|
New Year, New Hope | ||||||
|
Category: Post-OotP, Buried Gems Characters:Harry/Ginny Genres: Angst, Drama, Fluff, General Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 117 Summary: It's Harry's sixth year and Ginny Weasley's "Harry-Watching" has paid off. In this sequel to "You're Still You" the two teens explore their new relationship while dealing with the challenges of life threatened by war. Hitcount: Story Total: 89479; Chapter Total: 5045 |
Previous Next |
|
||||
|
Ginny stood on the edge of the repaired Quidditch pitch, her walking stick clutched in one hand, a school broomstick in the other. She had come out by herself this morning so that if she wimped out, no one would know. Her greatest fear was that Ron or -- heaven forbid -- the Slytherin Quidditch team, would find out and tease her about it. The sunrise was beautiful, the sky a brilliant blue suffused with fluffy pink and orange and yellow clouds that seemed to beckon to her. Ginny dropped her stick and cloak on the grass and began walking towards the circle at the centre of the pitch. She sighed, trying to dispel the mounting tension she felt as her gaze travelled to the Slytherin/Ravenclaw end of the pitch. Shaking her head, she focused on the centre line. The last time she had kicked off from there had been that fateful day three months ago, and the memories suddenly threatened to overwhelm her. Am I a fool to even attempt to fly? she asked herself as she reached the centre line of the pitch. Am I really ready to try this? She was torn by the answer. One part of her longed to be up in the air sailing as free as a hippogriff, while another part wanted her feet firmly planted on the ground. She had thought she was ready to face this place and its memories; ready to feel the wind in her face, the speed of the broom; ready to hear the voices of the Gryffindor and Slytherin teams replay the game in her head; ready to imagine the cheers which had turned to terrified gasps as the crowd realized she was falling. But no: taking the centre of the pitch only reinforced the fact that she wasn’t ready to mount a broom again. The realization shook her to her core. She understood now that her accident had really and truly bound her to the earth. She was too afraid to fall. Tears welled up in Ginny’s eyes and she crumpled to the grass, sobbing silently. How long she sat there, shoulders shaking, eyes streaming, she did not know. Despair had overtaken rational thought and she was so focused on her fears that the comforting hand gently placed upon her shoulder caused her to start. “Just let it out, Ginny,” a deep voice counselled. It was Harry. Ginny threw herself at him and buried her face in his shoulder. “I can’t do this,” she wailed as the tears soaked the neck of his jumper. “I thought I was ready to come out here, to face what happened to me, but I’m too afraid!” The admission made her cry even harder. Harry held her tightly, stroking her hair, until her sobs subsided to the occasional shuddering hiccup. “It’s all right if you need more time, Ginny,” he told her softly. Ginny sniffed. “I know, Harry. But with just a day left until term ends, I needed to at least come out here and try. Otherwise, I’d be wondering about it all summer.” “About what... being back on a broom or on the Quidditch pitch?” “Both.” He held her tightly as he asked, “Are you afraid of falling?” “Yes,” she whispered, nodding against his chest. “And of what I hear in my head as I look down-pitch.” “Those voices can really hurt sometimes,” Harry agreed, concern lacing his voice. He hesitated, then asked, “If you’re not ready to do it alone, would you like to fly with me?” For the first time since he began holding her Ginny looked up into Harry’s face. All she saw (other than several yellowish bruises left over from the battle) was tenderness. “I’d like that a lot. But we’d have to take it really slow in case I can’t bear to fly. I’ll wait while you get your Firebolt.” “Not necessary. We’ve got all the broom we need here,” Harry told her, grinning broadly and gesturing to Ginny’s discarded broomstick. “We can ride tandem very well on that one.” Ginny smiled. She liked the idea of holding onto Harry or having him hold her while they flew. “You think of everything,” she said, happiness driving the despair from her heart. “I try,” Harry told her, a sly grin playing at the corners of his mouth. He rose and held a hand out to Ginny before commanding the broom to hover at mounting height. He slung a leg over the tail, then invited her to sit in front of him. Once she was comfortably seated, he wrapped an arm around her waist. She held on tightly, one hand clutching the broom handle, the other covering his arm. “Ready?” he asked. Ginny nodded, suddenly unable to speak. The broom rose a few inches and Ginny felt her feet leave the grass. “Just give the word and we’ll be back on the ground in no time,” Harry murmured in her ear. “I’m all right,” she said. “This is a little like Madam Hooch’s first year flying class.” She giggled. “‘Kick off from the ground, hard, keep your broom steady, rise a few feet, hover for a moment, then touch back down,’” she mimicked. Harry chuckled as he brought them back down. “That’s not what mine was like. The day of our first flying lesson, Neville lost control of his broom and went rocketing into the air before falling off and breaking his wrist. The next thing I know, McGonagall is yelling at me to follow her because she had caught me challenging Malfoy to get back Neville’s Remembrall.” “I remember that. Ron wrote me how you became...” “...the youngest Seeker in a century,” Harry finished for her. “That seems so long ago!” “In some ways it was,” Ginny told him. Then she asked, “Are we going to fly forward this time?” Harry nodded into Ginny’s hair and soon they were slowly skimming just above the grass. Ginny felt herself relax as she asked, “Can we go higher, please?” Harry obliged and gradually rose halfway to playing height. “How’s that?” “Can we stay here a moment?” “Sure. Anything you want.” Harry circled the pitch perimeter several times before asking, “Faster?” Ginny nodded, her confidence growing. She liked the feel of Harry’s arm around her waist, holding her tightly against his body. She knew now that once they got back to the ground she wouldn’t be as afraid to fly on her own. The broom quickened its pace at Harry’s request and they gradually gained altitude. When Ginny realized they were at playing height, she turned to Harry. “Will you take me... take me...” she couldn’t finish the sentence, so she nodded in the direction of the Slytherin goal posts. Harry seemed to understand and came to a hover almost at the exact spot where Ginny had fallen. “Tell me what you saw that day,” she requested, her voice shaking. Harry tightened his grip on her middle. He hesitated a moment, then began the story from his point of view, “The game was brutal, filled with fouls committed by both sides, mostly because the Slytherins were doing everything they possibly could to keep us from scoring.” He told the story in vivid detail, leaving out nothing, and the flow of his voice transported Ginny back to the game. “The stadium was filled with screams as you plummeted to the ground, but I could hear only yours in my head,” Harry said after a long pause. “I’ll never forget it.” Ginny had closed her eyes as he began speaking. His version corroborated what everyone else had told her. This time however, being here facing the memories, she was able to accept the vivid details of her dreams for the past two months. “Thanks, Harry. You’ve helped me a lot today.” “Are you sure you’ll be all right with this?” “I think... I think... I won’t be bothered by as many flashbacks. I’m going to be fine.” Behind her, Harry was silent. He guided the broom back to mid-field and slid off the end as their feet touched the grass. Ginny remained where she sat. “Are you ready to try flying by yourself?” he asked, his voice deepening with concern. Ginny smiled at him. “This time I am,” she told him confidently. And just to prove her point, she kicked off and did a perfect imitation of Madam Hooch’s instructions. Harry laughed heartily as he realized what Ginny was doing and, turning toward the stands, sprinted to where Ginny’s cloak lay on the grass. Surprised, Ginny followed him on her broomstick. She was thrilled to discover that he had hidden his Firebolt under her cloak and soon the two were taking laps around the stadium. Higher and faster they flew, Harry guiding his broom with his right hand and protecting his repaired shoulder by tucking his left arm around his waist, until at last they were racing each other from one goal to the other. Harry leant forward suddenly and plunged his Firebolt toward the ground in a perfect Wronski Feint, a look of pure joy on his face. Ginny stayed where she was, admiring the grace and skill with which he performed the move. He does that better one-handed than I remember Viktor Krum doing it at the Quidditch World Cup, she thought happily. Harry joined her again and they made several more trips around the pitch at a much slower pace before Harry commented, grinning, “I’d like to stay out here all day with you, Ginny, but my stomach is reminding me I haven’t fed it lately. Would you accompany me to breakfast?” Ginny laughed, thinking of how nice it was to hear Harry talk about being hungry. Had it only been seven months ago that he had barely touched his plate? It was incredible to her that the events of so-short-a-time could turn his outlook around and give him the confidence to deal with his destiny. She knew Harry still faced a difficult path, that he was preparing for the final showdown as best he could. However, instead of doing it all alone, he now knew that she, Ron, Neville, Luna, and Hermione, his professors and all of Gryffindor House would be standing alongside him when the time came. That made all the difference in the world. Harry was indeed a more hopeful and confident wizard now. “I’d like that a lot,” she told him touching down and gathering her walking stick and cloak. “Just let me put this broom back into the broom shed before Madam Hooch discovers it’s missing.” Harry pointed his wand at the broom, muttered a spell under his breath and the two watched it zoom out of the stadium ahead of them. “No need, Ginny. Now how about that breakfast? I’m starving!” *+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+* Several hours later, Ginny found herself leaning tiredly on the parapet of the Astronomy tower. Harry was in another meeting with Professor Dumbledore. Wanting to be outside, not cooped up in the fifth year girls’ dormitory trying to pack her belongings, Ginny had climbed to the top of the tower for a better view of the school grounds. It was an odd feeling looking down at the castle. Some things were just as they’d always been, but if she paid enough attention, she could see the ravages of battle in places she hadn’t noticed, such as new pockmarks in several of the walls nearest her. If she looked one way she could see the Quidditch stadium gleaming in the midday sun, its lawn green and the repaired stands shining invitingly at her. A few students were up in the air zipping around the goal hoops and tossing a Quaffle to one another. It was a peaceful sight she had seen each year on the last day of term, and she was glad to catch it from this angle. If she looked in another direction she was greeted by the gaping hole in the castle and the pile of rubble that had been North Tower. Only by climbing up here could one really appreciate the extent of the damage. She watched as a small army of house-elves levitated stones from the main pile to another — apparently choosing which to save and which to discard. Every once in a while, an elf would pop out of the rubble bearing an artefact, which it then whisked into the castle. Ginny felt incredibly sad to see how little remained of the magnificent paintings and other antiquities that had graced the walls of the tower. So much history had been lost.... Finally, if she looked across the lake towards Hogsmeade Station, she could see the pallid form of the giant squid as it pulsed its way through the water. The station repairs were only half completed, but already the Hogwarts Express stood next to the temporary platform; it was being loaded with boxes and crates of all shapes and sizes and Ginny wondered what was being transported to London that needed to be packed so carefully. A voice close to her ear made her jump. “Oi, Ginny! A Knut for your thoughts?” “Oh! Ron! You scared me,” she exclaimed, turning toward her brother. “Sorry, Ginny. I thought you heard me.” “No, I didn’t, but no harm done. What brings you up here?” Ron didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned on the bulwark overlooking the remains of the North Tower, his gaze slightly unfocused. Ginny propped her walking stick between them and mimicked his posture, one hand supporting her chin. At length, Ron said, “Stuff.” Ginny smiled. His answer was typical Ron. They stood in silence feeling the wind caress their faces. Finally, Ron said quietly, “Harry paid for your Healers, didn’t he?” “He did, Ron.” “Good. I was hoping he had.” Ginny raised an eyebrow. “Why?” Ron turned and looked at her this time. “Harry has more money than he knows what to do with and you’re a good investment. Besides, you wouldn’t have been happy living a half-life. Not the way you do everything so enthusiastically.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” Her brother sighed deeply as if searching for the right words. “I’ve watched you grow up, Ginny. You’ve had to fight for everything that means something to you because you’re the youngest. You developed a survival spirit being the only girl because your six stubborn older brothers always thought their way was the best way. We were your official tormentors and unofficial guardians. Every one of us, from Bill on down, thinks it’s his duty to do everything for you or to prevent you from hurting yourself in some way, shape or form. You’ve fought us every time we’ve tried to impose our ‘brotherly protection.’ You even had to sneak out of the house to steal time on our brooms to learn to fly just to show us you were our equal!” “That’s true, but what does that have to do with my being unhappy?” “Ginny, you could never have borne being earth-bound or half-healed knowing that there could have been a treatment to make you be whole if only Mum and Dad had enough gold,” Ron said, his voice shaking. “You would have spent the rest of your life trying to be whole again and regretting that you couldn’t be.” Ginny nodded, rather amazed that Ron was so perceptive. “I agree,” she said. “So you’re really not mad I let Harry finance my healers?” “I’m not,” Ron said, turning towards her, “not with how worried he was or how concerned the rest of us were. At one point, Harry even tried to blame himself for not being close enough to take the Bludgers for you.” “That’s so like Harry,” Ginny murmured. Ron continued. “He hardly spoke to anyone after Madam Pomfrey told us you’d never walk again.” “He went silent on you, then?” “Yeah. He did and he wouldn’t tell Hermione and me what was bothering him.” “And that’s unusual?” “Well, yes and no. Sometimes he can go for days all withdrawn if he’s really deep in thought, but eventually he gets round to telling us what’s on his mind. This time he did none of that; this time he talked to you and then he was happy. He even skived off our Defence lesson that day–and you know he never misses a Defence class–holing himself up in the library researching who-knew-what and finally sprinting up to Professor Dumbledore’s office like his robes were on fire. The two of them were closeted together up there long after curfew and neither came to dinner that evening nor were they at breakfast the next morning. Neville told me Harry came in very late and then got up really early that morning saying he was going back to the library. I was so worried about you at the time I didn’t pay much attention and it took Hermione’s keen observations to finally help me work out what was going on.” Ginny reached over and patted Ron’s arm. “Thank you for not being upset, Ron. I worried how you’d take Harry’s and my secret if you ever found out.” Ron smiled at her and covered her hand with his. “I could never be upset about something as important as my sister,” he said. “Thanks, Ron,” she murmured, her heart full. She didn’t need to caution Ron not to tell their parents; Ron understood that Ginny would confess if she ever felt the elder Weasleys needed to know. The two lapsed into silence again and Ginny couldn’t help marvelling how accepting Ron had become over the last months, though she had noticed the change most in the days following the Hogsmeade battle. There was something determined-sounding in his voice, as if he were resigned to something that he wasn’t ready to share. She was content to wait. “Ginny, can I ask you something?” he asked they watched two elves levitate a huge piece of carved stone away from the rubble. “Sure. What is it you want to know?” Ron seemed a little embarrassed as he asked, “Erm, Ginny, can you and Harry talk to each other without speaking aloud?” Ginny smiled. She’d been wondering if her conversations with Harry had been noticed. “We can,” she said simply. “Is it obvious?” Ron hesitated, then said, “Yes, it is, but only when the conversation is a long one. Then you two get the most interesting looks on your faces, like you’re concentrating. Sometimes one of you even giggles or smiles.” He grinned as he added, “You had the most fascinating expression on your face at one point during Harry’s healing last Sunday; you looked exactly like Mum does when she’s lecturing Fred and George. Were you telling Harry off?” Ginny looked down at her hands, blushing. “We were discussing the Skele-Gro potion he was going to have to take and Harry was being rather whiny about it,” she said matter-of-factly. “Well, I think the healers noticed; especially after Harry was so complacent about taking the potion,” Ron said. “How do you do it?” “Professor Dumbledore thinks it’s a side-effect of the spells I used to create Harry’s and my necklaces.” Ron nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense. Harry let me hold his phoenix once right after you gave it to him. He’s still in awe of the power it radiates.” “All it is, Ron, is magic and love. Nothing more.” Ron shook his head, murmuring, “Blimey,” and pushed away from the wall. Ginny followed him thinking that they were going back down into the castle. Ron had other ideas, though; instead of going down the stairs, he walked over to watch the impromptu Quidditch match and once again settled onto the wall. Ginny chose to lean her back against the parapet and let the sun warm her face. She could feel the tension radiating from her brother and waited patiently for him to speak his mind. She knew he was nervous and what he had on his mind was important to him. Finally, he cleared his throat. “You love him, don’t you.” Again, a statement and not a question. Ginny opened her eyes and looked at Ron, her expression just as serious. “I do, Ron. With all my heart,” she said sincerely, feeling the love she had for Harry well up inside her. “Erm, I’m glad,” Ron said awkwardly. “He needs it.” He stared out at the Quidditch pitch again. “How do you know it’s not, er, infatuation?” Ginny turned to lean her elbows on the top of the wall. “I just know,” she said. “I feel it every time I think of Harry.” Ron looked at her, his face a confusion of emotions. “So... what’s real love feel like, Ginny?” She smiled as she said, “It’s a kind of happiness that never goes away. I find myself looking forward to seeing Harry every morning and am disappointed if he’s not the first person I see when I get to the common room or the Great Hall. My day isn’t complete if we haven’t touched at least once during the day.” Ron harrumphed. “That sounds kind of like you just fancy him,” he said sceptically, sounding for all the world like Hermione. It made Ginny smile. “No, Ron. It goes much deeper than that. If anything ever happened to Harry and he disappeared from my life I’d be devastated. He’s a part of me now; he... completes who I am,” she said sincerely. “Er, I know that feeling,” Ron told her quietly. Ginny smiled. It was her turn to make a statement. “You love Hermione, don’t you.” Her brother seemed to glow as he admitted, “I do, Ginny, but I haven’t told her yet.” “You need to, Ron. She needs to know.” “I can’t tell her. Not until Voldemort’s gone.” “Why? She has a right to make up her mind whether she loves you back.” “I know, but I–I just can’t tell her yet.” Ginny reached up and gently grasped Ron’s chin, making him look at her. “Think about this: Harry’s love saved me and mine kept him safe this year. It’s a powerful thing, love. Even if you don’t ask Hermione to marry you, you need to tell her you love her before too much more happens.” Ron sighed. “I can’t, Ginny. I–I’m–” He trailed off. “I don’t want her to reject me,” he muttered so softly that Ginny almost didn’t hear him. “Is that what you think she’ll do?” she asked incredulously. “It’s my greatest fear,” he mumbled. There was conviction in Ginny’s voice as she said, “Wake up, Ron. You should see the sparkle in her eyes when you’re making some daft joke or the way she glows when she’s sitting by the fire with you in the Common Room. She’s stuck by you and Harry all this time. You’ve weathered horrendous disagreements, you’ve relied on each other in battle, you’ve trusted each other to be there when you need it. I don’t think you need more proof of Hermione’s love for you than that.” “You’re right. I don’t.” “Then...will you tell her?” Ron was silent for a moment as Ginny stood looking at him expectantly. She knew when his expression changed that he’d made up his mind. “I’m going to tell her,” he said decisively, pushing away from the wall. He strode toward the stairs, then stopped and came back. “Thanks, Ginny,” he said. He embraced her quickly, awkwardly, then turned and raced down the stairs. “You’re welcome,” Ginny murmured with a smile as she, too, descended back into the castle. *+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+* Th e common room was buzzing with rumours when Harry found Ginny later that afternoon. He plopped down on the sofa next to her asking, “What’s up?” Ginny grinned. “Ron showed his true Gryffindor colours and finally told Hermione he loves her,” she said. Harry grinned back. “Good.” *+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+* Ma dam Pomfrey tut-tutted her way through Ginny’s last examination, causing her patient to squirm slightly under the intense scrutiny. “Madam Pomfrey,” Harry’s voice came from the other side of the curtains, “Ginny’s been good this week and taken it easy just like you said. I’ve seen her.” “Thank you, Mr. Potter,” the healer called back, making Ginny smile. Madam Pomfrey cast one last spell and stood back, allowing Ginny to slide off the bed. “You’re looking well, Miss Weasley. I hear you’ve even been up on a broom again. I hope you’ll be very careful this summer about the type and severity of your activities. One more fall like you had in March and no potion, spell or exercise will give you back your mobility. Have I made myself clear?” Ginny nodded. “Was I wrong to go up on the broom, Madam Pomfrey?” she asked quietly. “The only reason I tried to fly was to see if I had conquered my fears.” Madam Pomfrey shook her head. “No, my dear, you weren’t wrong to face your fears. You needed to do so in order to heal completely. I’m just cautioning you not to play team-quality Quidditch as soon as you get home,” she said, a smile causing her mouth to twitch. “I’m glad,” Ginny said, heaving a sigh of relief, “and I will be careful. May I go?” “In a minute. Healer Rodkey was unable to make it today, so she sent a list of exercises you are to do over the holidays. Your mother has the same list and has already promised to encourage you to follow her advice,” Madam Pomfrey said, reaching into her pocket and handing Ginny a roll of parchment. Ginny quickly glanced over it; the exercises listed were already part of her before-breakfast routine. “These are not a problem. I’m not likely to skive of doing these because I still don’t have a good day if I don’t follow what’s on here every morning,” she admitted. “I’m too stiff all day when I skip them. I promise to be good,” she added. “You’re very wise, Miss Weasley, and I hope you’ll understand when I say I don’t want to see you in here very much next term.” “I do, Madam Pomfrey,” she said, turning to leave. She had taken only two steps when she turned back and embraced the Hogwarts healer. “Thank you so much for letting me recuperate in the hospital wing. I appreciate all the inconvenience you went through to have me here so long,” she said, suddenly fighting back the tears. “Tosh, I was glad to do it! Look how well everything turned out! Now, let’s go see how Mr. Potter has fared this week,” Madam Pomfrey suggested, gently extricating herself from Ginny’s embrace. The two walked around the curtain to the next bed where Harry sat stripped to the waist. In the bright light coming through the windows the thin pink line of his shoulder incision stood out against his pale skin. Madam Pomfrey cast a few spells, then asked Harry to complete a series of simple movements, again tut-tutting her way through the examination. However, instead of smiling at Harry when she finished, she stood back with her hands on her hips. “Mr. Potter, I see you have not been following the exercise routine prescribed by Healer Westwood-Greenhowe. The amount of pain you are experiencing today shows me that. What do you have to say for yourself?” she inquired. Harry looked at the floor, absently rubbing his sore shoulder. “I’ve been busy,” he mumbled. “Doing what?” Madam Pomfrey demanded icily. “I’ve been mostly in meetings with Professor Dumbledore, all right?” Harry countered defensively. “I have a lot to deal with right now and thought I could put off doing the exercises until I got back to London.” Ginny noticed he didn’t use the word “home”. Madam Pomfrey’s face relaxed a little as she said, “It doesn’t work that way, Mr. Potter. The longer you put it off, the longer it will take you to get back to where you were before you were hurt. Magical medicine can only do so much. You have to meet it halfway and do what you’re told.” “I reckon I’m just hurting myself, then,” Harry sighed. “Does it matter when I do the exercises?” he asked contritely. “No, but most people find their day goes better if they do them in the morning.” Harry looked hopeful as he asked, “Can we go through them now? I really need to be in top form soon.” In answer, Madam Pomfrey Summoned several elastic bands of varying colours, lengths and thicknesses. She handed a thin, stretchy blue one to Harry and conjured a post which cemented itself to the floor with a loud sucking sound. She then instructed Harry to loop the band over a hook that stuck out of the pole at waist height. Harry did so and the two spent the next ten minutes going over the exercises he needed to do to improve the mobility of his shoulder. Ginny sat silently on an empty bed across from where the two were working. Harry’s pain was evident from the very start, and she remembered how much the first exercises she had done had hurt her. Harry soldiered through, though, and collapsed on the bed as soon as he was finished. Ginny waited to approach him until Madam Pomfrey had shrunk the pole to the size of a Beater’s bat and wrapped it, the set of elastic bands and a duplicate instruction sheet together and placed them in a carry bag. “You may go when you’re ready, Mr. Potter,” Madam Pomfrey said as she departed. “And I’ll see you in the P-T Room tomorrow morning at seven o’clock.” “Yes, ma’am,” Harry croaked as Ginny walked over. He winced, but didn’t open his eyes and Ginny knew it was her turn to alleviate Harry’s pain. Taking out her wand, she cast the same pain relief and heating spells on his shoulder that he had done on her back last Sunday. The effect was immediate as Harry relaxed enough to open his eyes and smile at her. “Thanks, Ginny.” She took his hand in hers. “You’re welcome, Harry. Ready to go now?” Harry pushed himself upright with an effort, immediately cradling his left arm against his body. “That hurt!” he complained softly. “I know, but it will get better if you keep at it,” Ginny said encouragingly. “I know you can do it.” Harry swung his feet off the bed and reached for his shirt. He struggled to get it on, but shook his head when Ginny tried to help him. Stubborn git! Ginny scoffed inwardly. Yeah, but I’m a lovable stubborn git! Harry smirked back. He finished buttoning the shirt and stood up. “Let’s get out of here. I need a nap!” he said as he adjusted his arm in his sling. “One nap by the Gryffindor common room fire coming up,” Ginny quipped. She grabbed Harry’s carry bag and, slipping her arm around his waist, led him out into the corridor and up to Gryffindor Tower. *+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+* The Great Hall was already packed with students that evening when Ginny, Harry (his left arm still in his sling), Ron and Hermione entered it for the Leaving Feast. Only a handful of parents had forced their children to leave Hogwarts before the end of term, and those students who were going home on the train tomorrow had eagerly gathered at their house tables for the festivities. However, something in the atmosphere of the room made Ginny tug at Harry’s sleeve, stopping him at the foot of the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. “You see it, too?” he asked. “There isn’t a clear winner in the House Cup championship this year!” Ginny exclaimed. “The banners aren’t reflecting one!” “There are two banners for each House up there!” Neville observed. Everyone in their group looked up. It was true; the Great Hall was devoid of any decoration save the House banners which hung in their customary places; but instead of being all of one colour, they were just as Neville said. Ginny, Harry and the others gaped at each other in disbelief, the same question, “what’s going on?” written on their faces. Ginny edged away and back out into the Entrance Hall to look at the giant hourglasses. They clearly showed that Ravenclaw was in first place followed by Gryffindor, Slytherin and finally Hufflepuff. Puzzled, Ginny made her way back to the Gryffindor table. “The hourglasses are showing Ravenclaw as the House with the most points,” she said as she sat down between Neville and Harry. “Do you think Professor Dumbledore has something planned like he did our first year?” Seamus asked from across the table. Harry chuckled. “Knowing Dumbledore, I wouldn’t put it past him.” Ginny knew they were all remembering the addition of one hundred-seventy points to their House total after Harry’s encounter with Voldemort and Professor Quirrell. “He can’t possibly be thinking of making a repeat performance. It wouldn’t be fair to Ravenclaw!” she exclaimed indignantly while glancing over at the elated faces of Luna Lovegood and her housemates. “Let’s wait and see,” Hermione counselled as the headmaster rose from his seat and called order. “Ladies and gentlemen, I would like all of you to remain seated for an awards ceremony after the meal. That said, let the feast begin!” With that, the tables filled themselves with a wonderful array of culinary delicacies. Harry nudged Ginny as she ladled chicken stew onto her plate and then held a platter of chops and steaks for him. “We’ve never had an awards ceremony at the Leaving Feast. Why would we have such a thing this year?” he queried. “Probably because of the number of students involved in saving Hogsmeade and protecting the school last week,” Hermione offered. She passed a bowl of green beans to Ron and looked pointedly at him. He grinned and spooned a large helping onto his plate. “I think it has something to do with how the Great Hall is decorated,” Ginny speculated. “He may be trying to promote school unity like the Sorting Hat sang about at the beginning of the year.” “That doesn’t make sense,” Ron said between mouthfuls. “If he’s promoting unity why have the awards? Wouldn’t they call attention to individuals rather than the whole school?” “They would,” Neville said entering into the conversation, “but you’ve got to admit that every house had members who did stuff during the battle that no one would have expected.” He looked pointedly from Ginny to where Luna was seated at the Ravenclaw table. “Well, I, for one, am willing to wait and see what this whole ceremony is all about,” Harry said. “I just hope he leaves me alone.” “Why’s that?” Dean asked, his fork halfway to his mouth. “I get enough attention as it is,” Harry grumbled. “I hope someone else gets the limelight for once.” “Here, here,” Ron said raising his glass of pumpkin juice. “I saw plenty of former DA members holding their own in Hogsmeade. I hope Dumbledore knows what they did and recognizes them.” The conversation continued in this vein until the last of the pudding dishes had been cleared from the tables. At last, the headmaster rose and the students eventually grew silent. When all was quiet Dumbledore adjusted a sheaf of parchment and started to speak. “Heroes,” he began. “We have them here at Hogwarts. One might think that description is only for someone like Harry Potter. It’s not. The inhabitants of this castle, and I include magical creatures as well as wizards and witches, are our everyday heroes. They don’t think of themselves as heroes; they just go about each day doing what they are meant to do. Here at Hogwarts the citizens teach or learn what is necessary to prepare for the future. They’re the house elves making our meals and keeping us warm and clean; they’re the teachers watching the stairwells and corridors during passing time and teaching your lessons; they’re the students going to those lessons, keeping their friendships intact, learning to defend themselves if they need to; they’re the friends finding ways to protect their fellow students when danger threatens. “Five days ago, the heroes of Hogwarts showed their colours. The students who remained at the school and those who went to Hogsmeade both performed admirably. I’m not just referring to the spectacular wand-work of one sixth year boy: I’m speaking of everyone who kept their heads and tried to get themselves to safety or stood to defend the village against the pixies. But bravery doesn’t have to show itself only in acts such as these. I’m speaking of those brave students who risked their lives time and again to rescue their fellow students from dangerous situations and those who manned the impromptu safe house in Honeydukes. All week I have heard stories of how the students of this school cooperated: the first and second years who were caught outside the castle have told me of the older Slytherins who called them in, took them to safely down in the dungeons and kept them from being scared during the battle; I’ve heard several Slytherin students discussing what it was like to be buried under the rubble in The Three Broomsticks or the post office and suddenly find themselves looking up into the face of a rescuer from another house. I’ve listened to many students who told me of managing to get back inside the school grounds after crossing as many as three battle lines because they stuck together, helped each other over and around obstacles, watched each other’s backs. This is what heroism really is, what unity is supposed to look like. “I think perhaps the Sorting Hat’s songs of the last two years have been heeded. You will recall that it cautioned your houses to work together, to put aside petty differences to become one cohesive unit. What I saw for myself and have been told this past week shows me that while on an ordinary day the students of Hogwarts may show fierce house loyalty, in a crisis you can band together to become a very strong, unified group. To that end, a very rare and very honourable citation has been awarded the students of Hogwarts. The School Governors have agreed that a plaque, the Four Founders’ Award, will be mounted in the Entrance Hall commemorating every student who was involved in the Hogsmeade battle. The names of every Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin who fought to defend the school and village will be etched into the plaque. Your actions have made us very proud.” Here, he paused as a thundering round of applause caused the windows to rattle. When it had subsided, he continued. “In addition to the Four Founders’ Award, there are some special, personal awards the faculty and Governors want me to give out tonight. The first award I am presenting is for Service to the School. The recipients distinguished themselves through their efforts to see that others were rescued and taken to safety or spent the day defending the castle and the village. Please rise when your name is called. I hereby award this Service to the School award to Euan Abercrombie, Katie Bell, Lavender Brown, Colin Creevey, Dennis Creevey, Seamus Finnegan, Parvati Patil, and Dean Thomas of Gryffindor House; Hannah Abbott, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Ernie Mcmillan of Hufflepuff House; Mandy Brocklehurst, Eddie Carmichael, Cho Chang, Michael Corner, Padma Patil, and Lisa Turpin of Ravenclaw House; and Daphney Greengrass, Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, and Blaise Zabini of Slytherin House.” Dumbledore paused again as the Great Hall reverberated with a roar of cheering and clapping. At the Gryffindor table, though, murmurs of astonishment circulated like wildfire. “Draco Malfoy? What did he do?” “He was at the castle in detention!” “I’ll bet he knew about the attack before hand.” “I remember seeing Daphney and Blaise and Nott in the post office. Why are they included?” Professor Dumbledore looked pointedly at the Gryffindor table and the comments came to a grumbling halt. He resumed his speech after the recipients had taken their seats and the room was more or less quiet. “It has come to my attention that the following students went out of the way to protect their fellow students in Hogsmeade and rendered to adults valuable help during the battle. There are five Distinguished Service Medals that I proudly award this evening. In addition to the individual medals each student will receive, a trophy has been placed on display in the Trophy Room for all to see. I would like the following students to come to the teachers’ table to receive their Medals now. The first and second awards go to Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood for their repeated forays into the Hogsmeade battle zone to take students to safety in Honeydukes. Without them there would have been many more casualties and possibly even deaths. Luna and Neville, I commend you for your bravery and willingness to put your own lives in danger to help others stay alive.” The thunderous applause that followed the stunned Neville and Luna up to the teachers’ table made Ginny smile. She grinned as Harry commented to those around them, “They really deserve that award. I’m very glad Neville and Luna are being recognized for what they did.” Ginny nodded as Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat. “The third Distinguished Services Medal goes to Hermione Granger. Through her skill at Transfiguration she quickly developed a surveillance method which provided much-needed battle information that helped the defenders of the school and village to triumph over Lord Voldemort’s Death Eaters. Hermione, will you please come up to receive your medal?” Hermione, who was sitting with Ron across from Harry and Ginny, just sat where she was, an astonished expression on her face. It took a small pat and a murmured, “Congratulations, Hermione. Go on up,” from Ron to bring her to her feet. She finally stood and walked toward the back of the Hall, her head held high, to receive her medal from the headmaster. Ron caught Ginny’s eye and said with a note of admiration in his voice, “Those dragons she conjured were absolutely brilliant!” “I know, Ron. She conjured one for me the other day and made it fly around the courtyard. It was an amazing sight. I’ve asked her to teach me how to cast that spell this summer now that the ban on underage magic has been lifted for those fifteen and older,” Ginny remarked. Their conversation was abruptly interrupted when the headmaster called the hall to order again. He held up the final two medal cases as he said, “Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter receive the fourth and fifth Distinguished Service Medals. These two young men fought bravely in a number of duels on the streets of Hogsmeade to the point of personal peril. Not only were they put under the Cruciatus Curse multiple times and sustained personal injury, they helped the Aurors defeat and capture many of the Death Eaters who now await trial in Azkaban Prison.” Ginny stared in horror at her brother. “You didn’t tell me you’d been subjected to the Cruciatus Curse, you prat! When?” she hissed angrily. Ron shrugged. “It’s not important,” he said grimly, standing up. She turned to Harry who had also risen. “Did you know?” “No, I didn’t,” he told her, looking equally stricken. To Ron he muttered, “We’ll talk later.” It took a few minutes for Harry and Ron to make their way up to the table there were so many Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs stopping them to shake hands or clap them on the back. Ginny sat where she was, tears of frustration, pride and happiness coursing down her cheeks, clapping as hard as she could as she watched the two most important young men in her life take their places and receive their medals. When the five students had had their picture taken for the Daily Prophet Dumbledore asked them to stay where they were. “There is one more award for you five tonight. The Ministry of Magic bestows the prestigious Golden Wand Award upon you for your bravery and service to the Wizarding world. Congratulations, all of you.” The headmaster handed what looked like framed citations to Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville and Luna to a standing ovation and cheers of “Bravo!” and “Well done!” “We have one final award to present tonight,” Professor Dumbledore announced as the four Gryffindors and Luna took their seats. “Madam Pomfrey has requested that she be the one to give it out. Poppy...” Madam Pomfrey stood up and switched places with the headmaster. She looked around the hall before saying, “The award I’m about to present is quite rare and is usually awarded by the Ministry of Magic after a significant battle to someone who has rendered outstanding healing service to those involved in the campaign. Here at Hogwarts it has not been given out since 1918 when the Muggle Great War spilled over into the Wizarding world.” She paused. “Will Miss Ginevra Weasley please join me?” The Great Hall erupted once again into thunderous applause with the Gryffindor table cheering the loudest by far. Ginny sat stunned, the honour of the moment slowly sinking in. Finally, at Harry’s urging, she limped to where Madam Pomfrey stood in front of the teachers’ table. “It is my pleasure,” the school matron said beaming, “to present you with the Mungo Bonham Award for superior healing assistance to the students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Without the safe house you created in Honeydukes many of the students in this room would have ended up in St. Mungo’s Hospital due to the curses and hexes they sustained in the battle. Your concern for your fellow students, makes you as an outstanding witch who helped bring our side carry the day. Congratulations, Ginny.” Ginny accepted the medallion box that Madam Pomfrey handed her. With tears streaming down her face she asked quietly, “Would it be all right if I said a few words?” Madam Pomfrey nodded. “I don’t see why not. Go ahead. The amplification spell is Sonorus.” Ginny took a moment to compose herself before she spoke. There were so many things she wanted to say she hardly knew where to begin. Finally, she said, “Madam Pomfrey, Professor Dumbledore, thank you for honouring me with this award. I am humbled at the thought that my actions had such an impact on the students of Hogwarts. However, I cannot accept this award without recognizing students not mentioned in the other awards who helped keep Honeydukes safe for those who needed shelter or minor healing.” She paused, knowing that she didn’t know the names of everyone who had helped out. There had been too many people doing too many things to keep track of which name went with what unfamiliar student, especially after Harry had shown up. Quickly, she made up her mind and said, “I’d like everyone who helped out in some way to please stand up.” A ripple of surprise went through the hall as many of the students at each table, including the Slytherin table, stood up to be recognized. Behind her, Professors Dumbledore, Flitwick and McGonagall seemed to have their heads together for all the mumbling going on between them. Ginny hazarded a guess that they were quickly making up a list of some sort. Somewhere near the back of the hall a single person began to clap. Another joined in, followed by several more until the rafters echoed with such enthusiastic cheering and clapping Ginny thought she was attending a Quidditch match. She searched the hall, trying to find the eyes of each of her helpers, and succeeded in making contact with nearly all of them as they stood in awe of the reception they were receiving. The ovation finally died away, giving Ginny the silence she needed to continue. “Thank you seems so inadequate, yet contains a powerful sense of accomplishment. Professor Dumbledore, I believe that in helping others , everyone who was part of the safe house was also helping themselves. I have no doubt that inter-house friendships were forged last Saturday. I hope they will leave a lasting impression on this school. I hereby accept this award and hope that those we have just recognized will be given the credit they deserve.” She then whispered, “Quietus,” and went back to her seat next to Harry to a standing ovation. *+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+* G inny stood in the fifth year girls’ dormitory looking out her window at the darkened Quidditch stadium, trying to forget the fact that she had yet to pack her trunk. Every year, it seemed, she left her packing until the very last minute and this year she was determined not to do so. She was still wound up from the Leaving Feast and the party that still seemed to be going on downstairs in the common room. Thinking that she might at least get a start on the dreaded task and make herself sleepy at the same time, she had tossed the contents of her trunk onto her bed. Now, forty-five minutes later, the task still wasn’t done, she was still dwelling on the week’s events, and she still needed to go to bed; unfortunately, she couldn’t find her bed for all the stuff she’d piled upon it. She was worried. Harry wasn’t telling her certain things. He’d had meetings, sometimes three a day, with Professor Dumbledore since his release from the hospital wing on Tuesday morning. Each time he returned from the headmaster’s office he’d been silent and serious and unable to talk with anyone but Ron and Hermione. He wasn’t brooding, yet he was certainly close to it. She’d caught him staring off into space often enough in the last several days, felt the periodic stirrings of her angel as Harry’s phoenix picked up on his emotional state. He seemed different somehow, too, as if he was trying to come to terms with a new level of responsibility towards his role in the fight against Voldemort and the Death Eaters. This new demeanour was the cause of her worry; she hadn’t figured out how to cope with being shut out of his life like this, as if he was mentally distancing himself from her. The only time he had seemed himself had been this morning, no, yesterday morning when he’d found her on the Quidditch pitch. She could tell he still loved her by the way he’d held her. She knew instinctively that he wanted her to be secure and happy on her broom and was willing to help her regain the confidence to fly whether she rejoined the Quidditch team next season or not. She had felt, through their connection, his reluctance to let her go when he slid off the broom’s tail to get his Firebolt; it was as if he had been storing up memories of their contact for some reason. She had questioned him about it at breakfast, but his flippant answer hadn’t been satisfactory at all. He had then lapsed into silence until Ron spoke to him. She glanced at her watch and wasn’t surprised to find that it was now nearly four in the morning. She really should finish packing if she wanted to get even a couple hours’ sleep. Otherwise, she knew she’d be impossible to get along with on the train home. Taking up her wand, Ginny waved it at the mess. A feeling of satisfaction filled her as her robes and other clothes folded themselves neatly and her books and rolls of parchment found places in the bottom of her trunk along with her cauldron, her telescope and the last two vials of the Draught of Peace she and Hermione had made. Walking over, she looked into the neatly filled trunk feeling as if something was missing and on a whim, she held up her wand and whispered, “Accio Ginny’s stuff!” A squeal from downstairs told her that something one of her roommates had borrowed earlier in the year would soon be back in her possession. She wasn’t surprised when two pairs of socks, a pair of knickers and her long-lost Care of Magical Creatures text sailed toward her from her roommates’ trunks; it took a little longer for the Gryffindor tie to make its way up the stairs. Sure enough, ‘Ginevra Weasley’ was stitched neatly onto the back of the tie in her mum’s wand-writing and she wondered which one of her friends had helped herself to her wardrobe. Does it really matter? she asked herself and found it didn’t. But someone else did. She could feel his agitation through the slight quivering of her angel: Harry was alone in his room and whatever he was doing, it wasn’t helping him get to sleep. She knelt beside her trunk and carefully extracted the vials of potion without disturbing the rest of the neatly-packed contents. Grabbing a quill and parchment from her bag, she dashed off a quick note to him and after tying the missive to one of the vials, Banished it to his bedside table. He contacted her a moment later. Thanks, Ginny. You always seem to know just what I need. He seemed pensive to her. Are you at a point where you can take it? She wondered. He paused. Yeah, just about. What have you been doing? She smiled, even though she knew he couldn’t see her. Packing... and thinking about you. How about you? My shoulder hurts and I just shoved everything I need to pack under my bed after working on my Firebolt for the last hour. I’ve been wondering when I’ll be relaxed enough to close my eyes. Usually, something as repetitive as that lulls me to sleep. There are just too many things to think about tonight... I know. Do you want to talk about it? No. Not yet. Maybe later, on the train. I think I’ll try your potion. Maybe it’ll stop me thinking so much. It did the last time you took it. Do you want to meet me in the common room? No. There are too many people still down there partying even though the prefects have tried several times to get everyone to go up to bed. Hold on a minute. He said nothing for a few moments and Ginny wondered what he was doing. Ginny, open your window. Puzzled, she walked to her window and threw open the sash. Then, she stared. For there was Harry Potter, sitting on his Firebolt in the moonlight, a goofy grin lighting up his face. “Harry!” was all her astonished mind would allow her to exclaim. “Erm... let me in?” Ginny backed up and let him into the room. He landed and, setting aside his broomstick, took her into his arms. “Are you alone?” he asked huskily, locking the door with a flick of his wand. She could only nod against his chest. A silly lump had formed in her throat and she couldn’t speak if she wanted to. “Good. I need to apologize,” he said into her hair. “Ginny, I’ve been a first-class berk the last few days and feel really bad about how I’ve been treating you. I’ve said and done things that have led you to believe that I’m going back to how I was acting in October. I’m sorry if I’ve made you worry about me.” Ginny smiled up at him. “Apology accepted, Harry,” she said quietly. “All I want to do is help. I hope you know that.” “I do, but that doesn’t excuse the way I’ve been leaving you out of my discussions with Ron and Hermione. I should have at least shared what I’ve been allowed to tell others.” He stopped and hugged her tightly. “Believe me, I’d like to, but Professor Dumbledore has given me permission to tell only them certain things no one else should know.” “Does this have to do with defeating Voldemort?” Ginny asked. “It does, and the fewer people who know our plans the better,” Harry said, regret evident in his tone. “I just wish you could be part of those plans.” “Plans? Is your final confrontation that close? Are you ready?” she asked apprehensively. Harry sighed and refused to look at her as he said shakily, “Not by a long shot, Ginny. There’s still so much to do, so much I have to learn from Professor Dumbledore. Some of it is completely overwhelming, even after I’ve shared it with Ron and Hermione.” “Is there anything I can do to help?” Harry closed his eyes and kissed the top of her head. “Just hold me when I need it. Try to understand if I’m too scared to speak. Keep telling me what I’m doing is giving the world hope. Wait for me, if necessary,” he requested. His voice shook as he continued, “I don’t want to die, Ginny, but I have to face that possibility. I don’t want my friends to die, either. If I could have my way, I’d lock you all up in my Gringotts vault until all of this was over. But I know I can’t do that. The goblins wouldn’t take kindly to providing room service while you lot were in there.” Ginny smiled at this. “No, I don’t think they would.” She stopped and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Harry, for talking to me. I can’t say I like being left out of your plans, but I think I understand why. At least now I know why you’re trying to distance yourself from me; I know it’s not my fault and I can live with that.” Harry opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment, someone pounded on the door demanding to be let in. Harry grabbed his broom and leapt out the window as Ginny hurriedly shut it after him and cancelled his locking charm on the door. Hermione burst into the room looking frazzled. “What’s going on in here, Ginny?” she demanded. “You know it’s against house rules to lock the dormitory doors!” She paused, taking in Ginny’s expression and her proximity to the window. “Hold on... were you... did he? That git! I’ll go tell Ron we found him!” With that, Hermione retraced her steps down the stairs as Ginny’s room mates collapsed onto their beds, giggling. “You two are going to catch it now,” Demelza Robins commented as she climbed beneath her bedclothes. “What we were doing is none of your business,” Ginny shot back. “And we weren’t doing anything. I swear!” “Oh, right. Then why do you sound so guilty, huh?” Vicky Frobisher teased, also climbing into bed. “That’s enough, you two,” Ginny said as she turned down her covers. “Good night!” With that, she lay down and flicked her curtains closed, hoping the others would turn off the lights. They did, as she again opened her mind to Harry. Did you get back all right? Yes. Just as Ron burst into the room looking like he’d swallowed one of Charlie’s dragons. Ginny smiled. I could believe that. Only two other people can put that expression on his face and they now own Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. She paused, then said, Hermione was actually funny. All she could do was sputter once she figured out you’d flown into my room. She heard Harry yawn and automatically did the same. I’ve finally calmed down enough to think about going to bed, Harry said. I’m glad you let me in. I’ll always let you in, Harry. Have you taken the potion yet? Just did. I’ll just close the curtains, lay back, and hope Ron doesn’t snore too loudly. There was a long pause and Ginny felt her angel grow still beneath her robes. You still there, Ginny? I’ll say good-night now. Good-night, Harry. I’ll see you at breakfast. I love you, Ginny. I love you too, Harry. She felt Harry withdraw from their connection and began undressing for bed, still thinking about their conversation by the window and knowing she’d be up the rest of the night if she didn’t make a concerted effort to go to sleep. She opened her curtains a bit and gazed at her bedside table. The remaining vial of Draught of Peace beckoned to her. She picked it up and sank onto her pillows again, contemplating the vial in her hand. Just as the sky began to lighten, she popped the cork and downed the contents. Within seconds, a feeling of well-being stole over her quieting her own raging thoughts of the young wizard she loved so deeply. She closed her eyes and slipped into a restful sleep. Finite A/N: Only one more chapter to go, the Epilogue. As always, thank you Lady Narcissa and Aggiebell for the superb beta job. Someone else I need to thank is Heliona and her friend Loriel Eris for their help with choosing the correct British terms for my Americanisms. This is the second chapter they’ve helped me with and I appreciate all the e-mails we had flying back and forth as I completed this last chapter. I also thank GhostWriter for the many fine suggestions. This is the first chapter he has pre-betaed for me and I appreciate his comments, deletions, and additions which helped me get rid of some of my wordiness. Finally, a big thank you goes out to one of my SIYE reviewers, skiutahnum1, who gave me the idea for the Harry/Ginny check-up scene with Madam Pomfrey. Your stray comment about Harry learning what rehab would feel like sparked my imagination and I appreciate the nudge towards wrapping up this last loose end before the Epilogue. |
| Reviews 117 |
Previous Next
|
