Harry Potter and the Elemental Heirs

Chapter 2: Avoiding the Inevitable

"There is nothing like returning to a place which remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered." ~ Nelson Mandela

Ginny's eyes widened as she saw him standing on her front porch, his grin fading. He opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to think better of it and shut it quickly. His eyes flashed briefly with a strange emotion, what was it? But then it was gone before it was really even there, replaced by a look of vague recognition. "Oh hello Ginny," he said, in a brotherly tone.

"Hello Harry," she said softly, brushing past him. She looked down, averting her eyes so that he wouldn't see the tears welling up and threatening to spill over. She was stubborn and would never let him see how very much she simply wanted to shake him and get through to him, breaking past his cold exterior. How could he act as if she were merely Ron's sister and someone he barely knew, after all they had been through?

Harry stood on the porch, watching her walk away. This was going to be a lot harder than he had expected. He hunched his shoulders forward as he picked up his suitcase and Firebolt, seemingly carrying the weight of the world on his back. Perhaps he did; after all, that was the way of heroes, and he had learned to accept it.

"I'm here!" he announced loudly, stepping inside of the house. He looked around as he waited for someone to come, taking in the warm and inviting clutter that was the Burrow. He felt his spirits rising as he glanced around.

He didn't have to wait long. Soon he was being thumped on the back by Ron, enveloped in bone-crushing hugs from both Mrs. Weasley and Hermione, and he found his hand being heartily shaken by a very enthusiastic Mr. Weasley. He clutched his now throbbing hand, grinning back at all the smiling faces. He always felt a sense of belonging here and welcomed it back gladly.

"Um Harry, why exactly are you holding a banana peel?" Ron asked, a bewildered expression on his face.

Harry laughed and held it up. "It was my portkey," he replied, tossing it towards the trash bin nearby, where it bounced off the side and landed on the floor with a soft squishing sound. "I don't normally rely on bananas as traveling companions, contrary to popular belief," he added with a slight smirk.

"Oh Ronald, honestly," Hermione muttered, though she was looking at him with a mixture of exasperation and fondness. She turned back to Harry and asked, "But why didn't you just Apparate? It must have been a great deal more trouble to get an authorized Portkey. You did pass the test didn't you?"

Harry grinned proudly. "Yeah, I passed the test, but you can't Apparate around here anymore. Lupin told me that Dumbledore recently activated a bunch of wards, including Anti-Apparition ones." He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, but Hermione could tell that deep inside the subject of Dumbledore still triggered some resentment.

"It's really too bad you couldn't get here earlier. We were planning on throwing you a birthday party along with Ginny," Ron lamented.

"Don't worry about it," Harry said cheerfully. "I was happy enough simply getting some gifts besides that used bar of soap the Dursleys gave me. It was covered in Uncle Vernon's back hair," he said, shuddering.

Ron grimaced sympathetically. "It's right good that you're finally rid of those muggles. Mum almost popped a blood vessel when she heard about that huge tub of lard taking a swing at you."

Mrs. Weasley's eyes darkened dangerously at the mention of the Dursleys, but she said nothing.

"All right then," Mr. Weasley stated, "Ron, take Harry up and let him put his things away. Hermione, have you seen Ginny?"

Harry stumbled slightly at the mention of this and turned a bright shade of red. "I think she decided to take a walk," he mumbled, before dashing up the stairs after Ron.

"What was that all about?" Mrs. Weasley wondered, sighing and heading into the kitchen to start dinner. Whatever it was, she certainly intended to find out.

Ginny ambled along the dirt pathway leading down into a meadow from the Burrow, kicking rocks and wondering over the mystery that was Harry Potter. It really was a beautiful day, and she fully intended to enjoy it, despite the fact that the boy she had loved for so long and who had sent all her hopes of even having a friendship with him tumbling down, was staying at her house for the remainder of the summer.

The sun shone brightly above in the afternoon sky, which was the color of ocean shallows. Marshmallow clouds rolled lazily across the sky in creamy puffs, forming enough shapes to satisfy any dreamer. Ginny lay back on the soft grass that cushioned her, surrounded by wildflowers. Her yellow sundress flowed around her and rustled in the breeze. She looked up and concentrated on finding as many shapes as she could. A dragon streamed by, clouds of white steam coming from its snout. There, a snowman, ironic in its sudden summer appearance. And up higher was...Hermione?

Ginny blinked and realized that Hermione was actually standing above her and looking down in a concerned manner. Sitting up, she patted the place beside her, drawing her knees up thoughtfully. "Sit," she said, and Hermione obliged, crossing her legs and looking prepared for a lecture.

"Please, don't start," Ginny began. "I really am fine. Honestly. I just needed some time to think."

"Sorry Ginny, but I really am worried about you. Harry too. It's not exactly normal to just stop talking altogether for no reason," she said in a placating tone.

"Who says there wasn't a reason," Ginny replied, her words growing heated. "Maybe Harry just couldn't stand pretending any longer and decided to give up the charade. Why else would he simply refuse to even give me a proper answer as to why we couldn't be friends all of the sudden?"

"To protect you, of course," Hermione said, sounding weary and impatient. "You know he would never intentionally hurt you. He has something of a..."

"Nobility complex," Ginny put in. "Heroic syndrome. Saint of the world disease? Really, any would do just fine to describe him."

"Well, if you want to put it that way I suppose you're right. But he really can't help it you know. Growing up alone for all those years, he's so independent that he forgets to let anyone else in sometimes. He tends to think he can do everything by himself. You simply have to push your way back in. Let him know you won't be placed aside. Trust me, he's pushed both Ron and me away before."

Ginny sighed. "It's just not that simple, Hermione. Harry and I, we're very...complicated. I have a feeling he is pretty adamant about not letting me in."

Hermione had a foreboding feeling that Ginny was right.

Up in Ron's room, Harry was unpacking and barely listening as his friend continued to ramble on about his favorite team, the Chudley Cannons. Even his room reflected his love of this Quidditch club, decorated in a bright, blinding orange. There were posters everywhere, depicting chasers flying madly as bludgers barely whizzed past them, keepers making spectacular saves, and seekers spiraling into breathtaking catches. No, it was quite impossible to miss his obvious love of the sport.

Ron had been thrilled to become Quidditch captain the previous year, and was actually quite brilliant at it. Harry admired his skillful plays and endless strategies and was glad he himself had not been chosen. He wasn't really much of a speech giver. Ron, on the other hand, gave pre-match pep talks rivaling those of Oliver Wood, making it extremely difficult sometimes to stay conscious.

He had also become surprisingly dependable in his school work, pulling above decent grades and rarely procrastinating until the last minute, as had been his style for so many years. Harry suspected this had quite a lot to do with Hermione and the term "whipped" came to mind. The two of them now anxiously awaited their Hogwarts letters, which would reveal the identities of this year's Head Boy and Girl.

"As I was saying Harry, I've recently decided to leave Hermione and elope with Snape," Ron said loudly, rolling his eyes.

"That's nice Ron," Harry replied, eyes still far off.

"Harry, mate, talk to me here. You've slipped into another dimension. Where do you go all the time? Is this about Ginny?"

"Look Ron," Harry growled, snapping back to attention so fast that Ron was surprised he didn't get whiplash. "Not bloody everything is about Ginny, alright? Just leave it."

"Ok, ok, I know when to let well enough alone. I just don't understand you two. Up for a game of chess?"

Harry grinned at this and hopped up from Ron's bed. "Always."