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Not From Others | ||||||
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Category: Post-HBP, Post-DH/AB Characters:Harry/Ginny, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, General Warnings: Dark Fiction, Death, Extreme Language, Mild Sexual Situations, Negative Alcohol Use, Violence Story is Complete Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 348 Summary: She may not have been able to join Harry, Ron and Hermione, but Ginny refuses to go down without a fight. As war approaches, Ginny returns to Hogwarts to resurrect Dumbledore's Army and face the darkest year the wizarding world has ever seen. DH from Ginny's POV. Canon. Hitcount: Story Total: 108210; Chapter Total: 3590 Awards: View Trophy Room |
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‘Ginny.’ Hermione embraced her tightly. Ginny leaned into the hug, feeling rather unsteady on her feet. ‘He was so brave,’ whispered Hermione. Ginny swallowed. She looked back down at her brother’s body, barely visible under her mother, who was crying across his chest, and George, who knelt in shock at Fred’s head, his pale hands stroking over the cold skin. Beside him, Remus and Tonks had been laid down by volunteers, their hands close together. They did not look as fearful as they had outside. Their faces had been softened into peaceful expressions. They might have been asleep, but of course they weren’t, and Ginny found herself focusing on Remus’s pocket which she knew held a picture of a baby. Harry was there, looking from Fred to Remus and Tonks and back again, his face pale and despondent, almost unfocused. ‘-We’re going to be all right, despite it all-’ She became aware that Hermione was still talking, and looked back into her brown eyes. ‘We have to keep going, we have to push forward-’ ‘I don’t want to push forward,’ Ginny replied. Her voice sounded faint and far away. ‘I want to go home.’ She could still hear Hermione talking, whispering words that she supposed were supposed to be comforting, but all Ginny could think of was returning to the Burrow, where the knitting needles clacked even through the clamour of the busy household, the orchard where the air smelt sweet and she could play Quidditch with her brothers, all of them, all of them there, both twins… When she got back, her, Fred and George would make hot chocolate and make fun of Ron, they would do impressions of Percy, in the summer they would go into the village and dare each other to do magic in front of muggles, and when it came to Christmas time again, Fred would lift her onto his shoulders so she could reach the top of the tree. George was now kneeling over Fred, pressing their foreheads together, he was saying something but she couldn’t understand what as his voice was unintelligible through the sobs. Fred would probably tease him about it later, it was surely something George would never live down. She turned to look at Harry, hoping to perhaps share a knowing look, but he wasn’t there. She turned, but Ron was with Percy, Bill and Fleur, murmuring lowly to them and wiping at his face. Hermione was still talking, Ginny was sure to herself now. ‘Where’s Harry?’ she asked quietly. Hermione sniffed. ‘He’s over- Harry?’ Her eyes widened, and she spun on the spot, raising her arms as though ready to grab him. ‘Harry? He was right there! He was right…’ She hurried over to Ron, and grabbed his arm. ‘Where’s Harry?’ ‘I thought he was with you?’ A familiar feeling of dread engulfed Ginny, but she was somehow separate to it. ‘He was standing over there,’ she said, pointing to the other side of Remus and Tonks. Ron swore loudly, and the hall had been so quiet with whispering and grieving people that many turned to look. ‘He wouldn’t have done,’ squeaked Hermione. ‘Ron, he wouldn’t have.’ ‘Of course he bloody would,’ said Ron, looking furious. ‘You know what he’s like.’ He began to make his way through the crowds, pulling people aside. ‘Harry? Harry? Have you seen Harry?’ Hermione followed, scanning the anxious faces of the battle-weary students and Order members, shrieking his name with increasing terror. Now most of the hall was watching them, or else looking around as though expecting to spot him among their ranks. Molly had sat up, and now her face went back and forth between her fallen son and the crowds, though she could not find the strength in her to shout Harry’s name, instead choking out wails and trembling. Arthur rose and helplessly watched Ron and Hermione make their way around the hall; Ron had now become quite rough, pushing through large groups and stumbling over people sitting on the floor. ‘The stupid bloody idiot, where is he? Harry!’ ‘Has anyone seen him?’ cried Hermione, who was now aware that everyone was watching them. In the silence, a nervous looking girl rose her hand. ‘H-He went up there,’ she said, pointing to the marble staircase. ‘Maybe he went back to the Room of-’ But Ron had already grabbed Hermione by the arm, and now they were racing out of the doors and up the stairs, their shouts for Harry echoing back into the hall. The room was entirely silent, save for occasional sobs and whimpers, and people glanced uneasily at one another as they wondered if Lord Voldemort would truly keep his promise… Ginny felt numb. Ron’s words rang through her head and she knew they were true, but that Harry had gone deeper into the castle rather than the forest was an odd comfort. She looked back at Fred, and knew that whatever decision Harry had made, there was more loss yet to come. She gritted her teeth, and felt angry. She was not sure at who, but there was a rage in her and she felt envious of Percy, who had been able to beat a Death Eater to death. She crouched on the floor, her arms up and over her head, trying to contain the fury inside her before it came out as a howl, before she cursed someone or went to the forest herself. She felt arms pull her up, and realised that it was Bill, but whatever he said to her she didn’t know, because she had begun growling and wailing, struggling out of his grip. How dare Harry leave like that? Without a word? ‘Listen to me,’ ordered Bill. ‘Listen, Ginny! We need to be strong. For-’ ‘I don’t have to be anything for anybody!’ She looked around, bodies were still coming in, would there even be room for them all? ‘I’m going to go help,’ she said. ‘Stay here, we need to stick together-’ ‘Well Ron and Harry have both ran off,’ she shot back. ‘I can’t stand here and do nothing, that doesn’t help me be strong, I need to go and do something-’ He could see that it was true, and he released her, falling back to be hugged by his wife. Ginny turned and left the hall, desperate to leave her grief behind her. Her feet kicked at emeralds on the floor, the flames on the torches made them glisten and cast light like curses. The courtyard and the grounds beyond were still in the darkness. She could see Colin slumped over by the fountain, but could not bear to approach him yet. Neville was ahead, as were others, including Oliver Wood, and they seemed to be bringing in the bodies furthest away first, perhaps anxious that they would not bring them all in within an hour… She walked across the cobbles, slippery with blood, and onto the damp grass of the grounds. Weaving in and out of the bodies, she worked as though she were someone else, her mind was blank to everything, unable to think or be in pain. She helped Kingsley lift a body onto a stretcher he had conjured, speaking to him professionally, as though it were her job to collect the fallen, like some kind of twisted mortician, briskly commenting that a leg was still missing and that she’d look out for it. Soon, she was one of the only ones left as the lawn emptied, and the volunteers moved steadily closer to the castle. She saw a stirring on the grass ahead, and heard a rattling breath. She walked calmly towards it. It was still very dark, so she was very close before she saw the long blonde hair and her face, as ghostly and pale in the moonlight as it had been that first awful night back at school. ‘Polly,’ she whispered, crouching down beside her. Polly gave a gasping breath, flecks of blood burst from her lips and her blue eyes were glassy, dancing over Ginny’s face as though she knew it would be the last thing she ever saw. ‘Oh, Polly…’ Ginny whispered again, looking down her body. She was bleeding heavily, it pooled beneath her like silk, contrasting against her skin so vividly that she looked like porcelain. ‘I’m sorry,’ said Polly. ‘Don’t be silly, you’ve been so brave. I’ll get someone’s attention and we’ll take you back up to the castle, it’ll be all right-’ ‘No, Ginny, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry…’ she repeated it over and over. The stars were reflected in her rapidly moving eyes. ‘It was me, it was me, I didn’t realise and I’m sorry…’ Ginny waited patiently, brushing a strand of Polly’s hair aside. It was matted with blood. ‘It’s all right…’ ‘He works in Muggleborn Control, Cormac, I didn’t realise, that’s not what he told me…’ ‘Try not to worry,’ said Ginny. Polly’s breath was sharpening, her chest rising and falling quicker than ever. Ginny was desperately trying to remember any healing charms she knew, but there was nothing that could help injuries this severe. ‘He said he loved me, I believed him, I really did, he made me feel so special…’ ‘I know what that’s like,’ said Ginny gently. ‘I understand.’ ‘He told me he could keep my mother safe,’ said Polly. ‘She’s muggleborn. He told me… He told me he was doing his best because he loved me so much… But there was only so much he could do… If I could just give him interesting information, he could keep putting Mum to the bottom of the pile… I kept it to you, I’m sorry-’ ‘I was an easy target,’ said Ginny. ‘And the most exciting sort of information. I understand.’ ‘I didn’t want to get lots of people into trouble,’ said Polly. Her tears were now mixing with blood, pink streaks sliding down her cold face. ‘I thought, one person instead of many… And I thought if it got really bad, Potter would come and rescue you…’ ‘I know, it’s all right.’ She looked around, hoping to see someone she could shout for, but the grounds were as still as the grave. ‘I’m sorry-’ ‘It’s all right, I forgive you. I understand.’ It was the truth. Ginny thought of Tom Riddle, the manipulative power he had held over her, and though she had been a naïve eleven-year-old then, she knew what a great and terrible power love was, and Polly loved both Cormac and her mother. She thought of Percy, relentlessly punching the Death Eater until he was still, and Xenophilius Lovegood whose paper had aligned with the Ministry once his daughter had been taken, and Tonks killing Rowle, and the picture of the laughing Lily Potter in Snape’s desk, whether it was perhaps her rejection that had twisted Snape into such a dark an evil man. ‘I just wanted to protect my mother,’ Polly whispered to the sky. ‘I just wanted Mum to be all right… I want her here… I want my mum…’ ‘It’s all right,’ said Ginny, though she did not believe it. ‘It’s OK. We’re going to get you inside.’ ‘But I want to go home,’ whispered Polly. ‘I don’t want to fight any more!’ Ginny thought of the Burrow again, and of Fred, and her eyes filled with tears yet again. When she spoke, her voice had broken, she struggled to keep it as calm and comforting for Polly as possible. ‘I know. It’s going to be all right.’ Polly’s eyes were slowing, growing unfocused and sliding up to look at the stars. Ginny shifted to sit more closely, grasping Polly’s cold hand and squeezing it tightly. ‘It’s going to be all right,’ she repeated, hoping that if she said it enough it would become true. Polly’s hand was going limp. She felt as though someone was behind her, and she looked around into the night, but it was only the breeze that had brushed by her. She looked back to Polly. Her eyes were now still, shining like glass. She allowed herself a groaning whimper of grief, clutching Polly’s hand to her chest and rocking slightly, full of hate and love and fear, all dulled by the crushing sense of grief. She sat up straight, wiped her eyes and took a deep breath of air. It stabbed at her lungs. She picked Polly up. It was not easy, for although Polly had always been slender and delicate looking, she was heavy in death, and one unsupported arm fell to the ground, skimming the wet grass as she was lifted. She stumbled back towards the castle, often dropping Polly slightly, half dragging her, sobbing and hating herself for treating her friend with such indignity. She saw a figure running towards her, and hoped it was Harry, but Dean’s familiar face appeared, and without a word he seized Polly’s legs, silently helping Ginny take her to the Great Hall. The room was not as silent now, there was a restless humming in the air of concerned conversation and words of comfort. They laid her down near the doors, for there were so many bodies that there was now very little room, and Professor Sprout suddenly appeared by her side, casting a blanket over Polly to hide her injuries. A cry of pain, and Demelza had run over, Zaha slowly following clutching Colin’s camera, and Ginny could see that all though they had guess that their friend had been lost, nothing had prepared them for seeing her body, lying like a broken doll under the enchanted ceiling. Ginny turned away, terrified they would ask her about how she had found her, unable to confess that she had sat there while Polly had died and done nothing… She returned to her family, and saw that Ron and Hermione too, had come back to the hall. Hermione was crying relentlessly, leaning against Fleur who had a comforting arm wrapped around her shoulders and a serious expression. Ron was pacing, rubbing his hands over his nose and eyes and into his hair, speaking urgently to everyone but Molly and George, who sat still with Fred. ‘-Looked everywhere, he must have gone to the forest-’ ‘That girl said he went up the stairs, he must still be in the castle-’ ‘He’s got a sodding invisibility cloak!’ Ron snarled. ‘But then why would he have gone up the stairs in the first place?’ asked Percy. ‘Did you check the library? He might have to try and find something out-’ ‘I’ve known Harry a long time,’ said Ron. ‘He won’t be in the fucking library.’ ‘What about the dungeons?’ asked Charlie. ‘Why would he be there? I’m telling you, the silly bastard’s gone to give himself up, you have to let me go and-’ ‘You’re not going anywhere,’ said Arthur loudly, his voice shaking. ‘You’re going nowhere near that place.’ Hermione gave another squeak, and the tears flowed even faster down her cheeks. ‘He can’t have done, Ron, we haven’t finished the… the thing we have to do.’ ‘He has,’ said Ron, and he looked quite mad, gripping his hair with both hands. ‘I know he has, I know him!’ ‘I’ve been out there, Ron,’ said Ginny. ‘I didn’t see him, so-’ There was an awkward cough, and they all turned to see Neville looking cautiously at them. ‘Erm… Could I talk to Ron and Hermione?’ ‘You can say it here, Neville,’ said Ron, his face set in a hardened expression. Neville nodded, casting his eyes over the gathered family, his eyes resting briefly on Fred and wincing. ‘It’s just that, Luna said you were still looking for Harry, and I just thought you should know that I’ve seen him, he’s all right-’ Hermione gave a cry of relief, and Ron close his eyes, leaning his head back. ‘You have?’ said Hermione joyfully. ‘Where is he? What’s he doing?’ ‘I dunno, he said there was a plan, but he said that the snake needs to be killed.’ They froze, and he looked awkwardly at them, clearly hoping for further explanation. ‘He told me to do it in case you two didn’t.’ The entire family was watching Ron and Hermione, for their relieved expressions had returned to anxiety as swiftly as they had came. Hermione shuffled forward to stand by Ron, still searching Neville’s face. ‘Where was he?’ asked Ron. ‘By the doors,’ said Neville, who had realised he was revealing something awful to them. ‘Heading out to the grounds. Don’t worry!’ he added hastily, as their faces turned pale. ‘I asked him if he was trying to give himself up and he said of course he wasn’t-’ ‘Well obviously he’d say that!’ shrieked Hermione. ‘He said he was OK!’ protested Neville, but he looked unsure. ‘I was suspicious at first but he seemed so calm-’ ‘He can’t have,’ said Ginny. She could hear her heart thudding in her ears. ‘He can’t have, he would have passed me…’ Something must have changed in her expression as she remembered that odd sensation she had assumed was a breeze, because Ron was looking at her with urgency, he had gripped her shoulders and was staring pleadingly into her face. ‘But he didn’t pass you?’ he said. ‘You didn’t see him?’ ‘Ron,’ said Hermione, her voice breaking. ‘You said it yourself, he has his cloak…’ ‘He did have it,’ said Neville. ‘He was wearing it before he spoke to me, and then-’ Ron gave a great roar of frustration and terror, releasing Ginny and spinning to face Neville, pointing at him furiously. ‘When was this? I swear to God, if I reach him before he does something stupid, I’ll beat the shit out of him for trying to be such a bloody hero.’ ‘About half an hour ago,’ said Neville. ‘I didn’t think it was a big deal, I thought you were in on his plan-’ Hermione burst into tears and Ron turned to his father. ‘Let me go,’ he said. ‘Let me go and get him back.’ Arthur shook his head, looking as distressed and devastated as everyone else. ‘You can’t Ron, it’s too late-’ ‘IT’S NOT TOO LATE!’ Ron looked frantic, he burst towards the door, but Bill and Charlie leapt forward to hold him back, each of them grabbing an arm as he squirmed and tried to keep running. The entire hall was watching now, Professor McGonagall was walking towards them, and the realisation began to hit Ginny, not as a wave but as a powerful river, so strong that she felt she could be knocked over by the current. Ron gave up, sinking to the ground in silence, Bill and Charlie both still keeping a firm hold on him. His face was blank, expressionless. He looked up at Ginny, and she stared back, both of them knew, deep in the hearts, that- ‘Harry Potter is dead.’ The cold voice reached her very bones, the room seemed to freeze. ‘He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that he is gone.’ Ginny was shaking her head at the lies, for they had to be, there was nothing truthful that ever came from that serpent’s mouth… ‘The battle is won,’ continued the voice, gleeful and sinister. ‘You have lost half your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman or child will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family. Come out of the castle, now, kneel before me, and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live, and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together.’ Professor McGonagall, her face stern, thin-lipped and composed, walked through the silent hall to the doors. Ginny was among the first to start walking after her, Ron and Hermione to her side, and she soon heard the quiet patter of hundreds of feet following. Professor McGonagall pulled open the heavy doors and went out to the front step. It was her harrowing scream that frightened Ginny the most, she found herself being pulled by McGonagall’s grief outside, to see for herself. The world seemed to crumble away from beneath her feet. She knew she was screaming Harry’s name, she knew Ron and Hermione were screaming too, and soon so where the crowd around her, but she was surely falling, spinning in her own despair. Bellatrix was laughing, delighting in their agony. Black spots were appearing at the corner of her eyes, she feared that she was close to fainting, but she kept her eyes fixed on Harry. Hagrid held him like a baby, cradled in his arms, but his head hung backwards off Hagrid’s arm, his glasses barely clinging to his face, his arms out straight but hanging down to the earth, just as Polly’s had done. She was still screaming, and so were the crowd, a volley of abuse and horror, Ginny felt that if she shouted loud enough, Harry would get up, he had to, she would do anything… ‘SILENCE!’ cried Voldemort, raising his wand. A loud bang accompanied a flash of white light, which seemed to hit them all, and Ginny found her tongue forced still. Voldemort grinned at them manically, his great snake draped over his shoulders, red eyes glinting in the gradually lightening darkness. Hagrid, sobbing great, fat tears, laid Harry gently on the grass at Voldemort’s orders. He looked different to the others in the hall, nowhere near as peaceful, she wanted nothing more than to run at him, fling herself over his chest, beg him to open his eyes so that she might see them once more- Voldemort paced in front of Harry, his face alive with malice. ‘You see?’ he said, gesturing a hand to Harry. ‘Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!’ Disgust and rage rose in her throat like bile, she had never thought it was possible to hate like this, her love for Harry had now been mixed so thoroughly with grief and anger that he had been stolen from her that she felt as though she could take on the world. She now understood, more clearly than ever, why Tonks had refused to move, and had instead stood her ground to take revenge. ‘He beat you!’ shouted Ron, with such viciousness that she was sure he felt the same. The charm broke, and Ginny began yelling too, the place where her heart used to be aching with a pain beyond anything she had ever felt, worse than the cruciatus, it was all she could do to scream Harry’s name, over and over again… A more powerful charm silenced her once again, and Voldemort looked at them all greedily, relishing in their devastation. ‘He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds,’ he lied. ‘Killed while trying to save himself-’ ‘Liar!’ shouted Neville. He burst out of the crowd and ran forwards, Voldemort flicked his wand lazily and Neville fell to the ground, his wand spinning out of his hand and caught easily by Voldemort, who tossed it aside. Voldemort laughed cruelly, and slowly advanced upon Neville, who stared resolutely back. ‘And who is this?’ he said softly. ‘Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?’ |
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