PhoenixSong.net :: A Harry/Ginny Fanfic and Fanart Archive

Author: MyGinevra

Story: The Hog's Head

Part: 14: The Big Bash

Rating: Teens

Setting: Post-DH

Status: WIP

Warning: Extreme Language, Sexual Situations

Reviews: 8

Words: 6,940

Updated: April 26, 2008, 11:09am

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14: The Big Bash

Neither Harry nor Ginny slept much that night, but it was not because they were worried about the inn or an intruder. Nor was it out of frustration, which had kept them awake when they were staying at Shell Cottage. It was because whenever either one moved in his or her sleep, the other awoke and could not fall asleep again, but lay there in wonderment — almost disbelief — knowing that they were sleeping together, knowing that their lover was under the same snug covers in a magnificent bed, and could be touched simply by reaching out a hand.

Whenever they awoke in the night, they reveled in that closeness, in watching the other’s quiet, rhythmical breathing, in touching the face lying on the pillow. The presence of the other, so close, so intimate, so vulnerable, so trusting, was magical. Once, when Harry awoke, Ginny was lying on her side with her back to him. He put his face into her hair and breathed her smell, becoming dizzy with her closeness, losing all sense of anything but her body next to his. His hands wandered, and she woke with a long sigh and turned over to face him. Later, and after they had fallen asleep again, Ginny awoke and found Harry sleeping on his back. She rested her head on his chest with her hand across his stomach, tickling his navel until he opened his eyes and pulled her closer.

They slept late and were awakened by the aroma of bacon and coffee. “Smells good,” came Ginny’s voice from under the covers. Harry sat up and yawned; he pushed the covers back and got out of bed; Ginny pulled them back up to her chin. “Can you get me some breakfast?” she smiled and wiggled her feet under the covers.

“I’ll be right back.” Harry went into the parlor where the sun was streaming through the picture window; it looked like another gorgeous day, and Harry felt no dark mood lingering from yesterday. He walked to the window and looked out, then suddenly realized that he was standing there stark naked. He hastily retreated into the bedroom.

“That was fast,” Ginny laughed. “Did you forget something?” Her tousled hair kept falling onto her face and she pinned it back with two barrettes that she retrieved from the night table. She looked up and saw Harry watching, his eyes on the locket resting on her bosom. “Hey!” she covered her chest with her arms. “My breakfast!” Harry picked his jeans off the floor and pulled them on, grinned at Ginny, then left the room again. “I hope no one was up in that elm tree!” Ginny called after him. “Don’t be long, I’m starving!”

Harry followed his nose into the little kitchen and found two trays on the table laden with breakfast: glasses of pumpkin juice, slices of toast, bacon, sausages, fresh melon slices, home fries, and mugs of hot coffee; a pitcher of pumpkin juice was on the counter and a pot of coffee was warming on the stove. A tub of butter was also on the table.

Marveling at the magical powers of an ordinary house–elf, Harry carried one tray into the bedroom — in his haste he had left his wand next to the bed — and put it on Ginny’s night stand. He went back with his wand and levitated his own tray, the coffee pot, the pitcher of pumpkin juice, and the butter, and followed them all out of the kitchen, across the parlor, and into the bedroom. Ginny had put her blouse on — to Harry’s sorrow — and was sitting up and eating. He passed her the butter and a knife, then sat down in bed and attacked his own breakfast. He devoured it, and Ginny smiled to herself, remembering Fleur’s comments at breakfast in the Great Hall two days after the battle, urging Harry to keep up his strength. Harry finally sat back with a satisfied belch and patted his stomach.

“How does she do it?” he wondered. “It was all waiting on the kitchen table, and it was still hot.”

Ginny took a left–over slice of bacon from Harry’s plate. “I’m beginning to change my mind about house–elves. If Mum had one —“ she stopped and put a hand over her mouth. “Uh, oh. What time is it? They’ll start worrying pretty soon if I don’t get back.”

As if in answer, they heard the clucking of an owl and scrabbling noises at the window on Ginny’s side of the bed. Harry got up and pulled back the curtains; Pigwidgeon was perched on the sill outside, his leg lifted with a message attached.

“Hello, Pig,” Harry said as he opened the window. The owl hopped inside and looked around the room. Harry took the message and read it. “Ron says your mum and dad are okay, but your mum says you should come home as soon as possible. You have a party to prepare for, quote unquote.”

“She’s right,” Ginny said. “You might as well send Pig back, though, we don’t have anything to write with.” The owl hooted once and flew off.

Ginny put her tray aside and got out of bed. She finished dressing as Harry also dressed and took the trays to the kitchen. When he came back into the parlor he saw Ginny in the bedroom making the bed. He started to open the door to the stairs, but she called out, “Where are you going? We didn’t say good morning yet.”

They stood in front of the picture window and she took his hands. “I just spent the best night of my life with you. Good morning, Harry Potter.”

“Me, too. Good morning, Ginny Weasley.” He brushed a wisp of hair from her face, and she put her arms around his neck. Harry looked out the window; the fields and meadows lay gleaming under the early morning summer sun; the leaves on the elm tree rustled in a gentle breeze. “Things sure look better in the light of day, especially after a night like that.”

Ginny broke the long silence that followed with a sigh. “I really need to get back. You can come later, if you need to stay.”

“I don’t need to stay. There’s nothing I can do here. Winky will be here and now the Aurors know that something’s going on.” He thought for a moment. “If anything does happen, it’ll just give us more clues as to who’s doing it.”

“Unless they do some real damage.”

“I don’t think that’s what they want, and that would take a lot of people and a lot of effort. I think what they’re after is just to get at me, maybe through you, but it’s me they want, not the inn.”

Ginny pressed her lips together and frowned. “Through me? Do you still think that?”

“No, don’t get me wrong, Gin. I’m not saying it’s too dangerous for you.” He grinned. “I already learned that lesson. I’m just saying it because it makes sense.” He pulled her close and held her as he stroked her hair; she rested her head on his chest. “I’m not afraid for you anymore. I just want to be with you and help get ready for the party.”

The events of the past twenty–four hours had driven Harry to two conclusions. One, it was more important to him to be with Ginny than to stand guard over a building, even if he had put so much time and effort into making it a special place for her. And two, her burst of anger last night, followed by her quick and total forgiveness, brought home how much Ginny felt the same way. And the magic of the night they had just spent together was something he would do anything to preserve. The magic didn’t need a specific place, it only needed her.

“Let’s go then,” Ginny gave him a quick peck. She wasn’t sure if they should be so quick to leave the inn unguarded, but Harry’s arguments made some sense. She looked into his face and saw what she was certain was a mirror of her own feelings: it didn’t matter where they were. The inn was perfect — there was that word again — but she had been separated from him for a year after their kiss in her room had sealed a bond, and it had taught her that being alive and being together were the only things that mattered. Whoever was attacking the inn was attacking both of them. If the inn didn’t exist, she and Harry would create another place; wherever their home was, they would both fight for it.

Harry got the trays from the kitchen, piled the pitcher and the coffee pot on top, and they went downstairs. Winky was sitting on a stool, and pointed to the sink. “You puts the dirty dishes in there,” she ordered. “Is Harry and Ginny Pott– Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley going back to her house now?”

“Yes,” Harry answered as he put the trays in the sink. “It’s Ginny’s birthday party on Saturday. I’ll be back sometime next week, and I expect that Stan will be here this weekend.”

“Happy birthday, Ginny Weasley,” Winky smiled. “Next time Ginny is here Winky makes a chocolate birthday cake.”

“How did you know I like chocolate?” Ginny was astonished.

“Winky knows.” She slid down from the stool and looked up. “Harry Potter must not forget to remove the magic, or else Winky cannot sleep outside tonight.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Harry said. “Please, Winky, don’t do anything dangerous. That’s what the Aurors are for. If anything happens, go tell Rosmerta or Tony.”

“Yes, Winky tells them, and Winky sleeps under the tree and guards the door.” She scowled at the floor. “Aurors,” she muttered. “They is not polite.”

Harry looked helplessly at Ginny; she smiled and shook her head. “Okay,” Harry gave up, “just promise you’ll be careful.”

“Winky is always careful. That is why Winky is such a good house–elf.”

“I’ll just be a minute,” Harry said to Ginny, and he hurried into the dining room and unsealed the door and the shutters, which he left closed. Back in the kitchen he took Ginny’s hand.

“‘Bye, Winky,” Ginny said. “Thanks for everything. Can you put strawberry icing on it?” Winky nodded and smiled, then bowed and jumped onto the sink; she stood on the edge, and as Harry closed the door to the vestibule behind them, he saw a cloud of soap bubbles rise from the sink and engulf the elf.

He unsealed the back door and took a last look at the inn. “I hope it’s still standing in a week,” he said.

“I hope that’s a joke,” Ginny replied.

“Yeah, it’s a joke,” Harry grinned. “Maybe a half–joke.” He put her arm on his elbow, gave her a kiss, and they Disapparated back to the Burrow.

Molly Weasley was in the kitchen with Charlie when Harry and Ginny entered. “There you are,” Molly said pleasantly. “Did you have a good time? You don’t have to answer that.” She put her hand up to stop them from speaking, and didn’t see Charlie grinning behind her back. “Ron didn’t say why you decided to stay, but...” She sighed. “I suppose you had a good reason.” Charlie nodded vigorously, again behind her back.

“Sorry we’re late, Mum. Yes, we did have a good reason,” Ginny said. “How’s everyone?” she changed the subject.

“Fine. Your father’s at work and everyone else is getting the house ready for your party.” She eyed their rumpled clothes and disheveled appearance. “If you give me your dirty clothes I’ll start a wash.”

Ginny grabbed Harry’s arm and headed for the stairs. “Right away, Mum,” she called over her shoulder as they both hustled up. Harry glanced back once and saw Charlie watching them, grinning again.

They stopped on the landing outside Ginny’s room. ‘I think we’d better be on good behavior for a bit,” she said. “Go to your room and change, there’s a good lad.” She patted the top of Harry’s head.

“You won’t recognize me, I’ll be so good. Your mum does know the subtle uses of guilt, doesn’t she?”

“It’s one of her strong points, and I don’t want to experience any of the others if I can help it. So no hands!” She pushed his hand away from her hip and started into her room. She turned back and quickly kissed him, then jumped inside and closed the door firmly behind her.

Harry climbed to the attic, but when he started to open the door, he heard Ron swear and then scrambling noises from the far end of the room. He paused and counted to five, then pushed the door open. Ron and Hermione were lying side by side on Ron’s bed; Ron was reaching for a Quidditch magazine from his dresser, and Hermione was struggling to hold up a thick book in one hand and button her blouse with the other. Their faces were flushed and Hermione’s hair, barely controllable under normal circumstances, was in a state of total disorder.

“Why, Harry, how are you?” she said with excessive cordiality. “When did you get back? Is everything all right at the inn? Oops.” She lost her grip on the heavy book and it slipped to the floor with a thud. She started to bend over to pick it up, but then she glanced up at Harry, lay back down on the bed and, abandoning all pretense, finished buttoning her blouse with both hands.

“Sorry,” Harry couldn’t help grinning. “Mrs. Weasley wants our dirty clothes.” He stood for a moment, then Hermione jumped up.

“Oh, right!” I’ll just —“ She picked up the book. “Advanced Theories 0f Arithmancy,” she said breathlessly, and pushed her hair out of her face. “I was just telling Ron about it, and — oh hell, Harry, can’t you knock first?”

“Uh, it is my room,” Harry was still grinning, “and it’s only the middle of the morning.”

“Hey,” Ron called from behind the magazine, “that never stopped some people I know.”

Hermione put her hands on her hips. “That’s right, and what difference does it make, anyway?” She gave Harry an exasperated look, and pushed past him out the door.

“Sorry,” Harry apologized again to Ron as he started to change his clothes. “Maybe we need a signal.”

“Maybe you need to knock. And don’t pull that crap about my busting in on you and Ginny last year. I already paid for that. Green lips, remember?” He put down the magazine and sat on the edge of the bed. “Did anything else happen last night?”

“No, I sealed the place up before we — I mean I sealed it up and nothing happened.” He gathered up the clothes he had been wearing since yesterday, plus a few more that were scattered on the floor. “Your mum said that everyone was getting the place ready for the party.”

“Did she? Are they?” Ron glanced out the window. “Oh, yeah, there’s Fleur. I think she’s making decorations.” Harry came over and looked past Ron out the window; he saw Fleur sitting on the grass near the garden, moving her wand slowly over a blanket that was covered with pieces of colored paper. Shapes and figures of various kinds formed as her wand passed over. “I wonder what’s for lunch,” Ron said, and dropped his magazine on the floor. “Let’s go.”

They headed downstairs, and in the kitchen Molly took Harry’s clothes and disappeared into the laundry room. When Harry and Ron sat down at the table, Ginny appeared from the parlor. “Everything okay, my lad?” she asked Harry. “Hermione said she saw you, and she says we should talk about the inn.” She closed her mouth when her mother re-entered the room. “Later, right?” Harry nodded.

After lunch they went down to Fred’s grave. George and Charlie had put a bench next to the oak tree facing the headstone, but they sat on the grass; Ginny picked wildflowers and replaced the sprays lying on the grave. When she joined them, Hermione started speaking.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about it, Harry, and I —“

“Wait,” Harry said, “it’s Ginny’s, too. It was my birthday present to her. It’s our inn.”

“Oh.” Hermione looked at Ginny. “That’s — that’s really nice. I hadn’t thought of it that way, but sure.”

Ginny and Harry smiled at each other, and as Harry reached his hand to her, Ron clapped once, loudly. “Oi, you two! Pay attention!”

“Okay,” Hermione resumed as everyone sat up straight and looked at her. “Both of the times that something happened, you were there, Harry. They could have left the Dark Mark or broken a window at any time, but they chose to wait until you were there.”

“Or we all were there,” Harry pointed out. “They broke the window while we were eating dinner.”

“Yes, well that’s my point. If they were simple vandals, they would have waited until no one was there. As it was, two of them were caught. They waited until you — we — were there. The question is, why, when it was so much riskier?”

“Because they’re dunces,” Ron said.

“The ones who threw the stone were dunces, “ Hermione replied. “But whoever Imperiused them is not a dunce. He or she was actually quite subtle. He knew how badly Ginny would feel about the death of a weasel, and he knew how much Ginny being upset would affect Harry. And it almost worked. What would you have done to them, Harry, if Ginny hadn’t stopped you?”

“Something stupid,” Harry admitted. “I probably would have hurt them.”

“That’s what it looked like,” Hermione said. “And if Pester had shown up and found a couple of prisoners that you had hurt, he wouldn’t have bothered with the broken window or the dead weasel. He might have arrested you. You would have gotten into trouble, Harry.”

Harry had no answer to Hermione’s logic, but still had questions about the bigger issue. “So what’s your theory about the stone, the Dark Mark, and the two Imperiused blokes?” he asked. “I think that someone’s out to get me, not the inn. After the Dark Mark, I thought that maybe someone else had had his eye on the inn and wanted to buy it, and got mad when I bought it instead. But to go to all this trouble just because of that? It doesn’t make sense to me.”

Hermione looked troubled. “I have to admit that I don’t see any motive, either. It’s almost as if someone just wants to annoy you. That could change if the attacks become more serious, but right now it’s a puzzle.”

Harry looked at Ginny. “What do you think?”

“Frankly, I don’t care what their motives are,” Ginny answered; she had her arms around her knees and had been looking down at the grass. Now she looked at Harry. “Don’t get me wrong, I love knowing it’s there, and I can’t wait to get back, but as long as no one is hurt, even if they blow it up, I’ll be sad but it wouldn’t be the end of everything.” She glanced at the headstone a few feet away. “We have to be like Fred. We have to fight them, but if we’re always afraid or if we walk around looking over our shoulders, then they win.”

She smiled and picked up a fuzzy green caterpillar that was inching along Harry’s leg. “You know what I haven’t done yet?” she looked at Harry. “I haven’t flown my birthday present.” She grinned at Ron and Hermione. “Who wants to play some two–a–side Quidditch?”

Only Hermione didn’t look happy with this suggestion, but Ron pulled her up and dragged her to the old shed where the family’s Cleansweeps were stored. Ginny ran up to her room to fetch her Firebolt, and they were soon soaring over the clearing with Ginny literally flying circles around the others. They switched off to give everyone a go on the Firebolt, and even Hermione grinned when she pushed off and felt the acceleration. She and Harry lost the match badly to Ron and Ginny, and Ginny couldn’t help making a few jokes about it.

“So,” she asked Harry as they trudged back to the house, “is it the wizard or is it the broomstick? What makes someone the best Quidditch player at Hogwarts? Or is it that his Quidditch–loving girlfriend made him powerful?”

“Let’s see you captain a Cup winner first before you start bragging,” Harry laughed. “You weren’t my girlfriend until after the Ravenclaw match.”

“Ah, but I should have been.”

“I won’t argue with that.”

“And a wise decision that is,” Ron quipped.

But Ginny noticed, through all the banter, that something was bothering Harry. She had an idea of what it was, but as they approached the Burrow and before she could pull him aside to ask, her mother opened the door.

“Less than two days to the party,” she said, standing aside to let them in. “It’s good of you all to come back and give the rest of us a hand.”

They looked at each other guiltily, and spent the rest of the day helping with party preparations. Ginny had invited several dozen guests, so there was plenty to do: food, house cleaning, getting the tent ready to set up, and sending owls out with various kinds of orders — it was the first time that Bailey got to deliver a message for Ginny, and she took to it enthusiastically. Dinnertime came and went, and Ginny finally had a chance to ask Harry what had been troubling him.

“You miss Hedwig, don’t you?” Dusk was starting to settle and they lay in the small, cleared space in the middle of the field down the lane; fireflies blinked around them and bats flitted overhead. Ginny’s head rested on Harry’s stomach and she heard an occasional gurgle as her mother’s eggplant lasagna was digested.

Harry stroked her hair with one hand and Ginny held his other firmly in place on her collarbone; its fingers had been tracing her lips and then the hand had started to stray southward. “Why do you ask?” he said. She didn’t answer, and finally he grunted. “How did you know?”

“You were a little bit sad after we played Quidditch, but I didn’t think it was because of the broomstick you lost. I know that Sirius gave it to you, but I think it was more than that.”

“You’re right. Thinking of the broom made me think of Hedwig. I lost them both at the same time. But it wasn’t just your Firebolt that made me think of her. It’s Bailey, too. She looks at you the same way Hedwig used to look at me.” His voice broke and Ginny lifted his hand and kissed it.

“Do you think you’d ever want to get another owl?” she asked softly.

“I’ve been thinking about it. It certainly would have been helpful last night at the inn.”

She turned her head and smiled at him. “If you do get one, get a barn owl, a male.”

“Why on earth would we want to have boy and girl barn owls?” Harry laughed as Ginny punched his leg. “So tell me, have I been a good lad today? You said it would only have to be for a bit. Is it a bit yet?”

Ginny kissed his hand again, then put it on her breast and let go. “Look,” she pointed up at the sky, “the stars are coming out. Don’t you love it when the stars first start to... mmm.” She could no longer speak because Harry had stopped being a good lad.

* * * *

Saturday, the day of the big bash, finally came. The weather was not perfect — it was mostly overcast — but George and Charlie told Ginny that if it started to rain, one of them would distract their father while the other cast a weather charm to keep the Burrow dry. The tent that Bill, Hermione, and Mr. Weasley had been preparing was standing behind the garden. It was very large, covering about a quarter of the area of a Quidditch pitch; its sides were rolled up and its roof was painted in stripes of vivid colors: red, yellow, blue, green, orange, and silver. A bandstand stood at one end and extended outside onto the lawn so that the band could play to both the inside and the outside. Magic lanterns, streamers, balloons, and thousands of Ginny’s favorite red paper cutouts were hung from trees and poles all around the house. Tables were set up to hold the food and drinks.

The band arrived around ten o’clock to set up their equipment and run sound checks. Five Hufflepuffs had started it a few months ago, including Neville Longbottom’s girlfriend, Keesha Baker, who played drums; they called themselves The Huffle Badgers. Ginny stayed nearby as they worked so she could chat with Keesha; all of her close friends except Luna had graduated, and she hoped that she and Keesha could hit it off. They talked during breaks, and discovered that they had much in common. Keesha had five brothers — although she was not the youngest — and she loved Quidditch, although she had learned, much to her disappointment, that she just wasn’t that good a flyer. Ginny also liked the idea that she, Luna, and Keesha were each from a different House.

Guests started arriving in the late afternoon. Neville, Dean, Seamus, Lavender, and the Patil twins arrived together; Lavender’s battle wounds had healed, but she had a scar on her forehead that she and Harry joked about all night. Luna and her father drifted in. Dennis Creevey showed up without anyone noticing him for several minutes, until Percy bent over with his hands on his knees and asked if he was lost and needed to find his parents. After Bill had reversed the ensuing Conjunctivitis curse and repaired Percy’s eyeglasses, Ginny came over and lifted Dennis in a Molly–like hug that left the tiny boy breathless for ten minutes. Dennis wanted to see Fred’s grave — he had not been at the funeral — and all the students who had arrived, plus Harry, Ron, and Hermione, trooped down to the oak tree. Dennis put a single rose on the grave, and took photos with Colin’s camera of everyone standing around it.

Soon members of the Order of the Phoenix started arriving. The Floo Network Authority had set up a special interchange for the party, and for a while George and Percy had to stand on either side of the fireplace and hustle the arrivals out of the way to keep the passage from becoming clogged. Kingsley Shacklebolt and Saliyah Ushujaa were both magnificent in their colorful robes; Kingsley wore the largest gold earring anyone had ever seen. Molly and Bill intercepted Mundungus Fletcher as he emerged from the fireplace and frightened him so much with threats of retribution if so much as a napkin was missing after the party, that he spent the next hour cowering in the garden with the gnomes. Ginny saw him and took pity; she brought him some birthday cake which by that time had been cut. Dung swore on the head of the gnome sitting next to him that he would not touch anything, and Ginny’s gesture moved him so much that he started following her around like a puppy.

As it began to grow dark, it also began to drizzle. True to their word, Charlie lured his father into the house with a false report of a drunken Muggle wandering into the front yard, while George coordinated the casting of a weather charm with an extremely loud crescendo from the band to cover up the noise. The charm worked and the drizzle stopped, but the magically amplified chord broke most of the windows on the side of the Burrow facing the tent. Arthur and Charlie came running outside to see why shards of glass had just started raining on them, and Charlie and George had to spend a good deal of time repairing the damage.

The band was loud and excellent, and everyone danced under the tent and out on the lawn. The butterbeer flowed, the tables were laden with food, and the cake was massive, almost four feet high, with alternating layers of chocolate and vanilla, covered with dark chocolate icing. There were gallons of ice cream with buckets of strawberries and whipped cream. Ginny had told everyone not to bring presents because there would have been too many, but a few people did, and Harry snuck them up to her room while Molly wasn’t looking.

During a band break, Harry and Ginny rounded up Ron and Hermione, and they went over to a table in a relatively quiet corner of the tent where Kingsley, Saliyah, and Professor McGonagall were sitting. They all greeted Ginny with happy birthday wishes, and then Harry asked if they could speak about something more serious for a moment.

“Do you mean the incident in Hogsmeade?” Saliyah asked. “Auror Pester hasn’t given me his report yet.” She frowned slightly. “The Imperio that was worked on the two men you stunned is proving difficult to break. And we think it was placed in conjunction with an Obliviate, so even if we can lift the one, the other may keep us from learning much.”

“Then whoever put them up to it is a very talented wizard,” said Hermione.

Saliyah nodded. “Or witch. Don’t make assumptions. But if someone is going to that much trouble for such a petty thing as throwing a rock through a window —“

“I don’t think it’s petty at all!” Ginny said warmly. “Your weren’t there. And they killed a weasel, too!” She looked around; she had spoken louder than she had intended, and hoped that her parents hadn’t heard. She knew how upset it would make her mum, and she didn’t want an argument about her spending time at the inn.

“We can’t say anything about motives until we know who is behind it,” Saliyah said calmly, “but, in itself, all they did was commit the minor crime of petty vandalism. If there is anything more sinister going on, we’ll just have to wait and see.”

“But,” Harry said, “who would go to the trouble of doing pretty complicated magic on those two blokes, just to commit petty vandalism?”

“Well, Harry,” Saliyah smiled at him, “in my business you see all kinds of strange behavior. For example, earlier in the afternoon of that same day, there was some strange behavior in The Three Broomsticks, apparently directed at you. Do you think there could be a connection?”

“She’s just a tramp,” Harry said and scowled. “I hired a house–elf instead of her and she got angry. She’s ill, if you ask me.”

“From my point of view she’s interesting. Why would a simple village girl start exhibiting herself in public when she has no previous history of deviant behavior?”

Professor McGonagall had been listening with interest, and now she spoke. “I have to say, Saliyah, that, bizarre as Miss Southeby’s actions were, I’ve seen it happen before. Simple, sweet, uneducated witches are sometimes drawn to Hogsmeade because of the presence of so many young and talented wizards at the school. This one has taken her attempts to attract Harry’s attention to an extreme, but if you come to the village on a Hogsmeade weekend, you would be astonished at the parade along the High Street.”

“I’ve heard about that, Minerva,” Kingsley said; he laughed and his earring shook and glittered in the light from the magic lanterns hanging in the tent. “But I never saw it when I was there. Born too soon, I suppose.”

The Headmistress smiled. “You should be glad of that, Minister. Every fall we have to deal with the products of the previous year’s liaisons. It would serve a social purpose if the Ministry would soften its opposition to the public teaching of certain medical charms to unmarried and sometimes under–aged witches.”

“Ah, I agree with you completely,” Kingsley replied. “But rural Scottish wizarding society is a little, shall we say, conservative, especially about sex. Keep pushing your agenda, though, Headmistress. You won’t get any resistance from me.”

Harry cleared his throat. “This is all extremely interesting, and I mean that,” he grinned. “But I’d like to know who is vandalizing my inn.”

“We will find out, Harry,” Saliyah declared with arched eyebrows, “but I can’t say when. When Auror Pester has finished with the two men you captured, we will know.”

“How will you do that?” Ginny asked. “We heard that you’re not using Veritaserum any more.”

“Well,” the Head Auror’s brow creased, and she hesitated slightly, “there are other ways to get at the truth.” She glanced at Kingsley Shacklebolt.

“I’ve temporarily banned it from the Ministry,” Kingsley said. “There are those who disagree with me,” he nodded to Saliyah, “but my feeling is that if the case against someone is not strong enough to stand on its own, then a suspect shouldn’t be forced to speak against his will because of our inability to prove him guilty.”

“But that’s not —“ the Head Auror snapped her mouth shut and looked peevishly away from the Minister. She smiled tightly at Harry. “You see that we have our differences.”

“And in our kinder and more civil government than what was in place a few months ago, we can speak about our differences without fearing an Unforgivable Curse,” Kingsley smiled broadly. He put his hand on Saliyah’s, and she shrugged.

There was a flourish from the band and everyone looked toward the bandstand. The last set of the night was about to roll, and Ginny jumped up. “Come on, Harry, let’s party! It’s my birthday, remember? Thanks, Saliyah.” She nodded to the Minister and the Headmistress and pulled Harry out of his seat. He waved goodbye and followed Ginny to the dance floor, along with Ron and Hermione.

The band rocked on into the night. By midnight all of the older witches and wizards had departed except for Mundungus Fletcher, who sat next to the stage right under the drum set, tapping his toes and nodding his head to Keesha’s beat. A half hour later the final chord blasted a few more windows out of the Burrow, and a loud and long cheer rang out from the tired and happy crowd. Ginny jumped up on the stage and hugged all the band members. Then she raised her arms and everyone grew quiet; the silence sounded strange in their ringing ears.

“First of all,” she said, and everyone cheered. “Wait! I haven’t said anything yet,” she laughed.

“It doesn’t matter,” Luna called; she hadn’t gotten down yet from her perch on Dean Thomas’s shoulders, where she had ended up during the last dance. “You talk, we scream.” Everyone cheered again, and Ginny laughed again.

“Okay, but there is something serious I want to say.” Again there was quiet. “We’re all going down to my brother’s grave, and we’re going to have a remembrance for Colin Creevey and everyone else who died.” Now there was dead silence, and all the faces looking up at her were somber. “I want everyone to think of someone who was lost, and we’re going to say all their names, and if anyone has a story about them, they can tell it. We were also going to have a reunion of Dumbledore’s Army —” a huge roar went up and didn’t stop until Ginny turned to the band for help, and they broke three more windows in the house. “I know that not everyone here was with us at the beginning,” Ginny continued, “but everyone was with us at the end!” She lifted her arms as she shouted out the last words, and an even louder roar threatened to lift the roof off the tent.

She stepped down from the stage, and she, Harry, and Dennis, with Ron and Hermione, led everyone to the grave: George, Lee, Luna, Neville, Dean, Seamus, Parvati and Padma, Terry, Ernie, Michael, Lavender, Angelina, Katie, Hannah, Justin, Susan, Alicia, Anthony, Zacharias, and Cho Chang — who had come to the party because Harry, at Ginny’s request, had sent her a special invitation — all followed. Behind them came the rest: The Huffle Badgers with Keesha in the lead, Ginny’s other brothers, and the other students and friends who she had invited to the party. There were about fifty altogether, and they gathered around Fred’s grave.

George had left a large box of candles on the bench under the oak tree, and everyone took one and lit it with their wands. The light of fifty candles illuminated their faces and the headstone. Ginny kissed Dennis’s cheek and he stepped into the middle of the circle; tears were streaming down his face.

“I — I want to say something about m — my brother Colin,” he said in a choked voice. “He’s d—dead. I’m not sure what that means, because whenever I look into his camera, I think I s—see him there.” He stopped and covered his eyes with his hand, and his body trembled. Ginny came and hugged him. He looked at her and shook his head as he sobbed. “I c—can’t,” he said, and turned and walked through the crowd; he sat curled up on the bench, crying.

Harry saw tears on other faces as well. He stepped forward and spoke. “When I think of Colin, I remember a funny first–year kid with a camera glued to his face, always taking pictures. He was Muggle-born, and he had his first taste of the war pretty early on. He always used to say ‘All right, Harry’ whenever he saw me. I guess sometimes it got on my nerves a little, but he was a funny guy, like I said, and he was always laughing. He was one of the reasons we won, because he never gave up. He might have been shorter than some of us, but he showed us all how to be tall.” He placed his candle on the grave, and when he turned back his face was wet.

After a few moments of silence, Ginny raised her candle. “I want to talk about someone I didn’t know very well until a few minutes before she died. Her name was Elizabeth Derby, and she didn’t have to stay at the castle because she was only fifteen. But she did stay, and I was with her when she died. I was holding her hand, and I’ll never forget it as long as I live, and I won’t forget her either.” Tears streaked her face and she bowed her head. She looked up again. “My brothers and my best friends know that I don’t cry very much, but whenever I think of her, I can’t help it.” She put her candle on Fred’s grave, then stepped back, and Harry put his arm around her.

Luna moved into the center and stood over the headstone. She smiled at it and then looked around; she seemed surprised to see everyone there. “This is so nice,” she said cheerfully. “I think all of our dead friends would like this, too, and they’re probably watching us and thinking, I wish I was there with them. I know that I would.” She looked down at Fred’s grave again. “I knew Elizabeth. She was very pretty because she was a Veela, and she was very beautiful because she was a nice person. I miss her. I think she would have liked this party, even though she didn’t like loud music.” She bent down and put her candle on the grave, and walked back into the crowd, smiling at everyone around her.

Others stepped forward and talked about friends and family who had died or been injured in the battle. George was the last, and by the time he walked forward, there were dozens of candles on Fred’s grave. He sighed, then sat on the headstone and looked around at the faces lit by candlelight. “I appreciate what everyone is doing here,” he said, “and I confess that I still have moments, lots of moments, when I can’t believe that my brother isn’t here anymore. Those times are tough to handle, and sometimes I don’t know how I can go on with my life without him. But then I think of something, and I’m going to tell you what that is. What I think is, if Fred could see all of you now, he would do two things. First he would laugh, and then he would set off a Weasleys’ Whizz–Bang inside your pants.”

“Oh, no!” said Ron loudly, and at that instant the remaining candles in the box on the bench, plus all the candles on Fred’s grave, shot into the air and burst into the most brilliant display of Wild–Fire Whizz–Bangs since Fred and George’s departure from Hogwarts two and a half years ago. Dennis Creevey leaped up from the bench with a shriek. People still holding candles threw them into the air where they joined the conflagration, to cheers and screams of delight. Ginny flung herself at George, knocking him off the headstone, and they tumbled on the grave holding each other, and they couldn’t stop laughing.

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