Chapter Four:  The Fine Points

Clean from his bath and renewed from a meal, Harry decided it was time to return to the Great Hall to face the questions of the Ministry.  He knew he’d have to talk eventually so he decided to finish the task before departing for the Burrow.  Once he left Hogwarts he wasn’t sure he’d return for awhile.  He wanted to clear up as much business as possible in the hope he might have a bit of quiet later on.

Harry grimaced.

Since he arrived at Hogwarts almost seven years ago, privacy was something Harry wished for and never achieved.  He shook his head, knowing now, more than ever, he’d have little time to himself.  He considered a holiday—if the Goblins would allow him access to his vault at Gringott’s after the break-in debacle.  He wondered how to get back in the good graces of the Goblins…surely he couldn’t just send them sweets and a short note of apology along with the promise of the prompt return of their blind dragon?  Amused with his silliness Harry laughed out loud, catching the attention of Nearly-Headless-Nick, the Gryffindor house ghost, in the process.

“I say, my boy!  Very well done!  Very well done, indeed!”  Nick grinned, tipping his head along with his hat.

“Thanks Nick.” Harry said.  “I didn’t do it by myself.  The entire castle helped.”

“Ah…this is true,” admitted Nick.  “I suppose congratulations are in order all around, then?”

Harry nodded.  “I really appreciate the Headless Hunt.  I did see it go by a few times.”

Coloring slightly, which is nearly impossible possible for a ghost, Nick gushed, “Any time, old chap!  It’s not any day we get to ride around the castle in full regalia!  It was my supreme pleasure!”  With a nod and a bow, Nick floated off whistling a tune sounding a lot like ‘wee potter’s the one…’

Harry continued his descent to the Great Hall.  Just as he was about to reach the final flight of stairs, he heard Professor McGonagall trotting after him, calling his name.  He turned to greet her.  “Professor.”

“Potter.  I think we can do without titles…call me Minerva.”

Shifting on both feet, Harry wasn’t sure about addressing his Transfiguration professor by her given name.  It seemed odd and, well, weird.  “Uh, okay.  I was just about to go into the Great Hall to see if I could find Kingsley Shacklebolt.  D’you reckon he has questions for me?”

“I’m sure he does, Harry, but I’d like to discuss something with you first.  Would you mind following me to my office?”

* * *

“You want me to WHAT?” Harry exclaimed, disbelieving.  “You can’t be serious.”

Minerva McGonagall had just spent the better part of an hour outlining a very detailed plan about using Hermione’s Time-turner to return to the moments the trio had arrived in the school.  She explained how his mastery of the Elder Wand would allow him to fortify the school against damage, repel the Death Eaters, and draw an age line so that no underage students would be allowed back into the school to fight.

The woman had gone spare.

“No way,” Harry sputtered.  “I can’t do that again.”

“I understand.” McGonagall accepted reluctantly.  After all, Harry did have the choice.  She tried to hide her defeat.

Harry sat back in his chair for a moment.  He’d never known Professor McGonagall to accept no for an answer.  What was he missing behind the planning and strategy she had so carefully outlined to him?  “You’ve obviously spoken with Dumbledore?”

Minerva looked up from her thoughts.  She hadn’t expected this conversation to continue.  “Yes, Harry, I did—quite extensively.  I believe he explained almost everything.”

“Everything?  He explained everything?”

“Yes, I believe so, Potter,” she replied impatiently—more so than she wished.  “I have taken everything he explained into careful consideration while formulating this plan.  You must know I don’t take this request lightly.  This isn’t a Quidditch match.”  Her eyes softened as she considered the student in the chair.  Just as she had expected, he was rethinking his original response.  Before he could change his mind she added, “If I truly believed you would be harmed while performing this task I would not have asked you.”

Harry looked at the witch across the desk.  Her pinched expression made her intentions clear.  “I believe you,” he said wistfully, more to himself rather than his teacher.  Harry expounded.  “I heard you.  I mean, I heard you when Hagrid came out of the forest.  I heard all of you…while I was pretending.”  He stopped to gather his thoughts and continued.  “I didn’t expect to hear that—it was hard to lie there knowing so many people were hurting because of me.”

“Harry…” Minerva’s eyes were full of tears.

“I just always thought because I had no family no one would really care if I was gone.  I mean, the Dursleys would probably jump for joy!  Well, maybe a few people would’ve been upset, but…”

“I assume you’re referring to the Weasleys?” she added softly.

Surprised she was still listening, Harry met her eyes.  “Yeah, I mean, I’m sure, ah, Ron would’ve been upset.  And Hermione…”

“And Ginny?”  Harry’s strained look was obvious.  Dumbledore was correct.  The boy did have feelings for the Weasley’s daughter.

“Ah, you know, ah, we were dating towards the end of my sixth year…” he stammered.

Minerva cleared her throat and decided to press the boy.  “Harry, you know going back won’t come without risks?”  He nodded his understanding.  “But you must know that going back could also have its rewards?”

“Well,” he croaked, “I’ve been thinking about that.  We’re really talking about Fred, aren’t we?”

The headmistress held his gaze but said nothing.  She hoped this mission would save Fred Weasley’s life, but his was not the only fate she hoped for Harry to change.  She would not press him for a decision.

“Do I have to give you an answer now?”

Minerva shook her head.  “You don’t.  You must know, however, the more time goes by the harder it will be to alter the past.  It hasn’t been long…no one’s been moved…”

Harry understood her meaning.  None of the bodies had been moved.  Once the memorials started, it would be harder to change things.  “I’ll let you know within a few hours.  I think there are some things I should consider first,” he said standing.  “May I be excused?”

“Of course.  Take all the time you need Harry.”

* * *

“Shit!” Harry cursed into the empty corridor after reeling down the spiral staircase.  The gargoyle glared at him.  Harry glared back.  Bloody statue—like it had any authority?  What was he going to do?  Ginny would never go for this…not in a million years.  Even if his sole purpose was to save her brother, Ginny would not agree.  He wondered what Fred would think.

Wait.

What would Fred think?  “Shit!” he cursed again.  Dumbledore’s tomb hadn’t been sealed twenty-four hours and he was already thinking of opening it for the Elder Wand.  He had stood in the Headmaster’s office and told him he would leave the Resurrection Stone on the forest floor…and now he wanted to know what Fred would think?  “Some Master of Death I am…shit.” he muttered aloud for good measure.

He looked up—at nothing in particular— and gesticulated with his arms.  “Just wondering when the normal starts…anyone?”

“Harry?”

Red-faced, Harry turned and saw Ron lumbering towards him in the second floor corridor.  He hoped Ron hadn’t heard his little speech.

“Mate, where have you been?  Mum and Ginny are about to go spare.  You said you were going to the kitchens for food and you’ve been gone for hours.”  Ron looked relieved.  “I was scared you’d done a Weasley…wish I could.”

“Well, it’s nice to see you’re in a better mood.”

“Sorry ‘bout that, mate.  I was tired and hungry.  Hermione insisted we stay up to wait for you and Ginny.  Bill’s been clucking around like Mum…scared we’re not being pecked enough or something.  And George, well…between you and me, I’m starting to think Fred was the lucky one.” Ron explained.  “But really—where have you been?”

“McGonagall’s office.”

“Oh.  How’d that go?”

“I don’t think you really want to know.”

“Try me.”

Harry stopped walking.  He looked beseechingly at his friend and sighed.  “Okay…but I think I want Hermione to hear this, too.”

“What about Ginny?”

Harry cringed.  “No!  Not Ginny.”

Ron narrowed his eyes.  “What are you on about, Potter?”

“I can’t tell Ginny, Ron.  I just can’t.  Not yet, anyway.” Harry said, crestfallen.

“I don’t like the sound of this, Harry.  What’s McGonagall talked you into?”

“Hermione.  We’re going to go find Hermione first.”

Ron thought Harry should stay in a deserted first-floor classroom while he went to find Hermione.  “You stay here.  I’ll tell Mum and Ginny you’re with McGonagall.  That’ll calm them down for awhile.  They’re down in the Great Hall so I shouldn’t be long.  Don’t leave.”

“Don’t worry mate, I won’t.”

Harry slumped behind one of the desks, grateful for the time to process the conversation in McGonagall’s office.  Did he really want to do this?  He wasn’t scared—not in the way he’d been fearful in other tight spots.  After all, he’d seen and felt what dying was like—it wasn’t painful or scary at all.  He wondered what lay at the end of the train ride; if it was anything like his trip to King’s Cross it couldn’t be all bad.

No, he wasn’t scared to die.

“Honestly Ron, do you think now is really the time to be sneaking off into empty classrooms?” Hermione huffed as Ron steered her into the empty room.

“’mione, I didn’t bring you here to snog you,” Ron sniffed, crunching into a biscuit he’d snatched from a tray in the Great Hall.  “Biscuit, mate?” he said, holding out a handful of crumbled treats.

“Uh, no thanks,” Harry said.

“Harry!” Hermione cried.  “Where have you been?  We’ve been worried!”

“McGonagall’s office.  Listen, I need to talk to you two about something.  I’m not really sure what to do.”

“What’s going on, Harry?” Hermione asked, sitting in the chair next to him while motioning for Ron to take a seat.

“I just—I just—I’m just not ready to talk to Ginny about this, okay?  Hermione, I need you to promise me you won’t tell her.”

“What did McGonagall say to you, Harry?” Hermione queried, concerned about the ominous feeling she was having.  “What’s wrong?”

“ShewantsmetousetheTime-turnertogobackandsavethestudents.” Harry rambled in one large gulp.

Hermione gasped.  Ron choked on his biscuit.  “Bloody, hell!”  He coughed up a large crumb, hacking it out onto the floor.  “I think that old bird’s been stunned one too many times!”

Hermione remained silent.  She sat stony, considering what Harry told her.  She looked him through—curious what he didn’t tell them.  “She wants you to save all the students?”

“No.  Not exactly.  She wants me to use the Elder Wand to fortify the school and ensure underage students don’t sneak back through the tunnel of the Hog’s Head.  She also wants me to use my Invisibility Cloak and cast shield charms while the Death Eaters are doing most of their damage.  She reckons I can stay out of harm’s way by ducking into tapestries and behind statues and such.”

 “Wow…that sounds easy, mate,” Ron mocked.

“Once the battle’s over, I just wait for time to catch up with itself.  Then we see if anything’s changed.”

“D’you reckon you can do that?  I mean, d’you think you can just sit back and wait for time to catch up?” Ron miffed.  “What’s all this going to prove, anyway?  Is it going to change anything?  What if more people are hurt?”

“McGonagall doesn’t think that’ll happen.  She’s talked to Dumbledore.  They reckon the Elder wand will boost my magic.  I’ll be able to keep most of the Death Eaters out of the school.  If that happens, events will change considerably.”

“Yeah,” Ron growled, “but what about you?  What if something happens to you?  Doesn’t she think you’ve been through enough?”

Hermione interjected.  “This all makes perfect sense, except, has anyone ever used a Time-turner to bring a person back to life?  I’ve never read anything about that…and I did considerable reading on the Time-turner during my third year.”

“Dumbledore doesn’t think so.  He doesn’t think it’s impossible, either.  He thinks if people who died are saved; we won’t remember these past few hours…like one huge Obliviate charm—well, except for me.”

“Wait a minute…” Ron yelped, finally realizing the full scope of the plan McGonagall had in mind.  “Are you telling me it’s possible you’ll go back and do this, Fred will still be alive and none of us will remember what really happened?”

“Ron,” Hermione said gently, “I don’t think McGonagall is sending Harry back to save specific people.”  She turned and caught Harry’s eye.  “Is she?”

“No, I didn’t understand it that way.  I think her intention is to fortify the school so students won’t be put in harm’s way in the first place.”

“And the others,” Ron asked, “what about the non-students?  What about people like Lupin and Tonks?”

“I don’t know, Ron.” Harry countered, tired from the weight of the conversation.  “I just got the feeling her primary concern was the welfare of the students.”

“What are you going to do?” Hermione asked.

“I think I’m going to do it.  McGonagall’s plan is pretty straight-forward.  I can do this.  I think I can bring Fred back.”

Ron was stunned.  “You’re not doing this because of Fred, are you?  That’s not the only reason, is it?”

Harry looked sheepish.  “Y’know, for all your talk,” he said quietly, “Fred was my brother, too.”  At Harry’s admission, his two best friends dropped their arguments and wrapped him in a fierce hug.  “And, if I can have a chance at saving Remus or Tonks, I’m going to do it.  I don’t want Teddy to grow up like I did.”

“Oh Harry!” Hermione soothed.  “Are you quite sure you don’t want to talk to Ginny about this first?”

Horrified, Harry stammered, “No!  Hermione we can’t tell her!  I’ve put her through too much already.  I think it’s better if I just do it and get back.  Then we can get on with things.”

“Oh yeah—exactly what types of things are you thinking of getting on with?” Ron barked.

Exasperated with Ron’s overprotective bullock, Harry strode from the room, “Sod off, Weasley.”

* * *

After Harry left the room, Ron looked at Hermione with wide eyes. “If this works and we don’t remember anything, does that mean I’m not going to remember last night?  Because it was bloody brilliant.”

Embarrassed, Hermione covered her mouth and simply said, “Ronald, language.”

* * *

Harry left the classroom and slipped quietly down the corridor toward the Grand Staircase.  Even though he had spoken with his friends, he still needed advice.  The loss of Lupin and Tonks rolled through him like a wave.  His last two adult friends were lying on tables in the Great Hall—dead.  He felt sick to his stomach.  He wished fervently for his godfather.  Sirius was always great for helping him figure things out…even grumpy, old Moody was gone.

He knew one thing—he wasn’t going back into the forest for the Resurrection Stone.  However appealing the initial thought seemed, Harry was going to keep that promise to himself.  The temptation in the forest was too strong.

Carefully making his way down the staircase, watching out for the tell-tale, red hair of the Weasleys, he made his way through the Entrance Hall and finally out the front doors.  He jogged away from the school, across the lawn and down towards the lake.

* * *

Ginny was aggravated.  When she awoke in the common room she was alone.  She yawned and stretched, sighing with discontent.  She noticed her trainers on the floor; she supposed she should return to the Great Hall.  As she sat up, she had an inkling why she was alone: her parents were asleep across the room.  “Drat it all to hell,” she muttered softly.

Amused, Molly watched her daughter as she tied her trainers.  Eavesdropping on Arthur’s earlier talk with Harry, she guessed what Ginny was muttering about.  She certainly wasn’t going to condone the two teenagers sleeping together in the same bed; yet, her heart had melted when she saw the two slumbering so peacefully, Ginny’s hair splayed hither and yon across Harry’s chest.  For a moment, the tragedy seemed to lift…she remembered being young and hopelessly in love.  Arthur must’ve had the same conclusion; he had simply squeezed her hand and led her to the empty couch with a mischievous grin.

Her daughter was so lost in thought she hadn’t noticed her rising from the couch to follow her out the portrait hole.  Molly’s heart was heavy; the loss of Fred was oozing from her pores.  Yet, watching her daughter poke down the corridor moping about the absence of Harry, she was inspired with an almost Fred-like idea.  “Gin-ev-ra!” she called, emphasizing the last syllable of Ginny’s name with an irritated lilt.

Caught, Ginny whipped around.  With a blush creeping up her chest, she turned to face her mother.  “Mum,” she replied, eyes downcast.

Sensing her daughter’s embarrassment, Molly abandoned the act.  She strangled her daughter in a hug, causing Ginny to choke.  “Oh dear, I didn’t mean to squash you…are you quite all right?”  Still not sure what to think, Ginny nodded.  “Why don’t we go and have a sit down on that step?” Molly motioned to the staircase.

“Um, mum…” Ginny started.

“No need, dear.  Your father had a nice chat with Harry earlier.  I believe he was as tongue-tied as you are,” Molly chuckled.

“No…” Ginny gasped bringing a hand to her mouth.  “What did he say to him?”

Patting her daughter’s knee, Molly recounted the brief conversation.  Ginny looked at her like she had Wrackspurts crawling out her ears.  “Hmmf.  It’s not like your father and I never fell asleep on the common room couch…those walls could tell stories, I’m sure,” she said laughing.  Ginny was still wide-eyed and speechless.  “Seriously though, Ginny dear, is there anything you’d like to confide in me about you and Harry?”

Ginny reckoned she might faint.  Not in one thousand years had she expected her mother to make a joke about her sleeping on the couch with Harry.  She certainly hadn’t expected her mother to dish about her own teenage common-room activities.  She was desperate to clear her head of the ghastly mental-picture.  She felt a little ill.  Still, her mother was asking, and she reckoned she should out with it.  Her relationship with Harry would be common-knowledge soon enough.  She really didn’t want her mother to hear it second-hand, especially with the funeral on her mind…  “Um, I guess you could say Harry and I are dating.”

“Dating?”

“Well, yeah.  I guess that’s when two people like each other and spend time together, right?” Ginny asked, thoughtfully.

Molly made a face at her daughter.  “Honestly, Ginny.  D’you think I just fell off the back of a broom?  I think you can do better than that.  Dating.  Merlin’s Beard.  Here I had it in my silly head you were in love with the boy.” She said, glancing coyly at her daughter.

For the second time, Ginny sat gaping and speechless.  She narrowed her eyes at her mother.  “You haven’t been using Extendable Ears, have you?” she accused.

“Of course not, dear.  You don’t have to say what’s written all over your face.  Harry’s too.  I just wanted you to know how thrilled I am…”

“Mum, it’s not like we’re getting married or anything.”

Knowing a thing or two about love and marriage, Molly made her own assumptions based upon what Ginny didn’t tell her.  Yes, her daughter was in love—with Harry. And Harry?  Well, if she knew the difference between a niffler and a garden gnome, he was in love with her daughter.  She closed her eyes and thanked Merlin for her good fortune.  She had lost a son but she was gaining one as well.  The smothering pain in her heart suddenly didn’t seem quite so devastating.  Molly knew Fred would approve.  She took her daughter’s hand in her own and together they returned to the Great Hall.

* * *

After the horrifying “talk” with her mother, Ginny was desperate to find Harry.  How did that woman know so much?  She felt like her mother had sat her down and used Legilimency on her even though she knew her mum wasn’t able—surely she wasn’t a closet Legilimens?  Ginny pushed the ridiculous thought out of her mind.  Her mother knew a lot—perhaps she had some Seer blood…

Ginny rejoined her family and munched on a sandwich.  When Harry didn’t make an appearance she returned to Gryffindor tower to shower and change her robes.  When he didn’t show up there, she returned to the Great Hall.  Harry told her father he was going for food.  He couldn’t still be eating…that had been hours ago.  He said he’d never leave her—he promised.  So where was he?  She had a weird, nagging feeling she couldn’t quite place; the feeling made her more and more uncomfortable as time went by.  Just as she was about to hunt him down, Ron lumbered into the Hall.

“Mum, I just ran into Nick in the corridor.  He said he saw Harry go into McGonagall’s office.”

Relieved to know Harry’s location, her mum returned to her conversation with Percy about memorial arrangements for Fred.  She watched Ron grab a handful of biscuits, whisper conspiratorially in Hermione’s ear and then turn and leave.  Hermione glanced around to see if she was being watched.  When she was satisfied she was not, she casually followed Ron out of the room.

Ginny knew one thing about her brother’s stomach.  He didn’t normally eat while he was snogging.  Considering Harry’s long absence, Ginny didn’t need an abacus to put two and one together to figure out the trio was up to something.  She could play this game.  “Mum, I’m just going to go for a stroll to stretch my legs.  I won’t be gone long, okay?”

Her mother waved her off, reminding her to button her robes against a chill.

Ginny made it into the Entrance Hall just in time to see Ron and Hermione stepping into the first floor corridor.  She dashed up the staircase, praying the stairs wouldn’t suddenly decide to move.  She peered around the landing and into the corridor to see Hermione’s robes swishing around the corner.  She tip-toed down the hall, stopping every few feet to listen for noises—she didn’t want to make a fool out of herself if they did escape to be alone.  Sure enough, she heard a door open then close and Ron’s traitorous “Biscuit, mate?”

As quietly as she could, she sidled up to the door.  She could just make out bits and pieces of the conversation.  Where were Extendable Ears when she needed them?

“Hermione, I need you to promise me you won’t tell her.”

Harry mumbling, Hermione gasping and Ron coughing.  “Bloody, hell!  I think that old bird’s been stunned one too many times!”

“What about the non-students?  What about people like Lupin and Tonks?”

“I just got the feeling her primary concern was the welfare of the students.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I think I’m going to do it.  McGonagall’s plan is pretty straight-forward.  I can do this.”

Ginny sensed the conversation was about to end and started to move away from the door.  She didn’t want Harry to catch her spying.  Then she heard him pleading with Hermione and moved back.

“No!  Hermione we can’t tell her!  I’ve put her through too much already.  I think it’s better if I just do it and get back.”

Ginny dove behind a suit of armor’s empty pedestal when she heard, “Sod off, Weasley.” She felt the air move as Harry hurried by.  Stunned, she didn’t know what to think.  They were planning something again and most definitely were not including her.  Harry was adamant.  Why?  A year’s worth of bottled-up anger hit her with full force.  The stupid prat had another thing coming if he thought he was leaving her behind—those days were over.

Fuming, she poked her head out from behind the pedestal.  She heard obvious sounds coming from Ron and Hermione activities in the classroom and made chase after Harry.  Peeking into the stairwell, she watched Harry glide down the stairs.  He searched the crowd.  Undetected, he rushed out the front door.

“Conniving git was looking for me, was he?” Ginny muttered, boiling.  She pulled her wand from her pocket and itched to hex someone.  Trying to remain calm, she darted down the stairs.  Not caring whether Harry saw her behind him, she exploded through the front doors to see his robes fluttering down the lawn toward Dumbledore’s tomb.