Author's Notes: Hello! Sorry about the wait, all. Some things can't be helped :( But it's here now, enjoy!

Oh and thanks to my beta, goingbacktosquareone for betaing this from her sickbed! *hugs*

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The excessively frigid weather persisted well into the New Year and Harry took to layering himself in several of his Weasley jumpers, multiple pairs of socks, his cloak and gloves inside the castle. Ginny complained more than once that it took an adverse amount of time to get him out of the extra layers but he always made it up to her once she’d managed it. Ginny frequently grimaced as Hermes limped, half frozen, into the Great Hall during breakfast and made his way to the Ravenclaw table. Audrey never failed to bestow the greatest of affection on Percy’s owl as she divested him of roll after roll of parchment tied with a vast array of brightly coloured ribbons which soon afterwards adorned her hair. Despite the conditions outside the castle, Ginny continued to practice her Quidditch skills. Harry spent more time than he ever had before on the pitch, trying to Keep against her increasing skill.

“Why don’t you get Ron to help tomorrow,” Harry wheezed one Friday afternoon as he clutched at his stomach, bent nearly double as he caught his breath after the Quaffle had collided with his stomach with nearly as much force as a Bludger.

“You wimp, Potter,” Ginny called as she circled above him in the air. “What’s a measly little Quaffle to the guts?”

“Sadist,” Harry muttered as he rose back to the goal hoops. Ginny flew over to him and drew level.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. Harry reached out one gloved hand and clumsily caressed her cheek before kissing her briefly on the nose.

“Light’s fading,” he said. “Reckon we’ve got about ten more minutes.” Ginny smiled at him and raced off with the Quaffle to aim at the hoops again.

When they arrived back at the castle in time for tea they were nearly frozen solid and Harry shuffled up the steps slowly, hampered by the wind that began to howl around them. Together they leaned heavily on the oak entrance doors and slipped through. Harry groaned in gratitude as the barest hint of warmth reached them from the torches that burned brightly, lighting up the entrance hall.

“I am never going to be warm again,” Harry moaned. “You’re torturing me out there.”

“Oh, I think I know a way to warm you up,” Ginny smiled, winding her arms around his neck. Harry lowered his lips to hers, suddenly feeling very warm, and kissed her slowly. The layers of clothing they both still wore were maddening and Harry fumbled to pull his gloves off so that he could touch Ginny’s skin. He’d pulled his left hand out and was softly caressing Ginny’s face when the sound of someone clearing his throat caught his attention and he pulled away from Ginny’s lips reluctantly.

“Mr Potter,” Professor Fiesche said coldly. “I trust you are not about to start rutting in the entrance?” Ginny’s face coloured spectacularly and Harry gaped at the Defence Professor.

“No,” Harry choked out. Professor Fiesche pierced him with a look that reminded Harry intensely of Snape and he wondered wildly if the two men were related.

“I would not make a spectacle of myself if I was you,” the professor said. “You don’t know to what … complications it may lead.” With an almighty swish of his plush velvet robes Professor Fiesche turned and swept into the Great Hall, his cat wobbling dangerously on his head.

“He doesn’t know that you’ve already made a spectacle of yourself in front of the scariest group of men alive and survived,” drawled a familiar voice from the bottom of the staircase.

“Ron!” Ginny said in surprise. Ron strolled out from the shadows and grinned.

“The one and only!” he said. “Potter, you are so lucky-”

“Save it,” Harry said shortly glaring after the professor. “What is that guy’s problem? Seriously.”

“I don’t know,” Ginny said pensively. “It is a bit strange. Remember when Thistlewaite caught us that day on the fifth floor? You had your hand up my shirt and he just raised an eyebrow.”

“Oi, he sounds all right then,” Ron said. “Not that I entirely condone your hand up her shirt.”

“Fiesche is just being mean, as usual,” Harry said.

“I still reckon he’s a Death Eater,” Ron grumbled. Harry sighed heavily.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked him pointedly.

“Oh, that’s nice-”

“It’s Friday, not Saturday.” Harry raised an eyebrow.

“Have to watch the shop tomorrow,” Ron said with a sigh. “McGonagall said I could come by this evening.”

“Where’s George?” Ginny asked as the three of them made their way into the Great Hall.

“Honeymoon,” Ron said shortly. Ginny nodded briefly before slipping into the seat next to Hermione who was reading a book and had not looked up at all.

Ron slipped his arms around Hermione as he slid into the chair on the other side of her and she squeaked in surprise before laughing and kissing Ron on the nose. More than once during the meal Harry felt someone’s eyes on him and looked up to the head table to find Professor Fiesche staring at him. He shrugged it off, instead entering a good natured debate with Ron and Seamus about the Chudley Canons chances. He didn’t think further about the strange Defence professor until he, Ron, Hermione and Ginny made their way back to the common room after tea.

“If looks could kill, Harry,” Ron said, on the third floor landing, “you’d be dead. I’m telling you, Fiesche was looking at you as if he wants to get rid of you.”

“You’re exaggerating, Ron,” Harry sighed. “He’s just a bloke and he’s harmless.”

“When have I ever led you astray?” Ron asked indignantly and both Harry and Hermione snorted.

“Harry’s instincts are usually pretty spot on,” Ginny said quietly.

“Yeah ...” Ron allowed, inclining his head slightly.

“Look, he’s just a grumpy old basket case,” Harry said as they caught up to Neville and Luna who were lingering near a tapestry depicting several knights.

“Who’s grumpy?” Neville asked absently, staring at the tapestry.

“Fiesche,” Harry replied, gazing at the tapestry in front of Neville. The six of them were silent for a moment.

“So, what’re we looking at here, Nev?” Ron asked briskly.

“King Arthur’s Knights, I reckon,” Neville said thoughtfully.

“I don’t think he meant what picture is on the tapestry,” Hermione said tentatively. “Why … why are you standing here?”

“There’s something behind it,” Neville said quietly. “I’m just too scared to look.”

“How do you know something’s behind it if you haven’t looked?” Ron asked.

“I just do,” Neville said, shrugging.

“Is it … something good?” Ginny asked.

“Something … good is here,” Neville replied. “I think … I think the castle told me.” Ron didn’t hide his disbelief and Harry and Hermione exchanged a look that clearly indicated they thought Neville was barking mad.

“Told you?” Harry asked. “Um, the castle doesn’t speak, mate.”

“Was it like last time?” Luna asked. “Is this like … before?”

“Before?” Hermione queried. She, Ron and Harry stared at Neville; Luna and Ginny were examining the edges of the tapestry.

“Remember how the Room of Requirement will open up and let you out anywhere in the castle, but you can only ever get in on the seventh floor?” Neville asked. Harry nodded. “Well, about this time last year, before we shut ourselves in I was … sort of …”

“The Carrows were chasing him,” Ginny interrupted. “He’d refused to participate in class and for detention they made him run while they chased. I guess they were tired of Crucio.” Ginny’s voice was hard and bitter. Hermione shuddered visibly.

“I, um … it was on the fifth floor,” Neville said. “I heard the castle sort of beckoning to me to go behind this wall hanging. I thought I was going barmy at first; but then, I realised they had me cornered so I figured it couldn’t hurt to check it out. I ducked behind it and practically fell into the Room of Requirement. It didn’t happen very often, but … a couple of times it saved me.” Neville stated blithely, shrugging as if he were commenting on the weather or the state of the roads.

“You realise how nutters that sounds,” Ron said slowly. Hermione gasped. “But I’ve heard barmier stuff from Harry, mate.” Harry glowered at Ron while Neville laughed.

“You think it’s the Room of Requirement?” Hermione asked. “We couldn’t get it open before.”

“Dunno,” Neville shrugged. “I still think I’m a bit nutters for thinking I heard something.”

Ron and Neville eyed the tapestry warily for several minutes while Harry nervously shuffled his feet and Hermione paced back and forth. Ginny huffed impatiently before grasping the tapestry and pulling it aside.

“It’s a wonder you lot ever did anything,” she said as she gazed at the smooth blank wall behind it.

“Well … that was anti-climactic,” Hermione muttered. “There’s nothing there.”

“Wait,” Harry said, stretching out a hand and pressing it to the wall. His hand vanished and Hermione gasped. Ginny quickly slapped her hand next to the place where Harry’s wrist disappeared into the stone and she shook her head.

“D’you think it’s the Gryffindor room?” Neville asked in a low voice.

“Why would it be here?” Hermione asked, frowning. Harry shrugged as he took a deep breath and pressed his face through the stone.

On the other side he saw the same room he’d seen every other time he’d been there. Something was different, he realised. He was looking out from a different wall and opposite him was the portrait of Glenda Gryffindor.

And she was awake.

“Pray, young man, what are you doing? And where is thy body?” The portrait was looking at him, a haughty expression on her plump features.

“Um … well it’s kinda on the other side of the wall,” Harry said.

“Speaketh not in riddles!” proclaimed the portrait. “Hast thou been beheaded?”

“Erm, no,” Harry answered. “I’m still attached.” He pulled the rest of his body through the wall before the portrait could say anything further about his head. She looked him up and down as he stood near the edge of the large room.

“You are … a student?” the portrait of Glenda asked. Harry nodded mutely. “How old art thou?”

“I’m — I’m eighteen,” Harry said.

“Thou art too old to be a student,” Glenda said officiously. “Hast thee not a wife?”

“Not yet,” Harry said, blushing slightly. “Not to be rude, um, or anything but … I’ve not seen you awake before.”

“You hath been here before?”

“Loads of times,” Harry answered.

“This room is sealed,” Glenda said, glaring suspiciously. “Art thou a knave of Gryffindor?”

“Erm, dunno,” Harry said, wondering what on earth a knave of Gryffindor was. “I’m in Gryffindor House though.”

“Hast thou done a great deed of worth in service of our esteemed ancestor, Godric Gryffindor?”

“Well … I guess, but I don’t think he’s my ancestor exactly,” Harry said.

“Pray, what is thy name?” Glenda asked him. Her portrait appeared to lean forward as though peering at him.

“It’s Harry,” he answered her.

“I do not know thee,” Glenda said and settled back into her frame as if readying herself for sleep.

“Wait!” Harry called desperately. “What is this room?”

“Thee canst enter and yet thee know not the purpose of the chamber?” Glenda raised one painted eyebrow. “This is the room of Godric Gryffindor; placed to give refuge and comfort to those of Gryffindor, for use in times of peril. It was sealed — to open only for those most worthy — after he departed this world. There is a legend that two shall open it again after the peril has vanquished and there is a time of peace.”

“So how do you get worthy?” Harry asked.

“If one is not a descendant, then one must become worthy by deeds of great courage and sacrifice,” Glenda answered. “There has been no one.”

“Well I guess I must have done that,” Harry said, uncomfortable talking to this imperious woman. She sniffed and settled back into her painted chair.

“Thou shouldst remain quiet,” she said, closing her eyes. “We do not like to be disturbed.” And with that she slept again.

Harry stared at her for a moment before he shook his head and pushed it back though the wall. He laughed as Ron jumped.

“Don’t do that, you git,” Ron complained.

“Is it the Gryffindor room, Harry?” Hermione asked impatiently.

“Yeah, Glenda woke up and spoke to me,” Harry said as he pulled the rest of his body through the wall.

“Glenda? Who in Merlin’s name is Glenda?” Ron asked.

“The portrait,” Harry answered.

“Oh, what did she say?” Hermione asked quickly.

“Stuff about the room being sealed to people,” said Harry. He thought for a moment. “It’s for safety in peril or something. If you’re a Gryffindor in trouble it’s like … a sanctuary.”

“Well, we could have used it before now,” Ron huffed, disgusted.

“It was sealed,” Harry said thoughtfully, “to everyone but the most worthy Gryffindors.”

“Well, Merlin’s beard, what do you have to do to get worthy?’ Ron exclaimed.

“Sacrifice,” Harry said quietly as he turned away from the tapestry swiftly. He hurried away from the place, heading to the Gryffindor common room, not caring if the rest of them followed or not.

Harry made short work of the rest of the staircase, employing a few well used shortcuts. In only a few moments he wandered slowly along the seventh floor corridor, his hands in his pockets, thinking over what the portrait had said. He stood idly in front of the place where the Room of Requirement usually appeared when suddenly a house-elf appeared in front of him.

“Mr Harry Potter, sir,” the elf said deferentially, bowing so low the tip of his nose scraped the floor and his massive ears flopped forward, covering his eyes. “Dobby said you were a great and noble hero but I never thought I would see you in the flesh.”

Harry just stared at the little elf. He was dressed in a clean tea towel, the Hogwarts emblem embroidered on one corner. A small velvet bag was clutched in his hand and the elf remained with his nose on the floor, bent almost double.

“Erm … what can I do for you?” Harry asked eventually.

“Madam Pomfrey summoned me,” the house-elf said. “She wanted me to give you this.” The elf held the little velvet bag aloft. Harry relieved the elf of his burden and opened the bag, curiously tipping the glittering contents into his palm.

It was the pendant he picked up the first time he had ventured into the Gryffindor room. The rubies embedded in the golden metalwork glittered in the nearby torchlight. Harry started as the elf gasped.

“This has not been seen in many generations,” the house-elf said reverently.

“What is it?” Harry asked.

“It is the amulet,” said the elf, “the amulet of courage. Some call it the amulet of fortune but none who possessed it ever found great fortune. There were some wizards who thought it cursed.”

“How do you know all this?” Harry asked, turning the amulet over in his hands.

“My ancestors once served the noble House of Gryffindor,” explained the house-elf. “When the last of the family, Glenda Gryffindor, vanished; my father elves had nowhere to go. The headmaster took them in for having no master is a grievous situation, indeed. I have heard stories of the amulet and the noble family whom once we served. When Glenda disappeared so did the amulet. It fell away from even legend in the end.”

“I’ve never even heard of her … or it,” Harry said.

“It is not written in many books,” the house-elf said gravely. “You will have to search.” He eyed the amulet one last time before he winked out of existence and Harry was alone again. He carefully slipped the amulet into its little velvet bag and slowly made his way back to Gryffindor Tower.

He’d been thinking how he was never quite aware of when something would make him remember the past so violently. It frustrated him that a few words from a portrait could unsettle him so much. Harry also wondered how long his friends would last before they tired of his frequent leave-taking. He sighed heavily, wishing he hadn’t felt quite so alone and strange at his own admission of what he had done last May. February was fast approaching and the first anniversary of the battle would be on him before he knew it. Harry felt like he was still running from the truth. ‘You died’, a traitorous voice inside him whispered. ’You’re not dead’, an answering voice replied.

“It doesn’t matter,” Harry muttered aloud as he approached the Fat Lady. “I’m still just me.”

“Well of course you are,” the Fat Lady scolded. “Who else would you be; password?”

“Carpe diem,” Harry said listlessly, wondering how he was going to explain his appalling lack of manners to his friends, and in particular, to Ginny.

Harry found them seated by the fire, playing a raucous game of Exploding Snap. Neville shook his head ruefully as he deftly patted at his flaming eyebrows while Ron laughed and Ginny rolled about on the hearthrug, giggling.

“Honestly,” Hermione said in a long-suffering tone, “anyone would think you lot were still first years.”

“Nothing wrong with ickle firsties,” Ron declared loudly.

“Too right!” called Gilbert cheerfully from one of the couches. That Ron had been the one to bring home his father had not gone unnoticed by Gilbert Chumley. He’d taken a great shine to Ron since the Christmas holidays, bestowing on him a kind of hero-worship that Ron found easy to bask in.

“Come play with me,” Ron called, patting the floor next to him. “Neville’s got to go regrow his eyebrows and I need a worthy opponent!” Gilbert scrambled from his chair hastily, spilling a box of chocolate frogs, the packages scattering across the floor haphazardly.

“A whole box?” Ginny raised an eyebrow as she helped collect the chocolate frogs up and return them to the box.

“Yeah,” Gilbert replied sheepishly. “Hamish brought them back from Switzerland — from that factory — and he reckons there are new cards in there. Brand new ones no one has ever seen. We’ve all been looking for them but so far we’ve just got about another billion of Dumbledore and that guy who invented doxycide.”

“Found any Agrippa?” Ron asked idly as he shuffled the Exploding Snap cards. “I still haven’t got one of those.” Gilbert shook his head.

“I’ve been sitting here trying to see if I can figure out which of these ones has a new card in it.”

“Who’s on these new cards?” Ginny asked as she tipped a handful of the gathered frogs into the box. Gilbert shrugged.

“I heard they were going to put Fudge on them,” Ron snorted.

“No,” Ginny said, looking faintly horrified.

“I heard it was Quidditch players,” Neville said, his eyes cast upwards to his still smoking eyebrows.

“Like who?” Ron scoffed. Neville shrugged, flicking one last chocolate frog package into Gilbert’s box.

“So, which one are you going to try — for a new card?” Hermione asked kindly.

“Gerald laughed when I asked him if anything in his Divination text book would help,” Gilbert said staring at the box. He missed the way Hermione rolled her eyes and Ron sniggered. “He wasn’t very helpful.”

The group quietened as they all stared at Gilbert’s box of chocolate frogs. Harry cleared his throat hesitantly and took a few steps forward. Ron looked up, his brows drawn together in confusion for a moment before he smiled.

“Exploding Snap, Harry?” he asked genially and Harry shrugged rather uncomfortably. He’d been expecting censure and was unnerved at Ron’s response.

“He keeps winning,” Ginny added without rancour. “Maybe we could team up against him?”

“All right then,” Ron said, “me and Gilbert against you two.”

“Count me in,” Hermione said suddenly, laying aside her book. Harry slipped quietly into a seat, surprised that he’d not been scolded. Hermione, clearly deciding that she would attempt to help Neville regain some of his reputation in the Exploding Snap arena, quickly seated herself next to him, regrown his eyebrows with a single flick of her wand and began to deal the cards, tossing out a complicated set of rules as she went.

“Let’s just play the game,” Ron whined petulantly. “Losers have to … eat as many chocolate frogs as it takes to find Gilbert here a new card.”

“That’s hardly a torture,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes.

“You could make yourself sick,” Ron argued loftily. Hermione shook her head wearily.

“Let’s just play,” Ron said with finality. “We can work out the loser’s bargain later.”

“Are you all right?” Ginny leaned close and whispered to Harry under cover of the flurry of activity that starting the game caused.

“Yeah, sorry-”

“It’s okay,” Ginny said hastily and threw down a card. She laid a soft hand on his thigh and squeezed it reassuringly. Harry leaned into her touch and gave himself up to enjoying the game.

When Neville and Hermione won Harry watched with amusement as Ron scowled, his blackened face staring stonily at the charred pile of cards.

“And what will you bestow on us, the victors?” Hermione asked loftily, dusting her hands and folding them primly in her lap.

“I think he should feed you a frog,” Neville said laughing as Hermione blushed. “Not a single bite for himself, and I get to keep the card.”

“But it might be Agrippa,” Ron whined as Gilbert grinned and held out the box.

“It might,” Neville allowed as he plunged his hand into the box and pulled out a chocolate frog.

“How come they don’t have to suffer?” Ron asked grumpily, indicating Harry and Ginny who watched, amused.

“Oh, I will think of something,” Neville smirked. Ron snatched the chocolate frog package from Neville’s hands and grumbled as he tore it open and flipped the card at Neville without looking at it before he unceremoniously held the frog up to Hermione’s lips.

The frog squirmed and Ron glared at it and Hermione but everyone was startled at the oath that fell from Neville’s lips, Ron let go of the frog and it hopped away. Gilbert sprang after it, knocking the box of chocolate frogs flying. He bumped into Hermione’s knees, knelt heavily on Ron’s foot and then fell face first into the pile of ashes left by their game before he rolled over holding the frog aloft triumphantly. Gilbert stared up at the seventh years but none of them paid him any mind as they stared at the card held in Neville’s trembling hand.

“Is that …” Hermione trailed off as she gasped. Neville nodded slowly.

“No way,” breathed Ginny reverently. Harry squinted and then nodded as if unable to believe it.

Ron made a sort of strangled choking sound.

“Who’d ya get?” Gilbert asked enthusiastically, biting the head of the frog and chewing loudly. He scrambled upright and plucked the card from Neville’s limp grasp and turned it over, inspecting it.

“Ronald Bilius Weasley … defeated troll … chess player … enjoys Quidditch … role in defeat of You-Know-Who …” Gilbert mused.

“Honestly,” Harry rolled his eyes. “Vol. De. Mort.” Ginny giggled breathlessly.

“This is you!” Gilbert exclaimed looking at Ron with unbridled delight. “This is one of the new cards! And it’s you!”

“This is my finest hour,” Ron said, gazing at the card as his miniature winked.

“D’you suppose …” Neville trailed off looking at the box as if it would explode.

“It must have more new ones in there,” Gilbert said excitedly. “Who do you suppose they are?” He began digging through the box, squinting at the packages as if to see if he could tell which ones held cards of import.

Harry squirmed uncomfortably as he felt four pairs of eyes on him.

“No …” he said half-heartedly, knowing what he protested was probably true.

Before long Gilbert had enlisted the help of his friends, who endeavoured to eat with great gusto, two of the first year girls, Seamus, Dean and a scattering of third and fourth years. The students exposed every single chocolate frog card in the box but there were no further new cards to be found. Ron, gifted the first card by Neville, to whom it technically belonged, sat in the midst of it all staring at himself in miniature while the first years traded the other cards back and forth.

“There has got to be one of Harry,” Dean said, twisting his head to look at the card Ron held.

“As soon as we find one, we’ll make sure you get it, Harry,” called one of the fourth years as they gathered up the discarded packages under Hermione’s watchful gaze.

“Um, no, that’s okay,” Harry said. “I can manage …”

“I’ll have it,” Ginny called cheekily and buried her laughing face in Harry shoulder as he grimaced.

“I’m on a chocolate frog card!” Ron suddenly shouted. “This is brilliant!” Hermione laughed as he caught her up in a hug and planted a kiss on her cheek.

The rest of Gryffindor Tower gradually went to bed but Harry migrated to his favourite armchair and curled up in it with Ginny, his intention to remain in the common room evident. He did not miss the look Ron and Hermione shared as Dean and Seamus bid them good night leaving Neville shifting uneasily by the fireplace as he watched Ron attempt to convince Hermione that kissing her on the neck in public wasn’t at all improper.

“I don’t want to see it, Ron,” Ginny said, stifling a yawn. Ron sighed dramatically.

“Neither do I, but you and Harry do it anyway.”

“I saw a house-elf,” Harry blurted suddenly.

“They’re not exactly scarce,” Ron said from the seat he had finally pulled Hermione into. Harry shook his head impatiently and pulled the little velvet bag from his pocket.

“He gave me this,” Harry said, tipping the amulet out onto his palm. He briefly told them what the house-elf had said about the piece of jewellery.

“Wonder if it’s magical,” Ron mused.

“It’s beautiful,” Ginny murmured.

“You know what this means, don’t you?” Hermione said slowly. “House-elves have familial ties … this could be really important …” Neville stared at Hermione in disbelief.

“Harry’s unearthed a long lost relic of Gryffindor,” Neville said. “It could be magical and who knows what else we don’t know about this Glenda — and you’re worried about the house-elves?”

“Well, I’ll need to research Glenda, of course,” Hermione mused.

“There’s something familiar about this amulet,” Ginny said, reaching out to touch it. “I’m sure I’ve read something about it before, or seen it or something.”

“It is in the portrait,” Harry said, tipping the amulet back into the velvet bag.

“No, somewhere else,” Ginny said as she shook her head. “I wish I could think …”

“Well,” Harry said, kissing the side of her head, “you take it and see what you can figure out.” He pushed the little bag into her hands and nuzzled her neck. Ginny took the velvet bag and fingered it absently before turning to kiss Harry soundly.

Somewhere in the distance Ron groaned but Harry ignored him, content as he was to caress Ginny’s tongue with his own in the half darkness of the common room as soon as Ron and Hermione followed Neville and took their leave.

***************************

Ravenclaw soundly beat Slytherin in their match held near the end of January and Ginny, preparing for Gryffindor to meet Hufflepuff, began to scan the owl post for some sort of correspondence from the Harpies. The week before Valentine’s Day she scowled as she spotted Hermes once again as he flew towards Audrey.

“Hasn’t she tired of Percy by now?” Ginny muttered rebelliously as she savagely attacked her bacon. Audrey removed the scroll from Hermes’s leg and squealed as she read it. Ginny grimaced. Audrey leapt form her seat and hurried to Ginny.

“Here,” Audrey said breathlessly, handing Ginny a scrap of parchment. “Hermes brought this for you. Percy’s asked me to Hogsmeade! For Valentine’s Day!”

“Lovely,” Ginny said flatly, opening the scrap of parchment. Audrey skipped off and Ginny read the parchment quickly. “George is coming for the next game.”

“Is he bringing Angelina?” Hermione asked. Ginny shrugged.

“Are you going to Hogsmeade for Valentine’s?” Neville asked Harry suddenly.

“Erm …” Harry gulped. He forgotten entirely about Valentine’s Day and not made a single plan.

“Ron’s coming,” Hermione said absently. “He said he has a surprise.”

“Stupid Valentine’s Day,” Ginny said, scowling. “We need to practice but poor ickle Dean has to go and take Susan out that day and the stupid Beaters want to take out a couple Ravenclaws.”

“Susan?” Neville asked. “I thought she turned him down?”

“I thought she turned Seamus down,” Harry said.

“Wasn’t she going out with Terry?” Hermione looked up from the newspaper.

“Nah,” Seamus interrupted as he sat down. “She dumped Terry for Blaise and then he turned out to be a bit forward so she said she’d give Dean a chance.”

“You’re making my head hurt,” Harry groaned.

“You taking Luna, Neville?” Seamus asked, reaching for the pumpkin juice.

“We aren’t going out any more,” Neville said quietly. They all stopped eating.

“You’re not?” Hermione asked.

“She said it was time I wooed Hannah,” Neville said with a hint of desperation. “She said Valentine’s Day was the perfect time and she was going to go to Hogsmeade with Sebastian Hornblower!”

“So, have you written to Hannah?” Ginny asked. Neville shook his head glumly.

“You should,” Hermione encouraged. “Invite her to Hogsmeade.” Neville made a horrible choking sound. Further conversation was cut short by the arrival of a magnificent black owl. It swooped in front of Ginny and held a leg out for her to divest it of a large parchment envelope.

“It’s … from the Harpies …” Ginny said as she turned the envelope over, staring at it.

“Are you going to open it?” Harry asked after several minutes of silence. Ginny nodded but made no move to open it. The owl had long since flown away and most of the Great Hall had emptied by the time Ginny actually slipped a finger under the seal on the envelope and pulled out the letter. Her companions were silent as she read the letter. Then Ginny folded it meticulously and slid it back into the envelope before putting the envelope carefully into her book bag.

“What did it say?” Harry burst out, unable to keep silent any longer. Ginny turned to look at him, her eyes wide.

“Gwenog Jones is coming to watch me play,” Ginny said. “The scouts want to give me a trial and she said she’s coming to watch.”

“It’s a letter from Jones ‘erself then?” Seamus asked with a low whistle. Ginny nodded.

“Wow,” Harry said, impressed.

“That’s really good, Ginny,” Hermione said briskly. “Now, we are going to be late for Potions.”

“Do you think Hannah will say yes?” Neville blurted suddenly as they stood up, gathering their things. Ginny patted him gently on the arm and skipped out smiling, Hermione shook her head in resignation, following Ginny, and Harry grinned before following them.

“Well, it’s all right for you!” Neville called after the three of them. “You’ve all found true love!”

“I’m with you brother!” Seamus called out as he scrambled to catch up with them. “No true love here.” Harry turned in time to see Neville shake his head sadly at Seamus and they all laughed as they headed down to the Potions classroom.

**********************

While the majority of fifth through seventh years had procured a date for the Hogsmeade visit the day before Valentine’s Day, it seemed as though the entire third and fourth years were using the opportunity to purchase chocolate frog cards. News of Gilbert’s Ron Weasley card had spread through the castle like wildfire and the race was on to be the first to find a Harry Potter card.

While the Gryffindors insisted that they would gift the card to Harry himself, the Slytherins insinuated that they would sell it for profit and more than one duel in the corridors forbade a number of students from venturing to Hogsmeade at all. Harry complained at length, protesting the idea of being on a chocolate frog card at all. Ginny just rolled her eyes at him and pulled him through the gate and towards Hogsmeade.

Harry and Ginny amused themselves by inspecting the sports supplies at the new Quidditch Supply shop that had opened, finding the most garish quill in Schrivenschaft’s for Percy and sitting outside Madam Puddifoot’s, making up stories about the couples who came and went from that establishment. Harry challenged Ginny to a drinking contest in the Hogs Head and won by a narrow margin as he downed four Butterbeers in quick succession to her three and a half. It was nearly time to leave when they ambled past Honeydukes and Ginny impulsively pulled Harry inside.

“You want to go here?” Harry asked, pulling a face at the numerous students who still milled about inside. Ginny nodded and fought her way to the counter.

“Do you have any chocolate frogs left?” she asked the harried salesgirl.

“Yeah,” the girl replied, “just brought the last box up. I don’t know what it’s about, but they’re selling like Merlin’s wand itself today.”

“I’ll take it,” Ginny said decisively. The salesgirl slapped one chocolate frog down on the counter and held out a hand wearily.

“One Sickle.”

“No, the box,” Ginny said impatiently. The girl shrugged and pushed the box across the counter towards Ginny who gave her a handful of coins.

“You’re mental,” Harry said affectionately as Ginny cradled the box in her arms and they negotiated their way out of the shop.

“You love me for it,” Ginny smirked.

“I do,” Harry agreed as they stepped out into the street.

“Come eat chocolate frogs with me?” Ginny asked, looking up into Harry’s face.

“All right,” Harry agreed, wrapping his arms around his girlfriend. “And then I want to make love to you.” Ginny blushed heavily. Harry never usually spoke so candidly about his desires and he’d surprised even himself when he said it, but he didn’t take it back and just watched her carefully as she swallowed and nodded. Harry bent to kiss her and Apparated them back to the castle gates, suddenly eager to return.

As they lay swaddled in conjured quilts and blankets in front of a substantial fire, Harry let his fingers trail through Ginny’s hair as she unwrapped chocolate frogs and fed them to him slowly. They examined and discarded three Dumbledores, seven Cliodnes and a Merlin before finding anything of excitement in their chocolate frog box.

“Well, this proves it,” Ginny said. “There is definitely one of you.”

“I think they could have chosen a more recent picture,” Harry said critically. Ginny elbowed him in the ribs and Harry laughed before tickling her mercilessly and the chocolate frogs lay forgotten.

Ron glared at Harry and Ginny when they sidled into the Great Hall half way through the evening meal. Harry flattened his hair self consciously but he knew they both looked thoroughly ruffled. Ron grunted as they sat down but Ginny smirked at her brother before producing the chocolate frog card with a flourish.

“A gift for you, brother,” she said formally before dissolving into giggles. Ron took the card slowly and turned it over. His jaw dropped and he turned to Hermione, staring at her in awe. Hermione was entirely unaware of this and continued eating.

“Hermione,” Ron said a hint of laughter in his voice. “Can you please sign this?” Hermione sighed; a long, drawn out sigh.

“I’m not going to sign anything without reading it first, Ron,” she said. “You know I don’t take that sort of thing lightly. Now what is it this time?” Her eyes fell on the card in Ron’s hand and her jaw fell open. Ron laughed and pushed her bottom jaw up. She scowled at him.

“I thought I could put your autograph next to Krum’s …” Ron said idly as Hermione snatched at the card bearing her likeness.

“It’s … that’s me ...” Hermione trailed off in wonder.

“Brilliant, isn’t it?” asked Ron, helping himself to the cake and ice cream that had suddenly appeared on the table.

*******************

The following Saturday was blustery and cold, the strong winds whipped freezing rain across the Quidditch pitch. Harry listened to the wind howl outside the changing rooms as he strapped on his protective gear before the match with Hufflepuff. Ginny had been ready for about three hours and sat silently in the corner, staring into space. George had visited the changing rooms and attempted to draw her into conversation but had eventually given it up as Ginny didn’t respond much at all except to tell him that she thought she might vomit if she caught sight of Gwenog Jones in the stands during the game.

George currently sat in the stands with Ron and Percy, the latter having come to see Audrey. Harry had briefly gone up to see them to find George harassing Hermione for her autograph. He carried her chocolate frog card and kept pretending to swoon at her feet, much to her chagrin. He was only outdone by Percy, who confessed he had three of Ron and had been waiting for a chance to get Ron to sign them for the children of one of his co-workers. Harry had laughed at the gobsmacked expression on Ron’s face and gone down to get ready for the game.

The signal to make their way onto the pitch galvanised Ginny into action and she was suddenly energetic ,as if she had not spent the last three hours mimicking catatonia. Harry shook hands with Digby, the Hufflepuff Captain and Keeper before he rose into the air and the balls were released.

Although his shoulder hadn’t pained him lately, Harry found that holding onto a broomstick high in the air while being buffeting by frigid winds and freezing rain put a strain on it. Harry was torn between finding the Snitch quickly to end his misery and trying to help the Snitch elude capture to prolong the game. Ginny was flying brilliantly in the adverse weather conditions and the Hufflepuff Beaters appeared to have developed a case of short-sightedness because they kept belting the Bludgers at their own players more often than the opposition.

After about half an hour the Hufflepuff Captain, blood streaming from his nose after being clocked in the face by his own Beaters, called a time out and Harry flew rapidly to the ground, dismounted stiffly and hurried over to the rest of the team.

“Their Beaters are woeful,” Peakes said. “How’d you hit yer own Keeper then?” The Chasers grunted in reply.

“Are you all right, Harry?” Ginny asked with a frown.

“I’m fine,” Harry said. Ginny fixed him with a stare. He relented. “My arm’s a little sore.”

“Find the Snitch then,” Ginny said softly, moving over to rub at his arm.

“But … the Harpies … Gwenog Jones-”

“I don’t want a repeat of last time,” Ginny said worriedly.

“It’s not that bad,” Harry reassured her. “Honestly. I can play. It’s just … really cold.”

“I already have a trial with the Harpies,” Ginny said. “You don’t have to be a noble self-sacrificing git.”

“I just want-”

“Promise me,” Ginny said quietly. She gripped his arm and looked up at him and he nodded.

“I’ll be careful,” Harry said. “I’ll find the Snitch as fast as I can.” He kissed her swiftly as the signal to return to the game sounded and flew back up into the air.

Unfortunately, the Snitch was not co-operative and Harry still hadn’t sighted it an hour later. He sighed in frustration and ran a hand through his wet hair. He could see Kyle starting to wilt in front of the goals and Peakes had sustained a leg injury via the bat of one of the woeful Hufflepuff Beaters. One of the Gryffindor Chasers was also looking rather weary and Harry willed the Snitch to appear.

On and on the game went for another thirty minutes before Harry saw any hint of the Snitch. His stomach growled unmercifully and Digby missed another of Ginny’s shots which went sailing through the middle hoop. Gryffindor roused itself in a half-hearted cheer before huddling back into their cloaks and scarves. Hufflepuff were twenty points up and Harry wanted to catch the Snitch and get back inside. As he hauled his broomstick around to chase after the tiny glint of gold Harry contemplated that not wanting to fly was something new for him. He put it down to the fact it was beginning to snow and his arm burned like blazes.

Harry ignored the gasps and shrieks of the crowd as he slipped between two Hufflepuff players, narrowly missing a collision and began hurtling towards the ground in pursuit of the Snitch. The weary crowd were roused at the sight of the action and he could hear them faintly above the roaring wind that seemed to pick up as he accelerated and pulled his broomstick up to skim the top of the pitch.

It was slightly anti-climactic when Harry’s fist closed over the Snitch and the Hufflepuff Seeker was still ten yards behind him. He could hear the crowd cheering and scrambling out of the stands simultaneously. Wearily, Harry began trudging towards the changing rooms. Ginny swooped down in front of him and hopped off her broom. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly.

“Madam Hooch says they want to see me!” Ginny exclaimed. “I’m going now, they don’t have a lot of time so I’ll shower when I’ve finished. I’ll see you back at the common room?”

“Absolutely,” Harry said, smiling. “We’ll celebrate.”

“Oh, Mr Potter, I wonder if your idea of celebration is the same as mine?” Ginny asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, I’m sure it is,” Harry said, waving to Ron and George, who were loitering at the door to the change rooms. “I suspect your brothers have a different idea though.”

“You may be right,” Ginny said as she kissed him again. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you later!”

“Okay!” Harry called as she hurried off.

Ron and George greeted Harry enthusiastically, although they questioned his ability to see given the length of time it took to find the Snitch.

“It wasn’t there to see,” Harry protested as he struggled out of his protective gear. “There’s nothing wrong with my eyesight — beyond the usual.” Harry’s shoulder ached abominably and Ron eyed him closely.

“Have you wrecked that arm again?”

“I’m fine,” Harry said irritably, “and my shoulder’s okay, it’s not a crime for it to hurt. I did get a dirty, great chunk of it bitten off!”

“Keep your hair on,” muttered Ron. “Thought we could go celebrate the win. Where’s Ginny?”

“Meeting with the Harpies,” Harry grunted as he tugged his boots off and threw them into his locker. “I’m going to shower. I feel like rubbish.”

“We’ll see you back at the common room then,” George said. “McGonagall said we could stay for a bit.” Harry nodded and pulled off his sodden Quidditch robes, dropping them in a nearby hamper on his way to the shower stalls. He waved a hand in goodbye and stepped into a steaming hot shower.

When Harry met up with Ron and George again it was to find them surrounded by Gryffindors in front of the fire in the common room. George was regaling the first years with a tall tale of his days at Hogwarts and Ron was nursing a Butterbeer and trying to coax Hermione to put down her book and join him in his overstuffed chair.

“Where’s Percy?” Harry asked, perching himself on the arm of Ron’s chair and reaching for a Butterbeer.

“Dunno,” Ron shrugged, “taking a turn around the castle with Audrey probably.”

“How serious do you think they are?” Hermione asked, swiping Ron’s Butterbeer and taking a generous swig.

“He said he’s courting her,” Ron said with evident distaste and he shoved a pumpkin pasty in his mouth unceremoniously.

Harry, who had missed lunch by virtue of an extra long shower, selected a large variety of the treats on offer and settled down to listen to George tell the story of his exodus from Hogwarts.

“Did you really just fly out?” Gilbert asked, his eyes wide.

“It was brilliant,” said Seamus, throwing peanuts in the air and catching them in his mouth.

The afternoon waned and the stories grew scarce. Harry grew pleasantly warm from the Butterbeer and the glowing fire. He, Ron and Hermione spent a pleasant afternoon in each other’s company and it wasn’t until George plopped himself down in their midst to announce he was leaving that Harry realised Ginny had not yet returned.

“I wanted to say g’bye to ickle Ginnikins,” George said. “Where is she?”

“Haven’t seen her,” Ron declared, raising his drink as if in salute.

“She went to talk to the Harpies,” Harry said. He looked at his watch. “That was ages ago. I thought she’d be back by now.”

“I need to get back to help Angelina close up,” George said as he rose to his feet. “Tell Ginny she played a great game.”

“Here, let me come with you,” Harry said as he heaved himself to his feet. “I want to see if I can find Ginny.”

The two of them left the Tower and negotiated several sets of stairs in silence before Harry ventured to ask George how he was doing.

“I’m good, Harry,” George said sincerely. “Angie … the baby … they remind me I’m still alive. I don’t know how to explain it.” He shrugged sheepishly.

“I think I know what you mean,” Harry said with a smile. At that moment two huge men appeared as if out of nowhere. George yelped with a startled oath and Harry drew his wand.

“What the-” Harry broke off and ducked as a jet of orange light came whizzing past his ear. He heard the screams of students on the staircases below as George grabbed his arm and hauled him back up the flight of stairs they had just come down.

“Damn, good Disillusionment,” George spat as he cast Protego to shield them both from the onslaught of spells now emanating from the two burly men.

“Well, well, well, what have we here?” one of the men leered. He had a thick accent that Harry could not identify with certainty, but sounded European. The man continued as he lumbered towards them, “looks like Harry Potter himself. How fortunate it is that our quarry does not elude us any longer.” As they advanced George put himself between Harry and the men, holding the shield steady.

The men advanced steadily as George and Harry scrambled backwards. Harry threw a number of spells at them around the shield but all were wide of the mark.

“How’d you get in here?” George demanded.

“Not hard to get in on a Quidditch weekend, sonny,” replied the heavier man. At that moment the staircase on which the four of them travelled lurched and began to swing.

“Maybe we won’t have to … entice him with that wee red head,” remarked his companion with a lascivious sneer.

“What have you done with Ginny?” Harry cried, his blood pounded in his ears and he felt a white hot fury rip through him. He tried to lunge at them but George held him back.

“Jump, Harry,” George said out the corner of his mouth. “Get away from them.”

“Are you mad?” Harry whispered back urgently.

George glanced behind him and suddenly pushed Harry off the edge of the steps. The staircase hadn’t quite finished moving and Harry fell off the top of the steps, just managing to catch the edge of the landing. Harry swore and tried to scramble up onto the landing, hampered by a hex that caught his left elbow. Harry bit back an oath as he felt his skin slice open and heaved himself onto the landing and threw his body behind an ornamental urn on a huge stone plinth to escape the hexes being thrown his way with increasing regularity.

George was holding his shield in place and backing away, but he couldn’t throw any offensive spells. From his position behind the plinth Harry wrapped the sleeve of his robes tightly around his arm and then tried to aim several stunners at the burly men. He wasn’t used to hiding behind something and his spells flew wide. Harry started to step out when suddenly the plinth, hit by a hex from the larger of the two men, shattered and came crashing down on top of him. Harry cried out and tried to raise his arms over his head but only found himself trapped, his injured left arm pinned under a mountain of rubble.

Through the ringing in his ears and despite a glancing blow to his head from some of the rubble Harry could hear running footsteps and the sounds of more spell fire echoing through the Grand Staircase. Children were still screaming and there was a distinct bellow that Harry recognised but could not place.

“You bastards!” George yelled fiercely and, abandoning his shield, he threw several vicious hexes at the men, stunning them and drawing blood. For good measure while they were confused, George aimed a kick at the nearest one and he fell down the staircase and into his companion, collecting him on the way down. Harry struggled to get free as George raced towards him.

“What if they get up?” Harry called desperately, tugging at his arm.

“Neville’s down there,” George answered shortly. He dropped to his knees and began frantically pulling the stonework away from Harry. “Are you all right?” George switched to levitating the heavier bricks.

“I’m feeling a bit … odd,” Harry said eventually. He closed his eyes wanting to sleep but knowing there was something he needed to do.

“Harry!”

He could hear George calling him and struggled to stay awake.

“Ginny,” Harry cried just as George levitated a particularly huge stone off his fingers. The release of pressure caused him to groan aloud and the pain brought him back to full consciousness.

“I know mate, just hang on,” George said.

By the time Harry was freed from the wreckage of the plinth, a crowd had gathered at the base of the staircase and Harry sat up. He felt lightheaded and pain throbbed through his arm, making it hard to think. He was not at all impressed to be confronted by Professor Fiesche.

“Potter, what on earth happened?”

Harry was confused; the professor looked … concerned.

“They’ve got Ginny,” was all Harry said, trying to get to his feet but his left arm buckled under him and he winced as he felt hot, sticky blood on his fingers. White spots danced before his eyes and everything seemed suddenly altogether too bright and too loud.

“We have to find my sister,” George said urgently. “She never came back from Quidditch!”

“Call the Aurors!” demanded a new voice and Professor McGonagall swept around the corner. “All of you, back to your common rooms. You can do nothing here.” Harry tried again to get up, using his right arm to clutch at George desperately.

“We have to find her!” he said, finally hauling himself to his feet with George’s assistance.

“Don’t worry, we will,” George said grimly.

“Oh Merlin,” Harry breathed. “What if they’ve hurt her?”

“You, Weasley is it?” Fiesche barked. “Come with me! Potter, you look like death, go to the hospital wing!”

“No, I’m fine,” Harry spat. “They’ve got Ginny! I’m going to find her.”

“You’re going to bleed to death on the flagstones is what you’re going to do,” Fiesche retorted. “Go to the hospital wing. Don’t come back until you’re fixed up.”

Harry felt like a beast was clawing desperately at his insides. He felt like he was suffocating or drowning or both. Professor McGonagall began to guide him in the direction of the hospital wing and Harry’s feet began to co-operate with her. The whole time inside he was screaming a long, endless scream that no one else could hear.

“Ginny.” Harry pleaded with the Headmistress.

“You can do nothing if you are unconscious, Harry,” Professor McGonagall said softly. “Get patched up and then you can go. I will spare nothing to find her. Kingsley is on his way.”

He felt so fragile; his body screaming in pain and Harry complied in a daze, shuffling off to the hospital wing while George bellowed obscenities at the men who lay unconscious at the foot of the staircase. When he entered the hospital wing Harry simply sat on one of the beds and let Madam Pomfrey check his arm. Harry didn’t even care when the silent tears began to slip down his cheeks. Upon seeing them, Madam Pomfrey very nearly gave him something to knock him out, but Harry refused steadfastly to drink anything she offered him. Harry sat passively while Madam Pomfrey carefully mended the lacerated skin on his left arm, just waiting for the moment when they would let him leave and go and find Ginny. His impatience was barely contained.

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione’s soft voice finally pierced Harry’s misery and he turned to look at her.

“Where’s Ron?” Harry asked dully.

“Looking for Ginny,” Hermione answered. Madam Pomfrey wound a bandage around his newly repaired left arm.

“I can’t … she has to be all right, Hermione,” Harry said.

“She will be, we’ll find her,” Hermione reassured him. Madam Pomfrey held out another beaker to Harry and he shook his head impatiently. His head began to swim horribly.

“Mr Potter,” the Matron said gently, “this is merely blood replenishing potion. As soon as you drink it you may go.” Harry grabbed the beaker and gulped it down quickly before hopping off the bed.

“Kingsley sent me to take you to the Forest …” Hermione trailed off as Harry strode towards the doors of the hospital wing.

“This is not supposed to happen,” Harry said angrily, throwing the doors open. “When I find out who is responsible for this, they‘ll rot in Azkaban if I don’t kill them first!”

“Harry!” Hermione gasped as she hurried after him. “Calm down-”

“Calm down?” Harry turned to her, incredulous. “Ginny is missing. No one has seen her for ages and you want me to calm down? Are you out of your mind?”

“Mate, don’t take it out on Hermione,” Ron’s voice was gruff as he stood in the shadows outside the hospital wing, his arms crossed as he glared at Harry.

“I … I’m sorry,” Harry said, sparing Hermione a glance. “I just … I want to hit something.”

“Well don’t,” Ron said shortly, pushing past Harry, exposing his bloodied knuckles as he did so. Harry turned and followed him back into the hospital wing.

“What happened?” Harry demanded.

“Limuson,” Ron growled. “Little toerag.”

“You didn’t hit him Ron?” Hermione gasped and covered her mouth with her hands.

“No,” Ron allowed as Madam Pomfrey clucked over his knuckles. “But the little git reckoned he saw Ginny vanish into a wall near the greenhouses. Had a bunch of Aurors climbing all over a spot on the castle where’s there’s no bloody door, they could be actually looking for her!”

“How did you hurt your hand, Mr Weasley?” Madam Pomfrey asked as she dotted dittany on it.

“Punched a wall,” Ron admitted. “I feel so helpless. It feels like … second year.” He and Harry shared a look of mutual understanding before Ron leapt off the bed and sprinted for the doors, Harry on his heels.

Swinging around the door frame the pair of them let the doors swing shut behind them and tore down the corridor, Hermione followed them and Harry could hear both her feet clattering after him and Ron’s pounding in front.

Horrible thoughts ran through Harry’s head. Could Ginny have been taken down into the Chamber again? The entrance had not yet entirely covered and the bathroom was closed but wouldn’t that make it the perfect place to hide a hostage, for Harry was sure now that she was a hostage, meant to lure him. He was not sure who wanted to lure him or why but Harry was unable to block the visions of Ginny lying in the Chamber as the three of them thundered towards the second floor bathroom.