The Bargain
11: Deadline

By Mr. Intel

Previous Prologue: Parental Pacts 1: Birthday Dilemmas 2: Telling Ginny 3: Reconciliations 4: Best Foot Forward 5: The Receiving of Advice 6: The Love of Money 7: The Ultimate Domestic Test 8: Young Love 9: What a Witch Wants 10: The Department of Records and Statistics 11: Deadline 12: Flight and Fight Next

August 11

The morning of Ginny’s birthday — and the wedding — saw a bright sun rise behind a veil of thin, high-level clouds. As Harry squinted out the attic window at the serenity of the Burrow’s garden, he realised with a start that this would be his last day here, and that he’d be spending tonight with Ginny in a secret, secure place prepared by Dumbledore.

A headache was forming at the base of Harry’s skull, a souvenir from his stag party the previous night. While Ron protested innocence, Harry knew that the Firewhisky, pounding music, and extra-loud fireworks hadn’t diminished his best friend’s enthusiasm a notch. Even Ron had been red-faced when a half-dozen strippers showed up halfway through the festivities and began to "strip" for the whooping, partially-inebriated, and very hormonal collection of young men. Harry allowed himself a smirk at the look on Fred’s face when one of the strippers took out a wand and cancelled a glamour charm, revealing Angelina Johnson. The other girls did likewise, revealing Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell, and three other Gryffindors in their year. Abashed, the twins and Lee Jordan pushed the girls outside to "explain." The subsequent yelling could be heard for miles.

So when Harry arrived back to the Burrow with a heavily-slurring Ron across his shoulder, he could honestly say that nothing had happened, aside from a good party and a very put-out set of future brothers-in-law.

Focusing his eyes on a moving dot, Harry spotted an owl swooping low through the trees surrounding the paddock. It was followed by two more, each bearing a smouldering red envelope. They all aimed for the level underneath Harry’s feet and disappeared through a window.

There was a desperate rustling and the deep voices of Fred and George could be heard through the floor. That noise was drowned-out instantly, however, when the magically magnified voices of three witches pierced the silence of the morning. So discordant were the messages that Harry couldn’t make out a single word of them, but the anger lacing the Howlers was obvious.

Once the morning deliveries had extinguished themselves, Ron began to stir on his bed. "What was that all about?" he asked, pressing his palms to the sides of his head. "And why do I feel like Hagrid is standing on my head?"

Harry chuckled. "If I’m not mistaken, Fred and George are just now beginning to realise how foolish it was to contract for strippers from Three Chasers’ Escort Services. That pounding you feel in your head isn’t Hagrid; it’s Firewhisky, and I’m certain that you won’t be the only one at my wedding with a nasty hangover."

Ron groaned and fell back onto his pillow. "Wake me when it’s time to go to the church."

"Suit yourself," Harry replied, grabbing his clothes and a small wrapped package and walking towards the door. "But I’m not going to explain last night to Hermione. You’re going to have to tell her about the strippers all by yourself."

Harry slipped onto the landing and decided that a flask of pain potion would be the first order of business that morning.

*

Ginny Weasley smiled into her pillow. The previous night had revealed more about her best friend than she had thought possible.

Luna and Hermione had taken Ginny to a Muggle Pub in London, where they were met by twelve witches from Hogwarts. The Parvati twins, Lavender Brown, Susan Bones, three girls from her own year, a gaggle of passing acquaintances and — much to Ginny’s surprise — Daphne Greengrass, the token Slytherin. After a few small drinks, they then went to Hermione’s house — her parents were still on holiday in Paris — and the party really got started. It wasn’t the drinking, loud gossip, or surprisingly hard music that made Ginny smile. It was the fact that when Hermione got tipsy, her character transformed. Instead of being rational, thoughtful, and quiet, the chemically-altered Hermione had become outspoken, and flighty.

With a stifled giggle, Ginny remembered how they had to forcefully drag Hermione from the kitchen table, as her dancing became more and more uncoordinated. When they finally got her down from the tabletop, she was clad only in her bra and knickers.

"I was hot," she had said.

There was a stifled moan and Ginny peeked at her friend’s bed. A mass of bushy-brown hair was all that could be seen atop the duvet.

As the image of her friend singing, "Witches Do It With Magic" appeared in her head, a current favourite on the Wizarding Wireless, Ginny giggled again.

"Whasofunny," Hermione mumbled. "Choo laughing for?"

Abandoning all pretence, Ginny threw aside her covers and sat up. "Oh, nothing," Ginny sing-songed. "I was just...um, reliving your dance routine from last night."

Hermione let out a loud raspberry and with an exaggerated movement of the duvet, covered her head completely.

"It’s not my fault you can’t hold it," Ginny said with another laugh.

Soon, Hermione’s snores increased in pitch and volume. Knowing her friend would be a mess at her wedding if she didn’t get some more sleep, Ginny decided not to wake her. Her smile melted away as a sudden, nervous energy shot through her; in a few short hours, she’d be Harry’s wife and soon after that....

Ginny bolted out of her covers and ran to the loo. It was good that she made it, too, as what little was left in her stomach was deposited in the toilet just before she heard the muffled screaming of three female voices from somewhere near the twins’ room.

*

Cautiously spooning his porridge into his mouth, Harry tried very hard to keep it moving down towards his digestive tract. Mrs. Weasley was humming a light tune in the kitchen and the rest of the household was in a state of sleep-deprived paranoia.

"Mum?" asked Charlie, who had spent the night in Percy’s room. "Have you seen my dress robes?" Percy had been sent an invitation to the wedding, but as far as Harry knew, the estranged Weasley hadn’t replied.

"They’re in your closet," she answered, not taking her eyes off the bread she was charming into toast.

Charlie mumbled a "thanks" and wearily trudged back up the stairs.

He was immediately replaced on the steps with Ginny, who looked as sick as he felt.

"Happy Birthday," Harry offered, managing a half-smile at his future wife. He patted the spot on the bench next to him. "Have some toast?"

Ginny slowly descended the last few steps and slid onto the bench. Her hair was mussed and her nightgown was twisted around her in an adorable fashion. After a second, she leaned into Harry and gave a stuttering sigh.

"I don’t feel so good," she uttered.

Harry wrapped a heavy arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. "Me, neither." Then, Harry placed the small gift on the table and pushed it towards her. "Maybe this will help?"

Without a word, Ginny took the package and began to slowly strip the wrapping paper away. It revealed a small box that opened on a hinge. As she opened the box, a finely-crafted platinum heart adorned with diamonds and emeralds peaked up at them. It was attached to a thin white gold necklace.

"Oh, Harry," she cooed. "It’s lovely."

He took the pendant from the box and carefully placed it around her neck. When she held up her hair for him to clasp the catch on the back, he deliberately fumbled with it so he could stare at her neck. When he was done, she let her hair fall back down and placed the box on the table.

Picking at a piece of toast, Ginny sighed again, and Harry placed his nose on the top of her head, enjoying the singularly Ginny-like scent that her unwashed hair always held.

"This is better," Ginny said, relaxing into Harry and taking a tiny bite of toast.

The twins appeared on the stairs next, looking like they had just tumbled out of a large Muggle clothes-dryer. Fred’s hair was sticking up at alarming angles and appeared to be smouldering; George’s shirt had scorch marks on it and was on backwards. They both were warily staring at their mother.

"I’ll just assume that those three Howlers were sufficient punishment for whatever devilry you’ve been up to, shall I?" Mrs. Weasley was re-filling the toast and porridge on the table as the two boys sat opposite Harry and Ginny.

"Yes, Mum," George supplied sheepishly.

"Quite sufficient," Fred agreed, holding his head in his hands in a manner that hinted at the inexorable consequences of his share of Firewhisky from the night before.

"Good," Mrs. Weasley said, wiping her hands on her apron. "Then I expect you to be perfect gentlemen today and not ruin your sister’s wedding."

Looking more contrite than Harry had ever seen them, they nodded their heads. "Yes, Mum," they chorused.

As their mother bustled back into the kitchen, Harry watched Ginny catch Fred’s eye. He winked and nodded, the cheeky, mischievous look returning all-too swiftly for Harry’s taste.

"Do I want to know what you’re up to?" Harry whispered.

Ginny smiled at Harry. "Not now, but you’ll find out at the reception."

Harry was about to question her further, when a shriek came from the stairwell.

"Ginny! What are you doing down here?" Hermione rushed over to Ginny and began to pull on her arm, dislodging the young witch from Harry’s side. "You can’t let Harry see you until the wedding," Hermione explained. "It’s bad luck!"

With a sad, but resigned, look on her face, Ginny mouthed, "Muggle custom?" to Harry, who nodded as she let herself be dragged back upstairs and Harry became decidedly grumpy. The prospect of eloping never looked more appealing than it did at that particular moment.

*

The one bright spot of the morning — after the chaos of getting the hung-over Weasleys dressed and ready — was when they walked outside to travel to the church. There, on the path leading from the main road, sat a gleaming, black Bentley. A red ribbon was wrapped around the middle and upon seeing it, a collective gasp came from the people surrounding him.

"Harry?" asked Mrs. Weasley cautiously. "It is a normal, Muggle car, isn’t it?"

Harry didn’t answer. With a smile of his own, Harry set his bag down, walked over to Arthur, and clapped him on the shoulder. "As we negotiated, Dad." He extended his hand and a set of keys dangled in front of the older man’s eyes. "The bride-price."

Molly huffed and scowled at the pair of them.

The elated look on Arthur’s face, however, was more than worth any brow-beating either of them would receive from Molly later.

"It’s — it’s — can I...drive it?" Arthur asked hesitantly.

Harry laughed. "That’s why it’s out here. I reckoned we needed to get to the church by something a bit better than our feet."

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry caught a glimpse of red in a first-floor window. Ginny was beaming at him from her bedroom and his smile widened. All too soon, however, an arm pulled her away and the curtains were drawn once again.

"You’ll need to make two trips, it looks like, Dad," Ron said, gesturing at the window.

For some reason, Harry thought Arthur didn’t mind the prospect at all. "Shall we?" he asked eagerly.

He looked to Molly, who seemed torn, but the glow in Arthur’s eyes must have swayed her. "Go on, then," she said. "I’ll wait here with the girls. We’ll pick Luna up on the second trip."

Arthur let out a whoop and walked over to his new car, Harry following closely behind.

"Oh, and Arthur?" Molly asked sternly. "No charming this one, or the inquiry you faced at work for the last one will seem like a picnic."

Arthur winced, but the gleam returned to his eye as soon as she disappeared into the house. "Of course, dear."

Harry took the front seat and Ron, the twins, and Charlie piled into the back, seeming to have plenty of room. "Must have been charmed already," Harry explained slyly. "Let’s see if the man that picked this up for me finished with the rest of the charms."

If Harry thought Arthur had been happy when he first saw at the motorcar, it was nothing to compare with the child-like giddiness he saw displayed now. It was going to be a fun trip to the church and in the back of Harry’s mind, he almost wished for them to never get there.

*

Ginny was ready to hex her best friend, and not for the first time that morning. Hermione was insistent that Harry not see her, even though being with him was her single greatest desire about now. It was her wedding day, after all; who wouldn’t want to be with her intended? At one point, Ginny had had enough.

"Are you a witch or not?" Ginny exclaimed.

Hermione looked shocked. "Of course I am," she replied.

"Then what’s with all this Muggle nonsense about me not seeing Harry?"

Seeming genuinely remorseful, Hermione sat on the bed and wrung her hands. "I — I’m sorry, Ginny. It’s just so important that everything work well today, and I...well, I thought that you’d have a better experience if you and Harry first saw each other at the church..."

Hermione’s voice trailed off and that was when Ginny knew that her friend’s concern was not intended to cause her additional frustration. "You really mean it, don’t you?"

Not answering with anything but a vehement nod of her head, Hermione stared at her still-writhing hands. "Sorry," she whispered.

Ginny budged over to Hermione and gave her a one-armed hug, feeling the awkward weight of her pendant under her blouse and thinking longingly of Harry. "Thank you. For caring."

The older girl’s hands stopped and she looked up at Ginny. "So are you ready for some breakfast?"

After the boys left, Hermione and Ginny ate downstairs and the butterflies in Ginny’s stomach seemed to relax afterwards. The relief was short-lived, however, as in a matter of minutes, she was seated in the back of the Bentley, with a bag of make-up, hair accessories, two changes of clothes, shoes, and a zillion other ‘necessities’ taking up an entire seat to her left. Her wedding dress was in the boot and Hermione was bouncing next to her.

"Such a smooth ride, wouldn’t you say?" Arthur was asking his wife in the front.

Molly’s narrowed eyes were sweeping the interior. "Very smooth," she replied distractedly. "It’s also quite roomy, don’t you think?"

"Y-yes, well...if there’s been any charm-work done, it wasn’t mine, I can assure you." Arthur’s grip on the wheel tightened as he seemed to wait for his wife’s reaction.

"I think it’s brilliant," Hermione chimed in, sitting on her hands in an apparent bid to keep them from flitting about. "I wish my parents would let me charm a bit of their car — it would be loads safer for them and the other drivers."

Ginny was shocked. "You want to illegally charm a Muggle object?" She didn’t know everything about her father’s department, but one thing she’d gleaned from the Anglia incident was that charming cars was a tricky business.

Having the grace to blush, Hermione demurred. "Well...that’s not exactly what I meant. But if there were some changes made to the laws, it would put a lot less people at risk..."

Hermione continued on for a while on the positive reasons for allowing Muggle-born witches and wizards to charm the Muggle objects of their relatives and friends. By the time she had come around to the car again, they had retrieved Luna from her house and the church was looming large on their left. At least Ginny hadn’t been dwelling on the wedding, and for that, she was grateful for her friend’s distractions, even if Luna had been supplying vapid interjections to Hermione’s arguments from time to time. Even her mother didn’t seem to be very annoyed with the obviously-enhanced vehicle.

Ginny stepped from the car once it had stopped in the small car park and dragged her bag behind her. Hermione held the dress high, keeping it straight and off the ground. Her mother and father were engaged in a hushed discussion near the boot. Ginny walked towards the changing room with Hermione in tow.

This particular church was built immediately after the Norman Conquest and had been re-built twice following the Glorious Revolution and World War Two. Its large, vaulted ceiling was held up by stone slabs, kept together by mortar and a wooden structure on the exterior. Three long, stained-glass windows dominated the southern face and depicted William III and his wife, Mary, in the side panels, looking reverently upon a portrayal of the Saviour.

Ginny wondered why she had never paid attention to the subtle and reverent feelings the hall evoked and decided that she had simply been overwhelmed before.

Walking to the back of the church, Ginny found the changing room and began to unpack her bags. Hermione followed and hung the dress from a hook on the back of the door.

Ginny’s mum appeared in the room a minute later. "Ginny, dear, Reverend Firth wants a word with you and Harry before the ceremony."

Hermione began to twist her hands together, obviously despairing over this violation of the no seeing the bride rule.

Both relieved and anxious to see Harry, Ginny shot out of her chair and followed her mother to a cosy office adjacent to the chapel. Harry was waiting outside the door, his eyes filled with a longing that she was all too happy to fulfil; she went immediately into his arms. They held each other for a moment before a man cleared his throat behind them.

"I hate to break this up," he said quietly, "but I do need to finalise the paperwork and dispense a little hard-won advice."

*

The kindly man led them to a pair of plush leather chairs across from a worn oak desk. There were paintings of kings and apostles lining the walls and a single, modest window let in the late-morning light.

"Let’s go over the ceremony quickly, so that there’s no confusion when we’re in front of your friends and family in a little bit." Reverend Firth smiled good-naturedly and they went through the vows and spell.

"But won’t the Muggles think it’s odd that you’re waving your wand?" Ginny asked.

"Actually," Firth replied, "I’ll have it up my sleeve here." He demonstrated by poking the wand into his shirt sleeve. "Like so. Then when I’m ready to perform the spell, I’ll pull my hand inside my sleeve and perform the charm. The most anyone will see will be a blue light. My hand will be hidden by you two, and no one will be the wiser."

Harry and Ginny looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders. "All right by me," Harry said.

Reverend Firth twiddled with a stack of papers on his desk and placed two in front of them. "Now, then. The one on your right is the Muggle marriage license. It’s necessary should you ever need to deal with the Muggle world and I often find it easier to fill it out from the off, instead of waiting until it’s needed." He cleared his throat and motioned towards the other paper, looking very much a magical document with moving type and pictures that changed from time to time. "That one is your actual license. It proves that you’ve been married and once activated through the ceremony, it will cause an entry to be recorded on the official register of magical marriages."

The magical license was quite ornate, with large, coloured letters across the top that reminded Harry of an old Gutenberg bible he had seen on a school field-trip when he was ten. There were figures of cherubs and stylistic hearts around the margins that moved when they thought you weren’t looking. At the bottom, were two squares that were underscored with Harry’s and Ginny’s names.

"So what do we need to do?" Harry asked.

The Reverend produced two Muggle pens and placed them on the non-magical license. "Sign this one first. Then, we’ll take care of the Ministry license."

Harry signed his name in the appropriate spot and was followed by Ginny, who used her maiden name. When they were done, the pens were placed back in the drawer of the Reverend’s desk and he took out his wand. "Now, let me see the pads of your thumbs."

They extended their thumbs and held them up to Mr. Firth. He moved them over the magical license and muttered a quiet spell at each thumb. Harry felt as if a small needle had been pressed into his flesh. "Now press each thumb into the correct box on the parchment."

Harry pushed his blood-dripping thumb into the square above his name as Ginny did the same. Mr. Firth passed his wand over their hands and then quietly cleaned spare droplets of blood from his desk. With another wave of his wand at the license, the messy splotches transformed. Harry’s morphed into a rust-coloured stag and Ginny’s into a slightly more crimson unicorn. They pranced around their boxes, seeming restless and powerful — quite unlike mere blobs of dried blood.

"That’s it," Reverend Firth said, finally. He scooped the papers into a plain manila folder and stowed it in a satchel at his feet. "When you’re properly married and I’ve lifted the curse, the blood-Patronuses will be bound together in the same square, much like you will be bound to each other."

Ginny found Harry’s hand under the desk and gave it a squeeze, bringing a smile to Harry’s face. "So...do we need to do anything else?" Harry asked.

With a gentle smile, the older wizard rocked back in his chair and said, "Not yet. I wonder, though, if you’ve talked about things together. I’ve never married an arranged couple before — thank heavens — and I have to admit that I’m rather pleased with the two of you."

Ginny’s brow crinkled in thought. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it’s not often that I see a couple of young folks who are as much in love such as you are. I had expected that you’d be a little more, ah...disagreeable." At their still-confused looks, Mr. Firth leaned forward and folded his hands on the desk. "You see, there’s a lot going against you two. You’re young, you’ve been forced into marriage, you’ll be the subject of unending media spectacle, and above all, the target of a very powerful wizard. So it’s no small wonder that you’re sitting here in my office, about to embark on one of the finest institutions devised under heaven, and the two of you seem to me to be as calm as a summer’s evening."

Throughout the talk, Harry was nodding, agreeing with everything the Reverend had said. "I guess...I guess I just feel more..." He furrowed his brow and concentrated on how Ginny made him feel. "I don’t know, complete when I’m with her."

"If it weren’t for Harry," Ginny said next, "I’d have killed my maid of honour a long time ago. He’s not perfect," she admitted, appraising him with her eyes, "but he’s training nicely."

The smile on the Reverend’s face grew. "That’s exactly the way it should be." He pushed his chair back from the desk and stood. "If you don’t mind, I’d like to impart a small bit of wisdom that I tell everyone I’m about to marry. It seems from the little I know about you, you seem to be very passionate. That’s a good thing, in its place, but under no circumstances should you ever go to sleep angry at one another."

Harry and Ginny shared a look, but let him continue.

"When you have disagreements — as I don’t know of a couple that’s not had them — you need to work them out together. It is not love that sustains a marriage, but marriage that sustains the love between you. Don’t let the anger of a momentary argument separate you. The husband and wife act as the core of a family, and when children come along, you’ll need to be undivided in everything you do. The world, as you know," he said with a significant glance at Harry, "is full of things devised to destroy happiness, and central to that happiness is the family. No matter what external forces attack you, don’t let the little things break you apart, it will only make those who seek your death more capable of accomplishing it."

Harry swallowed and nodded his head. "I understand," he said, looking down at the hand held in his, and he did understand. Having had no family to speak of, Harry knew all too well how much happiness he had missed, and the one responsible for taking that from him was intent on causing him yet more pain and suffering. With a renewed determination, Harry rubbed his hand along her arm. "I promise I’ll try to not bollix things up too bad."

Ginny’s smiled with her eyes. "Me, too," she replied, bringing her free hand up to Harry’s cheek. "I can’t promise that I won’t get angry with you, Harry, but I won’t let my anger ruin what we’ve got, either."

The clock on the wall chimed one time.

"You’d best be off," Mr. Firth said gently. "You’ll need to get ready for the wedding, and I have other things to attend to."

Harry rose and embraced Ginny. Then, keeping his arm across her shoulder, he led her back to the changing room, where a frustrated Hermione clucked her tongue and shooed him away. With an hour left until the ceremony, a wave of nervousness descended on Harry’s middle, like a room full of freshly-caught Cornish Pixies.

*

The next hour flew by like a speeding Bludger for Ginny. Her mother had joined Hermione in getting her makeup and hair done while Hermione listed off the things that she should and shouldn’t do during the ceremony.

"But no matter what, just relax," Hermione said finally as the last of the buttons were fastened up the back of Ginny’s dress. Then, with a smile and a hug, Hermione fled to another changing room to get her own gown on.

"Just relax," Ginny muttered, wondering why her dress seemed to feel so much tighter then, when it had fit fine in the formal shop.

Her mother, sensing her unease, waved her wand at the silk and lace fabric covering Ginny, and she could suddenly breathe. "Thanks," said Ginny, before she promptly began to cry.

Molly gathered her daughter into a warm hug and sat them both down on the long, padded pew that was in the bride’s room. "There, there," she soothed. "We’re almost ready."

"But I’m not ready!" Ginny exploded, breaking out of her mother’s embrace to stand. Ginny caught her reflection in the mirror and stared defiantly at it. "I’m not ready to get married!" All the pent-up emotion from the past ten days seemed to flood into her at that moment and it was all she could do to hold herself together.

Standing beside her, Molly reached an arm out to touch Ginny’s shoulder. "You’re as ready as I ever was." When Ginny’s eyes found Molly’s in the mirror, she continued. "I was only three years older than you when I married your father. He was a new assistant in the Department of International Cooperation and I was fresh off a three-month trip across the continent with my brothers." Molly’s smile faltered a bit at the memory and then returned. "He was handsome and confident and I remember being deeply in love with him from our Hogwarts days. When he finally asked me to marry him..." Molly turned Ginny around, each looking at the other properly, and touched her cheek. "When he asked, how could I have said no?"

Ginny’s lip was quivering and another tear found its way onto her cheek.

"And despite your protests last year, I know you’ve always loved Harry," Molly continued. "This summer has only made that more apparent. Ginny?" Ginny looked up and wiped the wetness from her face. "There’s nothing else required. You and Harry have what it takes to get married, and while I would have liked you to wait a bit, too, I think it’s going to be just fine."

With a single, wet burst of laughter, Ginny threw her arms around her mother and whispered into her ear. "Thank you, Mum. Thank you for being the best mother a girl could ever wish for."

They pulled apart after a moment and Molly’s eyes began to sparkle. "Just...when the time comes...after you leave school, of course...I hope that you and Harry will have lots of babies for me to spoil rotten."

Another spate of laughter was followed by Molly’s wand repairing the damage to Ginny’s hair and makeup from the crying session. Then, Ginny scooped up her bouquet and opened the door.

"Hello, angel," her father said. There was the distant sound of a pipe organ playing and although Ginny was still nervous, the reassuring presence of her mother and the love radiating from her father helped her push it away.

"Hi, Daddy."

*

When Ginny and Arthur appeared at the back of the chapel, the wedding guests rose and the organ began to play the wedding march. Almost every member of the Order of the Phoenix was in attendance, some invisible, some outside. Remus Lupin stood by the front pew in the seat normally reserved for the father of the groom. On his right was Tonks, shockingly normal-looking with straight brown hair tied into a bun and topped with a modest hat. Albus Dumbledore was on her left, with several of the Hogwarts professors, most notably, Rubeus Hagrid standing behind him. Several of Harry’s and Ginny’s classmates were also there.

On the opposite side of the chapel sat the Weasleys, including, much to Harry’s shock, Percy. His brothers were sending him suspicious glances, but their mother seemed to accept his presence well enough. There were also several cousins and distant relations that Harry was sure hadn’t spoken with Arthur or Molly in some time, but had shown up to witness the wedding. In the back, after a few empty pews, was the visitors’ section. There were several of the villagers in attendance, many of whom Harry recognised from the last week he and Ginny has spent shopping there.

Next to Harry was his best man, Ron. On the other side of the altar was Hermione and Luna. None of that mattered to Harry, however, for walking slowly down the aisle was a vision in white so captivating that time seemed to stand still.

Her solid white dress was made of silk, gathered at the waist and a solid piece was stitched across the breast. Lace was tastefully added along the edge of the train, on her veil, and on the arms. The dress covered Ginny from her neck down, exposing her arms from the elbow to her hands and nothing else. She wore a collection of white and yellow flowers that Harry couldn’t identify to save his life, along with some Baby’s Breath, all covered lightly by her veil. Ginny’s red hair seemed more alive than it ever had and he knew that magic had to be involved in making and keeping it in place. There were small, clear jewels fastened on the dress every so often that added to her ethereal appearance. Harry felt like he was in the presence of an angelic visitor.

Yet, all too soon, she was beside him, and had taken his hand. Arthur stepped beside and slightly behind Ron. Harry had to force his eyes to leave Ginny’s when the music stopped and the Reverend noisily cleared his throat.

"Sorry," Harry whispered as Ginny squeezed his hand and then promptly let go.

"Dearly beloved..." Reverend Firth began the ceremony as Harry and Ginny faced each other once more.

Harry hardly heard what the Reverend was saying; a distant buzzing started in Harry’s ear, and a kind of strange uneasiness filled him. Harry tried to surreptitiously scan the chapel for anything odd, but he couldn’t detect anything. Ginny seemed to notice, however and hit his foot with her own.

"First," the Reverend continued dryly, "It was ordained for the procreation of children, to be brought up in the fear and nurture of the Lord, and to the praise of his holy Name.

"Secondly, it was ordained for a remedy against sin, and to avoid fornication; that such persons as have not the gift of continency might marry, and keep themselves undefiled members of Christ's body.

"Thirdly, it was ordained for the mutual society, help, and comfort, that the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and adversity. Into which holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined. Therefore if any man can shew any just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter for ever hold his peace."

There was a pronounced silence and Harry was briefly surprised that there wasn’t a rush to the pulpit to stop the wedding.

After a moment, when Reverend Firth seemed to be satisfied, he continued. "I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgment when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment, why ye may not be lawfully joined together in Matrimony, ye do now confess it."

Harry and Ginny exchanged a glance and a smile and shook their heads.

"Harry James Potter. Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?"

Harry stared deeply into Ginny’s eyes, searching for any hesitance, any sign that she wanted to back out of their arrangement. Instead, he only found love — a love for him that he would never understand, but accepted nonetheless. "Yes."

"Ginevra Molly Weasley. Wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?"

Ginny stared at Harry in the same, questioning way that he had. He thought of the way she made him laugh, the fierce loyalty to him and their friendship she had displayed and all the wonderful moments they had shared over the last ten days. His smile grew with each memory and Ginny seemed to understand. "Yes."

"Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?"

Arthur moved forward, took Ginny’s hand and, after exchanging a smile, gave her right hand to the Minister.

Reverend Firth then took Harry’s right hand and joined it with Ginny’s.

Harry cleared his throat and, looking at Ginny, tried to sift through his happy mind to find the words he had memorized with a spell just a few moments ago in Mr. Firth’s office. "I, Harry James Potter take thee, Ginevra Molly Weasley, to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth."

Harry gave himself a silent cheer for not messing that bit up, then they let their hands fall apart.

Almost immediately, Ginny took Harry’s right hand with hers once more and said, "I, Ginevra Molly Weasley, take thee, Harry James Potter, to my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth."

Their hands broke apart and Harry saw a small tear course down Ginny’s cheek. He almost brushed it away, but Ron stepped forward and held out the rings on a red velvet pillow. Harry fumbled as he placed a slim gold band onto Ginny’s finger. It seemed to melt into the ring already there, as it was charmed to do. "With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."

When Ginny placed his ring on, he felt a rush of magic from the connection between the two.

Harry and Ginny then knelt on special pillows provided for that purpose, in front of Reverend Firth and he spoke one final time.

"Forasmuch as Harry James Potter and Ginevra Molly Weasley have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth either to the other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving of a Ring, and by joining of hands; I pronounce that they be Man and Wife together, In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."

Harry half-heard the Reverend quietly mutter an incantation. He knew that this was the part of the ceremony where the hexes binding them to be married would be partially lifted — the hex would not be fully broken until they consummated their marriage — but he only had eyes for his bride. There was a muted flash of blue, Ginny's arms swept around his neck and he was kissing her. The hall erupted in applause, the organ began to play again, and Harry found himself being dragged away from the altar, suddenly aware that he was married.

*

The reception hall on the other side of the church was at least as big as the chapel. Even so, the place was packed with friends, family, and well-wishers. Ginny looked on the crowd with a sort of delight that made her insides melt. She was finally Harry’s wife.

She and Harry had welcomed most of the guests during the first hour of the reception, accepting gifts and well-wishes. Even the press had been fairly well-behaved. Once the music started, and the dancing was well underway, Ginny had begged off Harry’s attentions for a stop in the loo and to make sure her brothers were behaving themselves.

Appearing in the hall after cleaning up, Ginny spotted Percy and made a bee-line for him. He and Penelope Clearwater were chatting nervously with each other when she approached.

"Hi, Perc," Ginny greeted and nodded at his girlfriend. "Penelope. I’m glad you decided to come."

Percy fidgeted with something in his pocket and then with a smile, said, "Congratulations, Ginny. Although it is a bit unusual, I suppose you’ve made the right decision."

Ginny tilted her head slightly as if seeing her brother from a different angle would help her understand him. "Harry and I are happy, Percy. What more could anyone ask for?"

Penelope was eyeing Ginny warily, but stayed silent. Percy, however, puffed his chest out, and pulled out a fold of parchment from his pocket. He handed it to her and said, "I pulled some statistics from a friend in the Records Department on teen-aged marriages from 1900. You’ll see that you’ve got a twenty-five percent chance of staying together. I know there’s no such thing as divorce in the Wizarding world, but that doesn’t mean all marriages last."

Looking between the parchment and her brother, Ginny realised that this was Percy’s way of telling her that he approved, that he loved her, and that he wanted her to be happy. She stood on her toes and wrapped him in a fierce hug. "Thank you, Percy," Ginny whispered. "Thank you for coming, and thank you for caring about me."

After a moment, Percy stepped back, breaking the hug, and made a show of sniffing loudly. "Yes, well, Penny and I must be off to visit with Father and Mother."

Percy bustled away and Penny gave Ginny an apologetic glance as she was led through the crowds.

After taking a moment to dry her eyes, Ginny put the parchment into a small pocket in her dress. She scanned the crowd, looking for another person she was determined to right a wrong with. Spotting Neville, she stepped into the throng of dancers and made her way to him.

He was standing shyly by the punch bowl, looking longingly at the dancing couples, among which were Ron and Hermione.

"Neville?" Ginny inquired, tapping him on the shoulder to get his attention.

The tall man before her looked nothing like the stuttering boy that had asked her to the Yule ball three years ago. He was still quiet, and dropped things from time to time, but she would never forget the careful way that he had treated her that night — even if her feet were silently protesting what she was about to do.

"I’d love it if you’d dance with me tonight. For old time’s sake?"

Neville, bless his honourable and courageous soul, stood in a quandary for a full ten seconds before he managed to say anything. "S-sure," he mumbled and took her offered hand with a smile.

They merged themselves with the rest of the swaying bodies on the dance floor and Ginny took the lead as they danced — just like she had at the Yule Ball. "The Great Pretender," by The Platters, was currently playing on a Muggle CD player and Ginny thought it appropriate.

As she guided Neville among the other dancers, she caught a glimpse of familiar white silk and turned him away from it so he didn’t notice. "Neville," Ginny began when his silence became too much to bear, "I never really thanked you for asking me to the ball. So...thanks."

Neville blushed and smiled. "I-it wasn’t a problem, Ginny. I’m j-just glad you said yes."

"How could I not?" Ginny countered. "You were quite adorable, you know, and I’m sure the right girl will come around for you some day."

Ginny steered them clear of a gyrating Lee Jordan with his date Angelina Johnson, as the song changed and Buddy Holly’s warbling voice filled the hall.

They danced one more song together and Ginny knew it was almost time to find her husband again. "Thanks for the dance, Neville," she said and gave him a peck on the cheek, leaving a faint imprint of lipstick there.

It quickly melded in with the flush of embarrassment, however. "Y-you’re welcome."

Ginny turned to leave when he caught her arm again. "Ginny?" he asked tentatively. "You and Harry.... You’ll be good for each other."

Ginny smiled and lightly touched his hand. "I know." They stared at each other for a while, as a pang of something distant flashed through her and was gone. There was a surprised cry from somewhere across the hall and Ginny knew it was time. "Come with me, Neville. There’s something over here you’ll enjoy seeing."

Taking a steadying breath, Ginny turned and walked towards a growing disturbance, centred around her husband.

*

Ten Minutes Earlier

After having fielded hundreds of questions from people who really didn’t know him and friendly gestures of support and love from those that did, Harry said goodbye to Ginny as she went into the loo. He, however, headed for the punch bowl. He nodded at Neville, who seemed reluctant to ask anyone to dance, and poured himself a glass of the red liquid.

The punch was cool and refreshing, but the flavour didn’t linger long enough to register. Harry placed the bland beverage on the table and began to search for Ginny again. Spotting her by the cake, he decided that a good dance with his new wife was just the ticket.

"Hello, love," Harry said as he approached her. The dress was so conforming that Harry couldn’t help but flash his mind forward to the evening where they would take care of the last bit of the hex that had hung over them for their entire lives. With a shiver of anticipation, he took his wife by the hand and led her to the dance floor.

"Having a good time?" Ginny asked as they waltzed around to a slow tune.

Harry pulled her close and began to show off his new dance moves. "I am now."

They made an almost-complete tour of the dance floor when the music changed to a more upbeat song — something about a Pretender. Harry had heard the song a few times on the Dursleys’ wireless, and he changed their dance steps to accommodate the change in rhythm.

Ginny seemed a lot more uncoordinated than he would have guessed, but when she started to blow in his ear, he lost all conscious thought. The song changed again and they started to dance apart from one another, the tempo now calling for a faster dance than their previous closeness would allow. Ginny’s dancing became much better as they stepped along with the music. When the dance was over, he gathered her to him, intent on kissing her properly. It had been over an hour since the wedding kiss, after all, and he thought he was due.

Harry puckered up and dipped low towards Ginny, when he felt her stiffen. "Not here, not now, Harry," she hissed.

"But we’re married, the hex is lifted," he replied.

Ginny smiled at him. "Do you like surprises?" she asked impishly.

"Not particularly."

"Then you probably don’t want to kiss me right now," she said, sighing deeply. She stopped dancing for the moment, looking up into his eyes, moving her hand to his cheek. "Harry, I have a confession to make," she said.

"You can tell me anything, Ginny," he said, his stomach turning to ice.

"You are married," she said, "just not to me."

"What are you going on about?" he asked incredulously.

Another cry of surprise rang out in the hall and a twittering of laughter rippled across to them. "What’s going on here?" Harry demanded.

Across the hall, arm-in-arm with Neville was Ginny. Coming in from the kitchen with Arthur was Ginny. Each version of Ginny had on the very same wedding dresses, and looked identical, but Harry detected a slight difference in the way they were looking at him. He turned to the woman in his arms. "Bloody hell, what’s going on?"

"Maybe you should ask your wife," the woman who looked like Ginny replied, before she slipped from his grip and made her way to the centre of the hall.

The Ginny on Neville’s arm called out, "Daddy, Harry? May I have a word please?"

A huddle formed in the centre of the hall, Ginny, Ginny, Harry, Ginny, and Arthur at the core. The hall was ablaze with guffaws and shrieks of disbelief at the three identical brides.

The Ginny next to Neville broke free from him and said, "I wanted a word with you, Daddy, for getting me into this fix in the first place, and with you, Harry, for thinking that my love could be bought and sold. So, gentlemen, which bride said her vows today? Are you really married, Harry?" she asked tauntingly.

Harry felt faint. The ball of ice in his stomach was growing to glacier size. He looked to Arthur who gaped at the three Ginnys. Arthur then covered his face with his hands, taking a deep breath. He then began to chortle and then guffaw, sliding into a paroxysm of belly laughs. The laughing proved to be contagious. The ice in Harry’s stomach began to melt. He’d been the victim of a gigantic Weasley prank at the hands of the smallest and, he was beginning to discover, most cunning Weasley. The Ginny that previously had been with Neville turned to the Ginny on her right and said, "Show’s over, lads." The Ginny that previously had been dancing with Harry pulled a wand, not Ginny’s wand, he noticed, and pronounced a complicated charm at the Ginny next to Arthur, who lengthened considerably into the form of George Weasley, complete with the sound of a few seams popping as he strained against the now too small wedding gown. The gown was transfigured into a lemon yellow dress robe with the flick of a wand, leaving George to transfigure the other Ginny into Fred, complete with a matching lime green dress robe.

Arthur turned to the remaining Ginny, pulling her into an embrace, kissing her forehead. "Most excellent prank, daughter of mine," he said, before his demeanour changed. "I am so sorry that things worked out this way, Ginny, please forgive me," he said plaintively.    

Ginny wiped a tear from her eye. "Things have worked out pretty well considering." She glanced at Harry, and he could tell by the way her lips moved that she was the genuine article. "Just know that I still love you, and that Harry and I are going to work hard on making this a success."

Arthur hugged her again. "You’ve been a marvellous example of loyalty and determination these past few days." He pulled back from her and continued, "You’re the best daughter a man could ask for and I think you and Harry have got a bright future together."

Ginny reached on her tip-toes and kissed his cheek. "I love you, Daddy."

They held each other for a moment longer and the crowd began to disperse. When they broke apart, Harry took Ginny’s hand, and Molly took Arthur’s. "Shall we dance?" Harry asked. "I’ve been practicing for days for this very moment and so far, I’ve only danced with Fred! Forgive me?" he asked.

There was another roll of laughter among the family and the music began to play again.

Ginny looked deeply into his eyes. "Of course," she said softly, before mouthing, "I love you," to him silently.

They swayed back and forth to a slow tune that Harry didn’t recognize. Dancing with the real Ginny was decidedly better than with the Fred-turned-Ginny, and in retrospect, he wondered how he had ever confused the two.

"I never told you about the rings, did I?" Harry asked and, as there was a break in the dancers, sent her into a small twirl.

Ginny shook her head, but kept eye contact.

"I had them charmed with all the usual spells," he explained. "Sizing charms for when you get fat...OW!" Ginny’s smile never faltered as she expertly ground her heel into his toes. "I — I mean for when your ring-size changes. They’re also charmed to be scratch resistant, and unbreakable."

With a sigh, Ginny wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled him closer. "I have a feeling there’s more, isn’t there?"

"Yeah," Harry confirmed, wrapping his own arms around her waist. "I also had the manufacturer include a charm to prevent them from falling off, or being forcibly removed. Only you or I can take them off."

Ginny nodded. "That sounds sensible."

Harry hesitated for a moment before continuing. "There’s more, but I think we’ll save it for later tonight."

She seemed to agree because she laid her head onto his shoulder as they continued to dance. Harry never wanted the night to end.

*

After most of the guests had left and a throb of pain had started in Harry’s feet from near-constant dancing, Dumbledore finally began to shut down the evening. Reverend Firth was nowhere to be seen, and Harry assumed he had retired for the night as well.

"Why don’t you two get changed and I’ll dismiss the last of the guests," Dumbledore had told them.

They waved their good-byes to family and friends, and then walked back to their changing rooms. When Harry didn’t immediately leave the Bride’s room, she raised an eyebrow.

"I can’t change with you here, Harry," she explained.

"Sure you can," Harry pointed out. "We’re married now, you know."

With a roll of her eyes, Ginny forcefully pushed Harry into the hall. As she was shutting the door, she said, "That may be true, dearest Harry, but I don’t intend for any of that to go on in the church changing room. Besides, I think Dumbledore would get suspicious if we took an extra hour to get changed."

Harry waggled his eyebrows, but the door shut and he was alone once more. His own changing room was empty but for his luggage. After changing into jeans and a button-down shirt, he charmed his single bag to be feather light and walked back to Ginny. The door was still closed.

"You finished yet?" he asked through the solid wood.

"No," was the muffled reply. "More buttons, it takes longer."

"Oh," Harry said, mostly to himself. Then louder, he asked, "So how much longer then?"

Harry thought he heard a frustrated groan. "I’m having a problem with the blessed buttons..."

"I could help you out...."

"No! And if you keep pestering me, it’ll take even longer." Ginny sounded angry, but there was a bit of amusement in her voice in reply to his entreaties.

"Okay, but know I’m always here to help you undress."

"Very funny, Harry."

A few minutes later and there was a cry of success from Ginny; a few minutes after that she re-appeared in the doorway. "All finished," she pronounced. "But it’d be a lot easier if I could have used magic to unfasten the buttons."

"Perfect timing," came the voice of Dumbledore over their shoulder. His eyes were sparkling in the dim light of the hallway. "With the recent change in your legal status, Mrs. Potter, you are legally allowed to use magic outside of school."

"Really?" Ginny squealed. "I can do magic now?"

"According to the provision for married minors," Dumbledore explained, "your legal status grants you most of the rights and privileges of a witch of seventeen. You can’t vote yet, however, but you can hold a position in the Ministry, apply for an Apparation license, and, most importantly, use magic."

Ginny set her bag down and rubbed her hands together. "Wicked."

"Indeed," confirmed the Headmaster. "If you are ready, we can visit your accommodation at Hogwarts."

Harry cast a Featherweight Charm on Ginny’s bag and she scooped it up. "We’re ready, then."

Dumbledore produced a small key and held it out between the tips of his fingers. "Touch this and it will transport us to the cottage."

Harry and Ginny reached out a finger and as soon as Harry felt the cool, smooth metal of the key, a hook pulled on his body, somewhere around his navel, and propelled him, his wife, and their professor towards Hogwarts.

*

They appeared in front of a simple dwelling next to what appeared to be the Forbidden Forest. It was white, with a thatched roof and large, paned windows on each wall. A single wooden door sat in the middle of the wall they were facing and had an ancient-looking brass doorknob.

Harry pulled himself off the ground, while Ginny snickered at his less-than graceful landing. "Shut it, you," he teased.

"As you may have guessed," Dumbledore explained to Ginny, "this cottage is on Hogwarts grounds. Your husband has expressed a desire to take you somewhere...more exotic than this, Mrs. Potter, but arrangements have yet to be finalised for that trip. In the interest of safety, and to prevent any unwanted visitors from exploiting your new family, we thought it would be best to make this available to you."

Ginny eyed Harry carefully. "Have something planned, do you?" she asked him.

"Maybe," Harry evaded.

With a peck on the cheek, and a careful twirl of his hair with one of her fingers, Ginny said, "I’m so glad; I love surprises."

The grin on Harry’s face was only dwarfed by the glow from his cheeks.

Dumbledore pushed the key they had used as a Portkey into the lock and turned it clockwise. The door clicked open and he motioned for them to enter.

The entry opened into a spacious living area. There were two sofas, a table, two empty bookshelves, and several magical lamps. The living room was connected to a small, fully-stocked kitchen, and their bedroom.

"I shall need to lock you in for the night as a precaution," Dumbledore said as they continued to explore their house. "Dobby will check in with you in the morning, however. Oh...and the bookshelves work something like the Room of Requirement’s. Just think about what you need and it will appear there. Good night."

Harry nodded mutely, still excited and a little frightened of being alone with Ginny.

"Good bye, Professor," Ginny said for them, and the old wizard closed the door behind him.

Harry took their luggage and set it next to the large king-sized bed in their room. A clock on the wall told him it was half past eleven.

Back in the living room, Ginny had taken a seat on one of the sofas and was smoothing out her dress. Harry sat stiffly next to her, suddenly as nervous as he had been just before the wedding, though he could safely say it was for an entirely different reason.

"So..." Harry began, "Dumbledore really came through for us, didn’t he?"

"Yeah," Ginny confirmed. "It’s a nice place...for us to be together." Her voice had dropped an octave and her eyes were half-closed, sending chills up Harry’s spine. Before Harry had a chance to react, however, her fingers were walking up his arm and he found himself frozen to the sofa. "Now that we’re married..." her lips started to kiss their way up his arm, following her hand, "...and the hex is lifted..." She shifted a leg over him so that she straddled him, bringing her lips to his neck. "We don’t have to wait any more. I hate to wait, I always have."

Something hot burst inside him, and his lips were on Ginny’s. He reached a hand under her chin for support and she snaked her hands behind his neck. Harry’s other hand inched its way up under her shirt and when he touched skin, his world exploded — literally.

A giant crack echoed in the room and Ginny flew through the air, landing on the other sofa. Harry was blown backwards as well, but since he was already on a sofa, it toppled over and he went sprawling across the hardwood floor.

"Ow," said Harry, rubbing a growing knot on his head. "Are you okay?"

"What happened?" Ginny asked from the far sofa.

Harry stood and righted the sofa they had been sitting on. "I don’t know. Is this what happened to Dean?"

Ginny’s eyes bugged as she stood and walked over to him. "Y-yes."

A lead ball materialised in the pit of Harry’s stomach. "Oh, no."

"The hex," Ginny supplied. "It’s still active."

"That means Reverend Firth bungled the hex removal at the end of the ceremony." Harry’s eyes narrowed and accusingly, he said, "Unless it wasn’t you that walked down the aisle, or you’ve been having me on all this time."

Rage flashed across Ginny’s face as she slapped him on the shoulder, hard. "Harry, don’t ever question my love for you. Now is not the time to bicker, we’re in this together, I might remind you. One other possibility is that it wasn’t Reverend Firth at all. I hope we’re still married."

Harry felt a wave of shame as he rubbed the spot where she hit him. "Right then, what now?"

They looked at each other, then at the clock. It was now eleven-forty. They had less than twenty minutes, or they wouldn’t be able to have children, or get married to anyone else, for the rest of their lives.

Harry leapt off the sofa, bounded over the second one and slammed into the door. The knob was locked tight. He whipped out his wand and shouted, "Alohamora!" but the lock didn’t budge. He tried a few other unlocking spells, and was met with similar results.

"Damn," Ginny said from behind him after the seventh spell. Harry began to pull at his hair, and considered a Reductor curse when she spoke again. "The window! I bet it’s not been charmed closed."

As one, they sprinted to the nearest window, only to find it physically welded shut. They tried each window, and when they got to the one in the bathroom, found it opened.

"You first," Harry offered. "I’ll help you up."

Ginny looked at him dubiously. "Just watch where you put your hands, or you’re likely to become embedded in the wall."

"Right," confirmed Harry. He cupped his hands and pushed on Ginny’s foot, giving her the left needed to reach the slim window on the top of the bathroom wall. She slid it open and shimmied her way out.

"Hurry!" Ginny yelled from the outside, and Harry pulled himself up by the sill, grateful for his upper-body strength.

Soon, Harry was next to Ginny, running as fast as they could towards Hogwarts, calling for Dumbledore, in the hopes that they could Reverend Firth and reverse the hex before they ran out of time.

Previous Prologue: Parental Pacts 1: Birthday Dilemmas 2: Telling Ginny 3: Reconciliations 4: Best Foot Forward 5: The Receiving of Advice 6: The Love of Money 7: The Ultimate Domestic Test 8: Young Love 9: What a Witch Wants 10: The Department of Records and Statistics 11: Deadline 12: Flight and Fight Next