Chapter 3Chapter Text
Three weeks had passed since Harry's arrival at the Burrow, and the lazy summer days had settled into a comfortable rhythm. On the morning of their Diagon Alley trip, Harry woke early to find Ron already sitting on the edge of his bed, looking uncomfortable.
"Alright, mate?" Harry asked, sitting up and running a hand through his messy hair.
"Yeah, well..." Ron fidgeted with his hands. "Actually, no. I need to ask you something."
Harry felt his stomach tighten. "About?"
"About you and Ginny." Ron's ears were turning red, but he pressed on. "Look, I'm not blind. I've seen the way you two have been... you know. Looking at each other."
Heat crept up Harry's neck. "Ron, I-"
"Let me finish," Ron interrupted, holding up a hand. "She's my little sister, yeah? And you're my best mate. Which makes this whole thing bloody awkward for me."
Harry waited, not sure what to say.
"But the thing is," Ron continued, "she's been happier these past few weeks than I've seen her in ages. And you... well, you seem more like yourself than you have since Sirius died."
"So what are you saying?" Harry asked carefully.
Ron sighed heavily. "I'm saying that if you hurt her, I'll hex you into next week. But if you make her happy..." He shrugged. "Then I suppose I can learn to live with it."
"I won't hurt her," Harry said seriously. "I care about her too much for that."
"Good." Ron stood up, looking relieved to have gotten that off his chest. "Just... try to keep the snogging to a minimum when I'm around, yeah? Some things a brother doesn't need to see."
Harry couldn't help grinning. "I'll do my best."
"Right then," Ron said, his usual cheerful demeanor returning. "Mum's making breakfast. And if we're late, she'll blame me."
---
"Everyone ready?" Mr. Weasley called from the sitting room, where the Floo powder sat ready.
"Just a moment!" Mrs. Weasley replied, still fussing over her preparations. "Harry dear, do you have your list? And your vault key?"
"Yes, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, patting his pocket. He'd been looking forward to this trip for days.
"Right then," Mr. Weasley said, stepping up to the fireplace. He threw the powder into the flames and stepped through as they turned emerald green.
One by one, they tumbled through the Floo Network. Harry emerged from the fireplace at the Leaky Cauldron with only a slight stumble, brushing soot from his robes.
The pub was busier than usual, filled with witches and wizards having early breakfast before their own shopping trips. Tom the barkeeper nodded at them as they passed through to the back courtyard.
The moment they stepped through the brick archway into Diagon Alley, Harry could sense the change. The usual bustling energy was still there, but shopkeepers watched their customers more carefully, and people moved in tighter groups. Several shops had new security measures - iron bars on windows, heavy locks on doors.
"Blimey," Ron said, looking around. "It's like a different place."
"People are being careful," Mr. Weasley said. "Can't blame them."
As they walked down the cobblestone street, Harry noticed the glances that followed him.
"Let's start with Gringotts," Mrs. Weasley said briskly. "Get the money sorted first."
The goblin bank was as imposing as ever, though Harry noticed additional guards at the entrance. Their business was conducted quickly and efficiently, but the goblins seemed to keep a watchful eye on everyone there.
"Good thing it didn't take us too long. I heard from Bill that the Goblins are being a lot more thorough." Mrs. Weasley said as they emerged back onto the street, Harry's moneybag considerably heavier. "Books next, I think."
"Actually," Hermione began, "could we—"
But she never finished. Two identical arms shot out, hooking her and Ron both.
"No one leaves Diagon Alley without seeing the attraction," Fred announced grandly.
"The beating heart of commerce, the jewel of the wizarding world," George added, already steering them down the street. "Ladies and gents, welcome to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes."
The shop blazed with color, customers laughing as shelves spilled over with contraptions that hissed and whirred. A stack of Skiving Snackboxes towered dangerously beside a gaggle of younger students, and Harry found himself grinning despite the crowd.
"Business is booming," Fred said smugly, pressing a small, weighty pouch into Harry's hand. "Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. Limited stock. On the house."
"Don't waste it all in one go," George added. "Though if you do, send us a review."
Harry tucked it away, meeting Ginny's eye as he did. She smiled - quick and knowing, like they shared far more than just a secret now.
"Ohhh," Fred drawled, catching the look. "Notice that, George?"
"Crystal clear, dear brother," George replied solemnly. "Our sister's found herself a... business partner."
"More than that, I'd say," Ginny replied boldly, stepping closer to Harry and looping her arm through his.
Harry didn't move away. If anything, he shifted closer. "Your brothers always this observant?"
"Only when it comes to embarrassing me," Ginny said, but her eyes were bright with amusement rather than annoyance.
"Blimey," Fred said, looking genuinely surprised. "She's not denying it."
"Why would I?" Ginny asked, tilting her head to look up at Harry with obvious affection. "I'm not ashamed of having excellent taste."
The boldness in her voice made Harry's pulse quicken. This was definitely not the shy girl with a crush anymore.
A firework dragon roared overhead, making Mrs. Weasley shriek from the doorway. "George! Fred! This is supposed to be a shop, not a war zone!"
"All Ministry-approved!" Fred said brightly.
They spilled back into the Alley, Mrs. Weasley muttering furiously about "bad influences" as she steered them toward their next stop. The brightness of the joke shop only made the rest of Diagon Alley feel darker by contrast. Shops shuttered, posters peeling, people moving with their heads down.
They were heading toward Flourish and Blotts when Harry caught sight of a familiar pale face across the street. Draco Malfoy was walking quickly toward the darker end of the Alley, his usual swagger replaced by something furtive. He kept glancing around as if checking whether he was being followed.
"I'll be right back," Harry said, already moving away from the group.
"Harry, where are you going?" Hermione called.
"Just saw something. Won't be long."
He followed Malfoy at a distance, staying behind other shoppers and using the crowd for cover. Malfoy moved with purpose, occasionally checking over his shoulder. Harry had to duck behind a cauldron cart when Malfoy suddenly turned around, his pale eyes scanning the crowd suspiciously.
Malfoy stopped in front of Borgin and Burkes, the dark artifacts shop Harry remembered from his second year. Instead of going inside immediately, Malfoy lingered outside, running a hand through his white-blond hair. He looked genuinely nervous.
Harry crept closer, positioning himself behind a grimy pillar where he could see through the shop window. Malfoy finally entered, and Harry watched as he approached the counter where Mr. Borgin waited.
"Harry!"
He turned to find Ron, Hermione, and Ginny approaching, all slightly out of breath.
"What are you doing?" Hermione hissed, glancing around nervously.
"Malfoy," Harry said, nodding at the shop window. "He's up to something."
"More than usual, you mean?" Ron muttered, but he craned his neck to see. "Blimey, what's he talking to Borgin about?"
Through the grimy glass, Malfoy was bent low over the counter, speaking fast and sharp. Borgin looked wary, shaking his head every so often.
"He's trying to buy something," Ginny whispered.
"Or threatening him," Harry said grimly. Malfoy jabbed his finger toward the counter, where a large, ornate cabinet stood. His gestures grew more frantic with each word.
"Honestly, Harry," Hermione said, frowning, "it's probably nothing."
"Nothing?" Harry cut in. "Look at him. He's desperate."
"Should we try to hear?" Ron suggested, half-grinning. "Extendable Ears?"
Hermione sighed but dug into her bag. "Fine. But quickly."
They stretched the cord toward the window. Malfoy's voice came through, muffled but urgent:
"...has to be perfect... no mistakes... he'll kill me if it doesn't work..."
Harry's insides tightened.
"I understand your urgency, Mr. Malfoy," came Borgin's smooth reply, "but this item is... temperamental. Dangerous."
"I don't care!" Malfoy snapped, his voice cracking. "I need it working, and I need it soon. Money doesn't matter."
"It's not the price, boy - it's the risk."
A passerby blocked their view for a moment. When Malfoy came back into sight, he was white-faced, gripping the edge of the counter like he might fall.
"He looks scared," Ginny whispered.
Harry nodded. This wasn't Malfoy's usual swagger. This was something else.
"...my mother will be here soon," Malfoy was saying. "She'll convince you. But it has to happen."
Borgin's sigh was audible even through the Extendable Ear. "Very well. But I promise nothing."
Malfoy leaned over the cabinet, running his hand along its carved surface like it was something precious. Money exchanged hands.
"Come on," Hermione whispered sharply. "He's leaving."
They ducked into the shadow of a nearby shopfront as Malfoy emerged, scanning the Alley before hurrying off, a mix of triumph and terror etched on his face.
"Follow him?" Ron asked.
Harry's fists clenched, but Malfoy was already lost in the crowd. "We'd never manage it without being spotted. He knows we're here somewhere."
"So what then?" Ginny pressed.
"We remember," Harry said. His eyes were fixed on the shop door, where the cabinet had loomed in the shadows. "That thing, whatever it is. He's desperate to get it working."
Hermione bit her lip. "Working? That means it's not just furniture."
"Nothing in Borgin and Burkes ever is," Harry muttered. "Come on. Before your mum comes looking for us."
They rejoined the main street, the noise of Diagon Alley swelling around them again. Harry slowed when they passed Ollivander's. The familiar windows were shuttered, the door bolted.
"He's really gone," whispered Hermione, her face slightly pale.
Harry felt a cold weight settle in his stomach. If even Ollivander wasn't safe, who could be?
Mrs. Weasley's voice carried from further up the street, calling them toward Flourish and Blotts. Ron muttered something under his breath, but Harry barely heard him. His thoughts were fixed on Malfoy's pale face and the words still ringing in his ears.
He'll kill me if it doesn't work.
"There you are," Mrs. Weasley said, relief in her voice. "I was beginning to worry. Did you find what you needed?"
"Something like that," Harry said. "Ollivander's shop is boarded up."
"Yeah, hasn't been long since he disappeared..." Mrs. Weasley added grimly.
They walked down the alley in silence, the weight of the morning settling over them. Flourish and Blotts felt crowded but familiar, and their spirits lifted slightly as they split up to find the books.
"Advanced Potion-Making," Hermione read aloud from the list. "Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six. Confronting the Faceless..."
"I'll get the Defense books," Harry said, heading toward the nearly empty shelf. He found the last copies, and overheard two seventh-years talking about new Hogwarts security measures.
"...heard they're bringing in new security measures at Hogwarts..."
"...about time, if you ask me. My dad says things are getting worse..."
A chill ran down his spine. If Hogwarts needed extra protection, things were worse than he thought.
"Find everything?" Ginny asked, arriving with a small pile of books.
"Yeah. You?"
"Most of it. Still need Transfiguration, but Hermione's got that covered," Ginny said with a grin.
They paid and left, and Harry noticed Narcissa Malfoy across the street, tense and alert, moving alongside a woman he did not recognize. Draco trailed slightly behind, pale and rigid.
"Isn't that Malfoy's mother?" Ron asked.
"Yeah," Harry said. "Wonder what she's doing here."
"Probably shopping," Hermione said, though she was watching them closely.
Mrs. Weasley steered them toward Madam Malkin's. The shop smelled of fabric and sizing potions. While Harry had his robes adjusted, he heard Narcissa speaking to the shopkeeper.
"Simply must have the best protection money can buy," she said. "These are dangerous times, and I will not compromise on my son's safety."
"Of course, Mrs. Malfoy," Madam Malkin replied, her voice taking on the particular tone shopkeepers used for wealthy customers. "We have several options for protective enchantments. Repelling hexes, minor curse deflection, even some basic shielding charms woven into the fabric itself."
"Money is no object," Narcissa said firmly, and Harry could hear the strain beneath her composed exterior. "My son's safety is paramount. Absolutely paramount."
Harry saw Draco through the hanging robes. He looked drained, his usual swagger gone. When Draco caught Harry's eye in a mirror, something flickered in his expression before the sneer returned.
"Potter," Draco said loudly enough for the whole shop to hear. "Fancy seeing you here. Still shopping for clothes that actually fit, I see."
"Still getting dressed by your mother, Malfoy?" Harry replied evenly.
The shop quieted. Narcissa's eyes locked on Harry, icy and sharp.
"Mr. Potter," she said, and her voice could have frozen fire. "How... predictable to find you inserting yourself where you don't belong."
"I'm just shopping," Harry said steadily. "Though you look stressed, Mrs. Malfoy. Everything alright?"
Her mask faltered for a moment, fear flashing before she regained composure.
"The concerns of the Malfoy family are hardly your business," she said icily. "Though I suppose playing savior has become something of a habit for you."
"Someone has to." Harry said simply, and there was something in his tone that made several people in the shop look at him with increased interest.
For a long moment, Narcissa stared at Harry as if trying to read his mind. Her son watched the exchange with growing confusion and alarm.
"Mother," Draco said quietly, "we should go."
"Yes," Narcissa said, but she didn't break eye contact with Harry. "We should. But Mr. Potter..." She paused, seeming to weigh her words carefully. "Perhaps you're not quite as naive as I once thought."
As the Malfoys prepared to leave, Draco caught Harry's eye once more. This time, there was no sneer, no contempt. Just a boy who looked utterly lost.
"Enjoy the rest of your shopping, Potter," Draco said, but there was no venom in it. If anything, he sounded almost wistful.
"You too, Malfoy," Harry replied quietly. "Stay safe."
Draco's eyes widened slightly at this unexpected sentiment, but before he could respond, his mother had steered him firmly toward the door.
"That was intense," Ginny said quietly once the Malfoys had left. "What was all that about?"
"I'm not sure," Harry admitted, though his mind was racing. The fear in Narcissa's eyes, Draco's obvious distress, the desperate shopping trip to Borgin and Burkes.
"She looked nervous," Hermione observed, voicing what they were all thinking.
"Can't imagine why," Ron said sarcastically, but even he looked troubled by what they'd witnessed.
Harry said nothing, but he found himself thinking about Narcissa's parting words. 'Perhaps you're not quite as naive as I once thought.' What had she meant by that? And why had she looked at him with something that almost resembled... hope?
They finished their shopping relatively quickly after that. Mrs. Weasley purchased everyone's robes with an efficiency that spoke of years of practice, while Mr. Weasley examined the protective enchantments with obvious interest.
"Quality Quidditch Supplies!" Ginny said suddenly as they passed the familiar shop. "Can we just have a quick look?"
"I suppose we have time," Mrs. Weasley said, though she checked her watch.
"Look at this," Ginny breathed, running her fingers along the handle of a gleaming Firebolt. "It's beautiful."
"Think your mum would buy you one?" Harry teased, moving to stand beside her.
"Not bloody likely," Ginny laughed. "She nearly had a heart attack when she found out how much your Firebolt cost."
"Maybe after the war," Harry said quietly, watching her examine the broom with obvious longing. "I could get you one. You deserve to fly on the best."
Ginny looked up at him, her expression softening. "You don't have to buy me things, Harry."
"I know I don't have to," he replied, stepping closer. "I want to. You're brilliant in the air."
"Is that so?" she asked with a small smile.
"Completely mesmerizing," Harry said honestly. "Sometimes I forget to look for the Snitch because I'm watching you fly."
Ginny's cheeks flushed pink, but her eyes sparkled with pleasure at the compliment. "Well, when you put it like that..."
"Besides," Harry continued with a grin, "I quite like the idea of spoiling you."
"Careful, Potter," Ginny said, moving closer until they were almost touching. "Keep talking like that and I might start expecting it."
"Good," Harry murmured, his voice dropping lower. "I want you to expect good things."
The intensity in his voice made Ginny's breath catch, and for a moment they just looked at each other, the air between them charged with unspoken promises.
"Oi Harry! Come look at these new gloves!" Ron called from the other side of the shop.
"Coming," Harry called back, but his eyes remained on Ginny for another moment.
"We should..." Ginny started.
"Yeah," Harry agreed, though he made no move to leave.
"The gloves," Ginny said, but she was smiling now, a secret sort of smile that made Harry feel warm all over.
"Right. The gloves."
They moved toward where Ron and Hermione were examining the protective equipment, but Harry felt hyperaware of Ginny beside him. When she brushed against his arm reaching for a set of Chaser pads, the contact seemed to last for ages.
"These are interesting," Hermione was saying, holding up what looked like a standard pair of Quidditch goggles. "They claim to enhance vision in all weather conditions - rain, fog, even magical darkness."
"Useful for Seekers," Ginny said, glancing at Harry with a playful smile. "Though Harry's always been good at noticing things."
"I have?" Harry asked, feeling her meaning.
"Oh yes," Ginny said. "Very good at noticing important details."
Ron continued oblivious, examining chest padding.
"Might be worth having," Harry said, forcing himself to focus on practical matters. "If we're playing this year, which we probably are, despite everything..."
"Some things are too important to give up," Ginny said firmly.
"Exactly," Harry agreed, watching her.
"Right then," Mrs. Weasley's voice called from the shop entrance. "Time to head home. Arthur needs to get back to the Ministry soon for an evening meeting, and I want to get dinner started."
As they prepared to leave, Harry caught Ginny's hand for just a moment.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
"For what?"
"For reminding me that some things are worth fighting for."
Ginny squeezed his hand gently. "Always, Harry."
The journey back to the Burrow was quieter than the trip out. Everyone was tired from the day's shopping, and Mr. Weasley seemed preoccupied with whatever Ministry business awaited him. Harry found himself thinking of the general atmosphere of unease that seemed to permeate the entire Alley.
"I'll need to leave shortly," Mr. Weasley said as they arrived at the Burrow. "Emergency meeting about security protocols. But let's have a quick bite first."
As they quickly settled around the kitchen table for an early dinner, Mrs. Weasley hurried to put together sandwiches and tea.
"That business with the Malfoys was concerning," Mr. Weasley said, loosening his tie. "Borgin and Burkes especially. That shop's been under Ministry surveillance."
"What kind of surveillance?" Hermione asked.
"We've been keeping an eye on anyone purchasing certain types of... questionable items. They're careful about what they sell openly, but we know what goes on there."
"Narcissa looked nervous," Harry said. "Really nervous."
Mr. Weasley nodded grimly. "I imagine she has good reason to be. Lucius's imprisonment has put the entire family in a difficult position. They're no longer in You-Know-Who's favor, but they can't exactly run to the Ministry for protection either."
"So they're stuck," Ginny said.
"Exactly. And desperate people do desperate things." Mr. Weasley stood, grabbing his Ministry robes from the back of his chair.
---
That night, Harry lay in his bed staring at the slanted ceiling while Ron snored softly in his own bed nearby. The events of Diagon Alley kept replaying in his mind - Malfoy's desperate behavior, his mother's fear, the general atmosphere of unease.
A soft knock interrupted his thoughts.
"Harry?" Ginny's voice whispered through the door. "You awake?"
He glanced at Ron, still fast asleep. "Yeah. Come in, but quiet."
She stepped inside, her auburn hair tousled from sleep, nightdress slipping slightly off one shoulder. Her presence made the small room feel warmer, more alive.
"Couldn't sleep either," she said, settling on the edge of his bed, close enough that her knee brushed his thigh. "The Alley felt different today. Darker. And Malfoy..." She shook her head. "I've never seen him look so desperate."
Harry nodded, shifting slightly closer. "His mother looked terrified. Whatever's happening with their family, it's serious."
"Everything's changing, isn't it?" Ginny said quietly, her hand finding his under the covers. "The war, us... even you seem different than you were at the start of summer."
"Different how?" Harry asked, though he suspected he knew what she meant.
"Like you've finally figured out who you are." Her eyes met his in the dim light. "I like it."
The simple admission sent warmth through Harry's chest. "I like who I am when I'm with you," he said honestly.
Ginny's smile was soft but knowing. "Good. Because I plan on being around for a long time."
She leaned forward then, her lips meeting his in a deep kiss that was unhurried, full of promise rather than desperate heat. Harry's hand came up to cup her cheek, marveling at how natural this felt, how right.
When they broke apart, both were breathing a little harder, but there was something tender in the moment - an acknowledgment of how much had shifted between them.
"I should go," Ginny whispered, though she made no immediate move to leave. "Before Ron wakes up and traumatizes himself."
"Probably wise," Harry agreed, though his thumb traced across her cheekbone, reluctant to let her go.
She pressed one more quick kiss to his lips before standing. "Sweet dreams, Harry."
"Night, Ginny," he murmured, watching her slip quietly from the room.
Harry lay back against his pillows, touching his lips where he could still taste her kiss. Outside the window, the red comet pulsed against the dark sky, and he found himself thinking about changes - in the wizarding world, in himself, and in whatever was growing between him and Ginny Weasley