Aster stepped out of the room.
He didn't need to turn his head to know Ginny was there, half-hidden behind the corner, small fingers clutching the wooden frame, red hair impossible to miss in the soft morning light.
He glanced her way and offered a faint smile."Good morning, Ginny."
She flinched, startled at being caught, and tried to sink deeper into her hiding spot. Aster only smirked, his eyes briefly glinting with something close to mischief… or memory.
He descended the stairs. The Burrow was its usual morning chaos, pans clattering, voices overlapping, someone shouting about toast. It should've been overwhelming. It wasn't.
Aster greeted the room."Good morning."
Hermione looked up from her seat. The sound of his voice caught her breath. She managed a small smile. He was speaking. He was present.
She wanted that to be enough, but something about the way he held himself still felt off. The smile didn't reach his eyes, and those eyes, once shadowed by grief, now held something more unreadable. Not hollow, contained.
Aster sat at the table, but his movements were too precise. Too measured.
Hermione watched him with careful eyes. Something was wrong, no, not wrong. Different.
He wasn't avoiding them anymore. But he also wasn't with them. Not truly.
It felt like he had constructed a version of himself that spoke when spoken to, smiled politely, moved through the motions of life. But she could see the seams. The hollowness behind the mask.
Beside him, Ginny said nothing. But she watched him the whole time, quiet, unblinking, like she was trying to understand what had crawled into Aster's body and decided to pretend to be a boy.
Even Fred and George didn't joke. Not yet.
The meal continued.
The silence around the table wasn't tense; it was observant.
Aster returned to his toast, methodical in every movement. Not cold. Not present. Just... practiced.
No one spoke for a moment. And then, life resumed, slowly, as if the room needed permission to breathe again.
——————————————————————————————
Late at night, in the Burrow.
Aster was wandering the first floor, but he wasn't quite himself.
Almost everyone else was asleep. The wind whispered softly against the wooden walls.
His eyes were red, dull, inhuman, and his hair darkened unnaturally.
Luckily, no one else saw it.
A gentle hand grasped his.
He didn't resist, and immediately, his eyes and hair returned to normal.
"Aster?" Ginny's voice was soft and concerned.
She sensed something was wrong and guided him to sit down.
That's when she realized he was sleepwalking.
This was not the same person who had defended Harry from Voldemort months ago.
Not the hero Ron spoke of.
He seemed fragile, human, almost defenseless.
Sound asleep, she covered him with a blanket and started back toward her room.
But his hand tightened on her arm.
She didn't pull away. Instead, she looked around the quiet house and settled down beside him.
——————————————————————————————
Hours later, Hermione awoke and went downstairs for water.
She found Aster and Ginny asleep together on the sofa.
Her feelings twisted in confusion.
Aster seemed content with Ginny there, so close, after less than a week.
She remembered when Aster had first arrived, how little they had known each other.
How could they be this close now?
She tapped Ginny's shoulder gently.
Ginny's eyes fluttered open to see Hermione standing there.
Without waiting for a response, Hermione whispered, "Are you sure you want your mother to see this?"
Ginny glanced at the peacefully sleeping Aster and nodded.
Quietly, she slipped off the sofa, careful not to wake him.
——————————————————————————————
Aster woke up to see Fred and George standing in front of him, holding a quill.
He didn't even need a mirror, he knew there were drawings on his face.
Without a word, he stood up and walked upstairs, ignoring the twins' stifled laughter behind him.
At the top of the stairs, he paused.
Ginny was in the room, trying on some clothes. They clearly didn't fit, too baggy, and obviously hand-me-downs originally meant for boys.
Hermione was with her, helping sort through options for all seasons at Hogwarts.
Aster knocked on the wall to announce his presence.
Both girls turned and immediately saw the ink markings on his face.
They tried to hold back their laughter badly.
Aster ignored it. "I can buy you some uniforms that fit better," he said, speaking directly to Ginny.
Hermione glanced at Ginny, clearly waiting for her reaction.
Ginny didn't look at Aster. She seemed hesitant, lost in thought.
Aster understood what was holding her back.
"If it's about your mum, don't worry," he said, his voice calm. "I can talk to her. I'll even use Hermione as an excuse if I have to." He gave Hermione a quick nod.
Then, without waiting for a response, he turned and walked to his room.
By the time he came back down, his face was clean, and judging by the look in Hermione's eyes, Ginny had agreed.
Aster simply nodded and headed to find Molly.
At first, she refused outright, too proud to accept the offer.
But Aster didn't give up. He reasoned, insisted, and eventually offered to buy new uniforms for the others as well.
He wasn't doing it to show off, and Molly could tell.
He was doing it because Ginny deserved it.
——————————————————————————————
It was finally the day to return to Hogwarts.
Hermione looked at Aster before passing the portal. He felt cold, broken; he was alive, but not himself.
Aster, Harry, and Ron were the last ones to head for the barrier to Platform 9¾. Ginny had just passed through the wall, rippling slightly behind her like water.
Ron and Harry rushed forward—
Thud.
Both slammed into solid brick, falling backward in a heap.
Aster stopped in his tracks, eyes narrowing. The wall was… shut. Sealed, like it had never been anything else.
He didn't blink; maybe this was the way the world was telling him. You're not ready to return.'
A few nearby Muggles turned to look, confused by the noise.
"What happened?" Aster asked, his voice calm, but edged with something sharp. He had seen the barrier work just seconds before.
Harry rubbed his forehead, dazed. "It—it won't let us through."
"We'll miss the train!" Ron said, panic rising in his voice. He stood quickly, brushing himself off, then froze, thinking.
Aster watched him, intrigued.
Ron's thoughts were often strange. Reckless. But they were real. Instinctive. The kind that worked in a pinch.
Ron suddenly snapped his fingers. "Dad's car."
Aster blinked. Not in surprise, but in mild… admiration? Ron, as it turned out, wasn't always as slow as he seemed.
Harry gaped. "You're not serious—"
Ron was already moving. "We can follow the train! We know where it's going."
Harry glanced at Aster, who hadn't moved. "You coming?"
Aster didn't answer. He just nodded once.
The next moment, they were running toward the enchanted Ford Anglia, the Muggle world watching none the wiser, three boys, one cursed wall, and a sky waiting to be broken open.
Steps fast and steady.
Too cold for a living person.