FicWad

During the long, dream-filled night Harry was vaguely aware of the door opening several times as people looked in on him. He never woke completely— his subconscious, usually primed to expect the worst and react with outright paranoia, apparently recognised this place and these people as 'safe'— but he was still aware of Mrs. Weasley's worried, gentle presence, of Ron peeking anxiously in the door, and once, he half woke with the memory of the lightest, most fleeting of kisses against his forehead, and a brush of soft, lavender-scented hair against his cheek. But by the time he dragged his eyes open to look, the room was empty.

It was well past breakfast when he woke. The sun streamed brightly through the window, and he could hear people moving around on the floor below. The tray from last night was gone and had been replaced with another. Not that there was much difference; the broth had been replaced with a simple porridge, the dinner bread with a slice of toast, a glass of milk had been added, and the colour of the fruit juice had changed, but it was equally bland fare. But it was more than the Dursleys allowed him in a week, and it smelled absolutely divine. He'd just managed to sit up and used his new power to settle the tray onto his lap when the door opened, and he found himself being regarded assessingly with honey coloured eyes. Ginny grinned at him happily. "I'll tell Mum you're up," she said. "She was beginning to worry you'd starve to death in your sleep."

Harry smiled. "No, I'm fine."

She snorted. "Ha. Don't be daft, Harry. You are not." She smiled at him again, with an almost fierce gleam in her eye. "But you're going to be! Now I better get Mum." She whirled around so fast he could see, through the half-open door, her hair flying out behind her, and then he heard her light footsteps descending the stairs at breakneck speed.

Harry stared after her, wondering how he was ever going to bring up the things he needed to talk to her about. Sighing, he shoved that thought aside and reached for the food which was quickly becoming the only thing he could think about.

A few moments later, he was staring down at his almost untouched tray, wondering if he'd ever be able to eat an actual meal again, when Molly Weasley bustled into the room, smiling brightly. Ginny, looking incredibly pleased, followed behind her with a proprietary air.

Something about the girl was... different. He was used to her watching him, but it had always been covertly, with her retreating in shyness if he actually seemed to notice her. It had been a bit flattering, of course, but also embarrassing. As he'd said to Sirius, she was a pretty girl, and sweet, but... he wasn't interested. Late one night, shortly after he'd asked Cho to the Yule Ball and been shot down, he'd spent some time trying to figure out why he would want a girl who preferred someone else instead of another, equally pretty girl who obviously adored him. It took him a while to figure it out, but he finally realized that he just wasn't the kind of guy who wanted to be... well, worshipped. He wanted a girl who understood her own worth and who thought she was every bit as good as The Boy Who Lived. That was one of the things that had really attracted him to Cho; she knew she was beautiful, she'd always been popular, she was intelligent, competent, and wealthy, and seemed to have absolutely no insecurity whatsoever. He'd been worried far more that she would think he wasn't good enough for her, not the other way around. Ginny, on the other hand, seemed to have a serious case of hero worship, and the idea of asking anything of someone who he was very much afraid would never tell him 'no' had been revolting.

Now, though, he could find no shyness in her. She met his eyes squarely, no looking away, no ducking her head, and her attitude was protective rather than deferential. It was a drastic change, and he couldn't imagine what had happened to bring it about. It wasn't that he disliked it, but it was rather unsettling, rather like it would be to watch Neville Longbottom suddenly turn around in the hallway and punch out Draco Malfoy. He didn't have time to dwell on it, though, because Mrs. Weasley had sat down on the edge of the bed and was brushing the hair out of his eyes to lay a cool hand against his forehead.

She then tilted his chin up, peering at his eyes, and smiled. "You look much better today, dear. More with us, hmm?"

Harry nodded, blushing. "Yeah."

Molly patted his cheek. "It's all right, Harry. You did just fine. Far better than anyone else in your situation could have managed, and with more restraint, too! How you resisted using magic on those people, I don't know... why, even the Ministry would have understood, under the circumstances! But Albus sent someone to check and said that the useless creatures were all just fine." She sniffed disapprovingly. "Not that they shouldn't be locked away somewhere for what they did. 'Fine,' indeed. As if they should be when you're not..." She shook her head and forced a smile. "Well. That's all past now, and no reason to dwell on it. I made it quite plain that I will not allow those people near you again, and he's agreed to you staying with us for the rest of the summer. He mentioned other arrangements for next year, but now that he understands about them, he's no more willing to tolerate their treatment of you than I am." She reached out, stroking his hair, and blushed. "We had quite a talk, last night, he and I. I let my temper get the best of me, but, dear... he never meant for you to get hurt. I knew that even when I was at my angriest. It was what I was afraid of, really-- there's just too much for him to deal with on his own anymore, at his age. Well. I made it quite plain that he must trust people to help him, or it's not just him that will suffer for it, but all of you children, and you in particular, luv. I hated to do it, but I think he understands now."

"I don't know," Harry said. "I won't go back. Ever."

"You don't have to," Molly said, firmly. "You may always come here, and I will not allow anyone to take you away if you don't want to leave. And if you need us to, we'll come get you, as well. I refuse to stand by and allow you to be abused again. If the people who are supposed to be responsible for you aren't protecting you, then, by my book, they've lost the right to object if someone else decides to, old friends or not!" She twisted her apron in her hands nervously, and her tone, while holding iron resolution, was also a touch sad. But she smiled at Harry again and motioned to the tray. "Eat, sweetheart. You need to get your strength back. If you do well today, maybe we can try something a bit more interesting for supper. You're to rest today, too, Harry. If you need anything, someone will bring it to you. You just take it easy, and nap if you can, and we'll soon have you back to your normal self again."

Harry nodded. "Thank you."

Her light blue eyes were tender as she patted his cheek. "You're such a sweet child," she said, her voice soft and gentle. "I wish they'd given you to me to raise. I wouldn't have minded having another little one in the house, not in the least. And you must have been simply the most adorable baby boy. Those people didn't deserve you, and you certainly didn't deserve to be left with them." She sniffed, wiping at her eyes with the back of one hand, squeezing his shoulder with the other. "Well. What's done is done, and I can't change it. But I can make sure you have a proper home now, at least. You rest, pet. The others will want to check on you, I know, but they're under strict orders not to tire you. So don't be shy about kicking them out if you need to sleep. I need to tend to the kitchen, but I'll hear if you call for me, no matter how quietly." With that, she left, but not without bending first and kissing the top of his head, bringing a slight flush to his cheeks; he couldn't remember ever receiving any kind of physical affection from an adult, other than the few desperate, clandestine hugs he'd had from Sirius.

Harry looked over at Ginny. "Hey," he said, awkwardly.

She smiled and sat down on the side of the bed, pulling her feet up beneath her robes to sit cross-legged, facing him. "Mum stormed out of here last night," she said, conversationally. "I think she was going to go kill your aunt and uncle. Dad went after her, of course. He came in around midnight, when she left on a broomstick. She came home at dawn, looking pleased with herself. I don't think she went to bed at all."

"Do-- do you think she did?" Harry asked, afraid of the answer.

Ginny shook her head. "No," she said, then sighed. "If she had, she'd be feeling guilty right now. She isn't, so she didn't. Pity."

Harry nodded, eating. "You've changed," he said.

She looked at him steadily, and there was a challenging light to her eyes. "Haven't you? After everything that's happened?"

He didn't look away. "Yeah. I have." He took a deep breath. "Close the door?"

She stared at him thoughtfully, and there was an element of cold calculation in her eyes that sent a little chill down his spine. But then she gave him a little smile and shook her head. "No, Harry," she said. "One, in this house, there's no such thing as privacy, only the illusion of it. Too many clever, curious wizards. Two, didn't you hear Mum say she'd hear you call, no matter how quietly? I don't know what spell she used, not exactly, so I can't say what triggers it. And three, if you're going to live here, I'm not going to make things awkward from the very beginning by giving my brothers a reason to act like nosey gits. So if you have something to say that shouldn't be heard by others, then... that's not the way to go about it."

"What is?" he asked, not looking away.

She ducked her head slightly, and her golden brown eyes glittered mischievously as she peeked at him through thick, dark red lashes. "Well," she said, her tone teasing, "you could always wait until you're well enough to leave the house. We could go for a walk, then. That wouldn't make it impossible to be overheard, of course, but it would make it less likely and easier to prevent."

"I could," he said. "Of course, your brothers would assume we were sneaking off to snog."

"Better to be sneaking off than doing so blatantly under my parents roof," she said, with an enigmatic smile. "They'd be ever so disappointed if I didn't take more care than that."

"Your parents or your brothers?" he asked.

"Oh my brothers, definitely," she said, laughing. "My parents are more comfortable picturing me in nappies and dragging a blanket. They'll ignore any such thing, if I let them."

Harry grinned. "And you don't think your brothers would follow us, trying to catch us and embarrass us?"

"I think they would try, Harry. I'd worry they were sick, if they didn't," she said, and again, there was something slightly disturbing about her smile. "But they wouldn't succeed."

"You seem awfully sure of that," he said.

"Aren't you?" she asked, softly. "Honestly?"

He chuckled. "Point. If I didn't want to wait?"

She cocked her head and regarded him silently for a long moment, and he found himself completely unable to even guess at her thoughts. Nothing showed in her eyes, on her face, and for one of the volatile, animated Weasley clan, that was completely unheard of, and more than a bit unnerving. He couldn't help but remember that, even if things hadn't been exactly as he'd been told, she had still been touched by Voldemort's broken mind through the diary. And she'd still been through far more than most girls could come through sane. Even without the added factor of the Dark magic coursing through her, change had really been inevitable. The real question was why he hadn't noticed it before? If she'd intentionally hid it, which seemed the most likely explanation, why wasn't she still doing so? Was it intentional, or had her stability crumbled, already, to the point where she couldn't pretend to be unchanged any longer?

He may not have wanted to have a younger girl following him around with a heartsick crush, but at least he had understood that. He didn't understand her now. He had no idea how to interpret the slightly amused, secretive, challenging look in her eye. It was the sort of look he'd expect from a friendly Slytherin, if there were such a thing. And it was far too old of a look for a fourteen year old girl, especially one who'd been raised by a loving, wonderful family. Nevertheless... he had to admit it was intriguing.

She tossed her head, throwing her thick mass of flaming red hair over her shoulder. "There could be a way," she whispered. "If you were up for it."

"And what would it be?" he asked.

Ginny leaned in close enough for him to see the light scattering of freckles across her nose and to smell the lavender that scented her hair. His instinct was to draw back, but he forced himself to stay still, to not look away from her molten honey gaze. "There's a spell," she murmured softly. "If you're willing. I found it last term. But I've never tried it." She licked her lips, with a quick dart of her little pink tongue, and smiled almost hungrily. "You see, it's forbidden." She whispered the last word caressingly.

"Forbidden?" he asked, carefully.

"Mmhmm. It could be dangerous, if you used it with the wrong person." She practically purred the words, and Harry was torn between fascination and disquiet, and more than a bit disturbed that the fascination seemed more likely to win out. "And of course," she continued, her eyes never leaving his, "someone evil could do horrible things with it." Her expression softened then, and her smile seemed more like the Ginny he was used to. "But I trust you, Harry," she said softly. "Even if I would never do it with anyone else, I know it's safe to trust you."

Harry hesitated. "How do I know I can trust you?" he asked, bluntly. "You aren't the girl I rode home with on the train. Either you've changed dramatically in the last couple of weeks, or you aren't Ginny." He looked her in the eye. "I'm not saying I have a problem with the new you. I think I like it. But I have to know you're you."

For the first time, she looked away. "Or maybe you never noticed I'd changed, Harry. What reason would you have to notice, after all?" She smiled ruefully. "Why shouldn't you accept the same mask that everyone else did? Especially when I went through such trouble to preserve it?" She looked back at him and sighed. "I'm not the same as I was two years ago, no. But I haven't changed that much since the end of the year. I've just... come to realize that maybe you would understand. That maybe I don't have to pretend with you, and... and just maybe, unlike everyone else, you might like it better if I don't. And last night, I got the final reassurance I needed to take the chance."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "What was that?"

"You needed help," she said, very quietly. "But you never asked for it. You hid things, too. So maybe you're not so strong that you would never understand, that you would be repelled by the dishonesty of it."

He chuckled. "No. I'm not. I understand, better than you can imagine. Is this spell Dark?"

She stared at him, surprised, then lowered her eyes. "Not directly," she said. "I found it amongst others that were. But really, it depends on the way it's used. It doesn't hurt anyone on its own, or take pain or anything to cast. It's just very... abusable."

"Okay," he said.

"Okay? Just like that?" she asked, grinning at him with very Ginny-like delight, her eyes sparkling impishly again.

"Just like that," he said.

She laughed, a musical peal of pure joy, then rose up on her knees and leaned forward. Before he had time to even realize what she was doing, she had curled an arm around his neck and was kissing him soundly.

Harry froze, stunned. He hadn't expected that. He didn't expect her little tongue to flick out, teasing its way between his lips, either. Nor did he expect the way Ginny settled herself against him with a hungry little growl, rubbing her chest against his and sliding her knee over his and up between his thighs.

"Wh-what are you doing?" he asked, shocked.

She froze, then leapt suddenly off of him and the bed, and backed away a few feet. Her eyes were wide, and she seemed almost as shocked as he was, and possibly more embarrassed. "I... I'm sorry. I..." She covered her face with her hands, shuddering. "I didn't mean to do that. I wouldn't have got near you if I'd known it would happen. I'm so sorry."

Harry frowned. "It's started, hasn't it?" he asked.

"I'm okay, Harry," she said, still refusing to look at him. "I just... ever since... sometimes I get these, um, 'urges'. The strangest things. They're not hard to resist, not usually. It's just... weird. But I've never just... given in like that. I'm so sorry! I... I'll go now. Don't worry. I'll stay away."

"Don't go," Harry said.

Ginny backed slowly towards the door. "I have to! If I can't trust myself, then you certainly shouldn't trust me. I don't know what I was thinking. Just... forget I said anything, okay? Please?"

"Ginny," Harry said quietly, "I know what's going on. That's why I need to talk to you."

The disappointment flickered across her face and was gone, hidden so fast it might never have existed. Instead, her lips twisted in a humourless smile. "Of course you do. And of course it's bad news. I should have expected that, really. Well, I don't believe that I want to hear any more bad news, Harry, thanks all the same."

He shook his head. "It's not bad news. Unexpected news. Shocking news. Maybe even disturbing news... but not bad news."

She crossed her arms tightly, just beneath her chest. "Well I don't want to hear it!" she snapped, then closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Not right now, anyway," she added, more calmly. "I'm sorry. Look, I... I've got to get out of here," she whispered. "I'm sorry!" With that, she turned and ran out the door.

Harry heard a thud, then a yelp, and Ron yelling, "Woah! Ginny! What the hell? Hey, come back here! Gin?" A moment later, his friend came in the door, looking highly offended. "What the hell was that about?" he asked Harry, indignantly. "Do you know what the bloody hell that was about?"

Harry just shook his head. "I don't think it would make sense if I tried to explain it."

Ron's eyes narrowed. "So you do know, then?" he asked, suspiciously. "What'd you say to her, Harry, to make her run out like that? Couldn't you have been nice about letting her down, mate? She's just a kid, you know."

"Huh?" Harry asked. "Oh. It wasn't that. And she's only a year younger than we are, you know."

"She's a kid," Ron said, sharply. "And she's my sister. Don't even think that way, Harry." He grabbed a chair and dragged it up by the bed, turning it around and straddling it backwards. "Not that I could see why she'd want you right now," he said, frowning. "Geeze, mate, you look like hell. Better'n you did last night, though. Gave us a bloody scare, you did. What happened?"

"My relatives," Harry said, uncomfortably. "And... Ron? Ginny hasn't been a kid for two years now. Not really. Think about it."

Ron's face took on the same red as his hair. "Damn it, Harry! It doesn't matter how old she is, she's still my sister. She's a kid. Friends don't go and think of a bloke's sister any other way."

Harry sighed. "You know, she answered the door last night."

"Yeah, so?"

"It was like an angel had come to save me," Harry said seriously. "The way I see her has changed, and I don't think it can go back. But I promise you, Ron. I'll never hurt her. Ever."

Ron stared at him, and for a moment, he seemed near tears. "Don't do this, Harry," he asked softly. "Please. I... listen. It's not just, you know, normal brother stuff. If it were... I still wouldn't like it. And I'd rag you on it. But... it'd be okay, really. But it's more than that. I'm sorry. And I'd never say anything if it weren't Ginny. Harry, you're my best friend, you know that. I was scared to death when I saw you last night. But think about it... if it were your baby sister, would you want you paying that kind of attention to her? I've thought about it ever since I realized she had that crush on you," he said, closing his eyes briefly, as if in pain. "About what it'd mean if you ever decided you liked her, too. I don't want my baby sister killed, Harry. I want her to meet a nice, normal, safe guy and have a nice, normal house and some nice, normal kids. I don't want her killed. I don't want her kidnapped and tortured by Death Eaters. I don't want her being number one on You Know Who's list of people to kill to hurt Harry Potter!" He took a deep breath and lowered his voice back down. "I know she won't be sensible, so you've gotta. I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to go off on you. But I've had nightmares about that ever since... you know."

Harry closed his eyes, fighting back his immediate anger. Ron had a point, a very good point. He just didn't know everything. "Ron? Will you swear to me that you'll never tell anyone what I'm about to tell you?"

The red head stared at him, obviously hurt. "Harry... you know you can trust me. Don't you?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. Or I wouldn't even think about telling you. There's only one other person who knows."

"You told Hermione before you told me?" Ron asked. As always, his face was as expressive as a kicked puppy's when he was hurt.

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "I told Padfoot. I needed his advice."

"Oh," Ron said, blinking. "Well. That's different, I guess. But you can trust me, Harry. I haven't ever snitched on you, have I?"

Harry grinned. "No," he said. "It's just... this is important. Really important."

"Harry, we've done the whole life or death thing half a dozen times, and the 'failure means the world will be taken over by evil wizards' thing more than once. How much more important can it get?"

"Failure means the world might be destroyed."

"Doesn't it always, mate? Look, if you don't wanna tell me, fine."

"I do," Harry said. "It's just hard. And scary."

"Harry, what's wrong?" Ron asked. "You're scaring me now. I keep trying to imagine how things could be more scary than they already are, and you know what an imagination I've got. So best you go ahead and tell me."

Harry took a deep breath. "What if I told you that everything that we've been told about Salazar Slytherin is wrong?" he asked. "What if I told you he didn't hate Muggles? That he never turned evil?"

"I'd say those bastards you were living with musta hit you on the head," Ron said. "And we might oughta get you to a mediwitch right now, mate."

"I'm not saying that most of the Slytherins nowadays aren't slime," Harry said. "And any who aren't have got to be hiding it so they don't get tortured by the likes of Malfoy."

"Okay? So why would it matter?" Ron asked. "And how would anybody know, anyway? It's not as if anybody now was alive to see it. So might as well go by the history books, since it doesn't make any difference one way or the other."

"He's not gone," Harry said. "Not entirely. He can't be until he manages to pass on his power to an heir, and he's never managed it. Every time he's tried, it's been interrupted, and the heir went insane, because they only got part of it."

Ron stared at him, silently, for a long time. Despite his poor grades and cavalier attitude, Harry knew him well enough to know that his friend was far brighter than almost anyone would give him credit for being. Personally, Harry thought people were idiots for underestimating him... they only had to sit down to a game of chess with him to be shown that Ron Weasley had more going on in his head than his grades showed. And now, Harry could almost see the wheels turning, facts being sorted and classified, chances and possibilities weighed. He wouldn't commit to any conclusions, though, Harry was pretty sure. Not without more info. He nearly grinned when Ron just said, "Okay, let's hear the rest."

"There are always two, or at least they're supposed to be. They... embody, I guess, opposing forces, but that doesn't mean they have to fight, or even that they're supposed to," Harry said. "If either is ever completely wiped out... I'm not convinced it'll actually destroy the world, but it'll be devastating when the force finally finds a new spot to break out in."

Ron looked thoughtful, but just waved his hand in a circle, encouraging Harry to continue.

"Have you ever considered what makes someone Light?" Harry asked. "I mean, if you think about it, it doesn't mean that you're necessarily good. You could do horrible things in the name of the Light."

"Like... what, exactly?" Ron asked, slowly. "And where did all of this come from? How?"

"Like sending a boy back to abusive relatives," Harry said. "For his own good, of course."

Ron looked away. He'd never agreed with Dumbledore's sending Harry back to the Dursleys. He hadn't had any idea it was as bad as it was-- listening with his ear pressed to the door as his crying mother had told her husband all of it had been a shock-- but what he did know was more than bad enough. Nor did he agree with a lot of the ways Harry (all three of them, actually) had been treated. Too many things just didn't make any sense. If Harry was in such danger from You Know Who, then why the bloody hell hadn't Dumbledore kept him at Hogwarts 365 days a year? Why send him to Muggles? And why let Snape torture him? Hell, why hire a bloody Death Eater to teach kids, anyway? Too many things didn't add up. Ron hated it when things didn't add up. It made his head hurt.

On the other hand... his parents both adored the old man, and while Ron wasn't the most obedient of sons, and while he sometimes joked about them (what kid doesn't?) he loved and respected his parents, and their opinion meant a lot to him, even if he'd never admit it out loud. He grew up trusting and respecting Dumbledore. Loving him like a distant uncle, really. Of course, if Dumbledore returned the care, his parents wouldn't have had such a rough time, now would they? A real friend would have helped out when people he supposedly cared about had seven freaking kids and not enough money to clothe em all, now wouldn't he? Hmm. "So what exactly are you saying, Harry?" he asked slowly.

"Does it hurt to be killed by the Killing Curse?" Harry asked.

Ron shrugged. "They say no. Of course, it's kinda hard to ask afterward, now innit?"

Harry laughed. "Yeah. 'Hey, did that hurt? Sir? Sir?'" He sobered. "So. If I were to be dying of something that was really painful, I mean like the Cruciatis curse painful, would it be evil to make the pain stop?"

"Well, no, I guess not. But you can't do a Killing Curse on yourself." He frowned thoughtfully. "Can you? Nah, I'm sure you can't. That'd just be... weird. And anyone else doing it... um... hell, I don't know, Harry. So what are you getting at? No riddles. This is you and me, mate. You can speak plain."

"Well, the Killing Curse is a Dark spell, isn't it? And Dumbledore is Light. But he's done something evil, and there's a way to use the curse that's not, so Dark doesn't necessarily mean evil, and Light doesn't necessarily mean good," Harry said.

"Okay, yeah, I can see that, Harry," Ron said. "What I meant was... what are you saying? What's going on? What is the, er, the whole point of all of this. Stop trying to convince me of your viewpoint. You don't have to. I trust you. Just tell me what you want."

Harry took a deep breath. "Slytherin was the last true Dark Lord. There hasn't been a fully empowered one since. Voldemort went insane because he didn't finish the power transfer." He looked at Ron, willing his friend to understand.

"And?" Ron asked, his face tight with tension.

"He's not the Heir anymore," Harry said. "And it happened again. The transfer was disrupted. Of course, I thought I was doing the right thing. Even Riddle didn't know what was really happening." He looked at Ron. "You know what? I think Voldemort wouldn't have been able to come back if it had finished."

Ron shook his head slowly. "No," he said. "No! Harry, I... you... damn it! I've trusted you on a lot of things, and gone along with a lot of crazy ideas... dragged you along with some, too, to be fair... but this! This is too much. I don't know what you have planned but... but you can just forget it." He stood up, glaring down at the bed, his blue eyes ice cold. "And stay the fuck away from my sister. I don't care what you believe right now, you just stay away from Ginny. Or else."

"Do you want her to go insane?" Harry asked, knowing Ron was more terrified than angry. "I don't. I'm scared. I'm afraid I won't be able to help her, and... and...." He swallowed. "Help me," he said, pleading. "She's your sister. Help her. Help me help her."

Ron dropped to his knees by the bed, hiding his face against his arms. "Oh god," he moaned. "Oh god. I can't handle this. What the hell am I supposed to do? Damn it, Harry! Why? This isn't fucking fair!" He shuddered, then looked up at Harry with tortured, miserable eyes. "We need Hermione. She... can find out about this shit. Tell us what's real. What to do. I can't just take this on faith. I don't want to believe it. I will, if there's some proof... but I don't want to. God, I knew something was wrong. She's been hiding it damned well, but she's my baby sister. Especially this summer, she's just been... off. But hell, who hasn't? Last year was so bloody awful... God, Harry, why? Why my little sister, huh? She never hurt anybody! She doesn't deserve to be turned into... into..." He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, a small whimper escaping him.

"Ron," Harry said gently, "She's not going to be evil." He paused. "Well, I guess she could be, but it'd be like anyone else. It doesn't have to happen. And I'll help."

"She's my baby sister," Ron whispered, and Harry knew exactly what that meant. He knew, despite the amount of complaining Ron did about his siblings, that he'd lay down and die for any of them without a second thought. Harry and Hermione were probably the only ones who realized just how much Ron loved his family... they were the only ones he'd ever trusted enough to let see that side of him. And his sister, the only one younger than him, was the one family member he felt the most protective towards. If he overreacted when she was involved, it wasn't because he was a jerk-- it was because he couldn't stand the idea of her being hurt. "You... I've gotta have some proof, Harry. I've gotta know we're doing the right thing. Once I know what's right... I'll do whatever it takes. You know that. Whatever it takes."

Harry nodded. "I know. But you realize this makes her a target anyway?" he said.

Impossibly, Ron went even paler, and nodded. "He'll kill her."

"Yeah," Harry said. "But."

"But what Harry?" Ron demanded. "What could possibly make this any better?"

Harry smiled. "But I'm the Heir of Light."

Confused, Ron stared at him. "So... what? Ginny's your enemy now?" he asked hoarsely.

Harry shook his head. "No. Like I said, we don't have to be enemies. But I can protect her."

"From everybody?!" Ron clenched his fists, biting his lip and trying to slow his breathing. "You Know Who will be after her. If you're right about Dumbledore, and he finds out, he'll be after her. Anyone who finds out will hate her and want her dead. They'll put her in Azkaban!" His voice had grown shrill again, and he drew a shuddering breath. "She'll never be safe again."

"I'll protect her," Harry said. "As much as I can. And if we can get her fully empowered, and I can get Dumbledore to turn it over to me, she'll be safe."

"Turn... what over to you?" Ron asked.

"You didn't realize?" Harry said. "Dumbledore is the Lord of Light."

"Then... why... I don't get it," Ron said. "Why would he do that to you?"

"He thinks he's doing the right thing," Harry said. "He hates the Dark so much that I guess anything's okay to fight it." He sighed. "I wonder how many people have been killed by insane Heirs because of him...."

"Um... okay, look... how does leaving a little baby with monsters and letting him be starved, beaten, neglected, and emotionally tortured fight the Dark?" Ron asked, forgetting that he wasn't 'officially' supposed to know everything the Dursleys had done. "I mean, if anything, I think that'd be pretty damned likely to just create a really nasty Dark wizard. You'd be a damned sight more dangerous than You Know Who, if you were evil, mate."

"I don't know," Harry said. "Except I don't think I can go Dark. Dark magic is... I'm not sure how to describe it, actually. It doesn't feel right when it touches me. The only thing I can think of is that it has to do with Voldemort somehow."

"Yeah, well, maybe it doesn't, Harry. If you're this... this Heir thing, and he's the, uh, Lord of Light, then obviously he made you that at some point," Ron said. "So maybe he did it. And besides which, you're the one who said that dark and evil aren't the same thing, remember? So if you can be dark and good, then you can be light and evil."

"Yeah," Harry said. "I just don't know."

"So why would he do it?" Ron asked, again. "It's stupid. I mean, if you're his Heir, he should want to keep you safe. And he bloody well hasn't done that, now has he? People treat their heirs better than that. Hell, look at how Malfoy's father spoils the little git, even, and he's about as evil as they come, Dark or Light. So why?"

"He never intended to pass it on," Harry said. "But he has to have an Heir."

"Erm, well, he has to know that he's getting on up there, Harry," Ron said. "I mean, yeah, nobody likes to think about dying, but when you're 150, it's time to admit that you probably shouldn't start any really long books, y'know?"

Harry shook his head. "He's not a hundred and fifty," he said. "Apparently, he won't die until he passes on the power. He's been the one blocking Slytherin from a true heir all along."

"Um... Slytherin and them were a bloody long time ago, mate. Even I know that, no matter what my marks in History were. Nobody lives 900 years, Harry. Not even Nicholas Flamel lived that long, and he had the Philosopher's Stone!"

"It's only about twice as long," Harry said.

"Yes, but he did have the Philosopher's Stone," Ron said. "And he had it because he invented it. It didn't exist before that. So there's no way Dumbledore could be 900 years old. Besides, he's got family. A brother. It's not like he showed up out of nowhere and nobody knew how old he was."

"If you were as powerful as he is, and were 800 years old, how hard would it be to fake an identity?" Harry said. "I mean, he has to know spells we've never even heard of. And if I understand right, the power of Light itself keeps him alive until he's transferred the power."

"So... what happens to you, then?" Ron asked. "Do you go crazy, too?"

Harry frowned. "Uh," he said. "I hadn't thought of that. I don't know."

"Well, what did your... uh... source say happened to the rest of his heirs?"

"That they all got too old, or were killed," Harry said. "But it's the partial power transfer that's the problem. If she hadn't gotten part of it, there wouldn't be a problem. I don't know if I've gotten any of his."

Ron frowned, his face getting that distracted look it got when he was thinking furiously. After a while he said, slowly, "Harry... I don't think he meant for you to live long enough to find out. Think about it. He didn't have to allow the Tournament. And that was just one big deathtrap for you. And at the end... how could he miss that the cup was a Portkey? Especially if he really is 900 years old. He's been... setting you up. And not really caring if the rest of us go along with you. But why? You've always trusted him, even when he was a jerk..." His eyes widened suddenly. "It's because you're too strong. He can't afford to let you get much older, that's got to be it! He's scared of you, or he wouldn't be that obvious about things!"

"But why?" Harry said. "If other Heirs have gotten too old, what's different now?"

"You're too strong, mate. And... you're not alone. People believe in you," Ron said. "Maybe he treated you as... as just... disposable or something, at first, but you lived through it all. And you've faced You Know Who four times and you're still alive. That's gotta have him just about pissing his knickers! He probably thought you'd be an easy one, Harry. Poor little fellow, lost his parents, let's just put him with these handy monsters so that we can be sure he grows up crazy and never learns to make friends or trust anyone. But it didn't turn out how he planned, and now you're here, and you're strong, and you're smarter than he counted on and you are not alone and vulnerable and trusting... He's probably scared shitless."

"But why?" Harry repeated. "What possible threat can I be?"

"Harry, don't be daft," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "He's afraid you'll find out what he's done and kill him. He bloody well knows he deserves it."

"Ron, he's 900 years old! How can I be a threat?"

"Harry, if he weren't scared of you, he wouldn't be trying so hard... and so carelessly... to get you killed. Therefore, you are a threat. And if you're not a threat, then you haven't got any chance of saving my baby sister, so you damned well better become a threat fast!"

Harry stared at Ron for a moment, then nodded firmly. "Right. We need Hermione, I think."

"Right." Ron nodded. "Of course I'm right. I'm bloody well always right. You know that. But we need Hermione. I bet she'll come if we tell her why you're here. Bet we couldn't keep her away. And if I tell Mum having her here would make you feel better, she'll go get her herself. And then... we can get to work. She won't like us having to kill Dumbledore, but... she'll come around. I still want proof, though, Harry," he added, seeming to deflate a bit. "Do you have anything? Anything at all?"

"Does this count?" Harry held up his hand and created a ball of light hovering above it.

Ron stared. "Er... how?" he asked, glancing down to verify that Harry's wand wasn't in his other hand.

"Light magic doesn't need words, or a wand," Harry said. "True Dark magic doesn't either."

"But I thought you were just the Heir," Ron said. "That he was, you know, keeping the magic to himself?"

"I am," Harry said. "But anyone can learn to do Light or Dark magic."

"Yeah?" Ron asked, skeptically. "Sure they can. That's why no one can do magic without a wand."

"It's completely different," Harry said. "If you try to do it the same way, it won't work. I think I can teach you, though." He grinned. "And because it's so different, the Ministry can't track it."

"Really?" Ron asked, perking up visibly. "Brilliant! But how'd you learn?"

Harry hesitated. "The same way I learned all of this."

"Alright, then. Lemme go get Pigwidgeon and some paper, and I'll write to Hermione while you tell me everything from the beginning."