The month of June passed in a blur. After the perfect day he’d spent with Ginny, Harry had barely a moment to himself.
He, along with Ron and Hermione, spent what seemed like a solid week telling the tale of their year on the run to Hogwarts teachers, friends and family.
There was most of a day with Professor McGonagall, who treated Harry like an equal for the first and – he imagined – last time. The next day it was Neville, who was shocked by the true contents of the prophecy, and gratified that he’d killed not just a snake, but part of Voldemort’s soul. After that was Hagrid, whose howls – alternately in sympathy and in rage – shook the walls of his cabin and caused Fang to flee in terror. Finally, there was the remainder of the Weasley family. Harry had dreaded speaking to them most of all; he didn’t have any desire for Mrs. Weasley to hear all the awful details – she had more than enough to cope with as it was. But they deserved to know, and Ron deserved to see the pride in his parents’ eyes.
That was far from the end of it; there was an abridged version of the tale for the rest of the Hogwarts faculty, as well as all the Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs – and the handful of Slytherins who’d fought on the right side in the Battle of Hogwarts. Harry, Ron and Hermione collectively decided that the less people knew about Horcruxes, the better, and Professor McGonagall agreed. It was a horrifying prospect that someone, having heard the story somewhere, might think that Voldemort’s plan of gaining immortality via Horcruxes was worth a try.
By that point, Harry had talked about Voldemort’s end so often that he was thoroughly sick of hearing his own voice and desperate for a free hour to spend with Ginny, but it was not to be.
He accepted Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s invitation to stay at The Burrow, hoping for some peace and quiet, but what he got instead was two weeks of seemingly endless debriefings with Ministry of Magic officials, interspersed with interminable interviews with the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly and several other publications he hadn’t heard of previously.
And as if that weren’t enough, there were requests to speak at memorial services and offers to appear at the re-openings of shops in Diagon Alley and other invitations of a hundred different sorts.
Harry felt obliged to go to the memorials; the people who’d lost their lives in the war deserved that. He had no interest in the rest; there was one re-opening that he would attend, though, when (he hoped “when” and not “if” was the correct word) it happened.
The days blended one into another; he would wake up, dress, try to steal a few moments with Ginny out of view of any other Weasleys, bolt down a plateful of Mrs. Weasley’s excellent food, and then go off to the Ministry with Mr. Weasley and Percy. There, in Kingsley Shacklebolt’s office, or the Auror Headquarters, or, occasionally, the Department of Mysteries, he’d spend several hours answering what seemed like the same questions over and over. If he was lucky, there would be a break for a snack or some fresh air; on some days he’d be accompanied by Ron or Hermione. The sky would be dark by the time he returned to The Burrow with Percy and Mr. Weasley. There would be dinner, and maybe a few more stolen moments with Ginny before he climbed up to bed so he could start the whole thing over the next day.
The routine finally broke after a particularly long day in Kingsley Shacklebolt’s office. The new Minister and several Aurors had Harry going over his visit to Malfoy Manor in agonizing detail. The Aurors finally left, but before Harry could follow them, Kingsley asked him to stay for a moment longer.
“I have a message for Miss Granger,” Kingsley told Harry. “I would deliver it myself, but I suspect that Molly doesn’t really need the Minister of Magic dropping in for a visit.”
Privately, Harry agreed, but he didn’t want to say so. He wondered what the message might be, however. Smiling, Kingsley handed Harry a sealed envelope. “It’s good news, Harry. The Ministry has tracked down her parents. They’re being brought back to London, to St. Mungo’s –”
Harry had a start. “St. Mungo’s? What’s…” But Kingsley laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
“There’s nothing wrong with them. We – well, I – decided that it would be best to have a Healer reverse Miss Granger’s memory modifications in a secure environment. That’s all. I don’t doubt that Miss Granger could do it herself, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
Harry sighed. Hermione will be so relieved! “When will they arrive?”
Kingsley laughed. “It’s all in the letter, Harry. They should get to St. Mungo’s on Friday afternoon.”
Harry shook Kingsley’s hand. “Thank you. I’m glad you managed to find them so quickly.”
Kingsley accepted his thanks, and as Harry turned to leave, called after him, “You haven’t asked, Harry, but your aunt and uncle have returned home as well.”
“I reckon I ought to go and visit them,” Harry said automatically. It was nearly impossible to argue with that deep, calming voice. It would be polite to make the effort to see them one more time, he supposed. And Dudley had been decent – almost human, really – when he’d left them a year ago; it would be interesting to see if he’d continued to evolve. “I’ll make the time for a visit,” he repeated, finally taking his leave of the Minister of Magic.
The good news caused a celebration at The Burrow. Hermione and Ron were waiting in the kitchen for Harry, and he handed her the letter without a word. After Hermione had read it aloud, and then read it twice more to be sure she didn’t miss a word, she hugged Harry so tightly that he thought he might break a rib.
“Oi, Potter! Hands off my girl!” Ron exclaimed, causing Hermione to abandon Harry and embrace him just as tightly. “Can’t… can’t breathe!”
“Oh, stop it, Ron,” she said, pushing him away. “This is the most wonderful news! I knew the Minister was working on it, but I never thought they’d be home so soon!” Hermione gushed. “I m-missed them! I m-m-missed them so much! I-I was so worried!” she went on, the tears suddenly flowing.
Faces peeked into the kitchen: Ginny and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. “Oh, Hermione, dear, what’s wrong?” Mrs. Weasley asked.
“M-my parents! They’re coming home,” she sobbed, and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny enfolded her in a hug. Harry thought he saw the hint of a tear from Mr. Weasley, and then a gleam in his eye.
“We’ll have a party for them!” Mr. Weasley said. “A homecoming. Wouldn’t they enjoy that, Hermione?”
“I-I think so, Mr. Weasley,” Hermione choked out. “That’s so… so generous of you!”
“Nonsense,” Mrs. Weasley scoffed. “Arthur has an ulterior motive. He wants them here where they can’t get away so he can ask them all about Muggle life. Still,” she considered, “I think a party for them would be a wonderful idea, as long as Arthur promises to behave himself.”
Mr. Weasley gave his wife a wounded look. “That is not true, Molly. I think we ought to celebrate their return. If they happen to want to talk about eckeltricity or fellytones, I don’t think there’s any harm in a little conversation.”
“I think,” Ginny said firmly, “they’ll want to talk about how brave and heroic their daughter is. And they might want to meet –” she grinned evilly “– her boyfriend.”
Everyone in the room knew about Ron and Hermione, of course, but the word “boyfriend” hung in the air nonetheless, shocking them all into silence for a moment. All eyes were on Ron.
Mr. Weasley was the first to recover. “Well, it’s about time you saw what was right in front of you all the while. How you could be so blind for so long, I’ll never know.”
Before anyone could answer him, everyone was distracted by the loud pop of someone Apparating into the kitchen. “Give him a little credit, Dad,” George Weasley said, causing every head in the room to turn. “He didn’t take as long as you did to notice Mum,” he said.
There was another stunned silence; looking at Mrs. Weasley, Harry wasn’t sure whether she wanted to hug her son or hex him. Both, probably, he decided. But I wouldn’t want to guess in what order.
It was then that Harry saw the quick, sudden swish-and-flick of a wand – he couldn’t tell whose – and a gooseberry pie that had been sitting on the stove went flying straight into George’s face…
“Do you know, I think that’s the first time George has laughed since…well, since…” Ginny said, as she and Harry sat on her bed.
“You’re right,” Harry agreed.
“Not that we’ve seen any of him, but I doubt he’s been doing much laughing sitting in that dingy flat in Diagon Alley.”
“How do you know it’s dingy?” Harry asked.
Ginny laughed. “You’ve stayed in their room before, now imagine it without Mum to do the laundry and the cleaning.”
Harry grimaced at the thought. “I see your point. So why d’you think he came over tonight?”
Ginny shrugged. “Mum’s been owling him every day, begging. I have, too. And Dad’s been going by the shop. George is there every day, doing Merlin only knows what.” She sighed. Harry put an arm around her, and she went on. “Dad says the windows are all boarded up, but you can hear him banging around in there. He won’t answer the door, though, so nobody knows anything.”
“I sent him a couple of owls too,” Harry said, squeezing Ginny closer to him. “Didn’t hear a thing back.”
Mmmm, that’s nice. What was he saying? Oh, owls. Right. He owled too? Of course he did, I guess I’d have been more surprised if he hadn’t. Ginny traced a finger down Harry’s cheek, to his neck, to his chest, tapping it right over his heart. “You think of them as brothers, don’t you?” Harry’s smile was all the answer she needed. “I just hope you don’t think of me as a sister,” Ginny said with a mischievous grin. “Otherwise…”
Again Harry didn’t answer with words; he kissed her, and she felt herself shudder. Everything disappeared except for him: the touch of his lips, the feel of his hand on her back and in her hair. It seemed to go on forever.
“If I thought of you as a sister, I don’t think we’d be doing that,” Harry said when they finally broke apart. “But, yeah, I do think of Ron and Fr…George and Bill and Charlie as brothers.”
“What about Percy?” Ginny asked mock-seriously.
“Even Percy,” Harry replied. “With you Weasleys, you can’t just take one, it’s all of you or nothing.”
That would make a nice motto for a family crest. If we had a family crest. “You should tell Mum and Dad that. They’d like to hear it.”
“Don’t you think they already know?” Harry asked.
“Yes, they do. But knowing something and hearing it from someone you care about are two very different things. And you should know that better than anyone else, Harry Potter.”
Harry was too busy staring into Ginny’s eyes to notice that she was reaching for her wand, and then swishing-and-flicking it behind her back. Ginny found the thump and his “Umph!” as a pillow hit him in the head to be very satisfying…
The pillow fight had gone on for the better part of an hour, until Mrs. Weasley’s calls of “Bed time!” rang through the house and Harry went upstairs to Ron’s room. He had been sleeping in George’s, but as George – after being hit with half a dozen more pies – had been convinced to spend the night at The Burrow and had reclaimed his old room, Harry had been relocated.
Ron was lingering downstairs. Harry heard him protesting, “I’m an adult now, you can’t tell me when it’s bed time!” and Mrs. Weasley shouting back, “Ron Weasley, as long as you’re living under this roof, you will OBEY THE RULES!”
Harry kicked off his shoes and lay on the camp bed Mrs. Weasley had set up for him, counting to himself, “One, two, three…” He got up to ten before Ron’s footsteps could be heard tromping up the stairs.
“We saved the bloody world; you’d think she could lighten up a bit,” Ron said without preamble as he stormed into the room, slamming the door behind him. “And bloody George is bloody here; she could take just one bloody minute to be bloody happy before she goes yelling at us like that!”
Harry suppressed a laugh; it took nearly all his self-control. “She’s just being a mum. I don’t think they know how to stop,” he said in as even a tone as he could manage.
“Well, when I have kids, it’s going to be different. None of this shouting and ‘Do this!’ and ‘Go to bed!’ and all that rot!” Ron stomped around, calling to Harry’s mind the image of an enraged Hippogriff. It was taking a superhuman effort to hold back the laughter.
As Ron continued to rant, flailing his arms and banging around, Harry couldn’t help himself. “And what d’you think Hermione’ll say about that?” he said, with very nearly a straight face.
Ron froze in his tracks and then turned to face Harry. For a moment, Harry thought he’d gone too far; his best friend looked like he was half a second from reaching for his wand. But Ron abruptly relaxed, then burst out laughing.
“She’ll be worse than Mum, don’t you reckon? Buying them homework planners before they learn to walk, owling their teachers every day to see if they’re getting their essays in on time. It’ll be a nightmare!”
Harry couldn’t really disagree. “For them or for you?” he asked, now laughing himself.
Ron snorted. “D’you remember back in our second year, when we came to get you in the car?”
Harry nodded. Being rescued from house imprisonment in the middle of the night via an enchanted Ford Anglia was not something one could forget. “You remember Dad?” Ron did a creditable imitation of Mr. Weasley: “‘Did you really? How did it fly?’” Ron shook his head. “He was like a little kid. And then Mum clears her throat and it’s all ‘That was very wrong, boys, very wrong.’ My whole life’s already set. She’s going to drive me mental, just like Mum does Dad.”
“You could do a lot worse than turning out like your Dad, Ron. I reckon I’ll be doing pretty good if I end up being half the father he is,” Harry blurted out. The sentiment hadn’t occurred to him until the words were spoken, but he knew that it was true.
Ron had started to say something, but he choked up as Harry’s words – and the truth of them – sunk in. He didn’t say anything for a long time. I wish he could have seen his dad the day we snuck into the Ministry of Magic when he stood up to me as a disguised Death Eater. Anybody would have been proud of Mr. Weasley.
“What?” Harry’s thoughts were interrupted.
“You reckon Hermione and Ginny are down there in their room talking about us?” That seemed likely to Harry. He nodded his agreement, and Ron continued, “Well, that just proves it. You won’t see us here gabbing away about them at all hours.”
Like we’re doing right now? Harry resisted saying. “You’re right, mate,” he said instead, and quickly changed the subject. “I’m not looking forward to tomorrow. Kingsley told me that the Dursleys are back home. I said I’d visit them, and I might as well get it over with right away.”
“Why bother? It’s not as though they miss you!”
Still, it was the right thing to do, Harry told himself. If he said those words to himself often enough, he hoped, he might start to believe it. “I know. But I told Kingsley I would, and I don’t want to lie to the Minister of Magic first thing, y’know?”
“Yeah,” Ron shrugged. “But better you than me.”
“Compassionate as always,” Harry said with a laugh, lying down to sleep. “‘Night, Ron.”
It was a bright, sunny morning. Ginny stood outside, breathing in the fresh air, listening to the wind blowing through the trees and to the calls of the birds, and drinking in the beautiful green of the grass and the bright colours of the flowers. Everything was perfect.
And here comes the most perfect thing of all. Harry emerged from the house, and his green eyes lit up when he saw Ginny. He pulled her close and kissed her.
“Good morning to you, too,” Ginny smiled. “You can do that every morning, you know. I won’t mind.”
“That’s the plan,” Harry answered, looking her up and down. He hadn’t asked her to come with him to visit his family; she’d volunteered. He certainly didn’t protest, though, Ginny recalled.
“What do you think?” she asked, twirling around for him.
“Well, you do look just like a Muggle,” he said. She was wearing jeans and a plain t-shirt; she hadn’t wanted to give Harry’s aunt and uncle any reason to dislike her off the bat.
“I did my best,” Ginny said. “Hermione talked me out of wearing my Weird Sisters shirt. She thought it might upset your family.”
“I expect just seeing me will upset them. Even if you really were a Muggle, they’d still hate you, just because you’re my girl—”
Ginny stared at him, waiting for him to finish the word.
“Girlfriend?” That sounds nice. It feels right.
“Well, I’m not going to let anyone treat my boyfriend wrong, so they’d better watch out,” Ginny said. That feels right, too.
“Those Dursleys won’t know what hit them,” Harry replied. Maybe he’s wrong about them. A year with witches and wizards might have changed them.
Harry shook his head. “No chance, Ginny.”
“You have to stop doing that!” If you’re in my head right now, Harry Potter, get OUT!
“I didn’t do anything!” Harry protested. “I was thinking the same thing you were, it was pretty obvious! Besides, I could tell by the way your face scrunched up: you always do that when you’re really working something over in your head.”
I do, do I? I guess I wouldn’t notice it if I did, it’s not as though I make a point of looking in a mirror when I’m deep in thought. Oh, blast, I bet I’m doing it right now… “You stop laughing this minute or it’s the Bat-Bogey Hex for you!”
Harry put up his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry! You started it again as soon as I said it. But I probably have all kinds of things I do that I don’t know I’m doing, too.”
Ginny laughed. “You’ve got that right. But it would take all day to make a list, and we have to go and visit your family.”
“I guess,” Harry sighed. “You ready?” He put a hand on her arm; it would be another month until she turned seventeen and she could take her Apparition test, so Harry would have to take her by Side-Along Apparition. Not that I don’t know how to do it myself, she thought. It wasn’t even the silly Ministry rules that kept her from Apparating on her own, but the prospect of a disappointed lecture from her father was too much to bear. And, really, having Harry take me isn’t such a bad thing anyway!
He pulled her next to him, closed his hand around her arm, and they turned and disappeared. An uncomfortable, disorienting moment later, they found themselves in a small stand of trees.
“Good, I don’t think anyone can see us,” Harry said, looking all around.
Ginny agreed; the spot they’d appeared in was hidden from view; it would be difficult for anyone walking along the street or in the nearby houses to spot them. I don’t think they see too many people popping out of thin air around here. It was smart to Apparate where we did.
“Which house is it?” They all looked much the same to Ginny; it must be, she decided, terribly boring to live in a place where every house was a copy of the next one, where there was no personality or individuality to the neighbourhood.
“Over there,” Harry pointed, taking her hand and leading her out onto Privet Drive. “That’s Number Four.”
“You must have got lost a lot when you were a kid,” Ginny said, sadly. What a miserable place to grow up. No wonder he hates it so much.
“What?” Harry said, looking confused.
“All these houses are exactly the same. You could never mistake The Burrow for anyplace else, or the Lovegood house, or any other houses back home. But all these might as well be identical. If I was a little kid, and I was out walking, I wouldn’t have known which house to go back to,” Ginny explained.
“There’s your problem,” Harry said with a bitter smile. “When I was little, I wasn’t allowed to go out walking. So it never came up.”
These Muggles have a lot to answer for. “I’m sorry, Harry.” Ginny squeezed his hand as he led her across the street and to the driveway of Number Four. Merlin’s beard, even the grass and the flowers are identical. Every yard, every lawn are just like the ones next to it. No colour, no originality, it’s so…sterile. It’s horrid. How can anyone live like this?
“It’s now or never, I guess,” Harry said, looking over to Ginny. She frowned, but nodded. They had come this far, and there was no point in backing out now. Harry pushed a tiny button set into the wall next to the doorknob, and chimes sounded out. Ginny grinned in spite of herself. Dad would love that! I’ve got to remember to tell him.
They waited. Ginny strained to listen inside the house; she wished she had thought to bring an Extendable Ear. She could hear nothing.
It took five whole minutes before there was any activity on the other side of the door: footsteps, faint at first and then growing louder. It was another five minutes before the door opened, and a tall, skinny, horse-faced woman appeared, wearing the most sour expression Ginny had ever seen. She spoke with a voice that could have cut glass: “Well, get inside. I’ll not have the entire neighbourhood watching while you loiter on our doorstep!”
Ginny had heard Harry talk about the Dursleys, and she’d listened to her brothers and her father describe their encounters with Harry’s aunt and uncle, but she hadn’t really appreciated the horror of them until now. She followed Harry into the house. It was just as lifeless and depressing as the exterior, completely bloodless.
Standing in the living room, she was greeted by what she took for a moment to be a walrus that had been taught to stand upright and wear a suit; Harry’s uncle. The horse-faced woman – his aunt – went to the walrus’s side; she was looking up the stairs fearfully. Poking his head down from the landing was a boy who could have been Goyle’s brother; that had to be Harry’s cousin, Dudley.
“So, boy,” Uncle Walrus said, “are you back with more trouble? As if you haven’t caused enough! You cost us a year of our lives, you ungrateful little…” he stopped in mid-rant, his eyes shifting from Harry to Ginny. “You’ve got a nerve, bringing one of your little freak friends, red hair…”
Ginny was too fascinated by the man to be upset at his words; the veins on his head were throbbing. She was amazed none of them had burst yet. He was clearly trying to remember something, and having a difficult time of it. He sputtered for a few moments before coming up with it. “She’s…you’ve brought another one of those horrible Weasel people into my house? How dare you!”
Those horrible Weasel people? Oh, that’s just too good! Harry wasn’t exaggerating at all about the Dursleys, was he?
“This is Ginny Weasley. She’s my girlfriend,” Harry was saying, putting an arm around her waist. “I thought…I wanted to come and make sure you were all right,” he went on, speaking more slowly and calmly than Ginny could ever remember him doing. He’s really keeping a lid on his temper. She could see the effort it cost him; beads of sweat were forming on his brow even though the room was freezing. Dad told us about that once – what did he call it, air conditionating?
“We’re fine,” came Dudley’s voice from the stairs, causing everyone to turn to him. He made his way down, and Ginny noticed that Harry couldn’t help but stare at him.
“You – you look…good,” Harry said, sounding completely shocked. “You’ve been exercising?” If that’s good, I hate to think what he looked like before, Ginny thought with a shudder.
“There wasn’t much else to do when we were hiding,” Dudley said. “Your friends got me weights and a stationary bicycle. And books, too.”
“Oh, yes! Stolen from the bookseller, no doubt,” the walrus complained. “Stupid, pointless books, too. Nothing useful. A year wasted, all because of you, boy!”
“I’m sorry you had to hide, and I’m sorry that you were the only relatives I had and you got stuck taking me in,” Harry said. Ginny was glad to see that Harry held his ground. He continued, addressing his aunt, “I’m sorry that you didn’t get to go to Hogwarts.”
That was news to Ginny, and, she saw, to his aunt as well; her horse-face went completely white. Something else he’ll have to explain later, I guess.
“I know you wanted to go. I know you wrote a letter to Dumbledore begging to be allowed, and I wish you had been. You’d have seen how much everybody loved Mum and wouldn’t ever have called her a freak or a weirdo, and you’d have raised him,” he gestured to Dudley, “differently, so it wouldn’t have taken seventeen years and a Dementor attack before we could get along!”
Ginny was as stunned as everyone else in the room. She knew Harry hadn’t planned to say anything like that, and his aunt and uncle were too shocked to respond. It was Dudley who first found his voice.
“T-they said, D-Dedalus and Hestia, they said you’re a hero, you fought a d-dark…”
“A dark wizard,” Ginny finished for him. “The worst one ever.”
“T-they said you finished him right off.” Ginny watched Harry’s reaction; he was softening despite himself. He obviously hadn’t expected to hear anything like this from his cousin. Looks like he isn’t quite as much like his parents as Harry thought.
“He did,” Ginny said, before Harry could play down his triumph. “I was there, I saw him. He was magnificent,” she beamed, feeling Harry pull her closer as she spoke. “You ought to be proud of him.”
The aunt and uncle still couldn’t speak; Ginny guessed that their small brains were simply overwhelmed. Dudley, however, was not. “I am,” he said quietly. Harry went to his cousin and hugged him.
“Thanks, Big D. That means a lot, coming from you.”
The walrus finally finished processing the conversation. Ha! He thinks he’s got everything figured out now. “Well, if you’re expecting some kind of reward, you can just forget it, boy. And if you think we’ll put you up in this house, you’ve got another thing coming!”
“No, Uncle Vernon,” Harry answered. “I don’t expect anything. I told you what I wanted: to make sure you’re okay. And you are. You’re back in your house, your life is back to normal, and you’ll never have to see me again after today.”
“Best news I’ve heard in years! You’ve said your piece, you can go!”
“Goodbye, Uncle Vernon, goodbye, Aunt Petunia,” Harry said.
“Harry, wait!” Dudley shouted. “I want to see you again.”
Looks like we were both wrong. People can change, after all. “Well, Harry’s staying at our house,” Ginny said on an impulse. “You could visit, if you wanted.”
“He certainly will not –” Vernon started, but Dudley cut him off.
“I-I’d like that. He’s my cousin; I can visit him if I want to!” Ginny watched as Harry looked from Dudley over to her; she could tell that he didn’t know which of them he was more surprised with.
Harry gave his cousin another hug, and then shook his hand. “I guess we’ll see you soon,” he said.
Ginny gave Dudley her brightest smile. He’s not like Goyle, really. Just as big, maybe, but less flabby. And there’s a good person in there: I can see it in his eyes. He just needs a little encouragement. To everyone’s shock, she kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll just check with Mum and Dad, and then we’ll be in touch, Dudley.”
“Not with one of –” the Uncle began.
“No, not with a ‘ruddy old owl,’ Uncle Vernon,” Harry interrupted. “We’ll use the regular post.” We’ll see about that, Ginny thought. I think that Uncle Walrus here is going to have to get used to some changes.
“Harry?” Dudley piped up, as they headed for the door. “Y-your girlfriend is very pretty,” he said in a small voice.
“She’s the most beautiful girl in the world,” Harry answered, and Ginny could hear the pride and the happiness in his voice.
“I’ll never get tired of hearing that,” Ginny whispered to Harry. Then, turning to his cousin, she said, “That’s very sweet of you, Dudley,” giving him another kiss on the cheek. As she did, he whispered something into her ear, and her eyes went wide. After a moment she shook her head. “I’m sorry, Dudley. I wish I did.”
“It’s okay,” he answered. “I’ll see you soon.” He clapped both Harry and Ginny on the back. With that, she and Harry took their leave of the Dursleys and headed back for the hidden spot they’d arrived in, hand in hand.
“What did he ask you?” Harry inquired. Ginny laughed; she would never have imagined anything like it.
They were out of sight, and Harry was checking to make sure nobody was lurking around. “He asked me if I had any sisters,” she said, enjoying Harry’s shocked expression as they vanished from Privet Drive.