Moaning with delirious happiness, he pulled away and sighed heavily.  “I’ve been dreaming of this for ages,” he laughed.

“Me too,” admitted Hermione as she laid her head on his shoulder.

“That was bloody brilliant, by the way,” said Ron triumphantly.

“If you think that was brilliant, wait until I top it,” wagered Hermione.  “Once Harry and Ginny get back I bet we can find a cupboard with our name on it.”

“Bloody hell!” exclaimed Ron.  “I didn’t wait half my life for this to have a snog in a cupboard!”

“Can you suggest somewhere more appropriate, Ronald?”

“Oh, yeah, I can…” rambled Ron breathlessly.  “My four-poster…the tent…my room at the Burrow…under the tree by the lake…in the Room of Requirement…”

“Well what are you waiting for?” asked Hermione wantonly.

Ron looked confused.  “Harry?  Ginny?”

“Oh, never mind them.  They’ll find us,” teased Hermione.

“Hermione?  Are you sure you haven’t been hexed or something?” asked Ron with concern, knowing his Hermione would normally never leave a post to which she’d been assigned.

“Ron, if they’re still with Dumbledore, I can guarantee the last thing they’ll want to do is come here.  We’re better off in Gryffindor Tower with the Fat Lady and Vi keeping watch for us.”

“True…” admitted Ron with a huge, anticipatory grin spreading across his face.

“Then what are we waiting for?  Don’t you have someplace you’d like to show me?”

* * *

“Do you realize I just saw you starkers?” asked Ginny with a visage of mock-concern as she stepped into the second-floor corridor from the headmistress’s office.

“Oh, please…you’ve got to be kidding me,” mumbled the gargoyle.  “That’s the last thing I needed to hear just now — nakedness in the headmistress’s office… What’s next?  Filch teaching Transfiguration?” it said sarcastically.

“Oh really!” said Ginny snappishly to the gargoyle.  “Mind your business!”  The gargoyle shrank back towards the wall in an attempt to make itself as nondescript as possible, raising its hands in resignation.  “That’s what I thought,” she huffed as she pulled Harry away.

“Now, since I was so rudely interrupted — you do realize I saw you starkers?” she said evilly.

“Um, Gin, I didn’t really mean for that to happen…I sort of forgot about that part,” said Harry sheepishly as a purple tinge rose across his cheeks.

“I’d say so!” laughed Ginny.  “So what do you reckon I should do about that?  I mean, it’s not every day you just up and see your boyfriend naked…” she said as she shook her head in disbelief.  “But then, I reckon it’s not everyday you get to see what the other side of death looks like, either.  Strange…”

Harry clucked nervously.  “It has been a rather odd day,” he admitted.  “It seems weird to laugh about this when we have all the other…”

Ginny glanced over at Harry as they walked toward the staircase.  “You mean all the serious, awful, devastating stuff?”

“Well, yeah,” said Harry.

“The laughter’s what’s keeping me together, Harry.”

Harry stopped and scratched behind his ear.  “I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to do, Gin.  All this is still unreal.  I’m not really sure how I’m handling it.”

“I know,” said Ginny as she took his hand and entwined his fingers with her own as they continued walking.  “Think about it, though.  Not even a day ago I thought I’d lost both Fred and you…now I’ve only lost one of you.  Either way, I’m devastated; but I’m also happy…it’s a very odd sort of thing to feel — y’know, gratefulness along with grief?”

“I’ve never been good at this stuff, Gin.  I’m not sure what to say,” admitted Harry as they rounded the corner to the hospital wing.

Ginny stopped and leveled a stare at her boyfriend.  “Just tell me the next time I see you starkers it’s not going to be in a memory,” she deadpanned.

“Gin?” coughed Harry as his breath left his body like a Bludger to the stomach.

“I spent the last ten months waiting for you Harry.  Now you’re here and you’re alive.  The war is over.  Because I’ve lost my brother doesn’t mean I don’t having feelings about the other,” said Ginny definitely.  “Think of it this way: Fred would want to see the love being spread around.  I intend to make sure that happens.”

Harry squawked.

As they reached the doors to the hospital, Ginny took one last look at her speechless boyfriend before opening them.  “Hormones are not just for boys, y’know,” she said loftily, giving Harry a saucy stare.  “I sincerely hope you intend to act upon yours — we’ve got a year to make up for, and then some.”

Ginny pulled open the door and strode purposefully into the room, nearly knocking Hermione over in the process. 

“Hermione, Ron,” said Ginny matter-of-factly as the four came to an abrupt halt in the center aisle of the hospital ward.  Both boys looked surprised to see the other in a similar state of embarrassment.  Harry indicated wordlessly to Ron he wasn’t about to divulge what was up with Ginny at the moment.  Ron pantomimed likewise.

“We were just about to leave,” said Ron, desperately trying to steer his girlfriend away from his best friend and sister in an attempt to salvage his tête-à-tête with Hermione.  “Everyone else has gone back up to the common room.  They left us here to wait on you.”

“Wait on us, eh, mate?” asked Harry with a mischievous glint in his eye.  “It looks like you were pulling a Weasley to me.”

“Er, well, yeah — ” said Ron haltingly.  “When you hadn’t come back after so long we just figured you’d come back to Gryffindor Tower.”  He stuffed his hands in his pockets and concentrated on his shoes.  Hermione contemplated Harry with an amused look.

“What did Dumbledore have to say to you two that was so important?” asked Hermione finally.  “Professor McGonagall returned awhile ago but she’s gone back to the Great Hall now with Kingsley…something about damage assessments.”

Harry looked at Ginny, who returned his glance knowingly.  He could tell they were both in agreement that Ron and Hermione should know what was going on.  “Why don’t we all go up to the Room of Requirement and we’ll explain?  I don’t reckon we should get into this here,” explained Harry lowly, as he leaned in to whisper to his two friends.  “I reckon this will interest you both.”

Ron raised his eyebrows and grabbed Hermione’s hand, leading the way out into the corridor and onto the staircase.  “They don’t want you to do something stupid, do they?  Is that why Dumbledore had to talk to you?  Had to con you into something, did he?”

“Nah, it’s nothing like that,” laughed Harry, who grinned at Ginny.  The irony of the situation was almost too much to handle — Ron and Hermione being unaware of what happened before.

The foursome trudged up the staircases to the seventh-floor and found their way into the Room of Requirement, which had set itself up again as a replica of the Gryffindor common room.  Harry made himself comfortable on one of the sofas beside Ginny while Ron and Hermione did similarly across from them.  Once they were all settled, Hermione gave Harry a questioning look, indicating she was ready for his explanation.

“Well,” started Harry with a look of amusement, “would you believe we just used a Time-turner to revisit the battle?”  He reckoned he’d just get to the point rather than draw things out unnecessarily.

“No!” gasped Hermione clapping her hands to her chest in shock.  Ron’s eyes widened to the size of dinner-plates.

Harry and Ginny laughed out loud at Ron and Hermione’s reactions.  They spent the next few minutes explaining what happened when they went back and what they found upon their return.

For once, Hermione was silent.

“I can’t believe you did that!” exclaimed Ron angrily.  “You took my sister back into the battle?  How could you?” he thundered.

“I wanted to go,” announced Ginny firmly.  “Besides, Harry and I had a conversation outside the school before this happened and I disarmed him.  I had to go.”

Hermione sucked in her breath and then began coughing uncontrollably.  Ron slapped her on the back until her breathing returned to normal.  “You’re the Master of the Elder Wand now?” she cried.

“Well, yeah,” said Ginny coolly.  “It’s not that big a deal.  We didn’t use it.”

Hermione looked faint.

“Look guys,” said Harry as he tried to diffuse the situation.  “All this has been figured out.  Ginny and I didn’t bring you up here to freak you out about the Time-turner.  We want to know about Tonks, and then we also need to explain one more thing.”

“What about Tonks?” asked Hermione.

“Well, she died the first time,” said Ginny uncomfortably.  “We weren’t expecting to see her when we came back.  McGonagall wasn’t able to tell us much,” she explained.

“I don’t think anyone really knows,” said Hermione sadly.  “Madam Pomfrey doesn’t know what she was cursed with, so she’s just trying to do what she can.”

“Does she think she’ll die?” asked Harry.

Hermione nodded her head toward her friend.  “Yes, I believe she does, Harry.”

Ginny grabbed Harry’s hand as he dropped his head in disappointment.  “Tell them about the Stone, Harry.”

“Oh,” said Harry, “we decided to back for the Resurrection Stone.”

Ron, who had remained quiet through most of the conversation, was suddenly jarred into participation.  “You did it for Fred didn’t you?” he said quietly.

Harry smiled thinly and nodded his head.  “I’m not going to go into the whole argument Ginny and I had about why I wanted to go back to begin with, but I could do this.  Do you think it will be too hard on your Mum and Dad?”

Ron got up from the sofa and walked over to Harry, pulling him up in one of Molly’s famous, bone-crushing hugs.  “Thanks mate,” he sobbed into Harry’s shoulder.  “I don’t know what happened while you were out there in that forest, but thank you for this.”  Ron separated himself from his friend, patting him once more on the arm for good measure.

“Let’s do it, then,” said Harry with determination as he pulled Ginny from the sofa.  As the four met at the door to the corridor, they stopped and wordlessly pulled each other into a long, group-embrace, steeling themselves for the reunion they hoped to encounter.

* * *

“I reckon you all are probably wondering why I wanted you together here,” said Harry nervously.  He was pacing in front of the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room with his hands stuffed uncharacteristically in the pockets of his robes instead of raking through his hair, looking altogether uncomfortable and like he was about to face the final battle again.

“Mr. and Mrs. Weasley,” started Harry as he cleared his throat, “bugger…I just don’t know where to begin!”  Molly and Arthur became dismayed at Harry’s apparent distress — but Ginny waved them off, indicating they should let him finish.  Shaking his arms and hands out much like he did before mounting his broom before a Quidditch match and looking directly at his adopted parents, Harry began again, this time with a more confident voice.  “Molly, Arthur,” said Harry as he glanced around the room, “everyone, I reckon it’s time I tell you a little bit about why we left.”

Molly took a deep breath in reaction to Harry’s statement, obviously ready to counter his words, but Arthur stopped her by placing his hand on her knee — demonstrating he wanted to hear Harry out.  Molly let her breath out slowly and took Arthur’s hand, glancing round to Ginny, then Ron and Hermione.  She noticed the solidarity among the teenagers and relaxed, waiting for Harry to continue.

“First off, I reckon I should apologise.”  Harry noticed the objection rising in Molly and cut her off before she could speak.  “No…Mum, I need to do this.”  Molly beamed at Harry, tears rising in her eyes, as Arthur grunted emotionally beside her.  “We left last year to end this thing, and I know it was hard on all of you — especially you, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.  I’m sorry about the way things had to be.  If I could have helped it, I would have done it all myself — but that’s not how it was intended to be.  Without Ron and Hermione I wouldn’t be standing here in front of you today.  Without my friends I never would have been able to do any of this.  It may have been me standing in front of U-No-Poo in the end,” said Harry as he noticed George laugh softly, “but without Ron or Hermione there wouldn’t have been an end.  You all need to know that.”

Harry then glanced directly at Ginny.  “I owe you an apology, too,” he said.

“But Harry, you’ve already told me,” interrupted Ginny in surprise.

“No, Ginny, I haven’t,” said Harry forcefully, causing everyone to sit back a little in their seats.  “I’m sorry, Ginny.  I’m sorry for everything you had to go through.  I’m sorry for ditching you after Dumbledore’s funeral.  I’m sorry for making you question my feelings for you.  I’m sorry for making you spend an entire year locked up in this prison fighting for my cause knowing what a selfish prat I was.  I spent every day miserable — and I deserved it.  Instead of leaving you with the knowledge that I was hopelessly in love with you, I blocked myself off and pretended I was saving you…you probably would have been better off at home than coming here to be tortured by the Carrows,” spat Harry.

Molly looked at her daughter with wide, terror-filled eyes.  In turn, Ginny just shrugged her shoulders and lifted her head pridefully.

“I’m sorry, Ginny.  I love you.  I’m going to spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you’ll let me,” promised Harry, who then turned and addressed the rest of her brothers.  “Now that I’ve taken the mickey out of myself for being such a foul git, I hope you five will give me a bit of a break when it comes to dating your sister,” admitted Harry, as all five brothers broke out in wide smiles.  “Believe me, in the past few hours I’ve already been on the receiving end of some pretty spectacular hexes — ones that would’ve sent old Voldy packing — and I don’t intend to ever, ever see them again.”

Ginny laughed out loud in satisfaction, garnering looks of surprise, disbelief and disapproval from the surrounding crowd.  Harry strode over and kissed her on the cheek and then returned to his spot in front of the fire.

“You lot heard most of what we went through to end this thing during the final battle.  The bit about the Horcruxes…that was what Dumbledore left me to do.  We spent all my sixth year working on Tom’s Horcruxes and how to find them.  The night Dumbledore died we had found what we thought was one of them,” said Harry sadly, “only once we got back I saw it was a fake.  Dumbledore didn’t have to die that night.  But, according to him, he was about to die anyway because of what one of them had done to his arm…either way, he didn’t have long left.  That’s why we spent so much time working together my sixth year, and that’s why he swore me to secrecy with the exception of Ron and Hermione.  Dumbledore knew if more people knew about the secret, Tom would find out and I wouldn’t be able to finish the job.”

Harry glanced round the room at all the dumbfounded faces.  Upset by the apparent dismay Molly was experiencing, Harry crossed the room and gave her a small hug and kiss on the cheek, reassuring her that everything was indeed, all right.

“The most important part of all this, though, is what Dumbledore left us in his will: Hermione’s book and my snitch.  What we didn’t realize is just how important that book was…”

Bill interrupted then.  “Why would an old book of The Tales of Beedle the Bard be important?” he asked incredulously.

“It was one of the stories, Bill,” answered Harry as he pulled his Invisibility Cloak from his pocket.  “Do you know what this is?” he asked, directing the question back to Bill.

“It’s your Invisibility Cloak,” answered Bill with a frown.

Harry pulled Dumbledore’s wand from the inside pocket of his robes.  “Do you know what this is?” he countered.

The curse-breaker’s eyes narrowed in thought.  “That’s Dumbledore’s wand,” he answered easily.  Suddenly, his eyes brightened with the knowledge of what was being held before him.  Bill’s mouth opened in disbelief.

Harry smiled.  “What story is in The Tales of Beedle the Bard, Bill?” he asked, as Ron, Hermione and Ginny sat nodding their heads in encouragement.

“No — it’s not…” breathed Bill.

Harry glanced around at Molly, Arthur, Fleur, Charlie, Percy and George, who still looked confused.  “What story is in the book, Bill?” asked Harry again, encouraging the man to make the connection.

“The Tale of Three Brothers,” said Bill slowly.  Harry reached into his moleskin pouch and pulled out the Resurrection Stone, holding it up for Bill to see.  Bill gasped and jumped up from his place on the sofa beside his wife.  “If that’s the cloak and that’s the wand,” he exclaimed, “and that’s the stone, then you’re telling us…what you’re trying to say is…you’re telling us this is REAL?”

“That’s exactly what he’s telling you,” stated Hermione with a smile.  “And that wasn’t just any old book…it was the book.  It was the original Beedle,” said Hermione definitively.

Bill’s eyes widened in amazement as the shock of Hermione’s revelation settled over the room.

As the Weasleys stared at each other in wonder, it was Fleur who finally broke the silence: “Eef you haf ze vand, ze cloak and ze stone, zen zat vould make you ze Master of Death, yes?” she said, nodding her head at Harry.

“It’s not that simple,” laughed Harry.  “But yes, at one time I was.”

“At one time you were?” asked Bill in disbelief.  “You’re holding all three Hallows…explain how that doesn’t make you the Master.  You said yourself you were the Master of the Elder Wand during the final confrontation with Voldemort!”

“Well, you know that spectacular hexing I was talking about earlier?” said Harry sheepishly as he scratched the back of his head.  “Well, Ginny sort of disarmed me.  That makes her the Master of the Elder Wand.”

Molly Weasley let out a low moan from beside Arthur, who began fanning his wife vigorously.  He quickly conjured a glass and filled it with an Aguamenti charm, coaxing his wife to take a medicinal drink.  “Ginny,” directed her father, “please go to the third-year dormitory and get the Calming Draught Madam Pomfrey gave me from my things.  I’ve left my rucksack there on one of the four-posters.”

“Yes Daddy,” piped Ginny as she hurried up the staircase.

“Arthur, no,” beseeched Molly as tears filled her eyes.  “I’m fine.  I don’t need the Draught.  I was just caught off guard…”

“Shh, dearest,” calmed Arthur, “it’s just something Poppy gave me to soothe you.  It won’t put you to sleep, I promise.”  Ginny returned with a small vial and handed it to her father, who held it up for his wife to examine.  “See?  It’s not nearly a full dose — go on, then…” said Arthur, encouraging Molly to drink the potion, which she finally did grudgingly.  Wrapping his arm protectively around his wife, Arthur settled back into the couch and returned his attention to Harry, who was still looking at Molly with unguarded concern.

“I can stop, y’know,” said Harry worriedly.  “We don’t have to do this today.”

“Pish-posh!” exclaimed Molly.  “I’m just fine!  I’ll not have the lot of you treating me as if I’m unhinged.”

Harry couldn’t help himself.  He sniggered.  Molly Weasley was the farthest thing from unhinged he had ever seen.  She was much more composed than Professor McGonagall…  “The potion may not be all bad, y’see,” admitted Harry as he scratched his head again.  “I’m not sure if it’ll work or not, but I was wondering if…”

“We wanted to talk to Fred?” asked George slowly, as understanding finally flooded over his grieving countenance.  “You’re asking us if we’d like to use the Resurrection Stone to say goodbye to Fred, aren’t you?”

Sighing, Harry dropped his shoulders.  “Yes, I suppose I am.  That is, if you want to,” he offered.  “Like I said, I’m not sure how it’s going to work.  It worked for me in the forest when I walked back to surrender myself to Voldemort, but I don’t know if it will work for a room full of people,” explained Harry.  “Dumbledore told Ginny and I to hold it at the same time while we turned it — I was hoping we would all be able to do this together, as a family.”

At that point, Molly launched herself from her spot on the couch, enveloping Harry in a bone-crushing embrace that nearly squeezed his breath from his body.  As Harry’s eyes bulged and he gasped hungrily for air, Ginny wrenched him from her mother’s grasp and copied her mother’s sentiments, jumping as she threw her arms around Harry’s neck and locked her ankles around his waist, kissing him greedily about the face and neck.

Coughing and grumbling was heard echoing throughout the room until Ron finally rolled his eyes and put an end to the uncomfortable display of affection his sister was forcing upon his family.  “Oi!  Ginny!  Give the bloke some air!  He said he was going to be around for awhile making things up to you — you should have plenty of time for a decent snog later!” snickered Ron as Hermione beamed at her best friend mauling her other best friend in front of the fireplace.  She cuffed Ron in the arm as the rest of the room started to laugh at Ginny and Harry — Ginny was glaring at the occupants of the room indignantly and Harry looked like he wanted to sink into the floor in stunned embarrassment.

Molly patted Harry on the cheek lovingly and then pinched her daughter on the bum.  “You’re a dear, dear boy,” she said to Harry.  “I’m so blessed to have you in my family.  And you,” she pointed at Ginny with a wicked grin, placing the other hand on her hip in typical Molly Weasley fashion, “you will behave, young lady!  You mustn’t scare the poor thing off, y’know!”  Wrapping both teenagers in a fierce hug, Molly whispered into their ears, “Fred would be so proud — so happy,” she said as tears formed in her eyes.  She pulled back and placed one hand on each cheek of the gaping pair, and then kissed them both before returning to her seat beside her husband.

Molly looked round the room at the shocked crowd and shrugged her shoulders.  “Let’s get on with it.  We haven’t got all night, y’know.”

* * *

Ginny and Harry walked hand-in-hand through the corridors of Hogwarts toward the Entrance Hall, shuffling along in somber silence, both exhausted from the emotional interaction with Fred and the family in the common room.  As they walked through the front doors into the moonlight and made their way toward Dumbledore’s tomb and the lake, Ginny stopped Harry and looked at him with concern.  “You do realize that if I should ever do anything to anger you or make you leave my family will disown me?” she said with a soft laugh.  “After tonight, you have officially solidified yourself as ‘favorite son,’ Harry Potter,” teased Ginny.

“Nah,” said Harry dismissing her with a wave of his hand.  “I was their favorite already,” he laughed, tickling Ginny in the side as he pulled her in for a kiss.

“You’re a filthy, big-headed prat,” Ginny laughed into Harry’s mouth as she continued to kiss him.  “How am I supposed to stay angry with you after you made that speech in front of my family?”

“I aim to please,” stated Harry defiantly.  “Besides, I learned my persuasion skills from a pro,” he winked as he pulled Ginny along.

“I still can’t believe Fred,” said Ginny.  “It’s going to be impossible to be sad now, y’know?  After all that nonsense with Gideon and Fabian?  I thought Mum was about to bust a gut laughing at the three of them.”

Harry snorted.  “Yeah, leave it to your brother to boast about getting lucky in the afterlife…and then having your uncle tell George about all the birds Fred was getting with his wicked sense of humor and all,” laughed Harry.  “Leave it to Fred to turn something sad into the complete opposite.”

“That’s Fred,” agreed Ginny with a chuckle.  “I’m really going to miss him, y’know?”

“So am I, Gin.  At least we know he’s okay and that he’s with us…  D’you suppose he means he’s with us all the time?  Because that could be bad, y’know?” said Harry uncomfortably.

Ginny laughed again more heartily.  Looking heavenward, she shouted out loud, “Fred Weasley, if you watch me when, you know, I will dig you up and bury your bones in two-hundred, separate holes!”

Harry laughed, knowing Ginny was serious.  “Let’s hope you don’t have to do that, Gin.”

The pair proceeded to Dumbledore’s tomb, where Harry helped Ginny with the incantations necessary to replace the Elder Wand with its rightful owner.  When they’d both used their wands together to repair the rend they’d created in the marble monument, they proceeded toward the lake.

“Would you like to meet my parents, Ginny?” asked Harry wistfully.

“Harry?” asked Ginny incredulously.  “Of course I would!” she squealed as she pretzeled herself around him like she had in the common room.  Harry stood there for a moment, reveling in the feel of the weight of Ginny around him, quite sure the beast in his chest would roar forth in reckless abandon at any moment.  He was so happy he wasn’t sure he trusted himself to speak.

Clearing his throat, the words spouted forth from Harry’s mouth before his brain had processed what he was saying.  “Ginny, I know it’s fast and we’re really young.  But I love you, and I can’t imagine another minute of my life without you.  Will you marry me?”

Sliding down from Harry’s waist to stand, Ginny looked at Harry in complete shock.  “Did you just say what I thought you said?” she breathed.

Harry’s heart began to sink.  He couldn’t believe he’d done something so mental.  He didn’t even have a ring to ask her properly!  He’d just been standing there holding her and his mouth had begun talking…  He looked at his feet and nodded.

Ginny grabbed his chin and forced him to look at her again.  She stared up at him with her big, beautiful, chocolate eyes and then grabbed him by the collar and pulled him down to her.  “Say it again,” she demanded.

Harry coughed.  “Er, I know it’s fast,” he stammered wildly.

“Not that, you oaf!” Ginny exclaimed.  “Say the other!  Say it again!”

Realization dawned over Harry.  He dropped to one knee and took her hand in his.  Looking up, he asked her again.  “Ginevra Molly Weasley, will you marry me?”