Comfort.
Do not fear the CAPS-LOCK.
“Then You-Know-Who hasn’t ever possessed you,” said Ginny simply.
“When he did it to me, I couldn’t remember what I’d been doing
for hours at a time. I’d find myself somewhere and not know how I
got there.”
Harry hardly dared believe her, yet his heart was lightening almost
in spite of himself.
They say chocolate is comfort food.
“The thing about growing up with Fred and George,” said Ginny
thoughtfully, “is that you sort of start thinking anything’s possible if
you’ve got enough nerve.”
Harry looked at her. Perhaps it was the effect of the chocolate —
Lupin had always advised eating some after encounters with dementors
— or simply because he had finally spoken aloud the wish that had
been burning inside him for a week, but he felt a bit more hopeful. . . .
From annoyance to smiling.
Annoyed, but absolutely convinced he was right, Harry snatched
up a pile of filthy Quidditch robes and left the room; Mrs. Weasley
had been urging them for days not to leave their washing and packing
until the last moment. On the landing he bumped into Ginny,
who was returning to her room carrying a pile of freshly laundered
clothes.
“I wouldn’t go in the kitchen just now,” she warned him. “There’s
a lot of Phlegm around.”
“I’ll be careful not to slip in it.” Harry smiled.
Comforting her.
“Hang on,” said a voice close by Harry’s left ear and he caught a
sudden waft of that flowery smell he had picked up in Slughorn’s
dungeon. He looked around and saw that Ginny had joined them.
“Did I hear right? You’ve been taking orders from something
someone wrote in a book, Harry?”
She looked alarmed and angry. Harry knew what was on her
mind at once.
“It’s nothing,” he said reassuringly, lowering his voice. “It’s not
like, you know, Riddle’s diary. It’s just an old textbook someone’s
scribbled on.”
Comforting him.
Then another voice said, “Harry, come on.”
A much smaller and warmer hand had enclosed his and was
pulling him upward. He obeyed its pressure without really thinking
about it. Only as he walked blindly back through the crowd did he
realize, from a trace of flowery scent on the air, that it was Ginny
who was leading him back into the castle.
Comforting each other.
Harry said nothing. He had been trying to keep fear at bay ever
since reaching the Burrow, but now it enveloped him, seeming to
crawl over his skin, throbbing in his chest, clogging his throat.
As they walked down the back steps into the dark yard,
Ginny took his hand.