Mrs Weasley had become more and more volatile as the time approached for Muriel's invasion, and everyone but Harry had found an excuse to scatter to the four winds. He soldiered on, laying the table for ten people and listening to the dire mutterings coming from the scullery. But he was so eager for Ginny's arrival, when Mrs Weasley stepped back into the kitchen with an armful of vegetables, he eventually took his courage in hand and asked when she was going to arrive.

Molly turned distractedly to face him whilst rummaging in a cupboard for a large saucepan. "But she arrived fifteen minutes ago, dear. She's taken her things upstairs," she said, before turning back to her task.

Harry stared at her back for a moment and then he gazed down at the remaining knife and fork in his hand. Ginny had been home for fifteen minutes and she hadn't sought him out. Why? They hadn't seen each other for days.

Obviously, she was not as keen to see him as he was to see her. Harry stood as if in a dream for several more seconds, twiddling the cutlery before completing his task and then, almost on autopilot, he walked through the living room and out the front door. Harry didn't know where Ron was; he had disappeared with practiced ease within five minutes of he and Harry beginning to lay the table. Hermione too, had disappeared, but that was at the behest of Mrs Weasley who had asked her to give the bathroom a quick once over. If she was still giving the bathroom a once over, it wasn't a quick one. Perhaps she and Ginny were catching up.

There was an old floral covered sofa on the front porch with some of its innards oozing out of various holes; it smelled very musty and Harry was sure there were mice nesting within it's sagging depths, but he sat down anyway. The mice wouldn't mind sharing and Harry didn't mind the company. It was all he had at the moment, because his best mates were Merlin knew where, and his girlfriend didn't seem in any hurry to see him.

Right at this moment, Harry wished he was back in the dungeons at Hogwarts. He'd be much better off spending more time with his dad than sitting here worrying about whether he still had a girlfriend or not. Harry shook his head. There must be something wrong with him, specifically in relation to girls-in relation to romance, at least. He was obviously totally clueless, because apart from not being around much, and that had been beyond his control, Harry couldn't really figure out what he could have done to make Ginny so distant when he had thought she was as happy as he was.

First, Cho hadn't seemed to like his ideas regarding romance, nor his friendship with Hermione, nor his repugnance of her treacherous friend, Marietta Edgecombe. And now Ginny...yep, totally clueless.

Harry didn't know how long he sat on the porch gazing off into the distance, but it turned out to be much longer than he realised. He became aware, as if from a distance that the noise inside the house was becoming louder and louder, and somehow frantic. He had just vaguely decided that perhaps he should go in and see what the problem was, when the front door burst open and Bill and the twins, rushed through. The twins had already jumped down the two steps onto the path that bisected the front garden when Bill spotted Harry rising from the sofa.

"Harry!" His handsome face registered enormous relief at the same time that it suffused with angry colour. The twins stopped their headlong flight after only a few running steps and whipped back around at the sound of Bill's exclamation. Many bodies appeared in the doorway behind Bill, and Mr and Mrs Weasley separated from the scrum with Molly rushing forward and pulling Harry into a suffocating hold.

"Oh, Harry!" she sobbed into his hair.

"What!" cried Harry, totally bemused. "What's the matter?"

"You were told not to go off!" bit out Bill angrily. Mr Weasley put a hand on Bill's shoulder and squeezed.

"Now Bill...it seems Harry was only sitting on the porch. Time must have gotten away from him." He looked at Harry and smiled, but his face was just now regaining its normal colour. "Right Harry?"

Harry was still in shock, but he nodded. Bill was not much appeased.

"You should have told someone where you were going."

"I'm sorry!" said Harry. "I thought I'd only been out here for a few minutes. I must have been daydreaming."

"Sleeping more like," corrected George, clapping Harry on the back. "You'll be the death of us, young Harry."

"Yeah," said Fred. "How in the name of Merlin did you come up with such a good hiding spot. "I mean...the front porch. Who'd a thunk?"

"Shut up, you idiots," growled Bill. He turned around and forced his way back through the crowd into the house. It seemed that he was determined to remain in a towering temper. Harry had never seen Bill so angry; he had always found him to be pretty laid back.

"All right. Everyone settle down," soothed Mr Weasley. "He's all right. That's all that matters."

Fred and George offered identical grins and with one on either side of him, they each flung an arm over Harry's shoulders and began guiding him towards the door, through which Mr and Mrs Weasley had just disappeared. Ron and Hermione were hovering just inside and there faces were pale and anxious.

But Harry didn't have much time to feel guilty over the fact that they were so obviously upset. Ginny was standing on the bottom stair. She was wringing her hands and looking more distressed than everyone else put together. Fred and George looked from Ginny to Harry and with equally knowing grins, they clapped Harry on the back, nearly knocking him over, before joining Bill who was pouring several small glasses of a smoking liquid...firewhisky, Harry presumed.

Harry still wasn't quite sure what the near panic had been about when he couldn't be found. They certainly hadn't looked very hard to find him before going into panic mode. He had promised that he wouldn't leave the Burrow and he couldn't have been outside for more than ten, maybe fifteen minutes at the most. He was sorry that everyone was so concerned; he had not meant for that to happen, but uncharacteristically, he suddenly felt a vindictive pleasure that Ginny looked so upset.

Ginny opened her mouth to say something, but Harry turned away and walked stiffly towards the congregation in the living room. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ron and Hermione exchange concerned glances before Hermione peeled herself away from Ron's side and headed towards where Harry assumed Ginny was still standing; the place from where he thought he heard a tiny, quickly stifled little sob.

He desperately wanted to turn back and comfort her himself, but then he recalled how Ginny had ignored his presence when she had gotten home...how she had seemed reluctant to even look at him when she had Floo-called. It was she who seemed to have had enough. This wasn't his choice. He was just going along with what she seemed to want.

"Well, lets have a look at you then!" a strident, demanding voice emerged from the depths of one of the armchairs, bringing Harry up short; though he could not see the occupant, he recognised the same voice as the one that had earlier issued from the Floo: Aunty Muriel.

"Don't hide back there, boy! You've already set the thestral amongst the owls, setting the house on its head whilst this lot of headless chickens raced around. I doubt even You-Know-Who is so determined to find you."

Harry was too shocked to move and he registered Ron stopping right next to him. The faces of all the male Weasleys present turned a startling shade of puce, even the twins. He could feel the heat radiating off Ron's face from where he stood alongside him. Mr Weasley looked as angry as he did mortified.

"Muriel, really!" he said helplessly. "Harry..."

"Button it, Arthur. I'm here to see him." Muriel leaned forward a little, and peering past the winged edge of the chair, she pointed an arthritic finger at Harry. "Come closer, boy," she commanded imperiously.

Ron leaned in close to Harry's ear. "You might just as well get it over and done with because she ain't going to let up on you."

Feeling like a prize exhibit at the zoo, Harry moved forward three steps as though in a bit of a dream and halted near the arm of the chair. Muriel Weasley would once have been considered a strong looking woman...not pretty by any stretch; her features were too bold for that, but Harry supposed some would have called her handsome. Age had made her features sag but there was no denying that strong nose and very determined jaw.

Her hair, amazingly, was red-but not the natural fiery red shared by all of the Weasleys that he knew, but a garish, unnatural cerise. It was set in a rigid array of fantastic curls that would not have looked out of place on the head of Marie Antoinette. In fact, when Harry looked more intently, he saw that the extravagant confection was a wig.

"Not there, boy! I don't want to end up with a crick in my neck." With remarkable speed and strength, a clawed hand shot out and grabbed a handful of Harry's sleeve and yanked him sideways so that he was standing directly in front of Muriel. Harry's face reddened as he stumbled and tried to right himself. He extricated his sleeve from the pincer grip and stepped back a pace. All he wanted to do was bolt from the room, but he didn't want her to start lambasting the others. Ron was right...he might just as well get this over with. This obnoxious old biddy thought she could behave any way she liked, probably because of her age. And then there was the money that she dangled like a carrot in front of the Weasley's faces. Harry didn't want to muck that up for them.

Small, red-rimmed, slightly protuberant, wishy-washy blue eyes set beneath black painted eyebrows, flitted greedily over Harry from the top of his messy head, down over his pinched, bespectacled face then onto his hooded jacket, jeans and trainers.

The only sound that could be heard was the clattering and banging coming from the kitchen. [TEL1] The Weasley males, Hermione and Ginny seemed to be holding their collective breath. Harry could sense their anger on his behalf, and he felt an overwhelming gratitude and a sense of belonging to this family.

He wasn't quite sure how this affection for the Weasleys would fit in with his new relationship with Severus Snape. But the fact that his new dad had wanted Harry out of the way while he took care of his ‘other' work, and that the Weasleys were his choice of ‘babysitters', boded well for his ongoing interactions with them. He had been close to the family before he and Ginny had ever become a couple; he wasn't going to let her defection affect his relationship with the rest of the family. But how was he going to stand being around her whenever he was here at the Burrow knowing that she had been his for a short time?

Muriel was still looking him up and down and it was all Harry could do to stand still under her blatant inspection. He expected her to ask him to lift one of his feet so that she could inspect his fetlock. He knew that he had grown in height lately, because he was now only a head shorter than Ron. When this amazing phenomenon had taken place, he wasn't really sure, because he knew how ill he had been, and it should have been impossible for him to increase in stature, when every cell in his body had been fighting for its mere existence. It must have been magic.

But his increased height notwithstanding, he could see from the look on the old woman's face that she found him lacking in some essential.

"Muriel, that's quite enough! I think you have now seen enough of Harry," said Mr Weasley extremely angrily, earning Harry's eternal gratitude.

Muriel sniffed derisively, and completely ignoring her nephew, her eyes shot upwards to Harry's forehead and not seeing what she obviously wanted to see, she stared into Harry's green eyes. "Well!" she barked. "Lift up that untidy fringe, boy! Let me see this famous scar that everyone blathers on about."

"Muriel!" snapped Arthur again. "I will not allow you to embarrass the poor boy any further." He strode to Harry and Ron, and settling a hand on each of their shoulders he nudged them towards the kitchen.

"Go and help your mother, Ron," he said, his red cheeks testament to his embarrassment on Harry's behalf.

Ron and Harry obeyed Mr Weasley's command, Harry gratefully following in Ron's wake. Hermione and Ginny brought up the rear, but before they had exited the room, Muriel's voice rang out again.

"And this is supposed to be the saviour of the wizarding world? This is the one the Daily Prophet refers to as ‘The Chosen One'?"

Harry froze in his tracks and stood stock still for a moment before spinning around and looking at the old lady in the chair. She had a truly malicious smirk on her face that would have done Severus Snape proud. His gaze snapped to Ron who was looking down at his trainers and Hermione who, most telling of all, had her hands clapped over her mouth, her eyes bright with remorse.

"What's she talking about?" asked Harry in a quietly ominous voice. "What's this ‘Chosen One' business?"

Muriel cackled. "He doesn't even know?" she wheezed unpleasantly, proving that there was nothing wrong with her hearing. "He's supposed to save us all from You Know Who, and he doesn't even know it. Oh, I'll definitely sleep more peacefully in my bed tonight knowing that you're on the case, Harry Potter."

"Muriel, you know very well that there is absolutely no proof to those rumours that were reported in the paper," bit out Mr Weasley, but he might just as well have been talking to the wall. Muriel didn't even acknowledge his presence with a look.

"And you, missy," she said, pointing that gnarled finger at Ginny. "I thought you said he was something special. If he is what you've set your heart on girly, all I can say is that you're taste is all in your mouth."

"Muriel!" Mr Weasley was now beyond angry. Harry had not seen him in this state before, not even when he was angry at the twins before the world cup. His raised voice brought Mrs Weasley hurrying in from the kitchen. She looked from the mortified faces of her daughter and Harry and then took in her husband's furious countenance. She swelled alarmingly and Harry took the opportunity to flee to the kitchen, before he could witness whatever Mrs Weasley had in mind for her unwelcome guest.

He registered vaguely that Ginny spun about in the opposite direction and flew towards the stairs to seek, he assumed, the sanctuary of her bedroom. His own anger prevented him from focusing on her embarrassment at the moment. And he was too confused by her attitude to give much thought to what she had apparently said to Muriel, nor indeed why she would say any such thing if she was-as it appeared-giving him his marching orders.

8888

Harry didn't stop in the kitchen; he stormed through the back door and out into the garden with Ron and Hermione following in his wake. Their faces bore testament to the fact that they were not looking forward to the coming verbal confrontation with their friend.

Harry didn't stop until he was almost at the exact spot where he and his father had spoken earlier that afternoon. They were far enough away from the house that they would not be able to hear the verbal bollocking Mrs Weasley was no doubt serving up to Muriel. Harry stood glaring at the placid surface of the pond for several seconds; that calm water was a far cry from his own inner turmoil that was threatening to break free. He knew Ron and Hermione were behind him but he didn't think he could face them quite yet without really letting loose. He concentrated instead on the other source of his anger...his father.

All this stuff that had been happening since the Department of Mysteries and he, Harry hadn't known about it? How many times had he seen Snape-as he had been then-reading the Daily Prophet and being very careful not to let Harry see the headlines. Not once had Snape thought to tell him what was in the papers. Of course not! Why would he even think about telling Harry what was going on, especially about the articles directly concerning him? It was fifth year all over again. Last year the Prophet had told the world that he was a raving lunatic. What exactly had they been saying this year? He spun about to face his two best friends.

"How long did it take the pair of you to work out the edited version of what to tell me?" he demanded angrily. "And did you decide to do it off your own bat, or did someone tell you what not to tell me?"

Ron and Hermione looked at each other, their faces guilt ridden.

"Well?" snapped Harry.

"Harry..." began Hermione tentatively, but Harry cut her off.

"I don't want any of your psychobabble, Hermione. I want the truth without any embellishment." He looked at Ron for the explanation and Hermione, mortified beyond belief, pressed her lips tightly together, but held her tongue.

Ron looked panicky for a few seconds, but then he took a deep breath. "It was because of what happened last year that we didn't tell you about the...'The Chosen One', thing," he said in a rush.

Harry glared at Ron as if he was mad. "Because of what happened last year you decided not to tell me," he repeated. "Exactly what about what happened last year made the two of you think that I do better with less information than more?"

Ron and Hermione exchanged looks again and when they looked back at Harry, their faces held identical looks of dawning horror.

"Harry," said Hermione, her voice placatory. "The Chosen One isn't like what they were saying last year. It isn't demeaning in any way. It's just... ridiculous."

"Ridiculous how?" asked Harry.

"Ridiculous because the Prophet knows what happened at the Ministry, Harry. They know that you faced Voldemort again and that you escaped him again."

"I didn't face him!" growled Harry furiously. "Dumbledore did. I'd be dead if Dumbledore hadn't come when he did."

"The public need a hero, Harry, and you're it," said Hermione, ignoring his outburst. "They know that we fought Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries, and that they were after a prophecy.

"And they've concluded that the prophecy was about you and...and You Know Who, mate," continued Ron. "And that it said that you were the only one...the only one who can kill him."

Harry suddenly felt a little light headed. They knew! How could they know? Dumbledore had said that nobody knew what the prophecy said except the two of them and senior members of the Order. And surely none of them would tell. But now that he thought about it, he wondered precisely how many Order members were considered ‘senior'.

Harry's gaze flicked from Ron to Hermione. He swallowed the huge lump in his throat before turning away and gazing out over the water again. "That's crap," he said quietly, but Hermione had noticed Harry's sudden evasiveness and disquiet.

"We know it is, mate," agreed Ron, relieved that Harry seemed to have calmed down. "But you know the idiots at the Prophet. They've never let the truth get in the way of a good story yet, have they?"

Hermione put her hand on Harry's back and rubbed a comforting circle. "Are you all right, Harry?"

Harry nodded brusquely. "Did you omit telling me anything else that's been happening while I've been incommunicado?" he asked, in a careful attempt to lead Ron, and especially Hermione away from talk of the prophecy. He wasn't ready to share the truth with them yet; he wasn't sure if he ever would be. He really hadn't come to terms with it himself, and he doubted he ever would.

Just precisely how did you come to terms with your inevitable and almost certainly, imminent death, or indeed tell your friends about it? Harry didn't want them to worry, that was for sure...and he knew they would if they found out.

"We told you everything we can think off," said Hermione quickly, eager to get back in Harry's good books. "We just thought...thought for your peace of mind, that it would be better for you not to know about that stupid ‘Chosen One', thing."

She paused and shook her bushy head. "Obviously not very good thinking on our parts. We didn't consider what would happen when we got back to school." She shot a look at Ron, as if the oversight was all his fault.

"Yeah...well, I can understand why you kept it from me," returned Harry in a resigned voice. "But just remember from now on...I hate being left in the dark. I'd much rather know the worst."

Ron and Hermione both nodded earnestly. "We promise never to keep anything from you again," said Hermione.

Harry squirmed a little. He thrust his hands into his pockets and scuffed the dirt with his trainer. Here was he berating his two best friends for keeping things from him, and he was doing exactly the same thing.

But there is a fundamental difference, he thought. My not telling them about the contents of the prophecy isn't going to hurt them at all. Their not telling me about the ‘Chosen One' thing, would have led to my being unprepared for all the unpleasantness from the Slytherins once we get back to school.

Now that his own actions were justified to his satisfaction, he redirected the conversation. Things had gotten way too serious and he didn't want to spend his time at the Burrow arguing with his friends. "Do you think your mum has finished putting your aunty Muriel back in her box?" he asked Ron.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Who knows. Muriel isn't shoved into a box very easily, but then again, Mum doesn't give up easily." He looked towards the house and let out a little huff of mirth. "At least the house is still standing."

Harry was looking towards the house too, but at Ginny's window specifically. He just didn't know what to make of her. She had told Muriel all about him apparently, but she was acting so weirdly around him. He had had visions of them being alone together for a few minutes and them catching up for lost time with a thoroughly enjoyable snog. He was already more than halfway addicted to snogging Ginny and they hadn't really even done it that often.

"Come on," said Ron, "we'd better get back to the house before they launch another search for you, Harry."

Harry fell into step beside Hermione as Ron strode ahead. "Umm...Hermione, did Ginny say anything to you?" he asked, trying to sound casual but knowing that he had failed miserably.

"Anything like what?" asked Hermione guardedly.

"I don't know. Just...anything." Harry knew he sounded impatient but he was really past caring.

Hermione sighed. "Harry, you really need to talk to Ginny yourself. She's...well, she's a bit upset. Muriel gave her a bit of a hard time."

"A hard time about what?"

"It's not my place to say, Harry. You need to speak to Ginny yourself." With that, Hermione hurried to catch up with Ron, purely and simply, Harry knew, so that he couldn't question her anymore.

As they neared the house, they could hear Muriel's strident voice ringing out from the lounge and the renewed clattering of dishes from the kitchen. It appeared that Mrs Weasley had returned to her task of preparing the loaves and fishes to feed the multitude and Muriel was reduced to insulting one of the male Weasleys.

When the three of them stepped into the kitchen, it was to find Fred and George helping their mother. So Bill and Mr Weasley had been left to guard their outspoken relative.

"You three get upstairs and wash up," ordered Mrs Weasley curtly. Harry, Ron and Hermione moved quickly across the room, eager to get out of the firing line, because it was obvious that Mrs Weasley was still in a towering rage. The twins looked up from their appointed tasks and rolled their eyes in unison. It would have been funny if Harry had been in the mood for laughing.

"And bring Ginny back down with you," Mrs Weasley called out to their retreating backs. "Dinner will be ready in ten minutes."

They carefully avoided looking at Muriel as they hurried through the living room; she was still holding court from the armchair and it appeared that Bill was now her hapless target. She was swigging firewhisky quite enthusiastically and from the slight slurring of her words, Harry presumed that this wasn't her first.

On the landing where the bathroom was situated, Hermione gave Harry a slight shove. "You go tell Ginny dinner's ready."

Harry frowned. He wasn't sure that he was ready for a confrontation yet.

"Go on," pressed Hermione, giving him another push, and she darted into the bathroom before Harry could argue. Harry looked at Ron for help, but Ron just shrugged his shoulders and leaned back against the wall, awaiting his turn in the bathroom.

"She's been weird since she got back," opined Ron. "No doubt it is you she needs to see."

"But what's the matter with her?" asked Harry confusedly.

Ron shrugged again. "Don't know. She hasn't spoken to anyone but Hermione. But seeing as she's still acting weird, it's probably you she needs to talk to."

Harry looked up the eight stairs to the next level where Ginny's bedroom was situated. Those eight stairs looked awfully difficult to climb.

"Are you sure that you're ready for the hassles of having a girlfriend?" asked Ron with a smirk. "You know you'll never be right about anything again, as long as you're together, don't you?"

Harry looked at his best mate and shook his head. "There are compensations, you know. And neither you nor I have been right about anything for the last five years anyway, so I'm used to that."

He put his foot on the bottom tread before adding, "You might think about garnering some compensations for being wrong all the time, yourself, old pal." He hurried up the stairs, but he could imagine Ron's look of total incomprehension.

But at Ginny's door, Harry paused again. Did he want this confrontation now? Was he ready for Ginny to officially give him the bum's rush? Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and knocked on the door. If she was going to give him the bum's rush, then he might just as well know the worst.

For several seconds there was no response from the other side of the door, then a quiet voice said, "Tell Mum that I'm not hungry."

Blow that for a joke, thought Harry. Before he lost his nerve, he opened the door and quickly slipped through. Ginny was lying on her bed facing the wall, her beautiful hair spread across the pillow.

"I wouldn't be game," said Harry quietly. It was as though Ginny had been poked with a cattle prod. She jerked upright, turned, and sprang to her feet to face Harry all in one movement. Her face was pale, but hectic colour was climbing into her cheeks.

"Harry! What are you doing here?"

"What do you think I'm doing here, Gin? I want to know what's going on. Why haven't you talked to me since you got back? Why were you so distant when you Floo called?"

"I wasn't!" Ginny automatically denied.

"Ginny, you hardly even looked at me!" Harry flared. "A quick, awkward hello, and then you spoke to Bill and Ron, and your mum."

Suddenly Ginny's eyes were swimming with tears and she turned her back. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I wanted to talk to you, but Muriel could hear everything I said." She began crying even harder, her shoulders shaking with her sobs.

Harry looked at her helplessly. He really was at a loss. "But you'd already told her about me, hadn't you? From what she said downstairs..." Harry trailed off. He was very confused

Ginny dashed the tears from her cheeks before turning back to face Harry. "I didn't mean to bring you up, Harry, I truly didn't. But she was talking about me staying with her for a couple of weeks and I told her that I couldn't because you were coming to stay.

"She cackled in that horrible way she does and said ‘and why should that worry you, missy? Isn't he Ronald's friend?'" Ginny shook her head. "But of course, she had already guessed. And she just went on and on, and before I knew it, I had said more than I really wanted to."

Tears were spilling from Ginny's eyes again, and Harry couldn't stand it a moment longer. He covered the tiny space between them and pulled her into his arms. She half-heartedly tried to shrug him off but quickly succumbed to the comfort he offered and began to sob on his shoulder. Harry buried his face in her hair and rubbed soothing circles on her back.

"So, I've still got a girlfriend, then?" he asked, kissing her fiery locks. "Because you know, I thought you'd given me the push."

"Oh, Harry!" Ginny sobbed even harder. "I'm so sorry."

"What for?" laughed Harry. As long as she still wanted him, he didn't care what she had done.

"She said...Muriel said..." But at that precise moment, there was a loud thump on the door.

"Come on you two," called Ron. "Mum's having kittens. Leave some for later, Potter." Harry heard him sniggering as he thundered back down the stairs.

"You can tell me what she said later," said Harry and he put a finger under Ginny's chin and lifted her face for a kiss.

Several wonderful seconds later, Harry pulled back with a groan of frustration. "Come on, I suppose we'd better get down there."

Ginny bit her bottom lip. "Maybe if you go first, it won't give Aunty Muriel as much ammunition as if we walk in together," she said.

Harry looked at her, his brows slightly furrowed. "Are you ashamed to be seen with me?" he asked, slightly annoyed again.

"No, Harry, of course not!" said Ginny desperately, grabbing hold of his hand. "I just don't want her hassling you. She's a total embarrassment."

"Gin, you've met my family. Nobody is more embarrassing than them. Not even Muriel." He tugged on her hand and together they left the room and headed down the stairs. In the kitchen, Harry was annoyed to see that he had been seated as far away from Ginny as possible. Poor Ginny was sitting opposite Muriel, who was on the same side of the long table as Harry, and would have to lean forward or back to see past Ron and Hermione to stick her barb into Harry again.

He had known that the meal was going to be uncomfortable, but Harry hadn't thought it would be quite so appetite suppressing. Muriel was more than half drunk and as a result, was even more obnoxious than she had been earlier. She complained about Molly's cooking: the chicken was too dry, Bill's choice of girlfriend: French, William, whatever were you thinking? Even absent Charlie was not off limits: dragons, Arthur, whatever is the boy on about?

Harry glanced nervously at Mrs Weasley. She was steadily eating her way through her portion of roast chicken and vegetables, but Harry noticed that her hands were trembling slightly; her face was set and her eyes bright with fury.

Muriel's bleary eyes had finally alighted on Mr Weasley when Mrs Weasley made her move. She had finally reached the end of her tether. Muriel Weasley was not going to target any more of her family with her viper's tongue, not if she had anything to say about it. Before any of them realised what had happened, Molly Weasley's wand was in her hand and pointed at Muriel.

"Molly, no!"

"Mum!"

Bill and Mr Weasley sprang to their feet and Bill, who was closest to his mother made a grab for her wand hand, but Molly was too quick for him. Muriel was too far into her cups to register the excitement going on around her, and she just kept on talking.

"Silencio!" screeched Molly, and though Muriel's lips kept on moving, no words emerged. Bill and his father sagged with relief but Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred and George were all still staring from Molly to Muriel in varying states of shock. Muriel seemed to have suddenly realised that something was not quite right because she was now clutching at her throat.

Evil grins were unfurling on the twins faces. Fred banged the table several times with his hands in a noisy form of applause. "Way to go, Mum!" he chortled.

"Impressive," added George, his grin nearly splitting his face in half. "You have hidden depths, Mother."

Molly ignored all of them. She leaned on the table with one hand and held her wand close to Muriel's face with the other. Muriel reared back, seeming much more sober all of a sudden. If she could have made a noise, she would have been squawking. Arthur strode the length of the table and snatched Molly's wand from her hand. Molly allowed herself to be disarmed, but her tongue was still loaded and primed.

"You invite yourself into my home and proceed to insult everyone you lay eyes upon. My children-and I count Harry and Hermione in their number-are off-limits to you from now on, Muriel Weasley. My home is also off limits to you until you can decide that you will act in a way that is commensurate with what the rest of the world considers to be socially acceptable. Age is not an excuse for being a horrible old hag!"

"Here, here!" agreed the twins.

"Fred, George, that's enough!" said Mr Weasley. Harry didn't know whether the poor man looked more upset or proud. Perhaps a combination of the two. He took his wife's upper arm in a gently, persuasive grip and guided her away from the table. He looked at Bill distractedly.

"Bill, please take Muriel home and make sure everything is all right at her end. Tandy, her house elf, will look after her. You just check the wards, would you?"

"Sure, Dad." Bill eased a clearly livid, but still totally silent Muriel out of her chair and guided her into the living room. Harry, Hermione, and the four youngest Weasleys remained in their seats, grinning and exchanging awed looks.

"That's our mum!" said Fred, and he and George exchanged a gleeful high five.

"She was awesome," agreed Ginny.

"Now we know where you got your power, as well as your temper from, little sis," said George, pulling a lock of Ginny's long hair. He turned to Harry.

"Just watch yourself, little bro," he added. "I'd hate to have to pick up the pieces and try and put them back together again, if this little Chinese Fireball loses it with you." He lifted the lock of Ginny's hair and waved the end of it at Harry. Ginny pulled her hair free and turned to her twin brothers who both cowered away in mock fear.

"I don't think Harry need worry, my dear brothers, but you two should be afraid. You should be very afraid!"

Harry, Ron and Hermione laughed at the sight of Fred and George cowering away from their diminutive youngest sibling. As Harry stared at Ginny, he was struck anew at just how gorgeous she was. He still couldn't believe that it had taken him so long to notice her in a romantic light. He wondered if she hadn't made the first move, whether he would have ever had the nerve to approach her. It didn't matter now, he supposed.

"Well," said Ron, "now that that successful visit is at an end, how about pudding?" Hermione and Ginny rolled their eyes, but Ron missed the exchange as he had already risen and crossed to the oven to extract the treacle tart he knew his mother had made in honour of Harry's return to the Burrow.

Hermione began to cut portions of tart while Ron found the vanilla ice cream, and though Harry wasn't even slightly hungry, he had a small piece. He was aware that Mrs Weasley had made it because she knew it was his favourite.

When most of the tart was demolished-they left two small slices for Bill and Mr Weasley-the five of them worked in surprising harmony to clean up the kitchen. With Fred and George's magical help, everything was spick and span within fifteen minutes. They then informed the others that they were off to meet Angelina and Alicia and with sly winks at Ron and Harry, they told them that they may or may not be back later.

Harry and Ron grinned in appreciation but Hermione shook her head and Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Behave yourself, children," said Fred, with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows, and with that, he followed George into the Floo where they disappeared in a flash of green flames.

"Lucky dogs," whispered Ron to Harry when the girls were safely occupied putting the kettle on the burner and setting out a tray of tea things for Mr and Mrs Weasley.

Harry nodded, and he couldn't help thinking about a future where he and Ginny would be as intimate as the twins and their girlfriends appeared to be. It was a lovely thought, but Harry swore to himself that he was not going to be a pushy boyfriend. Ginny could set the pace, he was determined on that score.

"Come on Ron," said Hermione. Let's take this up for your mum and dad.

Ron scowled. "Why can't you and Ginny take it up?" he asked.

Hermione raised her eyebrows significantly, but Ron didn't catch on. "Because, Ron, I thought you and I could take it up and maybe then we could have a game of wizards chess."

Ron's own eyebrows rose so high, they disappeared under his shaggy fringe. "You! Play chess with me. Since when have you been interested in wizards chess?" he asked. He looked at Harry with an expression of incredulity.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Ron," burst out Ginny. "Would you just disappear already! I want to talk to Harry...alone."

Ron goggled for a moment and then a knowing grin unfurled, and when he clapped Harry on the back and waggled his eyebrows, he looked positively juvenile. Ginny rolled her eyes. "Will you get out and get your mind out of the gutter!" snapped Ginny.

"My mind isn't in the gutter," protested Ron. "But you can't tell me you just want to talk, Gin."

Ginny drew her wand so fast, it was a blur. She held it in front of Ron's long nose. "Mum's not the only one who can do a Silencing Charm," she said in a threatening voice. "And I just might follow it up with the Bat-Bogey Hex if you don't leave. Now!"

Harry remembered Ron telling him that the Ministry couldn't really detect underage magic in a household like the Burrow where there were so many adults, but he had to wonder whether they might not be a little suspicious if they registered a Bat-Bogey Hex originating at the Burrow. They would surely have to wonder what adult would cast such a spell.

Ron however wasn't taking any chances. After shooting a glower at his little sister, he hurried after Hermione who was already at the base of the stairs.

Ginny sighed and put her wand away before turning to finish the task of making two cups of tea for herself and Harry. Harry crossed the kitchen and made a move to take both her shoulders to turn her to face him. But she had picked up both cups and they were now held between them, almost like an unwitting shield. Keeping her gaze on the cups, Ginny held one out to Harry.

Now that they were alone, she had gone quiet, and almost shy again. Harry took both cups from her and put them back on the bench. He then took her shoulders in his hands and bent his head to look her in the eye.

"Gin, what's the matter?"

Ginny bit her bottom lip and her eyes were once again sparkling with unshed tears. "I'm sorry to be such a pain," she whispered. "I don't usually cry like this." And one tear escaped each eye and slid down either side of her nose.

Harry clasped his fingers behind Ginny's head and caught the tears with his thumbs. "Is this about what Muriel said to you?" he asked gently.

Ginny swallowed and then she was howling on his chest, just as she had done earlier.

"What?" asked Harry, a little desperately. "What could she have said that is so bad? Surely you just ignore everything that comes out of her mouth, because you must know she's just trying to get a rise out of you."

"I can't ignore this," hiccoughed Ginny, her voice muffled against Harry's jacket.

"Why?"

"She said that I'm just like her. She said that if I kept on being pushy and bossy, I would get exactly what I wanted in life. She said that's how she caught Dad's Uncle Xavier and his Gringott's vault full of galleons." And with that, Ginny burst into even more anguished sobs and Harry was left to comfort her as best he could, while feeling totally lost and bewildered.