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Awakened Destiny | ||||
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Category: Post-OotP Characters:All, All Genres: Angst, Drama, Humor, Tragedy Warnings: Dark Fiction, Death, Violence Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 1 Summary: *** The author has been reminded via the e-mail address on file that this story is listed as incomplete and has not been updated since 2005 *** Morbid stories, living books, screaming, crying, dreams not realy there. Smiles, frowns, time flying by. Waiting, Leaving. Running far, going nowhere. {Ginny begins a diary, but can't think of anything to write./Hermione finds some odd mysterious book, just possibly belonging ot the Order./Harry finally decides to join the rest of the world, and leave his room.} Hitcount: Story Total: 2560 |
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______________________________ Reaching beneath her mattress, Ginny pulled out her diary. Lounging on her bed, she flipped open to the first blank page and poised her quill on the parchment, preparing to write her first entry. Ginny had had many attempts at starting a diary before, all of which had failed miserably. Back in her first year at Hogwarts, her diary had turned out to be a trick of Voldemort’s, the memory of himself as a school boy, Tom Marvalo Riddle, which he had used to posses her. After that frightful experience, she’d had a slight fear of diaries for quite a while. In the four years since then, all attempts had been abandoned in mere days, due to her own sheer forgetfulness. Ginny had been frozen to the spot for several minutes now. Searching her mind, she drew up a blank. Shaking her head shamefully, she began to put away her things to proceed with something else, when an idea flew into her mind. That could work! she thought excitedly. Just write a story instead. With a new light on in her head, she opened the diary once more and began scribbling away. ‘The funeral was to take place that week, on the fifteenth of March. It was hoped that by then the snow would recede and the cemetery ground would once more be penetrable. In the days since she died, the weather had been unbearably cold, and everything exposed to the cold had frozen. I, myself had come across a rose, perfectly intact, but frozen completely still, seeming to be made of blood stained ice. ‘The funeral was for a girl named Violet. Some said I had been friends with her, and maybe they were right. I had talked to her quite often, but still I hardly knew her. Unfortunately, no one was sure of the cause of her death. It came to all of us as an unexpected, unpleasant surprise. I can’t help but feel I was connected to her death. As if it was my entire fault. I have been assured that this is impossible. But even impossibilities can’t be stopped by the inevitable. ‘“Lily!” a voice called out to me, breaking my morbid thoughts. “Lily! Come here! Come quickly!” It was Anne. I could hear panic in her voice. ‘Running to where I heard her voice I could see no visible problem, but —’ “Ginny!” Mrs. Weasley’s voice came screeching up the stairs. “Where are you?” she yelled. “We’re waiting for you for dinner!” “Coming, Mum!” Hiding her things once more, she ran out of her room. At the top of the stairs she tripped over a sleeping Crookshanks and fell down a single — but long — flight of stairs, making quite a lot of noise. At the bottom of the steps, the pounding headache she received from hitting her head so many times on the steps was worsened by Mrs. Black, whose portrait began wailing once again. “Filth, blood-traitors, sliming up my home, bringing shame —” Harry was the first to arrive at the scene. He immediately began to pull the moth-eaten curtains over Mrs. Black’s portrait to silence her. Ginny got gingerly to her feet, but sat back down at once on the bottom step, her hand holding her head. Harry was successful in his task to silence the portrait. He came and sat down next to Ginny. “Are you all right?” he asked her quietly. She began to shake her head, but suddenly stopped. It made her head throb. Instead she tried whispering, “No.” “Shall I get your mum?” he asked cautiously. But there was no need. Just then Mrs. Weasley came bounding up the stairs. Spotting a wild, tangled, mess of long, red hair, she cried, “Ginny! What happened?” When Ginny didn’t answer, Mrs. Weasley rounded on Harry, “What happened?” “I — I think she tripped and fell,” he said pointing to a still asleep Crookshanks still at the top of the steps. "Do you want me to kelp you downstairs for dinner?" Mrs. Weasley asked. “No,” Ginny said faintly. “I — I think I need to … lay down a while.” “Let me help you to your room, in that case,” Mrs. Weasley said. Harry jumped to his feet. “I can help her, Mrs. Weasley. I’m going upstairs anyway. Not hungry,” he added in an undertone. “Not hungry again?!” Mrs. Weasley asked worriedly. “You’ve barely eaten the whole week you’ve been here! Are you sure you’re not sick? Do you need to lie down, too? Do you want —“ “I’m fine Mrs. Weasley.” He even smiled for her, though it was forced. Shaking her head, Mrs. Weasley headed back down to the kitchen to eat with everyone else. Harry took Ginny’s hands off her head and pulled her to her feet. Groaning, she tried to sit back down, but Harry wouldn’t let her. Placing his arm across her shoulders, he led her up the stairs, through the hallway, and into her bedroom. “Do you mind if I sit here?” Harry asked, indicating the chair next to the fireplace. “You can stay,” Ginny muttered. “Great. Thanks,” he said in an offhand voice. For a while Harry just stared at Ginny, watching her fall asleep. He didn’t even think of anything. It was such a relief to him to have nothing on his mind, and he was glad she let him stay with her. Under Dumbledore’s orders, he had to stay at Privet Drive for a whole two weeks before he was allowed to come to Grimmauld Place, although now he wasn’t sure which was better. Now that Sirius was gone this place felt very much empty to him. All he wanted to do was to be alone and have nobody talk to him at first. But being alone was horrible. It left his thoughts free to wander, which took him back to that night at the Department of Mysteries. All he thought about were ways he could have changed what happened and stopped Sirius from falling through the veil. Nothing anyone else said could help him. He knew it was his entire fault. But somehow, now that he was in the same room as Ginny, he felt better, though he couldn’t tell why. Even though Ginny was asleep, she kept his mind off of Sirius. Harry caught himself smiling. He couldn’t remember the last time he was happy. Still looking at Ginny, he saw the corner of something poking out from under her mattress. He was about to go and see what it was when Ron and Hermione walked into the room. “Oh, hi, Harry, I didn’t know you’d be in here,” Hermione said to him. “I was just seeing how Ginny was,” he said quickly. “You missed dinner again, Harry. You should really eat something, you must be starving. I haven’t seen you eat anything since you got here. Are you feeling alright? Are you sick? You do look a little pale,” Hermione said, peering at him nervously from across the room. With another look at Ginny, Harry smiled again. A real smile. “I’m fine, Hermione. Just not hungry.” Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but Ron cut her off, “What happed to Ginny? Mum said she fell.” “It was Crookshanks. He was sleeping at the top of the stairs and Ginny tripped over him and fell down the stairs.” Ron winced. “That’s got to hurt. We should leave. Let her sleep a bit.” He turned around and walked toward the door, grabbing Hermione’s arm and pulling her with him. Harry remained where he was; he felt so peaceful here; he didn’t feel like leaving just yet. He closed his eyes a moment, but opened them again, and looked back at Ginny; she still looked like she was in pain. Ron popped his head back in the room. “You coming, Harry?” Harry shook his head, but then Hermione appeared in the doorway. “Come on Harry! We want to show you something.” Ron, looking confused, opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione elbowed him in the ribs and gave him a look. “Yes. We do,” She said, and without another word she turned and left, dragging Ron behind her. Harry, feeling like he must, got up and followed them, reluctantly, leaving Ginny alone. “This,” Hermione said, “is what we wanted to show you.” She pulled out an old book which seemed to be falling apart; pages were half hanging out, the cover was held on buy some string tied around the whole book. It looked like it was made out of leather, but they all knew better: it was dragon hide. The title was written on in faint, gold, fancy lettering, and Harry had trouble reading it from where he was standing. “Someone from the Order must have left it lying out, so I grabbed it when no one was looking.” Hermione said. Harry saw Ron was looking just as surprised as he probably looked himself. In a dramatic whisper, Hermione finished, “It’s titled, Dark Spirits: Creation, Hunting, and Destruction.” In the room was deathly silence, but in their minds, the book emitted a scream that echoed in their heads, causing them to gasp and stumble backwards, all of them clutching their heads. Harry’s scar was burning. He looked at the book, which Hermione had dropped. Unless he was much mistaken, he thought he saw a shadowy face on the cover of the book. Just as quickly as it happened, it stopped. A/N - Hope you like! Please Review! Second chapter will be up as soon as the internet will work on the computer that it is typed on...lol |
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