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.
Rating: PG-13
Categories: Post-OotP, Buried Gems
Characters: None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: Gifts
Published: 2004.12.09
Updated: 2007.07.10
Index
Chapter 1: Part One
Chapter 2: Part Two
Chapter 3: Part Three
Chapter 4: Part Four
Chapter 5: Part Five
Chapter 6: Part Six
Chapter 7: Chapter 7
Chapter 8: Chapter 8
Chapter 9: Chapter 9
Chapter 10: Chapter 10
Chapter 11: Chapter 11
Chapter 12: Chapter 12
Chapter 13: Chapter 13
Chapter 14: Chapter 14
Chapter 15: Chapter 15
Chapter 16: Chapter 16
Chapter 17: Chapter 17
Chapter 18: Chapter 18
Chapter 19: Chapter 19
Chapter 1: Part One
New Year, New HopeBy Arnel
Part One
The Hogwarts Express chugged steadily northward under a cloudless blue sky, passing snow-covered rolling hills and quaint little villages still dressed in holiday finery. Inside the train, the students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry visited each others’ compartments talking eagerly of their Christmas presents and what they had done during holiday. Moreover, there was a sense of anticipation for what the coming term would hold.
In the last compartment, though, Ginny Weasley stood staring out the window. The other occupants, Harry Potter, Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom, were all napping or reading, so it almost seemed to Ginny that she was alone. It was rather a peaceful moment for her and she had let her mind wander over the events of the last month and how her life had changed.
Ever since that first weekend in December when Harry and Hermione had accompanied her and Ron home things had been more intense between Ginny and Harry. The trust in each other they had begun building in the Room of Requirement in November had blossomed into a real closeness which, in turn, had become more passionate after Ginny had found the courage to tell Harry how she really felt about him. He had surprised her by actually returning those feelings in the weeks leading up to Christmas and when he had joined the Weasleys at the Burrow for the holiday, his first ever there, the two of them had managed to find some alone time every day. It had been fun walking hand in hand through the orchard or sitting snuggled together on one of the garden benches, talking. Ginny had found that Harry was at his most relaxed in front of the fire, though, and they had often cuddled up on the lounge’s hearth rug toasting marshmallows and discussing in hushed voices the events of the previous June.
Ginny now knew just how important a role she was playing for Harry. As his confidante, she was the sole keeper of Harry’s big “secret,” the one that had Hermione and Ron pestering her at regular intervals since she had accidentally let it slip that there was something more bothering Harry. So many things could go wrong if she were to tell someone outright, even if it was only Ron and Hermione; the first of which would be a breech of the trust Harry had in her. Secondly, it was imperative that nothing was leaked to Voldemort if Harry wanted to live to see his eighteenth birthday. Ginny knew her feelings for Harry were such that she would do all in her power to keep him safely out of Voldemort’s clutches. He was that important to her and, it seemed, he valued her the same way.
The other part of her role had come almost as a complete surprise. On Christmas Eve, while snuggled under a blanket together watching the fairies flit amongst the branches of the Christmas tree and discussing which boxes held what presents for whom, Harry had revealed that no one had ever told him they loved him. Before she could stop herself, Ginny had taken his hand in hers and revealed that she indeed did love him. Harry’s response would always be a wonderful memory to her; he had reached up and tenderly kissed her on the lips murmuring that she was the first to say, “I love you, Harry.”
His gift to her the next morning had been shyly handed over with a stammered, “I–I l-love you, too, Ginny. You’re the first person I’ve ever said that to.” She had gaped at him for several seconds as his words sank in. Then, at his urging, she had opened the tiny box with trembling fingers to find a note and another box inside. The note had simply said, “Happy Christmas, Ginny. Thank you. Love, Harry.” Inside the second box was a beautiful emerald pendant with earrings to match. Ginny had stared at the expensive present, not daring to believe he had given her a gift of such significance until she remembered the afternoon she had given him the box to hold his Pensieve. All the emotions of that day came flooding back and she had flung her arms around his waist, burying her face in the hollow of his chest. When they broke apart at last, Harry had awkwardly hung the pendant around her neck saying, “You mean the world to me, Ginny. I wanted you to have something just as precious.”
Needless to say, Ginny couldn’t remember much more about the rest of the day.
Now, as the train sped ever northward, Ginny toyed with the pendant as she contemplated the rest of their stay at The Burrow. Not much had happened, really. The good news was that Harry actually had almost a week’s worth of full nights’ sleep and though he was dozing now, he looked more rested than he had in six months.
As for Ron’s reaction to Harry’s gift to Ginny, well, that had been typical.
“Oi, Ginny...where did you get the jewelry?” he had inquired two days after Christmas.
Ginny had smiled shyly as she answered, “Harry. It was his gift to me on Christmas morning.”
“Harry’s? Since when do you rate gifts like that from him? I thought you were still going out with Dean!”
“You know, Dean and I are just friends, Ron. And it’s none of your business that Harry wanted to give his girlfriend an expensive gift. I didn’t pry into what you gave Hermione.”
“G-g-girlfriend? That prat! He didn’t ask my permission to go out with you! Besides, you’re too young to be his girlfriend!”
“Oh, stuff it, Ron,” Ginny had said irritably. “I seem to remember that you hinted pretty hard on the train last June that the only boy you’d approve of being my boyfriend was Harry. Now you have your wish, so quit bothering us.”
“You’ve got me there, Gin,” Ron had admitted, then added, “Congrats, little sister. Be good to my best mate, will you?”
Ginny had smiled at her brother then. “You can count on it.”
A particularly loud snore from Harry brought Ginny’s thoughts back to the present. She wrenched her gaze from the passing scenery to let it rest on the boy who meant so much to her. At the moment, he looked rather peaceful in his somewhat uncomfortable position, his head resting on the back of the seat. Ginny sat down next to him and pulled a textbook from her bag before gently guiding his head onto her shoulder. Harry sighed contentedly and snaked an arm around her waist as he made himself comfortable.
Ginny smiled and looked out the window again. This time thinking of their one and only kiss on Christmas Eve. Since then, for all the hand holding and cuddling together that they’d done, they had never exchanged a passionate snog again. Of course, Ginny had felt Harry brush his lips on the top of her head or on her forehead, but no other kiss had been directly aimed at her mouth! Ginny sensed that Harry was holding himself back for some reason. She suspected that it had to do with some of the secrets he was keeping from her and Ron and Hermione and that Harry was still afraid to let himself completely love her for some reason. She knew that Sirius’ death had taken the one adult from Harry that he had probably loved like a parent; maybe he was afraid to love someone completely because he was afraid to lose them, too. Oh, it was so complicated this psychoanalysis stuff. It made her more tired to think about it than revising for her O.W.L.s!
The view from the window was now almost completely dark and as the lamps in the compartment flickered to life Ginny finally opened the book which rested on her lap. She was a little surprised to find that she had pulled out her Potions book, but opened it anyway to a random page which turned out to be the entry about hellebore. As she read about the plant’s uses in potion-making and its effect upon the mixtures it was used in something began to surface from the depths of her mind. Finally, at the bottom of the page, a list of potions containing even the smallest amount of hellebore caught her attention and sent her mind wandering again, for at the top of the list was the Draught of Peace.
Ginny remembered that the Draught of Peace was the first potion her class had been set to brew their first day back at Hogwarts in September. She had been proud that she had eventually managed to receive an “A” for her attempt at this fiddly potion. Several others in her class hadn’t been so lucky. Colin Creevey had received a particularly nasty detention from Professor Snape when he had upset his cauldron and accidentally caught the teacher’s robes on fire. Luna Lovegood had also encountered Professor Snape’s wrath later in the day for being more interested in watching the steam patterns issuing from her cauldron than stirring her mixture the correct number of times one way or another for a specific amount of time.
Thinking back, there was something that Professor Snape had said about the potion that now made Ginny flip to the index in search of more information. Turning to the new page, Ginny read about the potion itself and began to grin as her eyes flew over the page. The words “calms anxiety” and “sooths agitation” interspersed with her own ideas: nightmares, depression, and grief.
This is it, she thought. This potion could possibly help Harry!
What had made her so hopeful was the description of the potion’s effects: “The Draught of Peace is used to calm the nerves and quiet agitation,” She read. The excerpt gave a list of ingredients as well as confirmed that brewing time was exactly an hour and a half. Ginny knew she had copied the exact quantities of ingredients and the method into her notes after she had turned in her flask to Professor Snape; all she needed to do was a little more research on the effects of the potion. She resolved to go to the library before bed that night to get the missing information.
The train began to slow as it approached Hogsmeade Station. “Harry, wake up sweetie,” Ginny whispered and began playing with fringe covering his forehead, an action which Harry had admitted felt rather nice to wake up to. “We’re almost home. Ron and Hermione will be back shortly to get their trunks.”
“Mmmm, fi’ mo’ m’nts,” Harry mumbled now burrowing his forehead into her neck.
Ginny giggled. “Sorry, love. There isn’t time. Besides, we’re due for our usual visit from Malfoy and he’s certain to turn up since we’ve not seen him the entire trip.”
That got Harry’s attention. He jerked his head up from her shoulder and looked around the compartment a little dazed and slightly confused. “Where’s Malfoy?” he asked shaking the last vestiges of sleep from his head.
“Not here, thank goodness,” came Neville’s relieved observation from across the compartment. Looking directly at Harry, he commented, “I didn’t see him on the platform. I don’t think he went home for Christmas this year. Or if he did, he didn’t take the train back to school.”
“Well, no matter. It’s been a rather pleasant journey without him.”
The others agreed and began gathering their belongings as Hogsmeade station came into view.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Harry and Ginny stepped out of the train onto the snowy platform and followed the crowd that was shuffling its way toward the path to the coaches. Ginny could see Hermione and Ron up ahead helping some of the younger students with their belongings and showing them the correct path to take, even though there was a steady stream of students going in one particular direction.
The cold air felt good to Ginny after the sleepy confines of the coach compartment. She breathed in deeply, savoring the faint pine scent that drifted from the surrounding pine forest. As much as she loved going home, she decided, it was always a thrill to be once again gazing upon the towers and battlements of Hogwarts Castle.
The peace of the afternoon was suddenly shattered by a drawling voice which could only belong to Draco Malfoy. “Well, if it isn’t Potty and the Weasle-ette.”
Where did he come from? Ginny glanced warily between the two boys, ready to react if she needed to.
“What do you want, Malfoy?” Harry spat, not bothering to stop walking.
Malfoy followed Harry and Ginny. “I’ve heard rumors, Potter, that you shacked up with this Mudblood-lover’s family during the holiday,” the other boy drawled.
“Shut it, Malfoy,” Harry said fiercely as Ginny put a restraining hand on his arm.
“Easy, Harry. Ignore him,” she whispered. She could feel him tense up for Malfoy’s next barrage of insults.
“Oh, I think not. It’s funny that you can’t find some place better, Potter. Where did you have to sleep? The pigsty?” Malfoy asked.
“Of course not. He slept in the guest room like a proper guest. Now be a good little Slytherin and leave us alone,” Ginny chimed in airily trying to dispel the tension. It didn’t work as Malfoy continued to follow them. “Come on, Harry,” she whispered. “Let’s find someplace to sit.”
She led the way toward the nearest empty coach. “Tell me Malfoy,” she said, turning at the door to look over her shoulder at their tormenter, “Where are Crabbe and Goyle? And how come you weren’t on the train?”
“None of your damn business,” the Slytherin spat at her. He turned his attention back to Harry. “I find it incredibly funny that the dog pound closed its doors last June. Maybe if it had been open you could have spent the holiday there playing with all the dogs."
Harry turned to look at Malfoy. The allusion to Sirius had clearly gotten to him. “I wouldn’t know,” he said, the rage in his voice barely controlled. Ginny could feel something radiating from him that seemed to shimmer through the air. She watched in trepidation as Harry walked toward the horseless end of the coach and reached out a hand, making a patting motion. It seemed to calm him a bit. “My room at the Weasley’s probably had a much better view and accommodations than the prison cell you slept in.”
Malfoy stiffened, his face twisting angrily at Harry’s words. “What exactly are you hinting at?” he asked.
“I should think it’s obvious, don’t you?” Harry said his voice dangerously level. Ginny had a sudden memory flash of Mr. Malfoy being led past her, magically bound to the other prisoners, from her seat on the floor of the Department of Mysteries. Good one, Harry! Go for the jugular!
Suddenly, Ginny heard the unmistakable sound of harness traces being undone. The coach shuddered. Malfoy must have heard the sound as well because his attention swiveled from Harry toward the coach. The thestrals! Ginny sucked in her breath as she watched Harry and Malfoy. Both boys’ attention was riveted to the seemingly empty space between Harry and the coach now; Malfoy looked mildly alarmed, Harry grinned shrewdly.
What happened next was anybody’s guess except Harry’s. Ginny, and several others who had stopped to watch the exchange between Harry and Malfoy, looked on in fascination as the sleeve of Malfoy’s robes was torn from shoulder to wrist in one fluid motion. For a split second, the piece of material dangled in mid-air after which it was dropped abruptly onto the snowy ground. The next instant, Malfoy was flying through the air, landing unceremoniously on his backside in a snow drift. The crowd burst into raucous laughter as Malfoy picked himself up, grabbed the piece of his sleeve, and stomped away muttering threats under his breath.
“You’re going to regret this, Potter,” he shouted over his shoulder at them.
Only then, did Ginny turn back to Harry. He seemed to be leaning against a thestral’s neck, stroking the horse gently and talking to it in a whisper. Walking closer, she heard a faint whinny before Harry seemed to lead the horse back to the coach. Again, there was the rattle of harness traces as the coach swayed slightly. Harry gave the thestrals one last pat and joined Ginny as she climbed inside their coach.
“That was interesting,” she commented as he sat down. “What’s with the thestrals?”
Harry shook his head. “I think the two pulling this coach were part of our transport to London last June. They both nuzzled me when I walked up to them. I think they recognized me.”
“They did more than that, Harry. I think they were defending you!”
“What makes you say that?”
“Well...did they...or did you unhitch them from the coach?”
“You mean magically?”
“You did use a spell, didn’t you?”
“N-no. Why do you ask?”
“I felt something, Harry. Something powerful. I think the thestrals felt it, too. Maybe that’s why they acted the way they did.” Could this have anything to do with ‘the power the Dark Lord knows not’? It was a scary thought.
Before Harry could reply, Ron and Hermione entered the coach along with Neville and Luna.
“What’s wrong with Malfoy?” Ron asked. “He looked like he could use a trip to Madam Malkin’s.”
Harry smiled wickedly. “The thestrals don’t like him.”
Ron grinned. “So it’s true, then. He really did end up as a horse’s snack. I wonder if he’ll sue.”
Hermione shook her head. “I don’t think he will. Malfoy hates to admit he’s done anything wrong, the arrogant git.”
Everyone stared at Hermione for a moment, and then burst out laughing. The good mood from earlier had returned and Ginny and the rest of the coach’s occupants filled the rest of the journey with talk of something other than the malicious Slytherin.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
After dinner, Ginny bade the others good night at the Portrait Hole and headed for her dormitory to organize her books for the next morning’s lessons. It was still early and since there was time, she was going to slip away to the library before curfew at nine o’clock. She shoved her Potions notebook into her rucksack and headed for the door.
When she reached the bottom of the Girl’s staircase she paused to look for her brother and his friends. She spotted them at Hermione’s favorite table; Ron and Harry were absorbed in a fierce battle across the chess board, Hermione had her nose in a book with Crookshanks curled comfortably in her lap. None of them noticed as she quietly left the common room and headed for the library where she found a private table near the Potions section.
Taking out her notebook, she scanned her entries for her notes concerning the Draught of Peace. In addition to the formula and method, she’d made detailed observations in the margins about vapor color, stirring direction and duration, the consistency of the liquid, and other addendums to what she had copied from Professor Snape’s board. What she didn’t have was the history of use, a more detailed description of the potion’s effects on the body, or suggestions for use. A quick search of the potions section revealed little by way of medicinal uses for the potion. Sighing heavily, she walked over to Madam Pince’s desk to ask for her assistance.
“May I help you?” the librarian asked as Ginny walked up.
“Yes. I need what Muggles would call medicinal information about several potions including dosage, suggestions for use, and the effects on the body,” Ginny told her a little nervously.
Madam Pince’s eyes bore into Ginny’s. “Any specific potion or do you want a broader search?”
Ginny thought for a moment. “General information is mostly what I need right now. I can start there and organize my essay from what I find,” she said, crossing her fingers behind her back.
Madam Pince stepped out from behind the desk. “Very well. Follow me,” she requested crisply and led the way back to the section Ginny had just left. “Medicinal Potions are on the top two shelves. Use the stepladder,” she pointed down the stack, “to reach the books you want. Do not use levitation charms on these books. Some of them have been rather badly damaged by students dropping them. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Madam Pince nodded and went to investigate some muffled noises issuing from the next row over.
Ginny stood on tip toe to see the titles of the books; there were several she wanted to check out. She retrieved the stepladder and took down two heavy volumes which she laid next to her notebook before going to get two more that she was interested in. With a glance at the library clock Ginny sat down and began leafing through the first book, Common Medicinal Potions for the Household.
The Table of Contents seemed helpful, even mentioning the Draught of Peace. However, when she turned to the entry, all she found was the exact recipe she had copied from Snape’s board. She wondered whether the Potions Master had taken the directions from this book verbatim. Ginny closed the book with a soft thump and reached for the next book. It, too, only gave the recipe as did the next four she chose to look in. With a sigh, Ginny rose from her table and mounted the ladder. It was going to be a long night...
As closing time neared, Ginny wearily climbed the ladder for the seventeenth time that evening. The books were surprisingly heavy the higher she climbed and she wondered why the librarian insisted this section be placed so high out of reach. She reshelved her latest load and scanned the next few books for promising titles. A small, thin volume, Uncommon Uses for Everyday Potions, caught her attention, so she plucked it from between the two huge tomes which flanked it and began turning the fragile pages.
What she found fascinated her. Not only did this book give the exact information for the Draught of Peace she needed, it also included detailed methods of changing the potion to suit the exact use: happiness restorative, solace of the mind, comfort for the soul, relaxation, nightmares, insomnia. There were several others listed, but Ginny had stopped reading. A smile played at the corners of her mouth as she climbed down and took her place at the table to peruse the book more thoroughly.
She flipped through the pages, eagerly looking for other common recipes that could be changed to suit her purpose. Eventually, she found and made a list of the variations on teas, tinctures, elixirs, and decoctions which produced a variety of calming effects, insomnia cures, nerve tonics and body balance restoratives. I’ve found it, she thought happily as she cleared her table. All I need now are the ingredients.
Madam Pince frowned at Ginny as she brought her book up to the desk. “The library closed ten minutes ago,” she said bruskly.
“I was putting away the books I was using as you requested: no magic,” Ginny told her evenly.
The librarian harrumphed. “I see you found the most dangerous book in the section,” she observed as she completed the check-out procedure. “Don’t get any ideas on attempting any of the variations to these potions without plenty of caution and extra research. Otherwise, you’ll end up poisoning whoever ingests your concoction.”
Taken aback, Ginny asked, “How do you know?”
Madam Pince’s eyes bore into Ginny’s as she said, “Just go ask Madam Pomfrey about the number of poisoning cases she’s treated which have resulted from the use of this book.”
Ginny rose to the challenge. “All right, I will. And why, may I ask, isn’t this book in the restricted section?”
Madam Pince smiled slyly. “It usually is, my dear. However, there’s something about that book that causes it to migrate between sections at random. It somehow senses the seeker’s need for it and appears when least expected. That book contains an immense amount of knowledge which conforms itself to the reader’s needs. I will check this book out to you on the condition that only you read it, for the information contained herein has matched itself to your desires. Do I make myself clear?”
Ginny gulped as she reached for the book. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you and good night.” With that, Ginny jammed Uncommon Uses for Everyday Potions in her book bag and fled, Madam Pince’s warning ringing in her ears.
End of Part One
Chapter 2: Part Two
New Year, New HopePart Two
Several nights later, Ginny sat at a table piled high with books in the Room of Requirement. She was surrounded by her own private library containing nothing but books about potion-making. She had found entire sections on ingredients; the creation of new potions; potions history; master potion makers; love potions, poisons, truth serums, mind-altering draughts, shape-shifting mixtures, and healing potions among the various categories. Basically, anything and everything she needed to know in order to carry out her planned project to help herself and Harry.
She sighed tiredly and ran a hand through her hair as she glanced at the book of dosage charts she had found in the medicinal section. It was currently propped on The Encyclopedia of Common Rocks and Minerals Used in Potion Making, open to the page describing how much Draught of Peace to administer to people of various weights. Her notes covered several feet of parchment and as she leaned forward to add more facts, her stomach let out a particularly loud rumble. I’m beginning to rival Ron, she thought, wishing for something to eat for she had skipped dinner in order to have more time to research as well as complete the mountain of homework her teachers had set. A plate of sandwiches suddenly appeared on a nearby chair and just as quickly, as did a glass and a small pitcher of pumpkin juice. Glancing about the room she murmured, “Thanks” and reached for a sandwich as she turned back to her research.
The facts she’d gathered fascinated her. Not only had she found exactly the information she needed to successfully (and safely) swallow a cupful of her creation, she had found out that by adding shredded Valerian leaves to the Draught at a certain point, it became a powerful sleeping solution called “Sleeper’s Promise”. By changing the number of drops of this potion one put into a cup of tea, the supplier could determine how long and how soundly the drinker slept; add too much and the drinker would fall into a coma, add too little and one might as well not bother administering the potion. In other words, as Snape had so succinctly put it once, observing the correct dosage range was of utmost importance.
Other changes in the basic potion produced a wide variety of draughts and tinctures which could be slipped into a goblet of water or juice or administered by the cupful. By substituting powdered Peridot for the Moonstone, the potion-maker created a potion that protected the drinker from bouts of excessive nervousness. Change the gem powder to garnet and the drinker was protected from bad dreams and depression. I’ll try that one after we see how successful the Draught of Peace is, Ginny thought. I just hope the garnet powder isn’t too expensive...
She had also made notes about which plants would turn her potion to poison if they were carelessly added: cherry laurel leaves, hemlock root, henbane seeds. These were the variations about which Madam Pince had warned her. Ginny frowned as she read about the effects of adding one drop too many of essence of digitalis: just like too much hellebore, an excessive amount of this plant would cause the potion to become toxic and throw a death-like stupor upon its victim. I still don’t understand how adding a poison to a potion doesn’t make the entire batch lethal. Did we study that and somehow I missed it? Ginny remembered some sort of discussion but had no idea where in her year’s worth of Potions notes she would find her answer. Shaking her head tiredly, she packed up her quill and ink, rolled up her parchment and began re-shelving the books. She would leave the few she currently wanted to continue reading on the table; they would be where she left them the next time she returned.
As Ginny slipped out the door, her mind wandered back into the Room of Requirement. Earlier, when she was perusing the various library sections, she had looked up the Longevity Concoction her Potions class was currently studying and had found several paragraphs of detailed information which she could add to Professor Snape’s latest potions notes. She would use them in the essay she knew he would assign the next day. She smiled as she thought of the look on Professor Snape’s face when she handed in twice the amount assigned homework and cheerfully brought up several points that she knew he had deliberately left out of his method. It would serve him right if none of the fifth year Gryffindors failed to earn a satisfactory mark on their Concoctions. She just hoped that he wouldn’t take away any house points for her cockiness.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Hermione was sitting at her usual table scribbling furiously on an essay when Ginny clambered through the portrait hole a few minutes later. “Where have you been, Ginny?” she asked without looking up from her parchment. “I looked for you at dinner and again later in the library–Ron and Harry thought you’d gone there–but no one had seen you all evening...” There was a distinct authority in her voice which Ginny recognized as Hermione’s ‘Prefect’s Voice.’ When she used that tone, the guilty party knew they could expect, at least, a lecture on proper conduct or, at worst, the rubies in the Gryffindor hourglass in the Entrance Hall to be fewer in the morning once she had spoken to Professor McGonagall.
The younger witch let her book bag drop with a resounding thud next to an empty chair which protested slightly when Ginny slumped into it. “I’ve been doing research in the Room of Requirement,” she told Hermione quietly, even though the common room was deserted.
This attracted Hermione’s attention. “Whatever for?” she asked putting down her quill. “Shouldn’t the library have all the information you need for your homework?”
“Not for this potion project,” Ginny said warily. She didn’t really want to share her idea just yet with anyone.
“Project? I don’t recall Professor Snape assigning individual projects last year. That’s supposed to be a seventh year Potions component.”
Ginny sighed. “This is something I’m doing on my own. Madam Pince warned me that without thorough knowledge of the potion I’m going to make, I could very well poison myself or someone else.”
“And...”
“Well, the library didn’t have what I was looking for, so I went up to the Room of Requirement tonight and found everything I needed.”
“I find it hard to believe that the library didn’t have what you wanted. What exactly were you looking for and how did you get your idea in the first place?”
Hermione’s questioning was beginning to grate on Ginny’s nerves. Unfortunately, she knew that if she wanted to get back to her dorm anytime soon, she’d have to give the older girl some sort of information to slake her curiosity. She sighed and pulled Uncommon Uses for Everyday Potions out of her bag and held it up. As Hermione reached for the book, she said, “This is the book I’m using for my project. Madam Pince checked it out to me on the condition that only I read it while it’s in my possession.”
Hermione’s eyes widened. “I’ve heard of that book. It’s the one that customizes itself to the reader’s needs. Madam Pince told me once that that book only appears to people with truly unselfish aims.” Her eyes seemed to pierce into Ginny as she said, “Whatever you are doing or plan on doing, the recipient of your labours will be truly lucky. Your idea is completely...altruistic. He or she must be very special to you...”
A lump formed in Ginny’s throat. “He is,” she whispered.
“Harry?”
“Harry.”
“Nightmares?”
“Amongst other things.”
Hermione sighed. “Harry’s special to me, too. I’ve been so worried about him at times this year, but had no idea how to help him...so I did nothing. You, on the other hand...wow!”
“I didn’t know if he’d accept my help, Hermione.”
“But he did–and that’s what counts...even if it was after Professor McGonagall made him see that he was hurting himself academically.”
“He’s not out from under her thumb about that yet, you know.”
“No, but he seems a lot happier since our weekend at The Burrow.”
It was Ginny’s turn to sigh; she did so with a smile playing about the corners of her mouth. “He is, but he still has an immense burden on his mind. No, I can’t tell you...he made me promise not to tell you and Ron...don’t look at me like that, Hermione.”
“I can’t help it, Ginny. He hurts Ron and me when he holds out on us.”
“He wants to tell you on his own terms...when he’s ready to face your reactions.”
“Oh, Ginny. Doesn’t he know that whatever he tells us won’t change our opinion of him one iota?”
“He knows exactly what your reactions will be...he’s not ready to cope with you wanting to run to the library or Ron’s disbelief.”
Hermione looked sheepish. “He knows us rather well, doesn’t he? I suppose you know what he’s facing...and you took on his burden to help lighten the load.”
“No, not really. All I did was listen. He was so upset the night he told me...he thought I’d hate him. He thinks you and Ron will forsake him once you know. Either that or ... I don’t know. Part of his keeping this secret from you is his way of shielding the two of you.”
“And by pushing us away like he did in September, he thinks he’s protecting us, too.”
Ginny nodded silently. Finally, she said, “I have to do this, Hermione. I have to find a way to give him some peace.”
Hermione smiled. “So you’re going to brew him up some sort of potion to bring him some peace of mind.”
“I’m going to try.”
“He’s lucky to have you, Ginny.”
“And I, him.” The two girls were silent; Ginny thinking how much seeing Harry nightmare-free would mean to her, Hermione absently toying with her quill.
At length, Hermione broke the silence. “Would you like some help?”
Ginny hesitated, still unwilling to share her idea. Unfortunately, she’d given away too much information to clam up now. “I’d like that. Maybe you’d find something I’ve overlooked in my research.”
“And the brewing of the potion?”
“I haven’t gotten that far yet.”
“But when you do, I can help...I’d like to help because Harry’s...”
“...your friend, too.” Ginny finished for her, smiling. When Hermione nodded back, she said, “I’m going back to the Room of Requirement tomorrow night. I did my homework in there before I looked at the books I took off the shelves. I hope they’re still piled on the table where I left them tomorrow.”
“They should be. How about I meet you in front of the tapestry at half-past seven tomorrow night? That should give us enough time before curfew. Erm, what potion are you researching anyway?”
“The Draught of Peace.”
Hermione was thoughtful. “That’s not too hard to brew. But why all the research?”
Ginny held up the book she still had in her hand. “I’m just following Madam Pince’s admonitions,” she said smiling. “After all, I don’t want to poison Harry...or myself for that matter.”
“You’re going to swallow some, too?”
“Harry and I seem to have a mutual attachment to the common room fire around two in the morning.” She looked at her watch. “I’d better get to bed. I’ve got double Potions tomorrow.” She gathered her book bag. “See you tomorrow.”
“Until then, Ginny. Good night.”
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Hermione was breathing hard when she joined Ginny in front of the tapestry the following evening.
“Honestly, Ginny...that brother of yours...” She left the sentence unfinished, but Ginny knew the exact exasperated feeling her friend was talking about.
“What did he do now?”
“He lost his Transfiguration notes from the other day that he needs for our latest essay; Professor McGonagall had us write down some additional information not found in our textbooks, so he wanted mine. Like a fool, I gave them to him at dinner and he promptly spilled pumpkin juice all over them because he was talking Quidditch with his hands again with Harry.” She held up several soggy pieces of smeared parchment.
“And his essay?”
“I told Ron to go to the library and look up the information himself.”
“He’ll be there all night!”
Hermione grinned. “I thought so, too. Serves him right.”
Ginny opened the door to the Room of Requirement and led the way in. She was pleased to find everything where she had left it the night before.
“Oh, my!” she heard Hermione gasp as she put her own book bag down and went to inspect the books which were still neatly piled on the table.
“My sentiments exactly,” Ginny agreed pulling out the notes she had taken the night before.
“What have you been researching?” Hermione pulled up a chair beside Ginny’s.
“For the basic potion? Mostly dosage charts.” She pointed to one of the books. “The rest of this is information on ingredient changes and how they affect both the potion and the drinker. I’ve discovered that by changing or adding one or more ingredients I can make potions which will do all sorts of things.”
“Smart, Ginny. I don’t think I’d have thought about dosage until it was almost too late.” Hermione was thoughtful as she dropped her bag next to Ginny’s. “What sort of changes are you researching?”
Ginny held up the rocks and minerals book. “This one talks about exchanging the moonstone for either garnet or peridot,” she said setting the book down and picking up a tome on magical plants. “If you add Valerian at a certain point the Draught of Peace becomes Sleepers’ Promise. I also took notes on substituting henbane, hemlock, and cherry laurel for the hellebore. Those plants produce different affects, but need to be added carefully so that they don’t turn the mixture into a poison. I shudder to think what adding too much digitalis will do to you.”
“That’s impressive, Ginny. I hate to say this, but you taught me something tonight! I had a vague suspicion that there was a whole group of related potions based on the Draught of Peace, but hadn’t come across the information confirming my hunch when I was revising last year.”
Ginny smiled at her friend. “You can’t expect to learn everything before seventh year, Hermione. There needs to be something left for the teachers to pass on just before your NEWTs. I know one thing for certain; you will never stop reading, questioning, or learning…especially after you leave Hogwarts. What good would it do you if there wasn’t anything left to explore? Can you really believe that even Professor McGonagall knows everything about Transfiguration?”
“Hey, don’t pick on her. She walks on water!” Hermione exclaimed pretending to be shocked.
Ginny tried to keep a straight face, but her mouth twitched upwards and Hermione gave up trying to maintain her outraged expression. Both girls burst into gales of giggles.
“I suppose I deserved that,” Hermione said once they could breathe again. “Your brother accuses me of being a know-it-all at least four times a week, so hearing it from his little sister shouldn’t be too much of a shock.”
Ginny made a face and opened both the plant book and the dosage book. “There’s something I need to check on that’s been bugging me all day,” she said. She picked up a book called Chinese Potions Ingredients for the Dim-witted and handed it to Hermione. “The library book said something about substituting powdered tiger bone or rhino horn or some other wild animal part to change the potion in a different way. I don’t think I want to try something like that, but would you look up what this book says about those ingredients, please?”
Hermione reached for the book and the room grew quiet as they bent to their tasks.
Sometime later, Hermione closed the Chinese potions book and shoved it away from her parchment and took a soft-cover Muggle book out of her own bag. “Ginny...” She began tentatively. “How much do you know about sleep and sleep disorders?”
Ginny looked up, curious. “Not much. Why?”
“Bear with me, Ginny. What I want to tell you is relevant, but needs a little background story-telling,” she began.
“Tell me,” Ginny requested.
“When Harry began having odd dreams before fourth year,” her friend began, “it bothered me a little, so I searched my parents’ book shelves for something to help me understand what he was going through. (Ginny smiled at how predictable her friend was.) I found this.” Hermione held up the book she had placed in her lap seconds before. Ginny noted that it was entitled, Solve Your Child’s Sleep Problems. “I never thought I’d keep it this long, but since Harry’s still having bad nights sometimes I keep going back to various chapters. I’ve learned a lot about the stages of sleep and the differences between a real nightmare and the ‘visions’ Voldemort sent Harry last year. I don’t know if anything in here is relevant, but you can borrow it if you’d like.”
Ginny was intrigued. “You mean Muggles study sleeping people?”
Hermione smiled. “Yes. It’s a scientific field of study all on its own.”
“Like something behind that locked door Harry couldn’t open at the Department of Mysteries.”
“You could say that. Many Muggles spend their lives watching people sleep and trying to discover what goes on in the brain while our eyes are closed. Some, like the author of this book, study the things which disturb sleep and try to find ways to help people who aren’t sleeping well.”
“So why did your parents need a book like that one?”
Hermione smiled as she put the book on the table between them. “My mum read it because she and Dad needed to stop me from sleep-walking when I was little. They got tired of finding me sitting in front of the bookshelves at two in the morning. They tried some of the author’s suggestions and suppose they worked. I haven’t been found combing the shelves for books that aren’t there for many years.”
“That makes sense,” Ginny said thoughtfully, pulling the book toward her. “I’ll read anything that might help me help Harry.”
“You never know. It might just help you, too.” Hermione gave her a significant glance and changed the subject again. “Ginny, have you given any thought as to where you’ll be making the potion?”
“I thought I’d just make it in here one evening. It only takes an hour and a half to brew, so it wouldn’t be as if I’d need to hide an entire caldron of Polyjuice Potion or something like that.” She smiled at Hermione’s obvious discomfiture.
“Well, what would you say to actually using Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom? It might even be safer than this room since nobody ever ventures into that loo. Even after all this time, Myrtle’s still causing floods anytime someone insults her. I’d be glad to introduce you.”
Not certain what the polite refusal should be, Ginny asked, “Shall we go, then?” When Hermione stood to repack her bag, Ginny did the same, even taking the time to shelve some of the books she had used the previous night. “Let’s leave our books here,” she suggested from behind one of the stacks. “I’m just taking a look at the bathroom, so why carry our heavy bags when we won’t need them?”
“Good idea. I’ll leave mine next to the door so I can grab it easily later.”
Ginny extinguished the reading lamps on the table and the two girls left the room.
The second floor corridor leading to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom was gloomier at night than it usually was during the day. As Hermione led the way, Ginny clutched an angel pendant her mother had given her for Christmas. The figure was charmed with a spell to enhance her own courage, and right now, four years after her Chamber of Secrets ordeal, Ginny was feeling rather anxious about going back.
“Here we are,” Hermione said unnecessarily, pushing the door open. She seemed unaware of the significance of this room and the memories walking in here brought back to Ginny.
The bathroom looked much the same as it had the last time they each had been in there, although this time, the floor was dry. Hermione led the way over to one of the cubicles and opened the door.
“This is the stall Ron, Harry and I used to brew the Polyjuice Potion. Myrtle’s toilet is over there,” she said pointing.
A youthful ghost rose slowly from behind the partition. “Oh, it’s you,” she said sourly eyeing Hermione. “Come to stink up my bathroom again?”
“No, Myrtle. I’m showing Ginny what a wonderful place this is.”
“I remember you,” Myrtle said pointing at Ginny. “You’re the one who opened the Chamber and let that monster with the big yellow eyes out. Have you decided to terrorize the school again?”
At this question, Hermione gasped quietly, her eyes darting between the ghost and her friend. “I’m sorry, Ginny...I forgot!” she exclaimed quietly.
Ginny shook her head ruefully. “You and Harry are quite a pair, you know, forgetting what went on my first year!” she stated glumly. She glanced at the older witch and sighed wistfully. “I wish sometimes that people would just let it be: I swear, Hermione, your reaction is typical of every other person who’s forgotten the entrance to the Chamber is over there under one of the sinks, so join the club!”
“But...but Ginny,” Hermione sputtered clearly at a loss for words. “I don’t...I don’t think anyone ever told me this was where Harry and Ron entered the Chamber. I was Petrified by the time they found the right place...” She let her voice trail off as Ginny went to stand by the malfunctioning sink.
“I’m sorry, too, Hermione. I guess you’re just as much a victim as I am,” she said quietly. Hermione came to stand beside her.
“I’m not looking at it that way. Professor Dumbledore told me a long time ago that we’re survivors, not victims. That vision has a much more positive perspective, don’t you think?” the older girl asked.
Ginny smiled into the cracked mirror in front of her and searched for Hermione’s eyes until they made eye-contact. “I do,” she agreed.
Behind them, Moaning Myrtle suddenly cleared her throat. “Well...are you going to answer my question or do I have to wait a decade or two before you decide I’m worth talking to?” she demanded.
When Ginny looked at her blankly, Myrtle repeated her original question. “Are you or are you not going to terrorize the school again?”
Ginny scowled at the ghost. “What an awful thing to ask! You’re not into making any friends tonight are you, Myrtle.” She paused before continuing. “As a matter of fact, I’m looking for a place to have some privacy.”
Moaning Myrtle thought a moment, then said, “Ooh. You’re planning on doing something illegal…like brewing a love potion.”
“Yes,” Ginny answered honestly.
“Well, I’m telling. You weren’t very nice to me the last time you were here. You threw a book at me, so I think I should tell.”
“Please don’t. I’m doing this for Harry.”
“Harry Potter? I haven’t seen him in ages. Quite a modest little twit in the bath he is, I’d say. Won’t let a girl have her thrills, you know.”
Both witches glared at the ghost. “Just when did you spy on Harry like that?” Hermione demanded.
“During the Triwizard Tournament. He and Cedric Diggery each spent hours in the Prefects’ bathroom with some sort of screechy egg. Made me close my eyes when he got out of the tub, Harry did.”
“Good!” Ginny and Hermione exclaimed together.
Moaning Myrtle looked affronted. “I wasn’t looking, if that’s what you mean. Besides, there were too many bubbles in the tub to see anything!”
“Thank goodness!” Ginny said. She turned to Hermione. “I like this place. It’s really out of the way and I suppose I should make peace with Myrtle to make up for throwing the book at her.”
“I’d like some company sometime. Would you come back soon?” they heard Myrtle murmur behind them. For the moment, they ignored her.
“When do you want to make the potion?” Hermione inquired.
“I don’t know. I still have to get certain ingredients that aren’t part of my potions’ kit. It might take a while.”
“All right. Just let me know when you’re ready.”
“I will,” Ginny said looking around. She turned to leave, but remembered that she didn’t know how to make a waterproof fire correctly. She’d need one if she was going to brew her Draught in one of the toilets. “Hermione, you’ll have to be the one to cast the Bluebell Flame charm. I’ve never been able to do that one properly.”
“I don’t see why you’ve been unsuccessful with that charm, but I’ll be glad to help with whatever you need,” Hermione said as they walked toward the door. They bid Moaning Myrtle good-bye, promising to come back very soon, and left the bathroom.
“Ginny, I’ve been thinking,” Hermione said as they walked back upstairs toward the Room of Requirement. “Do you have any idea how you’re going to know when Harry needs something like the Draught of Peace? I mean, you can’t start sleeping in the common room every night. People will start talking.”
“I thought I’d just take my chances,” Ginny said somewhat evasively. “I mean, I’ve had a pretty good track record so far.”
Hermione looked at Ginny with one eyebrow raised.
“All right, so it’s not a good idea to go sneaking around the tower after lights-out. Honestly, Hermione, my first thought was to just be ready when we did run into each other in the common room. We certainly seem to do that often enough without an alarm bell of some sort.”
“But wouldn’t you have more of a chance at success if there was some sort of alerting spell or mechanism? And if you had one, what would it be?”
Ginny didn’t answer immediately. “I’m still thinking about both of those. If I did link us somehow the object would have to be unobtrusive, something Harry would not object to.”
“Like the D.A. galleons,” Hermione said helpfully.
“Yes, like that, only how many gold coins can you successfully carry around at our age and not arouse suspicion if Snape demands that we turn out our pockets?”
“I don’t have an answer to that, Ginny. I hope you do.”
Ginny did have an idea and an object to turn into an “alarm bell” but she didn’t want Hermione to try to disparage her idea. Ginny conceded that she didn’t mind sharing the potion idea with the older witch because talking about her ideas aloud had given her a fresh perspective and focus on what she wanted to do for Harry and herself. This particular idea, however, was just too personal to shelve. Besides, she was half-way through the multiple spell process and had spent too much time researching this second project in the last few days to have to start over.
“It’s almost curfew,” Ginny said, glancing at her watch when they arrived at their private, but temporary, library on the seventh floor. “You go back and see how Ron fared with his essay. I’m going to clear up here.”
“Prefect duties call. See you later, then,” Hermione said getting Ginny’s hint and grabbing her bag. “Don’t be too long. I don’t want to have to send Ron after you.”
“I won’t. See you in a bit.”
As Hermione disappeared down the corridor Ginny closed the door and took a shining silver bird charm on a chain from her pocket and held it up to one of the nearby reading lamps. She took out her wand and cast a spell that left her feeling tired, yet satisfied as she gazed at the almost-completed phoenix pendant. It glowed softly in the lamplight and seemed to disappear into her palm. At least this part of the process is a success, she thought remembering the side effects listed in the old spell book; a footnote at the bottom of the page stated that the spell would leave the caster feeling magically drained. The book did warn about this, Ginevra. It also stated that the other two spells can’t be done at another time. You’ll just have to dig deep down and find the magic within to complete the process. Remember, this is for Harry. You know he won’t object to wearing your gift once he understands its power. She placed the phoenix gently on a nearby table.
For herself, Ginny had chosen the angel pendant she was wearing tonight. She fished it from beneath her robes and slipped it over her head before murmuring a second spell. The angel and its chain glowed briefly as the phoenix had done and Ginny hoped that this and the next spell would not interfere with the angel’s original enchantment. The books she had read had indicated there wouldn’t be any problems; the three spells did completely different things.
The final step in the process was a binding spell. Ginny picked up the phoenix again and dangled it and the angel together in the air. She cast the charm on the two necklaces feeling the spell’s power surge up her arm and out through her wand. The ancient enchantment caused the metal in her hand to glow a bright gold colour and grow hot to the touch; she nearly dropped the jewellery. Instead, she held on tightly until the angel was cool enough to hang around her neck again. Smiling tiredly to herself and thinking just how nice it would be to be in her four-poster at that moment, Ginny pocketed her wand, transferred the phoenix pendant to her other hand and slipped it into a cloth pouch she had withdrawn from her bag. Now all she needed was the opportunity to give it to Harry.
End of Part Two
A/N: As always, many thanks to Aggiebelle for reading and commenting on this chapter. She’s super to do it since she has her hands full with her new little one, who probably keeps her hopping 24/7! Congrats, Aggie!
Chapter 3: Part Three
New Year, New HopePart Three
Someone was sitting in one of the over-stuffed armchairs by the fire when Ginny crawled through the portrait hole. That handsome someone had messy, raven-coloured hair and wore glasses. The glasses framed closed eyelids which covered what she knew to be a pair of startlingly green eyes. Harry, bless him, had tried to wait up for her and had fallen asleep. Her heart melted as she crossed the floor, knelt in front of him and gently lifted the Potions text from where it had come to rest on his torso.
He looks so peaceful, she thought as she laid the book on the floor.
She hated to wake Harry; unfortunately, he needed to be awake in order to climb the stairs to his dormitory. The only way to awaken him safely these days was to take his wand away; the last unfortunate person to arouse Harry without doing so had ended up having to visit Madam Pomfrey. Harry had been so quick to draw his wand–even in his drowsy state–that poor Neville never had a chance to get out of the way. That had been just four nights ago and since then, the rest of the fifth and sixth years had found it quite to their advantage to temporarily confiscate Harry’s wand, thus avoiding Neville’s fate.
Taking Harry’s wand only guaranteed that Harry couldn’t focus his magic directly on the intrepid student trying to arouse him: just last night Seamus had been elected to nick the wand and convince Harry to go to bed; he had been successful in purloining the wand from the cushion of Harry’s chair, but had needed to jump out of the way of a wandless Inferno hex which had set the hearth rug on fire after not so subtly telling him to wake up. Dean had cast a quick “Exstinguo deflagratum” (extinguishing spell) on the blaze. Seamus followed with an equally quick “Reparo” which had restored the rug. By the time the smoke had cleared, Harry was fully awake and back in possession of his wand, a sheepish grin on his face.
Ginny now began a less abrupt attempt to wake her boyfriend. First, she glanced around for Harry’s wand. Not seeing it, she slipped her hand inside Harry’s bag and groped about until she found what she sought at the bottom. Thank goodness Harry left it in here and not in his pocket like he did the other night, she thought as she extracted the slim shaft of polished holly. That part accomplished, she exhaled quietly preparing for the second part of the waking process.
“Harry,” she whispered. “Harry, wake up.” She repeated this last sentence several more times, each repetition a little louder than the one preceding it. Finally, Harry jerked his head up and Ginny heard the embers in the fireplace spring to life behind her. Harry opened his eyes, then closed them again.
“Hey, handsome,” she crooned. “I’m back from the library.” She giggled as he opened one eye, smiled sleepily, and blinked owlishly at her. “You were more controlled tonight,” she added throwing a quick look over her shoulder at the merrily dancing flames.
Harry followed her gaze. “Thanks. You didn’t startle me tonight. I like that,” he said with a drowsy smile and held out his hand. “May I have my wand, please?”
“Of course,” she said handing it over. “But only if you say goodnight and go upstairs like you should.” She leant over, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and offered him a hand up. His weight almost pulled her over as he hoisted himself to his feet; the spells had exhausted her that much. Harry drew her to him in a steadying hug.
“Ginny? Are you all right?” he asked concern plainly in his voice.
“I’m knackered, Love,” she told him candidly as he leaned over and planted a kiss on her forehead. “I need to go up to bed really soon.”
Harry raised a questioning eyebrow while pocketing his wand. “Are you certain nothing’s wrong?” he inquired as she leaned upon him more than she usually did. “Hermione told me you’d be along shortly and it’s almost eleven.”
Ginny hesitated, not wanting to tell Harry about the spells she’d been doing. “I lost track of time,” she replied honestly. “I spent too much time on my O.W.L. revision and a killer essay for Snape.” When Harry’s eyebrow disappeared into his fringe she added, “It’s late and I’m just feeling really drained right now.”
Harry still looked sceptical. “You’re up to something. I know it,” he countered. “I can’t believe that you’re spending all that time researching potion ingredients for Snape when the library closes at nine o’clock. Hermione never spent that much time on any essay last year. And she certainly didn’t look this tired.”
Ginny smiled up at him. “I just want to be thorough,” she responded tiredly. “It’s really charming of you to worry about me,” she added sincerely.
Harry took hold of her shoulders, a confused expression crossing his features. “I’ve done something you don’t approve of,” he mumbled.
“Why would you think that, Harry?” Ginny countered puzzled.
“You’ve been avoiding me since we got back,” he said quietly not meeting her eyes. “I… I hope that incident with Malfoy and the thestrals didn’t scare you,” he added uncertainly.
“Oh, Harry. I have not been avoiding you. I’d never do something like that!” she exclaimed, startled.
“Well, it certainly seems that way,” he said, still dodging her gaze and dropping his hands from her shoulders.
“It does?” Ginny asked anxiously.
“Yeah, it does.” The hurt in his voice was evident.
“But why? I know I’ve been busy, but this is the first time I’ve come in after curfew,” she said feeling the need to try to justify her answers.
“It’s not that, exactly. It’s… it’s the fact that…whenever I try to find you you’re not where you say you’ll be…” Harry let the sentence die, leaving Ginny to complete it herself.
“…and no one seems to know where I am,” she finished for him, a guilty blush colouring her cheeks.
Harry nodded and turned to ponder the logs in the grate. “Blimey, Ginny!” he exclaimed running a hand through his hair. “The first night we were back here you disappeared and didn’t tell anyone where you were going! It’s gone on like this all week! How am I supposed to feel when I ask everyone I know if they’ve seen you and all anyone knows is that you’re off revising somewhere?”
Ginny sank onto the nearest sofa and buried her face in her hands. “I’m sorry, Harry,” she breathed. “I was wrong and I’m too tired right now to justify my actions. It’s not worth rowing over them with you.”
Harry turned around and came to kneel in front of her. “I want to understand, Ginny. But it’s hard when you’re not around to talk to.” He gently pried her hands away from her face and held them loosely in his own. “Please talk to me. I’m here if you need me.”
Oh, Harry…how many times have Hermione, Ron and I said those exact words to you? Oh, if you only knew! she thought. Aloud, she said, “I’m talking to you now, Harry. Please believe me that you’ve done nothing to make me angry at you or that I’ve been avoiding you in any way. I’m really sorry I’ve upset you.”
Harry didn’t look in the least mollified. “There’s something else,” he muttered looking away again.
“Yes, Harry? What is it?” she asked reaching up to run a hand through his hair. She felt him shiver slightly as he turned to look at her again.
“I’m concerned that you’re not eating properly, Ginny,” he admitted. When she frowned he said quickly, “Hunger does weird things to your mind; I’ve certainly had enough experience with it at the Dursley’s. You haven’t been at dinner the last few nights and hardly eat anything at lunch. Are you positive you don’t need to see Madam Pomfrey? She could give you something to bring back your appetite if you’re feeling sick.”
“Yes, Harry. I’m quite sure,” she said pulling an oddly-shaped bundle from her rucksack. She unwrapped it to reveal a half-eaten chicken breast, a container of green beans, an apple and a roll which she had gleaned from the Room of Requirement before she made her way back to Gryffindor tower. “See? I am eating properly. You’re sweet to be so concerned about me. I’m not starving myself if that’s what you’re worried about. Now go to bed before Ron comes down here looking for us.”
Harry smiled at her, an evil glint in his eyes. “I take it you’d rather he not catch us snogging,” he said. He kissed the tip of her nose making her giggle.
“Something like that,” she said smiling tiredly. She haphazardly wrapped up her dinner and picked up her book bag, hoisting it onto her shoulder as she stood up with an effort. She was certain Harry noticed. He didn’t say anything though as she gave him another quick kiss on the cheek. “Good night, love. See you at breakfast.”
“Yeah, see you then.” Harry picked up the discarded potions book which Ginny had set aside and strode over to the staircase to begin his climb up the stairs. “Good night Ginny. Don’t stay up too late.” His voice trailed down the boy’s staircase as his feet disappeared up the stairs.
Ginny sat down on Harry’s chair and let her bag drop with a thud. He suspects something, she thought as she opened her dinner bundle, bit into the chicken breast and chewed slowly. The food seemed to help her feelings of powerlessness, but she knew she was going to be in for a rough day tomorrow with her magic reserves as depleted as they were. She finished her meal and headed for her own bed in the fifth year girl’s dormitory.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
On Friday morning, Ginny stood at her table in the Potions classroom a piece of parchment clutched in her hand. She glanced at the list of ingredients and their amounts she held trying to memorize it so that it wouldn’t look obvious that she was taking something she didn’t need from the student stores cupboard. Besides the requisite lovage powder, scurvy-grass extract, sneezewort powder, and liquorice roots (the main ingredients in the Longevity Concoction the class was to prepare), she needed to take liverwort powder, cow parsley pods, powdered quince seeds, and dried poppy flowers for her Draught of Peace. Somehow she was also going to have to steal a couple of dried puffskeins from Professor Snape’s private stores as well. That she would have to leave for another day, or maybe she could sneak into his office during lunch…hmm. That sounds more like it. A small smile graced her features at this thought and the next, Gred and Forge would be proud of me!
She looked at her list one last time and was just about to join the line of students at the stores cupboard when a voice behind her asked, “The Draught of Peace, Ginny?” Colin Creevey was peering over her shoulder at her list.
Ginny jumped. “Colin! What are you doing?”
“I was just about to ask you the same thing.”
“Erm…memorizing an ingredient list,” Ginny stammered lamely. “I’ve finally made it to my fifth year notes in my OWL revising.”
Colin glanced at the paper in Ginny’s hand looking hopeful. “Well, am I right?”
“What?”
“Isn’t that a list of ingredients for the Draught of Peace?”
“Oh, yes, among other things.”
“Right. You seem to be studying it rather intently.”
“I’m trying to memorize it, all right?”
Colin looked sceptical. “In the middle of class when we’re supposed to be preparing a Longevity Concoction? I’ll believe that when the giant squid flies.”
Ginny squirmed and said nothing.
“You’re up to something, Ginny. I know it,” Colin winked at her triumphantly.
“Be quiet! I don’t want the whole class to know!” Ginny hissed.
“Hold your hippogriffs, Ginny! I’m not going to blab your plans to the entire room. Let’s get our ingredients,” Colin suggested lowering his voice and giving Ginny a small shove in the direction of the stores cupboard.
“All right! I’m going!” Ginny exclaimed joining the group of students gathered at the front of the room.
Colin continued to persist in his quest for information. “Does it have anything to do with a certain black-haired wizard with a penchant for trouble?”
“Colin…NOT HERE!” Ginny was rapidly going from annoyed to furious. If he says any more I’ll have to hex him, she thought, not relishing the prospect of a week of detentions under Snape’s eagle eye for attacking a fellow student seemingly unprovoked.
Colin was now smirking at her triumphantly. “I knew it!” he whispered so that only Ginny could hear. “If you want, I’ll get the liverwort powder and cow parsley pods so it doesn’t look too suspicious.” He opened his robes just enough to reveal two empty ingredient jars.
Ginny nodded, an eyebrow raised questioningly. “Why are you willing to risk getting into trouble?”
Colin was about to reply when the nasty growl of authority interrupted him. “Weasley, Creevey! Move along before I take points off Gryffindor because you’re holding up the line!”
“Yes, Professor,” the two chorused, more than a little embarrassed. That’s all I need, Ginny though, Snape breathing down my neck and foiling my attempt to help Harry,
When it was their turn, Ginny reached for the correct ingredients while Colin pinched a sizable amount of liverwort powder and cow parsley pods and concealed the jars under his robes again. Ginny transferred an equal amount of quince seeds and dried poppy flowers before making a big display of measuring out the correct double amount of syrup of Irish moss and took enough liquorice roots for two Longevity Concoctions.
Heaving a small sigh of relief that this part of the ordeal was over, Ginny led the way back to her and Colin’s table before the students in back of her could begin complaining.
They worked together feverishly for ten minutes trying to make up for lost time. While Colin lit the flames under their caldrons and slipped his jars into Ginny’s open bag, Ginny poured a small amount of water into each cauldron and began to set out their ingredients in the order they’d need them. Next, Colin began to crush the dry ingredients, weighing the powder he’d made and setting the measured amounts aside on small pieces of parchment. They both took turns observing where Professor Snape was just in case he happened to look their way and decided to make an example out of them for meddling in each other’s potions.
After a quick glance at both the clock and the chalkboard where the Potions Master had written the recipe, Ginny began chopping up a double quantity of the liquorice root. It was hard going. If she moved a certain way, her elbow hit the jars in her pocket as she sliced, making the containers clink together.
“Colin,” she muttered, “reach into my right pocket and take out one of the jars. They’re making too much noise.”
Colin sidled up to her and stuck his hand in Ginny’s pocket. “Thanks,” she said dividing the liquorice roots into two equal piles. Over the next five minutes they continued to prepare and add their ingredients in silence, concentrating more than usual on making their own potions correctly. Ginny was quite pleased when she glanced over at Colin’s cauldron to see that, for once, his potion looked exactly like her own.
“You should have finished adding your ingredients by now,” Professor Snape intoned over the general hubbub of the lesson. Ginny squinted at the blackboard; they were still only on step three (take the potion off the fire and add the sneezewort powder: stew for five minutes). They should have been on step five (add liquorice root and stir five minutes in an anti-clockwise direction).
She reminded Colin to add his syrup of Irish moss (step four) then asked, “What do you think? Risk adding the sneezewort powder and liquorice roots together or take our chances on finishing five minutes late?”
“I’d rather add them individually, and stew only a minute or two between additions,” Colin suggested. “If there’s time, we can add an extra minute or two at the end.”
“Right,” Ginny brought one portion each of sneezewort powder and liquorice roots closer to the edge of the table and lifted her cauldron away from the fire. Colin gently tipped the powder into Ginny’s potion where it bubbled and hissed noisily as he stirred it in, careful to stand back lest he breathe any of the fumes. He moved over to his cauldron to add his own sneezewort.
“Wait,” Ginny said. “Let me help.” She put her cauldron back on the fire and turned the flame down low.
Colin nodded and picked up his cauldron. Ginny added his measure of sneezewort powder which acted the same way as hers had. They waited two minutes, then finished adding the liquorice roots to their own potions and began the stirring process.
“Ginny, if you’re really going to make the Draught, you still don’t have the dried puffskeins,” Colin whispered his eye on the classroom clock.
“I know, but I haven’t figured out how to get into Snape’s office yet,” Ginny answered just as softly. “It’s not like I have an accomplice or someone to cause a distraction,” she added thinking of the story Hermione had told her about stealing boomslang skin during her second year.
“Would you…would you like some help?”
Ginny shot Colin a look, an eyebrow reaching toward her hairline. “What exactly do you have in mind?” she asked cautiously.
“I don’t know yet. Do you have to have the puffskeins today?”
“No. Let’s talk at lunch.” She went back to her stirring her potion which, despite the lack of time for proper stewing, was actually looking as it should.
“Uh-oh!” Colin muttered suddenly.
Ginny glanced over at him. Colin’s cauldron had just belched a quantity of foul-smelling greyish-green steam and he was now stirring frantically in the wrong direction. Ginny felt sorry for him. Any moment now, Snape would descend upon their table to sneer at Colin’s mistake and would most likely take points away.
“Colin, stir the other way!” she hissed knowing it was too late: Snape’s heels were definitely clicking in their direction. Any corrective action on her part now would now be misconstrued as interference and just be that many more points off Gryffindor. Colin, for his part, had taken his cauldron away from the fire and was now stirring in the proper direction. The steam had diminished and his potion was returning to its proper colour if not consistency.
Suddenly remembering the incriminating evidence in her bag, Ginny turned her back on Colin. She pushed the bag further under their table with her foot, hoping that she hadn’t been seen, and that if there were any sizable gaps open no one could see them. She remained in this stance as the Potions Master stopped in front of Colin’s station.
“What is the meaning of this disturbance?” Professor Snape demanded. “What did you do that caused your cauldron to belch?”
“I…I…I stopped stirring to put my ingredients away,” Ginny heard Colin stammer.
“You know very well from your reading that you should not cease stirring this potion in an anti-clockwise direction for five minutes. You have fouled the air in this classroom one too many times, Creevey. That will be twenty points from Gryffindor for your ineptitude.”
“But…but…” Colin began to protest. There were several shades of multi-coloured steam lurking near the ceiling, so Ginny knew that not everyone in the classroom had prepared their Longevity Concoction correctly. She hated it how Snape had decided it was Colin’s day to be the one to lose points for Gryffindor.
“Do you want to make that thirty with detention for your cheek?” Professor Snape sneered.
“No, sir,” Colin said meekly.
“Very well. Continue.” Ginny heard Snape’s footfalls recede as he resumed his prowling about the classroom. She assumed that he was looking for another hapless Gryffindor to pick on.
“Big help you were,” Colin moaned as soon as Snape was out of earshot.
“I’m sorry, Colin,” Ginny said sincerely. “But if I’d said something he would have taken more points. At least this way you don’t have detention.”
“Yeah. You’re right.”
“How does your potion look?” Ginny asked turning to look at the clock and then the blackboard. She stirred in the final ingredients and stepped back to survey Colin’s potion. He had just added his final herbs and was slowly poking them under the surface with his ladle.
“Well, it’s the same colour as yours at least,” he began. He dipped his ladle into his cauldron and let some of his mixture pour from the bowl. The consistency was very syrupy and reminded Ginny of her mother’s cough mixture. Colin shook his head and began searching for a flask to put his sample in.
“At least he didn’t Vanish your potion like he’s done to some of Harry’s,” she said consolingly. She began putting away her ingredients.
“I heard about that,” Colin said as he put his potions kit back in his bag. “Poor Harry. He didn’t get any breaks last year, didn’t he? And he’s still taking Potions! I don’t understand it!”
“He wants to be an Auror, Colin, and needs a NEWT in Potions in order to qualify,” Ginny explained searching their table with her eyes for a sample bottle, never letting up on her stirring.
“Time is up,” they heard Professor Snape intone. “Bring your samples up to my desk and clean up your tables. You have five minutes.”
Several minutes later, their samples safely on Snape’s desk and their table sufficiently scoured, Ginny and Colin joined their fellow students in the headlong rush toward their next lesson.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
The Great Hall was crowded as usual with chattering students when Colin and Ginny took seats at the Gryffindor table a little apart from the other diners at lunchtime. Ginny waved at Hermione and mimicked opening a book hoping the older girl would interpret her gesture as needing to revise. (It had become Ginny’s custom to join the trio for meals and she hoped they would understand when she chose to sit with Colin today.) Hermione smiled and rolled her eyes at Ron and Harry who were deep in conversation. From the look of it, the two boys were heatedly discussing Quidditch; Hermione shook her head and went back to her meal.
“Did I hear you correctly when you said you’d like to help me acquire those puffskeins?” Ginny asked as she ladled Scotch broth into her bowl.
Colin held out his bowl. “Yes. I’d like to do something that could potentially get me into big trouble,” he told her. “Besides, I’ve been a good little Gryffindor for too long. It’s high time I started behaving like I did in grammar school.”
Ginny paused with the ladle half-way to his bowl. “How do you mean?”
Colin’s ears turned pink. “The last time I was out of bed, not doing what I should, I ran into the basilisk,” he answered quietly.
“I’m sorry,” Ginny said automatically. Guilt the size of a Bludger knotted her stomach and she concentrated on ignoring it as she poured the soup into his bowl.
“Don’t be,” Colin said. “Ginny, look at me. I wouldn’t be your friend if I thought for a moment that you’d Petrified me on purpose.” He reached for the roll basket with his free hand and deposited three fluffy rolls on his bread plate.
Ginny smiled ruefully. “Thanks for that. Your friendship does mean a lot, but sometimes I find it hard to understand why people want to be my friend.” She added more broth and some chunks of meat and vegetables to his bowl.
“You’re smart, you’re fun, you’re nice…and people know it was You-Know-Who’s fault that you terrorized Hogwarts that year,” he said setting his bowl down and picking up his spoon. “Besides, you’re Fred and George’s sister. That ought to count for something.”
“Thanks,” she said and began to eat.
Suddenly she dived under the table, removing her wand from her pocket as she went. She quickly cast shrinking, gluing and camouflaging charms over the jars of pilfered potions ingredients stowed in the outside pocket of her bag. She wasn’t too sure what would happen if someone upset it. Besides, Fred and George would be rather chagrined with her if they thought she’d failed to transport the pilfered goods back to her trunk. She had their reputation to uphold after all.
“There. That ought to do it,” she said in answer to Colin’s puzzled look when she straightened up. “Concealing the evidence as it were.”
“Oh. Good idea.” He reached for the ladle and began poking around in the soup tureen. Ginny smiled as he plopped extra meat and vegetables into his bowl and inspected it for something specific. Her smile became a grin as Colin fished three small onions out with a whispered, “Eew!” and laid them on his bread plate. He’s a lot like Charlie, she thought thinking of her brother’s dislike for that particular vegetable.
“So…what’s the plan?” Colin asked through a mouthful of buttered roll.
“I haven’t got one, really,” she said. “Do you have any ideas?”
“Well, depending on when you want to do it, we could pretend you left something in the classroom and I could be waiting outside as a sort of sentry. When do you want to make the attempt?”
“I don’t know. Sooner the better, I reckon. With the way Snape’s been breathing down Harry’s neck lately, something’s bound to blow at any time. I want to be ready for it.”
A commotion toward the middle of the table interrupted their planning. Both Ginny and Colin stood up with the rest of their Gryffindor housemates to see what was going on. Through the sea of heads Ginny could just make out Ron easing Harry off the bench. Concern for her boyfriend flooded through Ginny and as she climbed off her bench to go to him, Colin caught her arm.
“Let Ron sort it out,” he cautioned.
Ginny glared at him. “Harry’s hurting. I want to know what happened.”
“So does everybody else. But wouldn’t it be better to finish lunch and go get the puffskeins now? I mean, if you’re really intent on making that potion soon shouldn’t you have all the ingredients?” he reasoned. “It just makes sense.”
A huge sigh escaped Ginny as she sat down again to finish her lunch. “You’re absolutely right. It’s just that I’m so worried about Harry all the time.”
“I know you are, Ginny. He’s a good bloke and we Gryffindors always take care of our own,” he said perceptively. “That’s why I’m willing to risk getting into trouble with you.”
A lump the size of a Quaffle was beginning to form in her throat as Ron struggled past half carrying Harry out of the hall, the latter clutching his forehead and looking distinctly green.
“Thanks, Colin. You’re a good friend yourself. I mean it,” she choked out. Then, with a fortifying deep breath she addressed the rest of her meal. They ate in silence for the next few minutes each glancing nervously up at the teachers’ table to make sure Professor Snape was eating his lunch.
“Let’s get going before I lose my nerve,” Colin said finally popping the last bite of his fourth chocolate biscuit into his mouth a few minutes later.
Ginny laughed nervously and followed him out of the Great Hall.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Ginny and Colin stood in the Entrance Hall peering back at the teachers’ table one last time to make certain that Professor Snape was still sitting there.
“He looks like he’s almost finished,” Ginny whispered tugging at Colin’s sleeve and turning toward the dungeons. “I don’t think we have much time.”
“Neither do I.”
They descended the steps to the passage leading to the potions classroom and Professor Snape’s office. Ginny could feel the very air chilling as they walked deeper and deeper under the school. I must be imagining things. It’s never this cool when I come down here for lessons, Ginny thought as she mentally began inventorying the spells she might need for this little caper. She hadn’t practiced any of them, but Fred and George had said she was a good enough sneak to pull off whichever of their spells was necessary with little or no practice.
“I’ll use the door from the classroom to get into the office,” she said as they approached the correct door. “It might not be as heavily hexed as Snape’s main office entrance. Besides, the classroom door is always open.”
“Good thinking,” Colin agreed. “If I get caught…”
He never finished the thought because a suit of armour cleared its throat. “Well, are you going in for lessons or not?” it asked causing both Ginny and Colin to jump.
“Right,” they said together and opened the classroom door. Colin stationed himself just over the threshold, his back to the room.
Ginny crossed the room quickly. The door to Snape’s office was slightly ajar, just as it had been during their lesson. She pushed it open just enough to let herself in and repositioned it once she was inside. When nothing happened, she turned around and assessed the situation.
The room looked just as Harry had described it with hundreds of glass jars and bottles containing slimy things lining the walls. Since she didn’t have time to read each label, Ginny pulled out her wand and whispered, “Accio dried puffskeins.”
Immediately, a huge jar flew at her from the opposite side of the room. She caught it deftly and gulped as she gazed at the bodies of the shrivelled creatures the jar contained. There was no possible way to stuff the container in her bag even if she shrunk it, so she pictured the inside of her trunk upstairs in the Gryffindor fifth year dormitory and muttered a specialized banishing charm. I hope Fred and George were right about this one, she thought as the jar vanished from her grasp.
She turned to leave, then thought better of it. The jar had been too large to just leave the room without rearranging its shelf; the hole left behind was just too conspicuous. She flicked her wand and murmured another of Fred and Georges’ spells in the general direction from which the jar had come and heard the satisfyingly soft noise of jars reorganizing themselves. Breathing a sigh of relief, she pocketed her wand and had just picked up her bag when she heard Colin call out from the classroom.
“Will you hurry up? We’ve got to get to class,” he called in an annoyed tone.
Ginny poked her head out into the classroom. “Hold your hippogriffs, Colin! I think I found my quill,” she answered exasperatedly and hurried out of the office shutting the door behind her.
Ginny hastily pulled a quill from her bag and quickly knelt with her head under the student potions cupboard, pretending to be searching for the quill. In the background, she thought she heard Colin cry out.
“Well, what do we have here?” snarled the distinctive voice of Professor Snape. A hand descended upon her shoulder making her gasp. It drew her roughly from under the cupboard and propelled her, along with Colin, back into the office.
“You’ve been in my office,” he snarled at Ginny. When she didn’t respond to his accusation, he said, “I always leave the door open, Miss Weasley. Do you know why it was closed?”
“No, sir,” she murmured crossing her fingers behind her back.
“You’re lying! Turn out your pockets,” the Potions master hissed. “Put everything on the chairs in front of my desk.”
“Yes, sir,” she squeaked and reached into her wand pocket and took it out. Out of the corner of her eye, Ginny saw Colin doing the same.
Suddenly, she felt a tugging sensation on her robes; her pockets were turning themselves out of their own accord and the contents were magically laying themselves out upon the chair as directed. Oh, no! These must have been Fred’s or George’s old robes, she thought frantically. No one else in her family would have been so clever as to place a teacher-appeasing charm on their clothing other than her twin bothers–erm, brothers.
Ginny chanced a glance at Colin. His eyes were wide with surprise and fright as his gaze flicked from Ginny to their teacher and back again.
Professor Snape smiled nastily as he began inspecting the contents of Colin’s pockets. He picked up several items including the golden galleon Hermione had charmed last year for the DA. There was an identical coin in Ginny’s belongings and she wondered if the professor would remark on it. He did.
“Two identical galleons … with identical serial numbers from nearly a year ago. How odd,” he mused aloud before moving onto the chair containing Ginny’s belongings. As he did so, he looked up at Colin and snarled, “I know you’re involved in this, but I can’t prove you’re up to something. Therefore, twenty points from Gryffindor and three days detention beginning tomorrow. Dismissed.”
Colin, who knew what was good for him, scooped up the items on the chair and scurried from the office. He paused just outside the doorway and held up two crossed fingers. Ginny nodded slightly to acknowledge him and turned back to her teacher.
Professor Snape was inspecting everything on the chair with extreme care. He lingered over several scraps of parchment upon which Ginny had written notes to herself, including the one with the lists of potions ingredients on it. He held it in front of Ginny and demanded, “Explain this list.”
Ginny complied obediently. “I’m revising for my O.W.L.s, sir. My potion of the day is the Dreamless Sleep potion: this is a list I made of the ingredients for that potion plus what I would need for the Longevity Concoction. I was trying to memorize how much of each ingredient I would need,” she told him honestly.
“Very well,” he muttered eyeing her suspiciously. He replaced the parchment and picked up Ginny’s wand.
I’m sunk if he tries Priori Incantatem, she groaned inwardly. There was no way of tricking the reverse spell charm and she held her breath as Professor Snape applied the charm to her wand.
The first spell to emanate from the wand tip was a series of the last incantation she’d practiced casting earlier in the day during Charms, a repulsing charm. The rearranging, banishing, summoning, camouflaging, gluing, and shrinking charms had not shown up at all! Ginny had no time to reflect on this coincidence; Professor Snape was glaring at her in stony-faced fury.
“Miss Weasley, I demand to know why I cannot find any evidence of at least one charm you cast in this office!”
“I–I don’t know, sir,” she squeaked.
“Why isn’t there any evidence that you cast a rearranging charm not five minutes ago?”
“I–I don’t know,” Ginny repeated.
“You’re lying!” Professor Snape spat the words at her. He waved his own wand causing multi-coloured auras to appear within the room. Most of them shimmered faintly, but the orange cloud which suffused the shelves on the opposite wall glowed brightly.
“Ah, an arranging charm. How interesting.” He turned back to face Ginny. “How do I know you cast an arranging charm, you may ask,” he said and pointed to the orange cloud. “This is evidence of fresh magic lingering in this room, Miss Weasley; too much of it to be something I’ve done within the past twelve hours. Besides, I have not required any ingredients from these shelves within that time period, Miss Weasley. You have stolen ingredients from my stores. Admit it!” he yelled.
Ginny stood her ground and refused to answer which infuriated Professor Snape further.
“Very well. Retexi!” Electric blue sparks emanated from his wand and settled on a tier of shelves across the room: though instead of highlighting only one shelf as Ginny supposed the Potions master wished, the entire section was high-lighted in blue while the rest of the shelves along that wall continued to glow orange.
“This is impossible!” roared the potions master. “I will not put up with such insolence!” Evidently, his revealing charm had worked only so well. He strode over to the shelves and began to inspect them individually, picking up jar after jar, muttering to himself. Why, Ginny could only guess. “These shelves are clean! There is no dust on them. They are still in alphabetical order. There is no evidence of the jars rearranging themselves whatsoever!” He moved about the office, looking for more dust.
“This room has been scoured of dust, Miss Weasley. How very clever of you to clear away any evidence of your tampering with my ingredients,” he snarled.
Ginny silently studied the stones which made up the office floor. Her down-cast eyes seemed to appease the irate teacher in front of her. He had gone back to the contents of her pockets and was again studying them closely. He picked up three large star-shaped seed pods, the last item to be inspected.
“What are you doing with anise pods in your pocket?” He consulted the ingredients list. “Star anise is not one of the ingredients used in either of these potions nor is it a required herb for your potions kit. Where did you get such a thing and what were you planning on making with these seeds?”
Again, Ginny was at a loss for words: she had no idea how the pods had appeared amongst her possessions. Unfortunately, from the look on Snape’s face, he was not in the mood to accept the truth, so she would have to make up something.
“They–they’re left over from a breath-freshening potion I tried to make,” she stammered.
Snape dropped the pods back onto the chair. “Do you expect me to believe that rubbish? Breath-freshening potion indeed. Silly girl…you should know by now that we use oil of anise for such potions. Or,” he paused as if an idea had just occurred to him, “were you using the seeds to flavour something illegal…like a love potion?”
This idea struck Ginny as incredibly funny and before she could help herself, began giggling behind her hand. Her giggles didn’t subside when Professor Snape came to stand in front of her and leaned in until their noses were barely an inch from each other.
“Love potion, professor?” she managed to squeak. “What would I need a love potion for? I have a boyfriend. I don’t need another one!”
“I see you are going to remain uncooperative, Miss Weasley,” he snapped. “I will therefore be subtracting ten points from Gryffindor for your cheek. In addition, I am taking a further fifty points from Gryffindor and assigning you a week of detentions which should hopefully be enough to deter you from ever stealing from my stores again. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Very well. You will report to this office promptly at five o’clock Monday afternoon. Don’t be late.”
Ginny gulped, nodded, and fled the office feeling very fortunate to have gotten off with just a week of detentions under Professor Snape’s eagle eye. She promised herself that she would not complain no matter how horrible the tasks promised to be.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
It wasn’t until she finished her last lesson that Ginny was able to sprint upstairs to Gryffindor tower to relieve her curiosity about the Vanishing spell she had used.
“Ginny, why’s Colin got–” Dennis Creevey began as she flew past the fireplace and threw herself up the stairs.
She burst into her room and almost pounced on her trunk. Her hands shook as she whispered the secret unlocking Bill had taught her and she held her breath as she raised the lid. A relieved sigh escaped her when she caught sight of the huge jar of puffskeins. She opened the compartment in her bag which held the other pilfered ingredients and murmured, “Finite Incantatem”. There was a soft squelching sound as the jars released themselves and became visible once more. With a satisfied smile, she transferred the other ingredients to her trunk and carefully arranged her other belongings to conceal the pilfered items. She then tucked Uncommon Uses for Everyday Potions next to her supplies. Finally, with the disturbing thought that she was going to be in more trouble with her parents than with Professor Snape, she closed and locked the trunk and hurried down the stairs to the common room. She just hoped her mother wouldn’t send her a Howler in the morning.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
“Ginny, is it true that you and Colin got detention from Snape this afternoon?” one of her roommates asked as the fifth year girls were preparing for bed.
Ginny nodded, deciding not to say more than she had to.
“But why? I mean, you two were dawdling over something at the beginning of class…” another girl began.
“…but you finished on time and Colin’s little belch wasn’t that hideous,” chimed in a third witch.
When Ginny didn’t answer, her fourth roommate said to the others, “I bet Snape caught them snogging behind that fat suit of armour just inside the corridor leading to the potions classroom.”
This elicited a gale of giggles from the other girls and caused Ginny to turn a delicate shade of pink. She had been wanting to do that exact thing with Harry, but in another part of the castle. “You’re wrong, girls,” she muttered under her breath. “Very wrong.”
The first girl shook her head. “Why would she do that? She’s Harry’s girlfriend, remember? I’d say it’s more like they were trying to prank Snape and got caught,” she said.
All eyes turned to Ginny. “Well?” the four chorused together.
“It was a prank,” she said simply.
“Oh, do tell! Were you able to complete it?”
Ginny sighed. “Unfortunately, no. We were caught red-handed, so we’ve got detention next week. On top of that, you saw how many points Snape took for catching us,” she said ruefully.
“I can understand the detentions, but the house points? That’s not fair!” someone said.
“I heard Snape caught Ginny in his office. That’s why he took the house points.” She eyed Ginny critically. “Is that true?”
“It is,” she said quietly. When the other girls began pressing her for details, she told them, “Look, I’m not proud of what we did. It was a spur of the moment thing and I really don’t want to talk about it. I feel bad enough about involving Colin as it is, so I’d appreciate it if you’d just let the subject drop for now. I’m going to bed.”
“Sure, Ginny. See you in the morning,” the other girls grudgingly assented.
Ginny crawled into her four-poster and shut the curtains. She lay back on her pillows and shut her eyes, but her mind remained active despite the darkness of her surroundings. With so much to think about, it was a long time before she began to relax.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
“Arrgh!”
The shriek, echoing throughout Gryffindor tower, came from the boys’ dormitory at three in the morning.
Harry!
Ginny, who had still been awake with the scene in Snape’s office racing around her head, sat up as one of her roommates complained, “Not again!”
She climbed out of bed and was halfway into her dressing gown when a hand on her arm stopped her. “There’s nothing you can do, Ginny. Harry’s in good hands. Go back to bed,” her friend urged.
Knowing the other girl was right, but feeling absolutely wretched about it, Ginny crawled back under her covers and closed the curtains again. It was going to be a long wait until morning.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
When Ginny joined the others at the Gryffindor table Saturday morning she knew instantly that something was very wrong. Harry and Ron were peering intently over Hermione’s shoulders at the front page of that morning’s Daily Prophet. The tableau, unlike that of the previous year when those ten Death Eaters had escaped Azkaban, was repeated may times over at the other tables as groups of students shared the latest news. Ginny slid onto a chair next to Hermione and began scanning the caption under an enormous picture of the Dark Mark, her eyes widening in shock.
“DEATH EATER ATTACKS MOVE NORTHWARD,” screamed the headline.
The caption under the picture read, “Walton-upon-Thames – In a surprise move by the forces of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, fifteen private residences from Eastbourne to Perth were put to the torch and their occupants tortured to death last night.” A listing of the other articles on the subject followed:
Destruction Overspreads the Country, Page 2
Auror Recounts Grisly Attack Tale, Page 4
Cornelius Fudge Implores Citizenry to Remain Calm, Page 6
Hermione turned the page and all four of them gasped. Three pictures, all in moving colour and positioned on the page for maximum impact, showed the evidence of the Death Eaters’ malevolence: several burnt houses with the ghastly green Dark Mark glittering above them smouldered whitely against the black sky as tiny ant-like figures (probably Aurors) scurried about.
“Now that’s free publicity if I ever saw it,” remarked Ron as he plucked a piece of toast from a nearby plate and proceeded to devour it in two bites.
“I’m sure Voldemort planned something like this,” Ginny mused as she tried to scan the captions under the photos.
Harry, who now had his hand on her shoulder, muttered, “He did,” and leaned forward over Hermione’s shoulder to get a better look. His hand trembled slightly. Ginny glanced over at him and found his face set and unreadable.
“Looks like Rita Skeeter and her cronies have been busy, too. Listen to this,” Hermione began to read the next article aloud.
DESTRUCTION AND MAYHEM RULE THE NIGHT
Terror like none seen since that of Grindelwald in the 1940s showed its ugly face last night in thirteen cities and villages throughout England and Scotland, writes Orson Kane, special correspondent to The Daily Prophet. Shortly before midnight, groups of Death Eaters Apparated into fifteen sites and tortured to death fifty-three people ranging in age from six months to one hundred-twenty years of age. From reports taken by the Ministry of Magic it is assumed that every house and outbuilding was reduced to ashes and the neighbours told they had heard a gas explosion. A Ministry of Magic official, who asked to remain anonymous, said the Death Eaters sent the Dark Mark over Muggle and Wizarding households alike.
“There was so much carnage and destruction that the fires cannot be explained away as simple gas main explosions,” he remarked when asked his personal opinion of whether or not the official story would be believed by the Muggles. “A more appropriate explanation might have been to suggest these were acts perpetrated by an un-named terryist organization. At least the Muggles are familiar with that particular term.”
The cities and villages where the attacks took place are North Walsha, Padstow, Walton-upon-Thames, Chippenham, and Eastbourne in the South; Worcester, Stoke-on-Trent, and Leeds in Central Britain; Sedbergh in the North; and Moffat, Hamilton and Perth, Scotland. “It appears that these cities and villages were chosen for maximum impact to the Wizarding world, as the majority holds a large population of magical folk,” the official reported.
At five of the locations the dead included entire Muggle families. This reporter viewed the ruins of one of the dwellings in Walton-upon-Thames(the house and outbuildings were reduced to ashes) and was able to talk with a Muggle witness before the Obliviators from the Ministry of Magic got to him. The first Auror on the premises agreed to an exclusive interview (see Auror, page five).
“My wife and I heard [the] burglar alarm next door go off around midnight and thought nothing of it,” the neighbour in Walton-upon-Thames said. “The [family] had two teenage boys who were constantly forgetting to deactivate the thing when they came home late.
“[But] we became very concerned when we heard screaming a few seconds after the alarm went off. We could see weird flashes of coloured light through the windows of rooms with no tellies. We tried to get into the house to see what was going on, but it seemed as if there was an invisible barrier around the estate. Then, suddenly, the house exploded and this gruesome firework appeared in the sky. I will never forget it as long as I live.”
Needless to say, the Muggle has forgotten; seconds after this reporter obtained the above eyewitness report a Ministry official permanently changed his knowledge of the situation.
Three cities of note to the Wizarding public (Leeds, Worcester, and Sedbergh) were unfortunate enough to have been targeted twice. All six estates destroyed in those locations were owned by wizards who had married Muggles. This reporter discovered that two of those families had children attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. No doubt Headmaster Albus Dumbledore will offer solace to these young victims.
Hermione stopped reading. “I wonder who…” She gazed around the Great Hall at the other tables, a sad and stricken expression on her face.
“We’ll know soon enough, Hermione.” Ron said in a subdued voice. He glanced up the table to where Lavender and Parvati had their heads together conversing in whispers over their copy of the Prophet. “It’ll only be a matter of hours once those two discover who the lucky families were.” He added sarcastically.
“I feel so sorry for them, whoever they are,” Hermione murmured turning back to the article.
“Is there more?” Ginny asked.
Hermione glanced through the newspaper. “I’ve almost finished this column. The article covers the entire page.” She rifled through the front section remarking, “There are three more pages of articles and photos if you really want to read them.”
“Thanks, but no. This is all I can handle right now.” Ginny felt sick to her stomach. She definitely didn’t want to pursue the details the sensationalist reporters so gleefully recounted and she sensed her three companions felt the same. She knew, though, that later when the shock had worn off she would seclude herself in a quiet corner of the library and read every repulsive word. It pays to know what the opposition is up to, she thought grimly.
“Shall I finish Orson Kane’s article?” Hermione asked looking around at Harry, Ginny and Ron.
“Go ahead. We might as well hear it,” Ron said raiding the toast plate once again.
Someone shifted behind Ginny.
“I don’t,” she heard Harry murmur. She felt him shrink from the group both physically and mentally. Ignoring the surprised exclamations from Ron and Hermione, Ginny leapt from her seat and sprinted after Harry as he left the Great Hall almost at a run.
She didn’t catch up to him until he was out the front doors and half-way to the lake. He had finally slowed to a walk and she could see his chest heaving, not from the effort of running, but from the numerous emotions crossing his normally stoic face.
Harry stopped at the water’s edge and picked up several flat stones which he proceeded to hurl sideways into the lake. One or two made a few skips, but the majority just sailed out toward the middle where the ice was thin or non-existent. The giant squid surfaced as a stone entered the water near its head and waved its tentacles angrily as another splashed down not far from the first. Finally, Harry ran out of stones and crumpled to the bank. He knelt there, his hands hiding his face. Ginny sat down quietly next to him.
Please, oh, please don’t let this break him! He’s come too far to have to start over! she thought. Help him see that no matter how bad the war becomes, it’s Voldemort’s fault for causing so much misery! She reached for Harry’s hand. He allowed her to pull it away from his face; she found it cold and shaky.
Neither spoke for a long time. Ginny sensed that Harry wasn’t ready to speak yet of the thoughts that seemed to be plaguing him, so she fell back into her mode from earlier in the year and sent him soothing thoughts. It’s not your responsibility, Harry. You’ve done nothing wrong. It’s Voldemort who should pay for the terror his followers raised last night. Let someone else fight him right now. Your time will come when you are ready to deal with him, when your friends and supporters are ready to help you deal the final blow.
Very slowly, Harry seemed to respond. However, Ginny didn’t know whether it was just her patience or whether Harry really could sense what she was thinking. In the meantime, Ginny began trembling from the effects of the cold wind blowing across the lake. She took out her wand and cast a warming charm around them in an effort to warm herself up.
At last, Harry asked in an anguished tone, “Why now?”
Ginny couldn’t answer. She could only guess at the reasons for Voldemort’s timing.
Harry stood up and raked both hands through his hair multiple times making it stand on end. Ginny went to him, capturing his hand and holding it tightly in both of her own. Her efforts stilled his movements and he finally looked at her. A tear had escaped his right eye (something Ginny had never seen before since Harry always guarded his emotions so closely) and ran unheeded down his cheek. She was torn between acknowledging it by brushing it away and risking embarrassing Harry and doing nothing to show him she’d noticed. She chose the latter; the closed expression she had come to know last November was back on Harry’s face.
“I felt him yesterday, Ginny,” he nearly whispered staring out over the vast expanse of the lake.
Ginny put her arm around his waist and pulled him close. “At lunch?”
“Yeah,” Harry said. “He must have been finalizing his plans and something wasn’t going right…”
“You mean you saw this at lunch?”
“No. I just knew something was displeasing him.” Harry paused. “It’s happened before.”
“Does Dumbledore know?”
Harry bristled and pulled away. “He does now. But only after he summoned me to his office yesterday afternoon. Otherwise I wouldn’t have bothered him.”
“Why wouldn’t you tell him right away?”
Harry snorted. “After what happened between us at the end of last year? I think not.”
“I don’t understand, Harry.”
“He lied to me, Ginny. He used me. I’m just a walking radar device to him where Voldemort is concerned.”
“Radar?”
“Something Muggles use to keep track of things they can’t see.”
“So when you didn’t report to him right away yesterday afternoon, Dumbledore made you tell him what happened.”
“Yeah. He wanted to know what Voldemort was doing and all I could tell him was that he was displeased.”
“What happened then?”
“Dumbledore sent me off to class with a request that I report back to him if my scar hurt again.”
“And did you? We…we heard you hollering clear up in my room this morning.”
Harry looked stricken. “You–you heard that?”
“Yes, Harry,” Ginny admitted. “I wanted to go to you, but my roommates wouldn’t let me out.”
“I’m glad you didn’t. I’m sorry I woke you.” His embarrassment was palatable.
“What was Vvv–Voldemort feeling, Harry?” Ginny asked changing the subject.
“He was pleased. He–he was ecstatic over an astounding success.”
“Did you dream about him, too?”
Harry sighed heavily. “Yeah, vividly.”
“What did you see?”
“Just colours mainly. And–and–and one house. It had the Dark Mark hanging over it.”
“Did you recognize the house?”
“No.”
“So do you think that there’s a connection between your scar hurting, the images and the Daily Prophet articles?”
“I’m sure of it.”
“What makes you think that?”
“The cities and villages the Death Eaters hit last night.”
“What about them?”
“They’re trying to find the Dursleys. They’re trying to find them in the hope of getting to me,” he told her.
“How do you know?”
“Walton-upon-Thames is less than ten kilometres from Little Whinging.”
End Part Three
A/N: Many thanks to thedailyprophetreporting for his assistance in the writing of the two Daily Prophet articles. These were my first attempts at journalism-type writing and his suggestions were educational as well as helpful. I also thank Yolanda at Sugar Quill and Aggiebell at Phoenix Song for the superb beta on this huge chapter. It sort of wrote itself and seemed to mushroom as each section fell into place. Yolanda is a saint for slogging through my long-windedness.
Chapter 4: Part Four
Part FourThe shock of Harry’s revelation made Ginny shiver. “Oh Merlin, Harry!” Ginny exclaimed. “Are you scared?”
Harry turned to look at her, shaking his head. “Frankly, I don’t know what to feel. It’s strange, ambivalence,” he hesitated as if trying to decide something. “And no…I don’t think I’m scared. I’ve thought for a long time that Voldemort might try something like this and…and now that he’s made his move…I’m almost…relieved,” he said slowly.
“But what about the Dursleys? Surly you must feel something for them,” Ginny said, stepping closer and searching his face.
Harry snorted. “You know I don’t have any positive feelings for that family. It’s the place I’m incarcerated every summer until Dumbledore decides it’s safe to let the inmate out.” He began searching the ground again and spotting several suitable stones, hurled one at the water where it skipped over the surface several times before sinking. He stood there at the edge of the water shifting the rocks from one hand to the other, his face set; the movement was the only indication of his agitation for Ginny. She waited patiently for Harry to continue.
Finally, he said, “Half of me wants to ignore this warning and carry on as if last night hadn’t happened; the other half wants to summon the Knight Bus and warn them right away, if only because Aunt Petunia is my mother’s sister.”
“Do you think they’ve been notified of the Walton-upon-Thames attack?”
Harry shrugged. “If anything, there were too many attacks to go unnoticed by the Muggles, so some sort of story was probably in the Muggle papers this morning and on the News.”
“You’re probably right,” Ginny murmured standing a little closer to Harry and holding out a hand for one of his rocks. He gave her one and watched as she expertly bounced it off the ice before it skipped into the water next to the giant squid’s waving tentacles.
“Yes!” she cried pumping an arm into the air. “I did it and I have a witness. Wait ‘til Fred and George hear about this!” She knew her jubilance was inappropriate for such a solemn occasion, but she couldn’t help feeling happy when she had just achieved what her brothers had been trying to do for the past five winters. As the squid sank back into the depths of the lake, she glanced over at she glanced over at Harry, only to find him completely lost in his thoughts again.
Finally, Harry threw his last stone out into the middle of the lake and didn’t bend down to get more. “I’ve got to tell them,” he said abruptly as though coming to a decision. “They’ve got to know.”
“What is it, Harry?” Ginny inquired.
Without taking his eyes off the water, Harry said, “Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna. It’s time they knew about the Prophecy.”
“Why now?” she inquired curiously.
“If Voldemort is going to go after the Dursleys, he’ll probably go after the rest of those who were in the Department of Mysteries with me last year. You know things others don’t. Besides, if I tell everyone at the same time I’ll just get the good-byes over with all at once.”
“Good-byes?”
Harry dug the toe of his left trainer into the frozen mud of the bank as he replied, “I don’t think anyone of them will want to associate with a murderer, Ginny. And that goes for you as well.” He thrust his hands into his pockets and seemed to sag as he voiced the comment.
“When…when would you like to tell them?” Ginny asked in quiet fury. Good-bye, indeed! Harry could be so sweet at times and at others, like right now, so infuriating she just wanted to throttle him. Good-bye, indeed! What sort of prat would give up his friendships because he was in danger? Harry, that’s who. The noble, stoic Harry who wanted to keep his friends safe while he faced the worst Dark wizard in nearly a century all alone with only a wand for company. Well, if she had anything to say about it, he wouldn’t go into battle alone at all. Harry needed his friends more than ever now that old Tom had announced his intentions.
For the first time in ten minutes, Harry looked at her. “As soon as possible. I might as well get it over with,” he answered.
“All right. How about we meet you in the Room of Requirement in a half-hour’s time?” She smiled at her next thought. “I hope I find Luna first. It’ll take her that long to find the Room!”
Harry just shook his head, a small smile playing about his lips. “If you convey the message like a Ravenclaw, I think she’ll be the first one there.”
“Whatever,” Ginny replied with a sigh. She stood on tiptoe to give him a quick kiss. “I’m off. See you in a bit.”
Harry didn’t answer. He had already turned back to the lake and sunk into his own thoughts.
Ginny headed for the Great Hall, hoping Ron and Hermione were still at the Gryffindor table. They were and agreed to go upstairs at the appointed time.
“What’s this all about?” Hermione inquired as Ginny began searching the Ravenclaw table for signs of Luna.
“Harry,” Ginny answered vaguely. “See you later. I’ve spotted Luna.” She half-sprinted over to the Ravenclaw table and sat opposite her quarry.
Luna looked up from her contemplation of the platter of assorted pastries sitting in front of her plate. “You scared off the sugar wasp,” she said accusingly.
“Sorry,” Ginny said absently. “Listen, Luna. This is important. I’m asking you to please meet Harry, Neville, Ron, Hermione and me up in the Room of Requirement in twenty-five minutes. It’s really important.”
Luna looked at her sceptically. “More important than this morning’s issue of The Quibbler? I really want to get started on it. Dad told me about his article on the Moravian Morning Rover and I was hoping to be done with it before I met my study group in the library.”
“Yes, Luna. More important than that. Harry has something to tell us and he wants to get it over with all at once. Will you be there?”
“Of course, Ginny. Now exit quietly because the sugar wasp is back and I don’t want to scare it away.”
“Whatever,” Ginny said in exasperation and went back to the Gryffindor table to find Neville.
He was sitting with Seamus and Dean who were arguing their favourite morning topic; whether Muggle football was a more difficult sport to play than Quidditch, or some such variation of the familiar theme. Neville obligingly moved over to make room for her.
Ginny grabbed a piece of toast and poured herself a goblet of pumpkin juice before telling Neville about the meeting. As she sat munching on her toast an alarming thought barged its way into Ginny’s mind. Harry’s not prepared in any way to fight Voldemort! she thought frantically. She glanced about the Hall and spied Professor Dumbledore by the doors to the Entrance Hall.
Turning to Neville, she asked, “Are you done eating? I’d like some company going upstairs.”
Neville shrugged and looked forlornly at the remaining bit of porridge in his bowl. He gulped it down as Ginny stood up and accompanied her out of the Hall. She was looking everywhere for Professor Dumbledore and had only part of her attention on what he was saying about something he had accomplished in his Herbology lesson the day before.
Ginny bid an apologetic farewell to a very surprised Neville at the top of the marble staircase and went flying along the first-floor corridor. She thought she had seen the headmaster walking this way and hoped her hunch was correct. Seconds later, she was rewarded with a glimpse of the hem of his robes as they swished around a corner not ten metres from her.
“Professor Dumbledore!” she called sliding to a halt and clutching at the wall to keep from colliding with Professor Flitwick with whom the headmaster had been conversing. “Professor! Excuse me…can I have a word, please?”
Both men turned and seeing the frantic expression on Ginny’s face, Professor Dumbledore nodded at Professor Flitwick. “We’ll finish this later, Filius,” he murmured. Then, turning to Ginny asked, “What is it child?”
“Professor, you’ve got to do something for Harry!” Ginny burst out.
Professor Dumbledore regarded her over the top of his half-moon spectacles. “Shall we continue this conversation in my office, Miss Weasley? The walls of this castle seem to have ears sometimes and I wouldn’t want what we have to discuss to become common knowledge.” He led the way up to his office making pleasant small talk until the door had securely latched itself behind them. Fawkes, Professor Dumbledore’s phoenix, trilled quietly in greeting. The headmaster stopped briefly to stroke the magnificent bird’s scarlet head. For her part, the phoenix song gave Ginny the courage she needed to see this meeting through to its conclusion.
“Now, Miss Weasley, you wanted to talk about Harry…” he stated taking his seat behind his desk and indicating that Ginny should sit in on of the two chairs opposite him on the other side.
“Professor, you must do something about Harry,” Ginny stated trying to keep the panic she was feeling at the delay out of her voice. (Twenty of her precious minutes had elapsed and at this rate she would be late for the meeting in the Room of Requirement and she wanted to be there on time.) “He’s beside himself over the attacks and I’m afraid he might do something rash that he’ll regret later.”
Professor Dumbledore sighed. “I thought as much,” he breathed wearily.
Ginny studied her headmaster almost as intently as he was examining her and, to her chagrin, he looked older than he ever had. Tension and worry had etched the lines around his eyes deeper than she had ever seen them.
She tried again. “Sir, Harry knows about the Death Eaters trying to find the Dursleys. He expected Voldemort to try something like that, but not so soon. He’s feeling exposed, vulnerable right now. He knows he’s not prepared to fight Voldemort any more than he could pass the Potions NEWT on Monday. But if he had to face that evil incarnate tomorrow, he would!”
“Why didn’t he talk to me after breakfast? I expected him to.”
“He refuses to, Professor. He doesn’t trust you any more. He lost faith in you last June and what you have to say,” she stated boldly.
“I see,” he murmured. “So you’ve come instead.”
“Yes, because I care about Harry, Professor. He’s important to me. I could never treat him like a weapon that has no feelings! To me, he’s not something you can just throw away!”
“Are you saying that I don’t care about Harry, Miss Weasley?”
“Yes, sir. You lied to him, kept him ignorant of facts that would have helped him greatly last year. You let him down when you turned Hogwarts over to Professor Umbridge!”
Somewhere behind Ginny a painting or two made itself heard with a soft gasp or murmured, “Oh!” Glancing up, she noticed that none of the elderly wizards and witches was sleeping now. Her statement seemed to have struck a chord among the previous occupants of the office.
Professor Dumbledore seemed to have noticed as he said, “That was not my intention, I assure you!”
“Oh, but you did!” Ginny exclaimed, her temper flaring. “You let us all down when you looked the other way when Professor Umbridge began posting her Educational Decrees and using a blood quill on students during her detentions. Yes, Professor. A blood quill. Did you know that Harry has ‘I will not tell lies’ permanently etched into the back of his right hand?” When the headmaster shook his head negatively she continued, “Well, he does. All because he felt the need to make sure other students knew that Voldemort had returned. He wouldn’t give in, no matter how much it hurt to stick by his convictions, and spent many nights last year carving that horrible sentence into his hand for it.”
Professor Dumbledore looked rather disturbed as he said, “I am truly sorry about what happened with Dolores Umbridge last year. But some things in this world cannot be helped. Sometimes we just have to make the best of a bad situation.”
“Is that what it was, a ‘bad situation’?” Ginny squealed.
“Yes. In this case, my hands were tied by the Ministry of Magic and there was nothing I could do for Harry specifically to change the situation without making things worse for him.”
“All Harry wanted was for someone to believe him.”
“The teachers did. Some of his classmates did.”
“Yes, but that wasn’t enough. He needed the Wizarding world to understand and not follow Minister Fudge. And you looked the other way!”
“Not exactly, my dear. I was watching, observing, and feeling rather guilty that I could not take a more active role in helping Harry as Miss Granger found a way of doing.”
Ginny sighed. This conversation was going nowhere quickly. “I understand that, Professor,” she stated. “But that’s not why I’m here. We could talk all day about who did what for Harry last year trying to assuage our own guilt and it would not make one hill of difference to what he’s feeling at this moment.
“I want to know what you’re going to do for Harry now. I want to know what’s available to him over and above what he didn’t learn last year in Defence class or by teaching the D.A. This year’s Defence teacher is trying hard to help us all catch up, but that’s not enough for Harry.” She stood up unable to sit when she felt the volume of her voice rise with every word. “How can I explain it except to tell you that I DON’T WHAT TO HAVE HARRY MURDERED BY VOLDEMORT BECAUSE HE’S UNPREPARED?” Ginny sank back in her chair shaken and mortified that she had just punctuated her point by banging her hand on Professor Dumbledore’s desk. Had she really and truly just yelled at her headmaster?
“Miss Weasley,” Professor Dumbledore began calmly. “Your defence of Harry shows me how deeply you care about him and I whole-heartedly agree with your accusations. I did let Harry down. I am guilty of short-sightedness because of the grand plan I conceived on the night of his original attack by Voldemort; unfortunately, it was an old man’s plan which forgets the impetuousness of youth. Please forgive me and my shortcomings because I, like you, am only human. However, I did try to help Harry last year.”
Ginny’s temper rose again. “The Occlumency lessons he had with Professor Snape were a joke!” she spat. “They did nothing other that seemingly open Harry’s mind to further attack. He needs more than that, Professor, and he needs itnow!”
“I’m getting to that, Miss Weasley. Please be patient.” He waited until Ginny leaned back against her chair before resuming. Fawkes fluttered over to perch on Ginny’s knee and she immediately felt the bird’s calming presence. Professor Dumbledore smiled at the two before him before saying, “You stated earlier that Harry has lost faith in me.”
“Yes. He told me you had to summon him to find out what was going on with his scar yesterday afternoon,” she said in a more charitable voice.
“Then you see that the first order of business is to begin rebuilding that trust. I still believe that Harry needs Occlumency lessons and have engaged someone he trusts to resume his lessons: Remus Lupin.”
A smile lit up Ginny’s face. “That’s brilliant, sir. What’s next?”
“Hand-to-hand combat training in the martial arts. Something akin to an abbreviated course in Auror defensive training. Mr. Kinsley Shacklebolt will oversee this phase of Harry’s training with various Aurors as they become available and finally, if he’ll come willingly, advanced spell work with me.”
Ginny was pleased with the plans, but found there was one thing that nagged at the edge of her awareness. “Professor,” she started, “Why didn’t Harry have all these courses as part of his timetable in September?”
“Was he ready for them then?”
Ginny thought for a moment. “No, sir. He wasn’t ready. He was still mourning Sirius and dealing with what the Prophecy indicates he must do.”
“That is why, Miss Weasley.”
“All right. Then tell me something else; where do Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna and I fit in with all these plans?”
Professor Dumbledore sat back and studied her over the top of his steepled fingers as Fawkes returned to his perch. “Let me ask you this: where do you want to fit?”
“Me?” she asked, startled. “I–I suppose right along side Harry. Just as I was at the Ministry of Magic last spring.”
“I thought as much,” he commented. “How much do you know of the aftermath of the battle?”
“If you mean the Prophecy and its contents, I know what Professor Trelawney said and what it means for Harry, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“Yes. I’m glad you know. What about the others?”
Ginny looked at her watch. She was five minutes late. Harry would just have to start without her. “Harry was going to meet them in the Room of Requirement five minutes ago to tell them. Because of the attacks last night, he feels they should know and…and…” she faltered. This next idea was too difficult to understand for her. “…and be given the chance to sever their friendships with him if they so choose.”
“Do you think they will?”
“Not on your life!” she stated fiercely. “Wherever Harry goes, we go. He needs us and whatever we can do to help him, even if he still feels he has to go it alone.”
“I am pleased that you think his friends will stick by Harry. He’s going to need as much support as possible during the coming months and I think knowing he is sharing the training with his elite group of supporters will go a long way toward eliminating his feelings of dread and inadequacy, if not the fear of fulfilling his role as set by the Prophecy.” The headmaster stood from his chair and Ginny knew her time was up.
“Thank you, Professor,” she beamed. “When will the training begin?”
“Pending the outcome of your meeting today, Professor Lupin will be here Monday to begin work with Harry. It may take a few days to organize our strategy for the rest of you. I’ll send an owl with more information as soon as arrangements can be made.”
“I’ll be looking for it.”
Ginny rose and walked to the door. She had just placed her hand on the latch when Professor Dumbledore called her back.
“By the way, Miss Weasley, you do your mother proud. I have not been properly dressed down since the last time she sent me a Howler.”
Ginny could feel her face growing warm. “Oh!” she gasped, a hand flying to her mouth. With that, she left the office at a sprint, her embarrassment spurring her on until she reached the seventh floor.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
“Ginny said she’d be here. So where is she?” Ginny heard her brother complain as she slipped into the Room of Requirement a few minutes later. The Room had outfitted itself as a small version of a generic common room complete with a fireplace surrounded by comfortable chairs at one end and a small study table at the other. Ron was pacing back and forth in front of the fire. The others had taken seats wherever they seemed to be the most comfortable with Hermione at the table while Neville and Luna had taken chairs by the hearth.
“I’m right here,” Ginny told him walking further into the room.
“You’re late,” Ron stated in a voice that sound almost like the one Professor Snape used on tardy students.
“Couldn’t help it, Ron. I needed to speak to Professor Dumbledore,” she explained.
Neville sighed. “So that’s why you went dashing off! I thought it was something I said.”
“No, nothing like that. I apologize for rushing off like that, Neville,” she said sincerely. “I take it that Harry hasn’t come in from the lake yet.”
“I’m right behind you,” Harry told her and the others as he closed the door behind himself. “Peeves decided that I’d make an ideal target for peashooter practice and it took me several minutes of defending myself to persuade him to go pester someone else.”
“Hey, mate,” Ron greeted him. “We were worried when you left the Great Hall in such a rush.”
“That’s why I had Ginny call this meeting,” Harry began, his voice becoming businesslike and somewhat dispassionate. He walked over to the nearest sofa and dropped onto it, staring into the dancing flames as Hermione took a seat on the floor close to where Ron was pacing.
“There’s something I reckon you lot should know about since anything that pertains to Voldemort has to do with me in some way,” Harry stated.
Ron stopped his pacing with a visible shudder. “That’s nothing new,” he said sitting down next to Hermione.
Harry scowled at him, but other than that didn’t acknowledge Ron’s aversion to hearing You-Know-Who’s name. Instead, he went on, “The Daily Prophet reported fifty-three new deaths this morning. Voldemort has upped the ante by trying to make me feel threatened: one of the villages, Walton-upon-Thames, is less than ten kilometres from Little Whinging where the Dursleys live.”
Hermione’s eyes grew large with this bit of information and a breathy “Oh!” escaped from between the fingers that had flown to her mouth.
Harry looked steadily at her as though willing her to calm herself. “I’m not scared about that, Hermione. What I’m concerned about, though, is you lot.” Harry made a sweeping gesture with his hand that included everyone seated around him. His five companions exchanged startled looks as he continued. “I’m thinking that since Voldemort knows all of you were with me at the Ministry of Magic last June, he’s going to make you targets to try to get to me because there’s the possibility that you might know what the Seer saw. Anyway, I think you should know what was in that little glass sphere.”
Neville spoke for the first time. “No one will ever know, Harry. I smashed it, remember?”
Harry glanced in Neville’s direction. “That particular record of the Prophecy may have smashed, but others do exist. It’s one of the things I want to talk about, but first I need to some answers.”
He turned to Ginny who had settled herself next to him on the sofa and looked her directly in the eyes. “Ginny, you insisted on coming with me to London. I know I wasn’t too nice to you about it, so why did you get involved in the first place?”
Taken aback, Ginny sputtered, “I heard you yelling…through a closed classroom door and…and wanted to see if I could help. You didn’t have a very good year last year and we all knew you were on edge about a number of things. I…I just hoped I could do something for you.”
Harry seemed to accept her statement, so she said, “It wasn’t hard to determine that you needed me and Ron and Hermione looked at their wit’s end because you were so distraught.” She stopped and smiled at her boyfriend. “Besides, by the time I’d hexed Malfoy, I knew I was in so much trouble that I wasn’t going to let you make me stay behind for anything…not even one of Mum’s Howlers!”
“You’re pretty smug about that hex, Ginny, and I reckon I don’t want to be on the receiving end of your wand any time soon,” Harry commented wryly earning himself a chuckle from the others. “In the end, though, I was glad for your company. I’m sorry you broke your ankle.”
“’s nothing, Harry. Honest.”
Harry turned to Luna. “How come you got involved?”
“Hermione said Ginny needed help directing traffic and warning people out of that hallway,” she stated calmly. “So I helped.”
“But why did you help her to begin with?”
“We heard you shouting through that classroom door and knew something was wrong. I didn’t want to get involved, but Ginny insisted on finding out what was upsetting you.”
“I understand that now. But you still insisted on coming to the Ministry when you didn’t even know Sirius.”
Luna considered for a moment. “Somebody had to help you with the thestrals. Besides, I thought I might get to run into Stubby Boardman. Daddy was quite taken with the idea that the man allegedly responsible for turning your parents over to the Death Eaters was actually an escaped prisoner. I wanted to meet Mr. Boardman if I could.”
Harry goggled at Luna. Not so much that she had answered, but that she had given him a straight answer for once.
“Right,” he said looking around at his friends who were trying hard not to giggle. “I want to thank you for looking after Ron and Ginny when we got separated and for helping me seal as many doors as we could.”
“That was part of the adventure, Harry,” Luna said dreamily. “By the way, I did get to see Stubby Boardman. He rushed past me on his way to rescue you. He must have loved you very much to come out of retirement.”
“You did not see him, Luna,” Neville muttered. “You were out cold by the time the Order members came to the rescue.”
Luna opened her mouth to make a comment but Ginny caught her eye and whispered, “Shut it, will you? You two can argue about this some other time.”
Shaking his head, Harry turned his attention to Hermione next. She looked rather uncomfortable now that she knew what Harry was asking his friends to tell him. “Hermione,” he began, “Why didn’t you stop me?”
Hermione began fidgeting with a lock of her hair as though the motion would help her thought process. At length, she answered, “I tried, Harry. You know I did, but you were so positive that what you saw in your dream was real, it was useless to try to dissuade you.”
“But you were sceptical about what I saw.”
“Yes, but I also knew that there might be some truth in it, too. You had to discover that truth for yourself.”
Harry stared at her, anger clouding his features. “What I found was a lot of nothing!” he said vehemently.
“Well, you didn’t know anything before we left other than what you’d been dreaming all year,” Hermione shot back. “The only other information you had was what you knew through something that Muggle educators call ‘prior knowledge’: you had successfully rescued Mr. Weasley, so why shouldn’t you have trusted your next dream?”
Harry snorted, “Some help that was.”
Hermione tried again. “Oh, it was! We all learned that there are indeed prophesies.”
“Yeah, prophesies…” Harry shook his head, a disgusted expression replacing the anger. “Please be honest with me, Hermione. Why did you eventually agree to go with me?”
Hermione’s stubborn determination showed in her pretty features as she said, “I wanted to be there, Harry: just like I have every other time you’ve needed someone to help you. There were things I needed to know, things I needed to experience for myself; things that can’t be learned from books.” She nearly whispered the last part and Ginny strained her ears to hear her friend.
“So I provided a convenient learning experience for you, did I?” Harry demanded.
“No, Harry,” Hermione protested urgently. “You’re my oldest friend: you and Ron. I care about what happens to you. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you and I wasn’t there to be a part of it.”
“You weren’t there at the end of the Third Task, Hermione.”
“No, but I had done my part to get you to the centre of that maze and I’ve hoped since that night that what we practiced together our whole fourth year helped to get you there and then back to Hogwarts. I hope it made a difference.”
The harshness left Harry’s face as Hermione spoke. He was silent for a time, the others remaining quiet as well. After a while Harry said quietly, “It did, Hermione, it did make a difference…as did your coming with me last year. Thanks. I don’t think I’ve ever said that to you or told you how sorry I feel that Dolohov hurt you so badly. I…I,” he faltered, biting his lip and closing his eyes. Ginny reached over and gave his hand a squeeze of encouragement. Harry glanced over at her and then back at Hermione. “I hope you know how important your friendship is to me.”
Hermione seemed to relax onto Ron’s shoulder and he put his arm around her as she told Harry, “I do.”
The group let the emotions of this exchange wash over them and by Ginny’s watch five minutes elapsed before Harry said, “Ron, mate, it’s your turn. Why did you come with me last year?”
“Ginny would have killed me if I hadn’t,” he quipped causing everyone to chuckle self-consciously.
Ginny scowled at her brother, muttering, “Not me, Mum!”
Ron glared back at her before looking at Harry again. “No, seriously, Harry. We’ve been friends since our very first ride on the Hogwarts Express,” he added. “We’ve done battle together since Malfoy challenged you to that wizard’s duel in first year, then didn’t show up. You needed a second then and every time since and where you go, I go. It’s that simple.”
“It wasn’t that way between Halloween and the First Task in fourth year,” Harry reminded him.
Ron shut his eyes before he answered. “I was such a git that year and I’m not proud of it, Harry. I had a lot of time to think while I was hanging around Fred and George and I came to the conclusion that what made me distinctive from my brothers is our friendship. You were my friend first and no one can take that from me. I went with you last year because it’s what a friend does.”
“Thanks, Ron,” Harry said looking slightly embarrassed.
But Ron wasn’t through. It was as though he had wanted to say something like this for a long time. “I want to do my part against You-Know-Who,” he stated determinedly. He had everyone’s attention now. “Mum won’t let me and Ginny join the Order ‘cause she says we’re too young to fight, but if there’s any way I can help keep you alive, Harry, I’ll be with you.” He looked pointedly at the boy sitting next to his sister as he said this. When Harry just stared back, Ron added, “I wasn’t going to let Umbridge keep you from trying to help Sirius last June, not when you were so desperate to save him. For all we knew after that exam, your dream was real. You were hurting, mate. I had to do something to support you and the only way I could think of was helping you get where you thought you had to be.”
Harry sighed, and still said nothing. His eyes, though, searched the face of his oldest friend and Ginny thought she felt him fighting to control his breathing. She squeezed his hand again and this time, Harry squeezed back.
Ron glanced at the scars on his right wrist as it protruded from his too-short sleeve. “It was worth it, Harry,” he said smiling shyly and tightening his arm around Hermione. “I got something out of that adventure myself.”
At this, Hermione blushed a deep pink and hid her face in Ron’s shoulder as Neville teased, “Aw, how sweet.”
“Shut it, Neville,” Ron said defensively and placed an affectionate kiss on the head of the girl in his arms.
Harry took this opportunity to shift the focus over to Neville, the last of his companions. “What about you?”
“I went mainly because I was already going to be in trouble with Gran for letting the Inquisitorial Squad catch me.” He paused and then added softly to his trainers, “Something told me we were going to find the Prophecy.”
Harry goggled at Neville as did Ginny and the others.
“You…you knew about the Prophecy?” Harry sputtered incredulously.
“Yeah,” Neville said not meeting Harry’s gaze.
“How? No one knew but Dumbledore and Voldemort!” Harry said, the urgency in his voice growing with each word.
“My Gran told me there was one before I came to Hogwarts,” Neville said quietly.
Harry looked panicked. “How did she know? No one else was supposed to know!” he insisted.
“Dumbledore told my parents before I was born and they told Gran the night You-Know-Who disappeared," Neville mumbled looking rather scared under Harry’s scrutiny.
“Why didn’t you say something?” Harry demanded.
Neville’s head came up. “You never asked, Harry,” he challenged. “You don’t confide in me the way you do Ron.”
Harry’s anger dissipated immediately. “Oh. I don’t, do I?”
“I could have helped you with the Second Task much more than Ron and Hermione, Harry. I had that book Professor Moody had lent me. But that’s not the point here, is it?” Neville shot back still somewhat angry himself.
“No. How…how much do you know?” Harry asked.
Neville looked directly at Harry now as he said, “Enough to know that it places you in more danger than it does me.”
“And you still came with me,” Harry mused in an awed voice. “Why?”
“I consider you my friend, Harry. Our situations could have very easily been reversed; you know…it’s only a twist of fate that you were chosen over me,” Neville replied.
At this point, Ron interrupted. “Will somebody please tell the rest of us what the two of you are talking about?”
“It’s the Prophecy, you idiot,” Ginny hissed at her brother. “Aren’t you listening?”
Ron nodded, his mouth only slightly open in protest. Ginny could see he wanted to ask more, but didn’t dare cross her.
Meanwhile, Neville was asking Harry, “Do you want to tell them or should I?”
Harry stared at his hands which were shaking slightly and said, “It’s about me. I have to, I need to, tell about it.”
“Well, tell us already,” came Ron’s impatient comment. “Ow!” Hermione elbowed him sharply in the ribs as the three girls scowled at him.
Harry looked around at his friends, taking a deep steadying breath. “I heard the Prophecy that night in Dumbledore’s office,” he began.
“Who was the Seer?” inquired Luna.
“Professor Trelawney,” Neville said before Harry could answer.
“So that’s why Professor Dumbledore insisted on keeping her at the school!” Hermione exclaimed her eyes widening. “I wondered why he was so adamant that she stay. Now I get it…”
“Get what?” Ron asked earning himself another scathing look.
“Well, I’ve always thought Trelawney was a fraud–she’s certainly not a very good teacher–but was at a loss as to why she stayed around for so many years when nobody really learned anything from her…” she mused.
“You can say that again,” Ron interrupted.
Hermione ignored him. “Don’t you think it’s strange?” she asked nobody in particular. “Well, if she made the Prophecy, then Dumbledore is protecting her from V-V-Voldemort by employing her!”
There was a collective gasp as everyone saw her point. “And the night Umbridge tried to fire her, Dumbledore stepped in and told her that her home was here at Hogwarts,” Harry reminded them, “even though she would no longer be teaching here.”
“I remember that,” Luna said. “Umbridge was really enjoying herself that night, too, until Firenze showed up to take Professor Trelawney’s place.”
“So if Professor Dumbledore is protecting Professor Trelawney…” Hermione said slowly.
“…then Voldemort only knows half of the Prophecy,” Harry finished for her.
“What part doesn’t he know?” Neville asked curiously. “I thought he knew all of it.”
“He didn’t,” Ginny said.
“How do you know?” Ron demanded giving his sister and Harry an appraising look.
“Harry told me last November that Voldemort’s spy was caught and removed before Professor Trelawney finished speaking,” she said evenly.
“When? How?” Ron sputtered.
Ginny was growing impatient. “Later,” she hissed at him as Neville repeated his question. “What doesn’t Voldemort know?”
“The parts about him marking the boy who would have the responsibility of trying to kill him and the fact that only one of the two will live to see the end,” Harry said bleakly shoving his fringe out of the way to reveal his lightning bolt-shaped scar. “No matter what, it’s my responsibility to do the deed.”
The ripple of shock that went through the group was almost palatable for Ginny. Each of the others responded with their own versions of “Oh, Harry!” or “Blimey, mate!” as the reality of the situation made its impact. Ginny squeezed Harry’s hand and put her head on his shoulder thinking, It’s almost over, Harry. You’re nearly through this. You’ve survived. She felt him relax slightly as she finished her thoughts.
At length, Hermione asked timidly, “May we hear the Prophecy, Harry? I know you must have it memorized.”
Harry drew a shuddering breath and began to recite in a dull, listless voice. “The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…”
Silence reigned over the group gathered around Harry for a third time in an hour. Only the crackling of the flames in the grate broke the stillness of the Room. The faces of those hearing the Prophecy for the first time registered every emotion from disbelief to horror to anger and, in Luna’s case, curious amusement. Ginny closed her eyes and willed the others to accept Harry’s fate as either murderer or victim as openly as she had. He needs you all, she thought desperately. Show him he’s not alone. Tell him he’s not a monster to be feared or hated. Tell him you’ll stand with him and not forsake him. Tell him. Tell him…
Neville was the first to speak. “I’m with you, Harry. I’ll do whatever it takes to get rid of You-Know-Who: for you, for my parents.” He stood and approached the couch where Harry was sitting and extended his hand. Harry took it and, instead of shaking, Neville pulled Harry up into an awkward hug and clapped him on the back.
Hermione and Ron come up next. “I, we, thought it was something like that,” Ron said with a significant glance at Hermione who nodded vehemently. “I hope you know I’m your second wherever and whenever you need me, mate.”
“We’ve been through a lot together, Harry. You and Ron saved me from that troll in first year and now it’s my turn to see that you survive,” Hermione sniffed as two large tears rolled unheeded down her cheeks. “I may try to make you see my point of view, but I’m in this to the end, Harry. You can’t get rid of me.” She sniffed again and pulled the two boys into a three-way hug which eventually opened to include Neville as well.
Ginny sidled over to where Luna was watching placidly from her chair. “Well?” she asked.
“I’ll go over in a moment,” Luna responded. “You Gryffindors just included me today because I was involved last June.”
“That may be, Luna, but Harry’s responsible for saving the Wizarding world and knowing he’s not expected to battle Voldemort alone will make a huge difference to him,” Ginny observed passionately.
As the hug broke up, Luna rose to her feet and sauntered toward Harry. She stuck out her hand and leaned close to whisper something in his ear that caused him smile and blush slightly.
“Thanks, Luna,” he told her excusing himself to come over to Ginny. He pulled her into a tight hug.
“Thank you, Ginny. This helped a lot,” he breathed into her hair. “I’m going to go back to the common room with the others. It would be rude to leave Luna to go back to her dormitory alone. Would you walk her to the stairs, please?”
“Sure, Harry,” she smiled up at him. “You go on. We’ll be along in a moment.” And disengaging herself from his grasp, she walked over to the door where Luna was already standing. The others joined them and as they were going out the door, Ginny nudged Hermione.
“Meet me in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom in an hour,” she whispered.
Hermione nodded and departed the Room with Ron holding tightly to her hand.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Ginny accompanied Luna to the head of the stairs leading down to the Entrance Hall. The two witches stayed several paces back from the others who were surrounding Harry and talking in low voices as they turned to go to the Gryffindor common room. At the staircase, Luna stopped and turned to face Ginny.
“I thought it was something like that,” she said matter-of-factly echoing Ron’s statement from earlier. “He’ll be better now, Ginny. He’s carried it inside and let it fester. Now he can breathe easier.”
Ginny stared at the other girl. Was this the same Luna who talked about Nargles and Snorkacks and sugar wasps all the time? Was she seeing the part of Luna that had put her in Ravenclaw?
“How…how do you know this?” she asked.
Luna smiled. “Experience,” she said simply. “I may not have to fulfil a Prophecy like Harry, but I felt a lot like he does when my mother died.”
“You did?” Ginny asked, surprised.
“Yeah, you know, the five stages of the grieving process. Everyone goes through them; denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. Maybe not in that order, but they go through it just the same.” She was thoughtful for a moment. “You may not remember, but you played with me several times after Mum died. I think your mum thought having some company would help me not be sad all the time. She was right.”
“I do remember playing with you. Mum made me play whatever you wanted. I didn’t understand why until now,” Ginny smiled, reminiscing. “We went hunting for fairies in the bushes in our back garden one afternoon and you got bitten by an angry garden gnome. Remember?”
Luna held up her left index finger. “I still have the scar,” she said matter-of-factly.
Ginny frowned. “I understand Harry grieving for Sirius, but that doesn’t explain why it took until now to for him to finally tell Ron, Hermione, you, and Neville about the Prophecy.”
“Yeah, it does. I think Harry had to go through the process twice so it took longer: once for Sirius and once for the Prophecy.”
“You mean he went through all those stages just to accept that he has to kill Voldemort?” Ginny asked in awe.
“I think so. They’re two very different and difficult things to accept. The emotions of one could not be used for healing the emotions of the other. And having to deal with the death of his godfather and the death of his innocence made coming to terms with each of them twice as hard.”
Ginny was thoughtful for a moment. “I guess that before he could tell us he had to accept it himself,” she said slowly. “And it took the senseless deaths of fifty-three people last night to finally nudge him over the edge enough to face the truth and tell you lot.”
Luna nodded. “That could be, but he may not be too happy with his lot in life. Be patient with him, Ginny. He needs you, us, more than ever now.” She turned to go. “Well, good afternoon. Oh, can I borrow your Potions notes. I can’t find mine. Someone took them and won’t give them back.”
Ginny sighed. “Your test on the Longevity Concoction is Friday, right? I’ll copy mine and give them to you tomorrow.”
Luna smiled and started down the stairs toward the Ravenclaw common room. Ginny turned around and rushed to the portrait hole and climbed in when the Fat Lady swung away from the wall.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Ten minutes later, her bag considerably bulkier and heavier than it usually was, Ginny climbed back through the portrait hole and headed down to the second floor girls bathroom. She knew she had every right to be in this particular corridor in broad daylight on a Saturday afternoon, but because of her history with this particular bathroom (which she usually avoided) her heart began beating double-time as she approached the door.
There was no sign of Moaning Myrtle anywhere in the dank, dingy room. Ginny checked all the cubicles and chose the one with the most light in which to set up her cauldron. A flick of her wand enlarged it and all of her ingredient jars which she arranged in order on the water tank. She was nearly done grinding, chopping and measuring and had just begun looking through Uncommon Uses for Everyday Potions for the dosage chart she needed when the door opened and Hermione entered the bathroom. She closed the door and cast an Imperturbable charm as well as an intruder warning signal on it.
“There. That should do it,” she said coming to stand at the door of Ginny’s cubicle.
Ginny put her pestle back in her potions kit and looked up at her friend. Hermione looked distracted and worried, but as she pulled her own potions kit out of her bag, she managed a wan smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“How’s it going, Ginny?” she asked. “I brought my kit just in case you needed something, but I see you’ve got everything under control.”
Ginny stepped out of the cubicle and pulled Hermione into a hug. “I’m almost ready, Hermione. I appreciate your being here,” she said honestly. She patted the other girl supportively on the back and asked, “Is there something I can do for you?”
“Oh, Ginny! It’s worse than I thought!” the older girl sobbed. “How could this happen to Harry? Why didn’t either of you tell us sooner?”
Ginny sighed and pulled back to look at her friend. “We didn’t tell you because Harry wasn’t ready to face what the Prophecy says he must do until now.”
Hermione wiped her eyes. “I suppose something like that would be hard to deal with. Hasn’t someone published a book somewhere on what to do magically for someone like Harry who is tormented by grief?”
“No, Hermione, no one has. I looked in the library and even asked Professor Flitwick for books on grief counselling and depression. No one has written so much as a book on specialized cheering charms. And even if someone had, we couldn’t have used their advice because Harry’s situation is one of a kind.”
Hermione raised an eyebrow. “How so?”
Ginny fiddled with her ladle, finally hanging it on the cubicle door. “According to Luna, Harry had to go through the grieving process twice: once for Sirius and once to accept the contents and conditions of the Prophecy,” she said matter-of-factly. When Hermione still didn’t seem to understand she asked, “Wouldn’t you find it hard to come to terms with the fact that you had to do murder or become the murder victim? I know I would.” Hermione silently nodded in agreement as Ginny moved her bag out of the cubicle for more room. “Well, that’s what Harry has had to resign himself to and it’s doubly hard for him because he’s such a morally upright person. He had to go through all the emotions of the grieving process in order to do so.”
“I never thought of that! But it all fits…” Hermione mused. “Professor McGonagall must have understood, so she gave Harry the benefit of the doubt and didn’t recommend expulsion because of his poor marks.”
“Hermione, that wouldn’t have made any difference,” Ginny said exasperatedly. “Professor Dumbledore wouldn’t have gone for expulsion because of Voldemort. Don’t you realize that Harry would already be dead if he had been expelled? He’s as much a prisoner here at Hogwarts this year as he is on Privet Drive! That’s why the teachers did what they did.”
Hermione looked at Ginny, an angry scowl on her face. “So all the grief counselling Harry got was expulsion from the Quidditch team and homework sessions in Professor McGonagall’s office?” she asked heatedly. She began pacing in front of the row of slimy sinks. “Merlin, Ginny! I wish I’d known what was really happening. I could have owled my mum and dad for books…”
“Hermione, you did know. You were there every night in the common room and the library with Harry when he was there,” Ginny interrupted heatedly, “but you and Ron were too wrapped up in each other to pay more than passing attention to what was happening with him. You didn’t even bother to find out where he went when he didn’t show up for dinner.”
“We were not,” Hermione protested.
“Yes, you were,” Ginny fumed. Then she stopped herself and looked at her friend. “Hermione, this is silly. We’re arguing over something that happened last October! I don’t have time to argue and neither do you. Don’t you think we’d be better put to act on the fact that we can do something for Harry now, today? Right. Let’s get this potion done; then we can argue all we like about the past. Agreed?”
Hermione smiled, nodding. “I’m sorry, Ginny. I’m just overreacting. Shall I conjure the Bluebell flame?”
Ginny shook her head and stepped into the cubicle to get a flask. “Not yet. Fill this up with water first. I need to read the method one last time just to be sure before we start.”
Hermione took the flask and glanced at the slimy sinks. “Erm…Ginny, do you really want to use the water from these sinks?”
Ginny followed her gaze and shook her head. “No!” she exclaimed. “I’d poison Harry for sure!”
Hermione giggled. “We can’t have that, can we? I’ll just nip over to the boys’ loo and get some from there. I’m sure it’s a bit cleaner in there. See you in a few.” With that, she cancelled her spells and left the room.
Ten minutes went by before Hermione returned, breathless and rather flustered. “Ginny!” she squeaked handing over the flask, then quickly recasting her previous spells. “I was almost caught by…by Draco Malfoy!”
Ginny’s eyes widened. “What happened?”
Hermione giggled nervously. “I’d just filled the flask when the door opened and Draco walked in. I nipped into a cubicle and closed the door. When he asked who was there, all I could think to do was pretend to be sick.” She giggled again. “He left in a hurry after that.”
“Good one, Hermione,” Ginny smiled. “Let’s get this potion going.”
She measured the water into her cauldron and Hermione lit the flame for her. As they were waiting for the water to heat, Hermione showed Ginny the correct wand movements and soon she was as adept at casting the spell as Hermione.
They began adding ingredients; Hermione reading the instructions from Ginny’s notes while Ginny followed as precisely as she could. While they were on step three, Hermione related the story of her and Ron and Harry’s first Potions lesson from fifth year. Ginny felt righteously furious with Professor Snape for vanishing Harry’s potion in front of the entire class and said as much.
Hermione shrugged. “That’s pretty much how it was our entire fifth year,” she said matter-of-factly. “If Harry managed to produce a half-way decent potion during a lesson, nine times out of ten Professor Snape found some way to mark him down whether it was through ‘accidental’ breakage or failing to mark Harry’s work as soon as he had turned it in.”
“That’s so unfair!” Ginny exclaimed as she added a measure of pulverized puffskeins. “Why didn’t Harry protest?”
“Do you think he really would have in his frame of mind that year?”
“No. I suppose you’re right; he was keeping things so close to his thumb nobody could have convinced him to rat out a teacher…especially Professor Snape!”
“Well, there’s the crux of it. Harry’s still carrying things too close to the vest. I just hope that our conversation this morning will give him some hope,” Hermione sighed wistfully.
Ginny paused in her stirring to glance over her shoulder. “I think it did, but with Harry, you never know how long it’s going to take him to realize that there are people who care about him until he’s been hit over the head with a Beater’s bat. He seemed genuinely relieved at the end, you know.”
“I had that impression myself,” Hermione mused. “It’s as if he was expecting all of us to reject him because the Prophecy names him as Vol-Vol-Voldemort’s opponent.”
Ginny went back to her stirring again. “He was,” she said quietly.
Hermione raised one eyebrow and shook her head in reply as she glanced at the parchment in her hand again.
Ginny was silent for a moment, gathering her thoughts and using the repetitive movement to compose herself. “I have this theory about Harry,” she finally said.
“Yeah, what is it?”
“Well, you know what an awful childhood he had growing up in that dreadful Muggle house…”
“You mean his treatment by the Dursleys…”
“Uh-huh. The cupboard under the stairs, the extra chores, the name-calling, wearing Dudley’s old clothes, being denied food as punishment…that sort of thing.”
“I don’t understand why anyone would do that to a child,” Hermione remarked shaking her head. “I’d think anyone would have psychological scars from stuff like that.”
“I agree,” Ginny said pausing in her stirring again. “And I also think the Dursleys tried so hard to stamp out Harry’s magic that they also taught him that he wasn’t worthy of other people’s love.”
“But Harry is worthy,” Hermione protested. “He’s had Ron’s friendship since their first ride on the Hogwart’s Express and mine since Halloween that year! Yes, the troll. Ron was a git until then!” She shook her head at Ginny’s amused expression. “Seriously, though. You’re his girlfriend, for Merlin’s sake! Isn’t that proof enough that Harry’s capable of forming friendships that last?”
“He’s capable of that and of giving love back in whatever form it takes whether it’s romantic love or otherwise,” Ginny sighed, letting her ladle dangle from her hand. A little of the unfinished potion dripped onto the floor causing a clean spot to appear. She ignored it as she continued, “I just think Harry wonders why his friends choose to give it back. It’s as if he can’t see that he isn’t a freak like he’s been told for years and years.”
“Or why doesn’t he get that we won’t ever let him face Voldemort alone,” Hermione added with an exasperated shake of her head. “Harry’s such a natural leader…he inspires the rest of us to follow him into danger. I–I followed him to the Department of Mysteries last year because I just couldn’t let him go alone. I–I almost gave my life for him!” Hermione concluded thoughtfully, her eyes growing wide with the realization.
“He does that to people,” Ginny agreed in an awed tone, “even me sometimes…” Her hand sought out the lump under her robes where her angle lay. The original magic pulsed reassuringly as Ginny stood over her cauldron ignoring what was taking place inside.
Hermione suddenly lunged forward, grabbed the ladle and began stirring vigorously at the potion which had almost boiled over. A few anxious seconds later, both girls heaved a sigh of relief as the potion suddenly changed colour and a silvery mist began rising from its surface.
“That was close,” remarked Hermione as she poked her wand into the toilet bowl and lowered the flame. “Now we wait and let it simmer.”
“How long before I can take the cauldron off the fire?” Ginny inquired her thoughts about Harry and his self-image problems all but forgotten.
Hermione peered at the method. “Thirty minutes,” she answered. “Let’s clean up. I don’t want to spend more time in here than I have to: even when I was making the Polyjuice Potion I always left as quickly as I could. It’s so creepy in here. I think Mr. Filch neglects this bathroom on purpose.”
Ginny began gathering up the items she hadn’t already put away. When she was nearly done, she handed Hermione the Uncommon Uses book asking, “Will you please look up the dosage chart for the Draught? I’m guessing Harry weighs somewhere between ten and fourteen stone.”
Hermione took the book and opened it to the page Ginny wanted her to look at. She gave a little squeak, then covered her mouth to suppress a gale of embarrassed giggles. With her free hand, she began fanning the pages of the little book, periodically stopping to read a recipe or table name silently to herself.
“What’s so funny?” Ginny asked while extracting some graduated dosage vials from one of the pockets of her bag.
Hermione stopped flipping long enough to gasp, “The potions…they’re all…they’re all love potionsand…and aphrodisiacs Ginny!”
Ginny snatched the book back and leafed rapidly through its pages. “All I’m seeing is dosage charts and different variations for the Draught of Peace,” she said, slightly put out. She found the page she wanted and ran her finger down one column of numbers in the table printed there and made a mental note of the size vial she needed. As she gave the book back to Hermione she remembered what Madam Pince had told her the night she had checked the book out.
“Hermione,” she asked in a suspiciously slow voice, “Just who or what are you currently thinking about?”
Hermione’s eyes grew large as she squeaked, “Ron!”
“I thought so,” Ginny grinned slyly. “And just what were you thinking about doing with my brother, Hermione?”
Hermione blushed prettily. “S-s-snogging…in the…in the nearest…broom cupboard…” she stammered, obviously mortified.
“Well, Madam Pince was right,” Ginny said smiling. “This book is dangerous! It’s read your thoughts about my brother and–”
“And it came up with information it thought I’d want! Oh, dear! That really is embarrassing,” Hermione admitted turning the book over and inspecting its cover without opening it. “I’m going to try something…” She composed herself and concentrated on her thoughts and then opened the book. Again, her eyes grew wide. “It worked, Ginny. It worked!” she exclaimed.
“What worked?” Ginny asked as she put a holder with a dozen correctly-sized vials on the back of the toilet.
“I thought about needing a potion to change my appearance and when I opened the book the first potion is the Polyjuice Potion,” Hermione said as Ginny came to peer over her shoulder.
“That’s really something,” Ginny said eyeing her watch. Their brewing time was almost up.
Hermione closed the book and again concentrated on something. When she reopened it, the love potions were back. “It worked again,” she said.
“Let me see,” Ginny said, peering over Hermione’s shoulder.
Hermione moved the book a little to her left and immediately the page facing Ginny changed from a potion called “Passion’s Promise” to a tea to aid restless sleepers. The two girls exchanged amazed looks as Hermione shifted the book back to its original position. “It must work by sensing our magic,” she mused.
They continued paging through the book until they came to a section which contained potions for temporarily exciting or enhancing certain body parts. Hermione closed the book with a loud snap. “Thatsection’s for Lavender and Parvati! I’m not looking at those!” she stated firmly handing the book back to Ginny.
Satisfied that Hermione meant what she said, Ginny told her, “Good. I don’t even want to know about what you and Ron do in those broom cupboards you were thinking about. It’s none of my business.”
“I agree,” Hermione smiled. “If you don’t kiss and tell, neither will I.” She looked at her watch. “Time’s up. The potion’s got to cool a little before you can bottle it.”
The two entered the cubicle and Ginny carefully lifted the cauldron high enough for Hermione to extinguish the flames. Suddenly, murky water gushed from the toilet as an irate Moaning Myrtle shot from the bowl with a loud squelching sound. Ginny stepped back hastily, gripping the cauldron’s handle and searching desperately for a safe place to set it down. Hermione wasn’t so lucky. As the ghost emerged, she sprayed the front of Hermione’s jumper with water causing her to jump backwards and slip on the wet floor. She sat down with a thud and skidded backwards toward the sinks leaving a slightly cleaner streak in her wake.
“What on earth…” Hermione exclaimed. “Argh! Myrtle what are you doing?”
The ghost wasn’t in any sort of mood to be reasonable, it seemed, and she yelled right back, “How dare you seal my door with an Imperturbable Charm! Do you realize how much work it is to get through one of those spells? Not to mention rude?”
“We…we…we thought you were in your cubicle,” Ginny stammered having decided the safest place for the cauldron was between her feet at the moment.
“Well, I wasn’t,” Myrtle pouted at them as she settled on the sink opposite her cubicle. “And I find it very aggravating when not only am I repelled from my own door, but one of my toilets is plugged with a waterproof fire and a dirty great cauldron!” She pointed to the cauldron at Ginny’s feet. “What are you making anyway…a love potion?”
“Certainly not,” Ginny replied indignantly. “What we were brewing is none of your business. Besides, it’s complete and we’re clearing out right after we bottle it.”
“It is too my business,” Myrtle snapped. “It’s also Mr. Filch’s by the looks of the mess you’ve made in here. I ought to report you.”
Ginny sucked in a startled breath. “You wouldn’t,” she challenged.
Moaning Myrtle grinned at her. “Tell me what you concocted and I just may forgive you for causing me so much inconvenience,” she commented nastily. If a ghost could have a calculating gleam in its eye, Ginny was certain that this particular spectre had one at the moment.
Hermione scrambled to her feet and surveyed the muck sticking to the back of her jeans. She then scowled in disgust at the clean streak on the floor as she tried to wring the excess water from her sodden jumper. Ginny took pity on her and pulled out her wand; with a quick flick of her wrist she restored Hermione’s appearance to its original state. Her friend smiled gratefully back at her and turned her attention to Moaning Myrtle again.
“We’re terrible sorry,” she said making eye contact with the ghost. “The potion we were making isn’t anything illegal. In fact, it’s a gift of sorts for Harry. He’s got a lot on his mind at the moment and we thought this cheering potion would lift his spirits a bit.” She gestured toward the cauldron at Ginny’s feet. “As soon as it’s cool enough to bottle, we’ll restore the bathroom to its original condition.”
Moaning Myrtle considered this information. “The last time you were here you said you’d bring him with you,” she sulked. “I haven’t seen him in ages and thought it would be nice to chat a bit. Maybe I could cheer him up a little.”
“You could try,” Hermione said trying hard not to smirk.
“We can’t make any promises about when we’ll be by next,” Ginny began, “but I’ll try to convince Harry to come with me next time. You never know. A conversation with you might be just what he needs.” She glanced at Myrtle hoping this news would mollify the ghost. She seemed less irritated, so Ginny continued hopefully, “I promise that we won’t use any Imperturbable Charms on the door. I realize it wasn’t nice to do that to you and Hermione and I are truly sorry. It’s just that it was important to us that we weren’t disturbed while we brewed our potion.” She bent down to test the sides of the cauldron and found it almost cool enough to bottle. Just a few more minutes and we’ll be out of here! she thought.
Hermione, seeing Ginny’s smile, brought over the vials and the ladle. “Be careful with what you say to Myrtle,” she hissed handing the equipment over and steadying the cauldron as Ginny began filling the first vial. “I don’t think she liked that last comment.”
Indeed, Moaning Myrtle hadn’t. Her face contorted and she let out a spine-tingling wail. “You don’t want me in here, do you?” she cried. “No one wants to be disturbed. Not you. Not Harry. Not the Merpeople in the lake. Nobodyyyyyyyy!” She ended her complaint with a shriek and swooped into her toilet where she landed with a splash that sent water cascading over the walls and floor. The two witches could hear her sobbing in the U-bend and knew their clean-up time was limited.
“Forget the clean-up charms, Ginny,” Hermione instructed urgently surveying the water that was now seeping toward their position. “Let’s just get this potion bottled and leave before she completely floods the bathroom again.”
Five minutes later, Ginny and Hermione strode out of the bathroom just as the first rivulets of water slithered under the door, smiling in happy relief. They had survived their encounter with Moaning Myrtle and had a dozen doses of perfectly brewed Draught of Peace in their possession. If Harry needed to calm his thoughts after a dream tonight, Ginny was confident that her potion would help him get the sleep he needed.
Hermione paused and cancelled her spells on the door while Ginny continued down the corridor. Suddenly, the older girl began to giggle.
“What’s up?” Ginny asked curiously.
Hermione pointed, still giggling. “You’ve got toilet paper on your shoe!”
End of Part Four
Chapter 5: Part Five
New Year, New HopePart Five
The dorm room clock read a quarter of two when Ginny awoke from one of her more unsettling dreams. She supposed it had something to do with the events of the previous day, but right now it didn’t really matter to her what the dream was about. What mattered was that she felt frightened enough to be completely awake. From experience she knew she would never get back to sleep without help of some sort; she arose, pulled on her dressing gown, and took her History of Magic text from her book bag. On a hunch, she quietly unlocked her trunk and took out the pouch containing the phoenix pendant. It glowed so brightly in the dim light that Ginny could see it clearly through the material. She hoped Harry would be downstairs so that she could give it to him. Ginny locked her trunk and stood to leave, somewhat mesmerized by the pendant’s power.
For some reason, she remained standing beside her bed, gazing at the pouch. The glow from within it was causing the angel she wore beneath her night dress to vibrate slightly. The brightness radiating from the silver bird indicated that Harry was in emotional distress of some sort wherever he happened to be and even though Harry wasn’t wearing the phoenix, he was awake and most likely fighting for control of his thoughts. That in itself wasn’t too hard to guess at considering what the last twenty-odd hours had had in store for the Hogwarts’ community. Ginny pictured Harry’s familiar resigned expression as she remembered that she had forgotten, in her wonder over the pendants’ behaviour, to take something else from her trunk. She unlocked it once more and took out two small vials of grey liquid as well as two goblets she had “appropriated” from the Great Hall on separate occasions within the last two days. The vials joined the goblets and the pouch in her dressing gown pockets; she was finally ready to go downstairs.
She entered the common room on tiptoe. The fire had burned low in the grate, but it still gave off enough light for her to make out a lone figure huddled on the old couch. She sighed quietly. I thought we were through with this…
“All those people,” Harry murmured as Ginny sat down next to him.
“I know, Harry,” she whispered taking his hand. It was ice cold. “How long have you been here?”
Harry glanced at his watch. “Almost three hours. I didn’t even bother trying to go to bed.”
“Oh, Harry. Only you can take the actions of others and find something extremely personal in them when you had no idea of what was going to happen!”
Harry ran his free hand through his hair. “But I did know, Ginny! I did! Friday’s episode at lunch should have alerted me to the fact that Voldemort was planning something evil. I let my guard down and let his thoughts in and then ignored them!” he exclaimed quietly. “If I’d been more willing to share what I knew with Professor Dumbledore, nothing like this would have happened!”
Ginny harrumphed. “Don’t be silly. It’s no use berating yourself for what you thought at the time was the right thing to do. No one knows what goes on in Voldemort’s sick mind, but him and the Death Eaters he chooses to confide in. No one on the Light side foresaw what happened last night as far as we know. And even if they had, it’s not your time to do anything about it.”
“How do you know that?” Harry demanded.
Ginny looked at him sadly. “I just know, Harry. Something deep down inside me just knows.”
Harry managed a weak smile. “Woman’s intuition?”
“Yeah, something like that,” Ginny grinned back. “How do you know about a ‘woman’s intuition’?”
“Something Hermione said earlier in the week during one of her arguments with Ron.”
“I remember that. I don’t think he ever quite understood her meaning.”
“He did, actually,” Harry said thoughtfully. “It took him an hour of distracted ranting up in our room, but he eventually did figure it out.”
“Good for him.”
“No. Good for Seamus. He was the one who explained it to Ron who then went to bed muttering over and over about interfering roommates.”
Ginny smiled, knowing just what Harry meant.
The two fell into what Ginny hoped was a comfortable silence. She still held Harry’s hand which was slowly beginning to warm up. She also kept glancing at him to see if Harry would fall back into his pensive mood. He did.
Before long, he sighed. “Merlin, Ginny…I just wish there was some way to stop thinking about those families so much.”
“Have you tried your Pensieve?”
“Yes, but that still doesn’t shut down my thought processes. Someone left a Daily Prophet on one of the tables and that set me off again.” Frustrated, he stood up and began pacing the hearthrug. “I guess right now I’d settled for slowing my mind down enough to get some sleep. I haven’t been this tired since November.”
Ginny stood up and planted herself in front of Harry, effectively stopping his pacing. “I think I’ve found a way,” she said quietly gazing into his troubled face. “But you have to trust me.”
Harry scowled. “I trust you all ready, Ginny. Why would I…What’s that?”
Ginny had taken the cloth pouch out of her pocket and was holding it out to him. “Open it, Harry.”
He took the little bag and withdrew the phoenix on its long chain. A look of awe crossed his face as he felt the power of the spells Ginny had cast upon it. The silver chain faded from sight where it touched his skin. He walked over to the fireplace to see it better. “Merlin’s beard, Ginny! Does your dad know you had this?”
His response was not what Ginny had expected. “Yes. Why?”
“Frankly, Ginny, this necklace is dangerous!” Harry exclaimed.
“It is not. I’ve had it for years,” Ginny replied somewhat annoyed. “And why would it be so important for my dad to know about something that was mine to begin with?”
“Ginny, will you be reasonable? Think about what happened with the diary four years ago! You trusted a magical object that could think for itself!”
“This is not like the diary, Harry. It never was.”
“Have you felt the magic in this necklace?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. It’s powerful, if that’s what you mean by dangerous!”
“Ginny, something this magical is most likely full of Dark magic!”
“That necklace is no more a Dark object than my textbook, Harry. For Merlin’s sake, Mum gave it to me! Do you think she’d give me a Dark necklace after what happened with the diary?” she hissed. “And stop treating me like I’m two years old. I get enough of that from my brothers!”
“I will when you tell me why you are giving me an obviously magical piece of jewellery.”
“It’s mine to give or keep, Harry. And I choose to give it to you a little…enhanced, you could say.”
“Enhance how?” Harry asked warily.
Ginny fished her angel from underneath her night dress and held it close to the phoenix which dangled from Harry’s outstretched hand. The two necklaces took on the golden glow Ginny had seen the night she had bound them, but this time, the metal remained cool to the touch. “These necklaces are bound together by a spell I cast on them. I know it’s selfish, but I want to know when you need me. If I did it right, and I think I did, whenever you’re in emotional turmoil like you were a few minutes ago, my pendant will vibrate and I can come to you.”
Harry still didn’t look too pleased. In fact, he seemed angrier. “So now you’re invading my head, too! Isn’t it enough that Lord Voldemort is spending an inordinate amount of time trying to get me to do his bidding by sending me all sorts of insidious thoughts?” he hissed furiously.
“I didn’t mean it to be like that, you ungrateful prat!” Ginny shot back. “The pendants are only meant to be an alarm bell of sorts so that we can share something else.”
“Oh, so I’m an ungrateful prat, am I? That makes me feel a lot better, Ginny. I suppose you’d rather have me running around Hogwarts exposing all of its secrets to Voldemort while you open some sort of triangular connection between the three of us with a silly piece of jewellery.”
His words hurt. Ginny snatched the phoenix from Harry’s hand. “Fine. If you don’t want to know the whole story, be my guest! I’m sorry I even bothered to do something nice for you, Harry Potter.” She whirled around intending to scoop up the discarded bag and her textbook and then flounce haughtily back up the Girls’ staircase, but she never got that far. One of the goblets dislodged from her pocket and clattered to the floor as she spun. It rolled under the couch startling Crookshanks who had come downstairs to investigate what the humans were yelling about. The noise made both Harry and Ginny freeze, dispelling the tension between them. Harry was the first to move and he bent down to retrieve the wayward cup still keeping his eyes on Ginny.
“Why the goblet?” he asked slowly turning the golden cup over and over in his hands.
Ginny took one of the vials out of its pocket and held it out to him. “This is a Draught of Peace, Harry. I thought you might want to get some sleep tonight, so I spent a couple of hours putting up with Moaning Myrtle to make up a batch this afternoon. I guess I was wrong,” she said tucking the vial safely away again. She held out her hand for the cup. “Give me the goblet. I need to return it to the kitchens in the morning.”
“The Draught of Peace…” she heard him murmur. “You…brewed the Draught of Peace…for me?”
“Yeah, like an idiot, I did.” She could not meet his gaze now. His rejection had cut her to the quick.
Harry stepped closer, but did not hand over the goblet. Instead, he opened his arms and drew Ginny to him. They stood together, Ginny with her forehead in the hollow of Harry’s chest, until he said huskily, “You’re not an idiot, Ginny. I am. You asked me to trust you and I didn’t. Will you forgive me?”
Ginny looked up at him. She was finally able to meet his emerald eyes. “I’m sorry, too, Harry. I should have waited until you were calmer before showing you the necklace.”
Harry stepped back and Ginny felt the loss of contact with him rather acutely. “May I…may I see phoenix, please?” he asked.
Ginny handed it over somewhat reluctantly. It felt as if she was parting with a piece of herself which, in truth, she was. The spells she had cast had taken an amazing amount of magic from her and as she was struggling the next day in Charms to silence her crow, she had decided that giving Harry a part of herself was probably the best gift she could give him. She had still believed it ten minutes ago because she had been excited about sharing her magic. Now, however, letting go of that part of herself was much harder. What’s that Muggle saying? ‘Once bitten, twice shy’?” It described her frame of mind exactly. She sighed inwardly and silently watched as Harry sat on the sofa and began examining the necklace.
He had pulled out his wand and was using it to cast additional light on the pendant and its chain. The phoenix itself wasn’t all that remarkable; it wasn’t particularly detailed or all that pretty and neither was the chain, for that matter. It was the way they reacted when held against the skin. Ginny was proud of this bit of charmwork. The invisibility charm had been rather tricky and it had taken three tries to get it right. It was fun for her to watch Harry play with this aspect of the necklace.
“What would happen if I put it on?” he asked.
“Try it and see,” she told him smiling. “It won’t hurt.”
Harry hesitated a moment before complying. Nothing happened.
“Open your shirt and let the phoenix touch your chest, Harry,” Ginny finally directed.
He did as he was told. Ginny had to chuckle at the astounded look on Harry’s face as the necklace completely faded from sight when it touched his skin. Harry smiled broadly. “I like the effect. Same charm as my cloak?”
“Not exactly. Invisibility cloaks are woven from demiguise hair, so there’s no correlation there. Remember the Disillusionment charm Moody used on you when he and the guard brought you to Grimmauld Place for the first time?” When Harry nodded, she said, feeling more than a little like Hermione probably did when lecturing Ron, “That spell is in a group of temporary invisibility spells which have the same prefix, but use different suffixes. The spell I used began the same way as the Disillusionment charm, but ended quite differently. The last part of the word made the invisibility factor permanent.” At Harry’s raised eyebrow Ginny continued. “Like Mobilicorpus or Mobiliarbus. Same beginning, but different end word depending what you want to move.”
Harry’s eyebrow descended to its normal position. “Yeah, I get it. My brain doesn’t seem to be working at the moment,” he complained. Then he said, “Ron tried to use Mobilitrunkus once to move his school trunk. It didn’t work, so he fell back on our old stand-by, Wingardium Leviosa, to get it downstairs.”
Ginny smiled at the story. “Sounds like something Ron would try.”
Harry buttoned his shirt without taking off the necklace. “How did you know I would rather wear something people can’t see?”
Ginny felt her face growing hot. “How many years have I spent studying you, Potter?”
“All right…I get your point!” Harry said smiling. He was silent for a time and Ginny could almost see the wheels turning in his brain. “You said earlier that this was supposed to act as an alarm bell of sorts for you. What’s in it for me?”
Ginny sat down on the hearth rug and leaned back against the front of the couch before answering. “Well, for one thing, if you never take it off you’ll always have me with you.”
“How’s that?” Harry sounded cautious.
“The spells I used incorporated some of my magic into the necklace. That’s why it feels almost alive,” Ginny told him. “If you decide to wear it, you’ll carry a small piece of me wherever you go; I’ll be with you in good times as well as bad. Think of the necklace as a touchstone of sorts, a reminder of just how much I care about you. I reckon the bond has an added protection factor for when we are separated as well.” She glanced over at him to try to gage how he had taken this bit of news.
Harry was staring at the embers, one hand propping up his chin, the other toying with the invisible bird through the thin fabric of his shirt. “It’s a nice thought having your magic with me,” he finally said wistfully. “Nobody has to know about it unless I tell them…” He turned his head slightly as he asked, “The spell–what book did you get it from?”
Ginny giggled. “It’s one of my Mum’s called Spells and Potions for the Truly Lovelorn by Val N. Tino. I came across it last summer when Mum had me straighten up the attic after the ghoul had a particularly furious fit and made a really big mess up there. The title sounded too good to pass up.” She twisted a little so she could more easily see Harry and found him studiously staring straight ahead, so she added with a smirk, “I had this idea I could spike Ron and Hermione’s pumpkin juice one morning at breakfast; see if I could get the sparks flying. Unfortunately, Ron finally came to his senses, realized Hermione was indeed a girl, and asked her out for the first Hogsmeade weekend before I could make the potion.”
Harry’s lips twitched into the beginnings of a smile and Ginny felt slightly encouraged. “So this book is one of those that Madam Pince has banned from the library?”
“Oh, no,” Ginny said innocently. “On the contrary, it’s so highly sought-after that she put it on the “Extremely Dangerous” shelf of the Restricted Section. I looked it up. The edition Hogwarts has dates from 1322!”
Harry’s eyes widened. “So this spell is old magic…”
Ginny nodded in confirmation. “One of the oldest, according to the Tino book and a few others I looked in. Harry, please believe me that I didn’t go into this blindly. It scared me at first that the spells were actually going to deplete my magic reserves.” Harry’s eyebrow ascended into his fringe again. “But the more I read about the bonding process and what it meant, the more I felt I was right to give up a part of myself to you.”
Harry flopped backward onto the sofa pillows and stared at the ceiling. “Merlin, Ginny…this is hard for me!” he exclaimed softly. “No one has ever done anything like what you’ve given me in the last two months! Most people just demand stuff from me and expect me to function with what little they give back.”
“I hope it’s not me or Ron or Hermione…” Ginny began. Sensing this discussion was about to turn serious, she clambered onto the sofa to sit beside her boyfriend.
“No, Ginny. Never you or your family or Hermione. It’s the people who see my scar and point or gawk. Your Mum once told you I wasn’t something to be goggled at in a zoo. That’s how it feels to be me; people see the Boy Who Lived as the answer to all their problems and never stop to think how I feel!” Harry said bitterly.
“Harry, that’s not true!”
“It is, Ginny, and you’ve seen it. Maybe you didn’t want to recognize it for what it was, but it was there.”
“All right, I have seen how people treat you in public. But there isn’t anyone here at Hogwarts who uses you like that.”
Harry let out a derisive snort. “Our sainted Headmaster,” he declared bitterly.
“Professor Dumbledore?”
“The one and only. I told you in December that I trashed his office last June because I was so angry with him!”
“But you were grieving, Harry,” Ginny protested. “You’d just fought Voldemort, for Merlin’s sake!”
“That’s just it, Ginny. Dumbledore has been lying to me for years! He’s kept information about the Prophecy from me since I came to Hogwarts! It wasn’t until the six of us went haring off to the Ministry of Magic last year that he deigned to tell me about my responsibilities. He never found the right moment, or so he says. I doubt I’d know about the Prophecy today if we hadn’t tried to rescue Sirius.” The angry words seemed to be spilling out of Harry of their own accord. He shifted so that his elbows were resting on his knees; both hands held his head and he spoke to the floor in a somewhat melancholy tone. “I’ve been wondering since June whether I’d be just another student here if I hadn’t somehow vanquished Voldemort all those years ago. Voldemort wouldn’t have needed to return if there wasn’t a Prophecy! I wouldn’t be holding him responsible for all the death and destruction he’s caused. Don’t you realize that if things had turned out differently my parents would probably be alive; their best friends would have been around to watch me grow up; Sirius, Cedric and goodness knows who else would still be living–and that includes the fifty-eight dead Voldemort’s Death Eaters created twenty-four hours ago!”
Harry stood up and walked around to the back of the sofa where he began pacing. “Instead, I’m stuck with a stupid nickname, a scar that’s connected to the worst Dark wizard in years, guardians who would rather I didn’t exist and the responsibility of living up to the rest of the world’s expectations!”
Ginny closed her eyes as Harry finished. She could hear the pain in his voice and feel her angel vibrating under her dressing gown. Nervously, she closed her fingers around one of the vials in her pocket and brought it out onto her lap. “You’re right to blame Voldemort for all the pain he’s cause you, Harry,” she said quietly. “But I don’t think blaming Dumbledore for keeping the Prophecy from you until you were older or taking responsibility for all those terrible deaths is right, though. They’re making you miserable.”
“So what am I supposed to do, Ginny?” Harry demanded.
“Calm down, for starters,” she said looking pointedly at the vial she held. “Accept the fact that the Fates have chosen you to lead the Light side when the time comes, but for right now, let others fight the battles for once; complete your education. All those NEWT-level courses you’re taking are prerequisites for your future, Harry.”
“What future?” Ginny heard him mumble under his breath.
“The one you’re supposed to be planning for like the rest of your year,” she retorted rather impatiently.
“Well, right now that’s a little impossible to see,” he grumbled. Ginny felt her necklace vibrate harder; Harry’s frame of mind needed changing quickly or he’d be back where he started.
“I see your point and now you need to see mine,” she told him firmly. “No matter how controlling or demanding you seem to think some people are, there are more than enough others who want to see you have the future you seem to be bent on denying yourself–“
“That’s easy for them to believe!” Harry interrupted sourly. “They aren’t the ones singled out to be the bloody hero! I’m the one who has to murder or be murdered! It’s me and no one else!”
Ginny bristled. “Just a few hours ago, Neville, Luna, Ron, Hermione, and I all pledged to stand at your side until Voldemort falls. That means, Harry, that we will not let you be alone in your fight against Voldemort, up to and including the last battle! Can’t you accept our support without being so stubbornly resistant?” She heaved in a shuddering sigh, too exasperated to stop. “Besides, all the members of the Order are dedicated to protecting you, to seeing that you survive to ‘do the deed’ as you so eloquently put it.”
“I know that and I’m grateful,” Harry mumbled petulantly.
Ginny wasn’t finished. “Unfortunately, while you are preparing for that outcome good people, young and old, are dying and there will be more deaths to come. That’s the reality Voldemort lives with and tries to impose on the rest of the world. You know he will stop at nothing to get what he wants. If he doesn’t, he’s going to make people as miserable as he is selfish.”
“But the Prophecy–” Harry protested.
“Look, Harry. It’s almost a given that Voldemort still hasn’t heard the entire Prophecy. Look at how widespread the attacks were; by directing his followers to destroy what he doesn’t have or understand all over Britain he’s hoping you’ll succumb to his treachery and tell him the rest of it. You can’t let that happen, Harry, because if you do, you won’t have a future at all. None of us will!” Ginny pinned her boyfriend with a hawk-like stare. “That is not the future I’ve envisioned, Harry Potter. I won’t, I can’t, let you stop planning the rest of your life just because you have lost your faith in Dumbledore or given in to Voldemort. That’s not the Harry I know and love!”
Harry stared at her, his mouth hanging slightly open. “You really mean that, don’t you,” he breathed finally. “You really think I have a future beyond Voldemort…” The awe in his voice brought a lump to Ginny’s throat and she could only nod at him.
“Yes, Harry, I do,” she finally whispered laying a hand over his. “You have every right to plan for what you want to do after Hogwarts just like the rest of us, whether it’s professional Quidditch or the Auror corps or a teaching position here at the school.”
Harry blinked behind his glasses as if doing a sudden double-take. “How do you know I’ve been thinking about teaching?”
Ginny smiled. “You’re a natural, Harry. You’re a leader who makes learning interesting and worthwhile. I’ve learned things in the DA better than I might have learned them in lessons,” she told him realizing as she said this that she needed to bring the conversation back to her main focus.
“Look, Harry,” she continued. “It’s fun to plan for the future and to me it seems as if you have two; one with short-term goals and one with long-term objectives. Unfortunately, in order to do either, you’re going to have to let other people help you, including Professor Dumbledore.” Harry scowled at hearing the name. “Please hear me out, Harry. I went to see him yesterday after I arranged the meeting in the Room of Requirement. I had to know what he and the other adults we know could do for you because it’s important to me that you survive to see your future. Professor Dumbledore said that whenever you are ready there’s a whole list of special classes and tutorial sessions waiting for you; he wants you to begin them on Monday. Did you know?”
“I’ve known about that list since September,” Harry said grudgingly. “I wasn’t ready for it.”
“You weren’t. Are you now?”
Harry nodded. “I’ve got to do something or I’m toast,” he said burying his head in his hands. “I bet he’s sending me back to Snape for Occlumency lessons again.”
“Nothing doing. I have it on good authority that your teacher is someone you trust.”
Harry turned his head to look at her, an eyebrow disappearing into his fringe. “Will you tell me?”
Ginny grinned mischievously at him. “No, sir. You’ll just have to await your owl like the rest of us.”
“’The rest of us’?” he repeated.
“You didn’t think that after our pledge Professor Dumbledore was going to make you go through most of your training alone, do you? Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna and I all have some sort of involvement in it, too.”
For the first time that evening, a genuine grin spread across Harry’s face. “That’s brilliant!” he breathed and Ginny felt her angle stop vibrating.
“So you’re alright with the plans?” she enquired.
“Yeah, I am,” Harry sighed and settled back against the sofa cushions. He threw his arm over the back to touch Ginny on the shoulder. She glanced at his watch and was surprised how much time had passed since she had initially come downstairs. They had been down here nearly two hours! Thank goodness it’s Sunday and Harry can sleep in if he wants, she thought.
“Harry, love, I’m glad, but we both need to get some sleep,” she yawned reaching for the goblet Harry had retrieved from under the sofa and eventually put between them. “Let’s go upstairs.”
Harry nodded and looked pointedly at the vial she still held in her left hand. His hand closed over her wrist as she lifted the cup from the cushion. “I’ll go upstairs if you want me to, but I know I won’t be able to sleep; there’s just too many thoughts running around in my head right now,” he admitted.
Ginny sighed sleepily. “I tried,” she murmured and tried to pull away.
“Please, Ginny. Let me finish…you’ve helped me a lot tonight; you’re showing me that I still have a future to hope for, to work toward. I’m feeling better about the fact that it’s only me who can kill Voldemort because you’ve reminded me that I’m not as alone as I thought I was.”
Harry put his hand over his chest where phoenix pendant lay. “Having a piece of your magic is very special, Ginny. I can feel your presence and know you made a sacrifice to see that I will never be alone; but even with the talisman my head is too full to get any sleep. What I’m trying to say is…I want to try your Draught of Peace. You took the time to make it for me and at this point I’ll try anything to calm my racing thoughts…” Harry trailed off, looking at her expectantly.
Without a word, Ginny extracted her hand and poured the contents of the vial into the goblet.
“This is the right dose? You’re sure it won’t put me into too heavy a sleep?”
Recalling their Potions Master’s words she answered, “Not with all the research I did before hand and Hermione peering over my shoulder when I mixed it.”
“I shouldn’t have questioned your potion-brewing abilities. Sorry.” His hand shook slightly as he took the goblet from her, murmured, “Cheers,” and downed the Draught in one huge gulp.
Ginny watched him closely as he returned the goblet to her. Both her Potions text and the library book had stated the effects were rather slow-acting, seeming to sneak up on the drinker, rather than being overwhelming.
Harry leaned back against the cushions and took off his glasses. He seemed to gradually relax and sink back into the sofa’s squishy softness. Looking over at her he grinned, “If I’m supposed to feel like I’ve had one too many butterbeers, this stuff is bloody marvellous!”
“Are you dizzy?” she asked suddenly panicking. What did I read about dizziness? There had been something about this particular symptom which both books had stressed: a dizzy drinker meant there was too much moonstone…Stop worrying! You know that you mixed the potion right, so stop doubting your abilities. Every household potion you’ve made at home you’ve done right. Mum trusts you and now Harry does. You won’t poison him!
“No,” Harry replied happily. “Just pleasantly–peaceful…no spinning thoughts. Ginny? What’s the matter?”
Sighing, Ginny stared at her hands. “I’m just obsessing, Harry. Worrying that I made the potion wrong.”
He stood up and held out his hand, pulling her up onto her feet when she took it. Gathering her into his arms, he asked, “You didn’t. I feel perfectly fine. Thank you.” His hug made her feel warm inside as she returned his gesture. “Ginny?”
“Yes, Harry?” She raised her head from where her ear nestled over his steadily beating heart and noticed that his gaze seemed to focus on her lips. He raised his eyes to meet hers, then bent down and slowly touched his lips to hers. His kiss was soft and made her think of butterfly wings. He pulled back when she gave a little gasp of surprise, giving her a questioning look. Anxious to reassure him, she smiled and stood on tiptoe while sliding her hands up his back toward his shoulder blades, feeling him shiver slightly under her touch. Obviously encouraged by her actions, Harry’s lips met Ginny’s again in a kiss that sent her head spinning. She felt his tongue tentatively touch her lips and she closed her eyes as he deepened the kiss and one of his hands tangled in the hair at the nape of her neck. The other strayed to the middle of her back, pulling her close against his muscular body. She was soon lost in the sensations, hungrily giving as much as she was getting.
They broke apart a second time, rather reluctantly and more than a little breathless. Harry gave a deep sigh and closing his eyes whispered, “I love you, Ginny. More than you’ll ever know.”
“I love you, too, Harry,” she breathed and snuggled into the hollow of his chest. Harry’s arms tightened about her and they remained that way for several minutes.
“Ginny, love,” Harry eventually murmured, “I want to stay here with you until dawn, but I really do need to try to get some sleep.”
Ginny nodded and reluctantly wriggled from Harry’s grasp. She gathered up the discarded goblet, vial and her book and had turned to go back upstairs when she felt Harry’s hand at the small of her back. Looking up, she noticed he was smiling as he gave her a small nudge and guided her toward the stairs.
“Yes, Harry?” she asked curiously pausing at their foot.
Harry took the book from her, put it on the first step and bent to brush his lips against hers again. “Good night, Ginny. I love you,” he said huskily, trailing several more kisses over her face. “Sleep well.”
Ginny reached up to caress his cheek. “I will, Harry. I will,” she promised.
Harry smiled and mimicking her gesture, touched his lips to hers in one last, brief kiss. Then, he was gone. Ginny picked up her book and made her way up to her bed. Feeling happy and loved, she drew the hangings around herself and fell asleep almost instantly, a contented smile playing about her lips.
End of Part Five
Chapter 6: Part Six
New Year, New HopePart Six
Sunday was a lazy, sleep-the-morning-away day for Ginny. Her roommates sensed she needed a lie-in badly and mercifully left her alone. When she finally reached the common room about half past eleven, she found only a few people seated around the fire. Hermione and Ron were among them and her brother raised an eyebrow as she flopped into an armchair opposite him and Hermione.
“What’s up with you and Harry?” he asked. “You two never sleep in.”
“Late night,” Ginny answered cryptically. She wasn’t sure how much Harry wanted disclosed and she wasn’t about to ruin her own rather tranquil mood.
Hermione looked pointedly at her as she asked, “And what time did you and Harry come back upstairs?”
Ginny blushed to the roots of her hair. “Three,” she answered.
“Did he?” Hermione asked cryptically, glancing at Ron.
“Yes,” Ginny replied, ignoring Ron’s swivelling head.
“Good,” Hermione said, beaming. She tugged at Ron’s sleeve as she rose from her seat next to him. “Library,” she commanded and the two climbed through the portrait hole, Ron still throwing bewildered looks over his shoulder at Ginny as he went.
At noon, when Ginny left the common room to go down to lunch, Harry had still not appeared. She ate alone at the very end of the Gryffindor table, enjoying the solitude and relative silence, not bothering to even glance over at the sixth years gathered together around Hermione’s much flipped-through copy of yesterday’s The Daily Prophet. At the end of the meal, Ginny grabbed three of the left-over Forfar Bridies, two apples and six chocolate digestive biscuits and wrapped the lot in a napkin to take upstairs to Harry. She knew he would enjoy the meaty pies, especially if she warmed them next to the fire.
Harry greeted her with a warm smile from his place on the floor in front of the common room fire. He had his Defence book open in front of him, along with his quill, ink, and a half-completed essay. Ginny sat next to him and held out his lunch.
“Thanks, Ginny,” he beamed before biting into the still-warm pastry.
“Did you sleep well?” she asked, selecting one of the biscuits from the pile and breaking off a piece.
Harry swallowed before he replied. “Never better. Not even the slightest hint of a nightmare. I can’t believe I slept that long.”
Ginny took in the relaxed expression on Harry’s face and knew that what she had done for him would be worth every minute of the week of detentions she was facing with Snape. “You needed it,” she said, “and so did I.”
Harry nodded and addressed his meal again. Ginny excused herself and went upstairs to get her homework. When she came back down, the Forfar Bridies were gone and Harry was hunched over his essay and munching on an apple. Ginny sat in one of the chairs close to him and pulled out her books; the two of them wiled away the afternoon in pleasant silence as their housemates came and went. Hermione and Ron joined them late in the afternoon and as the sun began streaking the common room with the deep gold and orange light of sunset, the four Gryffindors put aside their homework and went down to dinner together.
Monday morning came with its usual jarring abruptness. However, instead of dreading the activities of the coming week as she usually did, Ginny embraced the return to the predictable monotony of her timetable. The only drawback was that before she could immerse herself in the tedium of it she would have to sit through her self-imposed tension of waiting for the owl post.
Breakfast that morning did bring the owls for Harry as well as Ginny, Neville, Ron and Hermione. Ginny quickly retrieved the stiff envelope from the big barn owl which had landed in front to her plate and gave it a bit of bacon. It flew off in the direction of the owlery as she opened her letter.
Dear Miss Weasley,
As per our conversation of Saturday, 19 January 1997, I am requesting that you come to my office at four o’clock this afternoon. The password is ‘Mars Bars’.
Very sincerely yours,
Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster
Ginny finished reading her note in time to see Ron’s eyes widen and a pleased smile spread over Hermione’s face. Further down the table, Neville seemed to be in shock. He saw Ginny looking at him and shook his note at her. She smiled back showing him her identical message, then returned her attention to her porridge which seemed to have several owl prints in it. As she did, Harry nudged her elbow.
“What’s all this about?” he asked indicating his summons as well as her own.
“I told you Saturday night, Harry. It’s part of you knowing you’re not alone,” she said cryptically. “Everyone who gets one of these notes has a special role to help you do what you must.” As Harry nodded slowly in resignation, she grasped his hand and squeezed it.
“I don’t want to go up there this afternoon,” Harry muttered, “but I reckon I’ve got to face the fact that I’ve let six months go by without doing anything.”
“Harry, I know who your new Occlumency tutor is going to be. You can trust him, you already do,” Ginny told him. “Harry, look into my eyes! I know you’re scared, I know you’re resentful, but I also know that deep down you’re willing to trust your teachers. Please give Professor Dumbledore’s plans a chance.”
Harry sighed and pulled his gaze from Ginny’s. He gestured toward her note and asked, “What time are you scheduled for?”
“Four. And you?”
“Half three. It says I’m going to meet my tutors and then sit in on the rest of the meeting.”
Ginny smiled as she stood to go to her first lesson. “Just relax, Harry. I think you’re going to like the fact that Ron, Hermione, Luna, Neville, and I are all going to be doing this with you in one way or another.” When Harry only gave her a half-hearted smile she reached up and covered the place where her angel resided. The effect was almost instantaneous; Harry looked a little calmer as his hand touched his robes where his phoenix lay underneath. He returned her smile with an awed, “Amazing!”
Ginny grinned as she told him, “Remember, I’m with you when you need me.”
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
The day seemed to fly by in a predictable flurry of new material and before she knew it, her last lesson was ending and she was hastening toward the headmaster’s office. The gargoyle sprang aside when she gave the password and she stepped onto the revolving staircase leading up to the massive oak door.
“Welcome, Miss Weasley,” Professor Dumbledore greeted her through the open office door as she stepped off the staircase.
“Hello, Professor, Harry,” she greeted them gazing around the circle of chairs which had been positioned in front of the fireplace. Five were empty–reserved she thought for herself, Hermione, Luna, Neville and Ron. The rest were occupied by various adults, some of whom Ginny knew fairly well, while others were complete strangers. Remus Lupin, seated on Harry’s left, beamed as she settled into the chair on Harry’s other side.
Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat and all eyes focussed on him. “Ginny–may I call you by your given name–I have asked you here today because of your friendship with Harry and the fact that you have shown great interest in his well-being.” Harry reached over and caught Ginny’s hand in his. “You, for the most part, are responsible for Harry’s recovery from the death of his godfather. Your loyalty and caring nature has given him the fortitude he needed to tell those closest to him about his role in this war, as well as the hope he required to help him see that he is surrounded by people who fervently want him to succeed.” Dumbledore paused and gazed very seriously at Ginny over his half-moon spectacles. “Before we go any further, I must ask you a question. Ginny…are you prepared and willing to give your life for Harry?”
The question caught Ginny completely by surprise. However, she didn’t have to think twice about her answer. Her head swivelled slightly between Harry and the headmaster as she answered, “Yes!” in a clear, confident voice.
Beside her, Harry blanched, his scar standing out on his forehead more than ever. “No, Ginny!” he protested, “I can’t let you do something like that!”
“I want to, Harry, if it means that you’ll succeed,” Ginny told him capturing his gaze and covering their clasped hands with her right. “I don’t plan on dying, but if it comes to that, I will.”
“Harry,” Remus Lupin interrupted coming to kneel between them, “Lily said the same thing to James many years ago before you were born.”
“That pledge is what killed her!” Harry burst out.
“No, Harry, it isn’t. Your mother made three pledges of her life: the first was to James, the second was to the Order, the third was to you.” Harry’s eyes widened at this news. “She was willing to sacrifice her life for you when I told her and James about the Prophecy,” Dumbledore said quietly.
“Harry, I was witness only to the second,” Remus said, “but I knew about the first and the third.”
“Why would she do such a thing?” Harry asked looking between Remus and Ginny. “Why would you do such a thing?”
“She loved you. I love you, Harry,” Ginny told him gently. “I’d step in front of a Killing Curse for you, for my parents, for my brothers, for Hermione, even Neville or Colin if it means that the people who are important to me could live because of my sacrifice.”
“But I don’t want you to feel you have to do that, Ginny,” Harry said, his voice cracking with emotion.
“That’s what love is, Harry,” Dumbledore said quietly. “You seem to possess it in large quantities. Your friends love you, follow you, because of who you are inside. Voldemort doesn’t understand love, despises it even. I told you last June that you have power that he knows not. If you are to succeed, you must know who really loves you and who you can trust. I’d say the students who went with you to the Ministry of Magic last year are your strengths, Harry.”
Ginny joined in. “You heard their reasons for going with you on Saturday.” She looked over Lupin’s head at the headmaster. “Are you going to pose the question you asked me to all the others, sir?”
“Yes, Ginny. I think it would be good for all of us to know exactly who Harry can trust and who he can’t,” Professor Dumbledore said. “It would help everyone here to know.” He indicated the assemblage of adults for the first time with a wave of his hand. “It would also not hurt for everyone present to know of your gift to Harry.”
“What gift?” Remus asked quietly.
Harry fished his phoenix pendant from under his shirt and held it up for everyone to see. Ginny did the same.
“This one,” she supplied as Remus studied the jewellery and raised an eyebrow when Harry’s phoenix disappeared when he tried to palm it. “The necklaces are bonded magically so that Harry now has a small amount of my magic with him at all times.”
Dumbledore nodded gravely. “The spells you used signify a great sacrifice on your part, Ginny.”
Puzzled, Ginny asked, “How do you know which spells I used, sir?”
“I was with you the night you cast the bonding spells, Ginny.”
“How? I was alone in the Room of Requirement.”
“Let’s just say that I don’t need an Invisibility Cloak to be invisible,” Professor Dumbledore said somewhat mysteriously.
“Oh,” she murmured looking uncertainly between Harry and Dumbledore. “I reckon one of the pairs of ears in the walls you talked about Saturday morning is yours…or maybe even Dobby’s?” she asked winking at the headmaster.
He inclined his head and Ginny saw his moustache twitch a little before he explained, “Yes, Ginny. I was there for your own safety. The spells you were casting that night could have gone very wrong if you hadn’t performed them correctly. You might not have been found before it was too late.”
“I knew the risks, Professor. And I was willing to take them for Harry.”
Dumbledore addressed Harry. “You’re a very lucky young wizard to have a witch like Ginny watching over you. She used some very ancient and powerful magic to create your talismans.”
“I know that, sir,” he said gravely turning to look at Ginny, “but when I asked her she wouldn’t tell me what spell she used.”
Dumbledore looked pointedly at Ginny who could only nod. “The bonding spell was Immolato veneficium libenter,” he intoned.
“What does that mean, sir?” asked Harry in a puzzled voice.
Ginny held her breath as Professor Dumbledore said, “Roughly translated, ‘I sacrifice my magic willingly’.”
Harry closed his eyes as Ginny exhaled and looked at the parquet floor of the office. “Thank you, Ginny,” he murmured as his hand found hers and gave it a squeeze. “Can we talk later?”
“Whenever you’re ready, Harry,” she told him, squeezing back. She looked up as the other adults began whispering amongst themselves, knowing that each adult present now knew about her first sacrifice.
“You’re an admirable young lady, Ginny,” Remus grinned at her as he stood up. “You and Lily are two of a kind.”
“I’m glad you think so. It’s a little humbling to be compared with her, though,” Ginny admitted, feeling her ears growing warm.
A knock on the office door brought everyone’s attention back to the headmaster.
“That will be the others,” said Dumbledore as he took a twelve-handed pocket watch from inside his robes and consulted it. “Right on time. Ginny, will you let them in, please?”
Ginny rose and went to open the door. As Ron, Hermione, Luna, and Neville trooped in, the paintings on the walls sprang to life and greeted the newcomers with a chorus of welcoming expressions; even Phineas Nigellus added his opinion to the mix when he recognized Ron.
“I should have known you’d be here,” he sneered sourly.
“Glad to see you, too,” Ron shot back.
Everyone laughed and sat down in the circle of chairs as Phineas slunk out of his frame while muttering something about upstart, cheeky teenagers. Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat and all eyes immediately settled on him. He conjured a tea set and filled each cup with deliberate care.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began when everyone had been served. “You have been invited here because you play or will shortly begin playing a pivotal role in the future of this war. Each of you has unique talents and qualifications which can, in some way, be used to support Harry Potter in his responsibilities set by the Prophecy. Before we proceed any further, however, I have a question to pose to Harry’s peers. Ginny, you have already answered, but for the benefit of your brother and friends I request that you answer again.” He paused and took a sip of tea while Ginny began to feel anxious about Ron’s response to her imminent answer. “Ginevra Weasley, are you willing to give your life to befriend and protect Harry Potter?”
All eyes swung toward Ginny as she answered in a clear, confident voice, “Yes, I am.”
Predictably, Hermione gasped and clutched at Ron’s hand. Ron’s typical confrontational reaction didn’t come; his only response was a sharp intake of breath. Neville, seated on Ron’s right, blanched and gulped audibly while Luna retained her usual disinterested review of her surroundings.
Professor Dumbledore now addressed Neville. “Neville Longbottom, are you willing to give your life to befriend and protect Harry Potter?”
“Yes, sir!” Neville replied with a look of devoted determination that, to Ginny, seemed to sit well on him.
“Hermione Granger, are you willing to give your life to befriend and protect Harry Potter?”
Hermione sat up straight in her chair as she answered, “Yes, Professor, I am.”
“Ronald Weasley, are you willing to give your life to befriend and protect Harry Potter?”
Ginny stole a glance at her brother and was pleased with what she saw. All traces of Ron’s usual cockiness were gone from his face making him look more mature than usual as he intoned gravely, “Yes, I am, sir.”
Ron’s answer must have meant the most to Harry for Ginny felt her angel vibrate slightly. She glanced over at Harry and caught him mouthing, “Thanks, mate,” at her brother.
A prolonged and expectant silence filling the office brought Ginny’s attention back to the circle where the question had just been asked of Luna. Finally she said quietly, “No, sir. I am not.”
“Luna!” Hermione burst out indignantly, “for Merlin’s sake, why not?”
“I have my reasons,” Luna said looking pointedly at Hermione.
“That’s not good eno–“
“Miss Granger!” Professor Dumbledore commanded sharply, “you will kindly refrain from badgering Miss Lovegood. I expect that as a prefect you know to respect the wishes and opinions of others!”
Abashed, Hermione shrank back into her chair murmuring, “I apologize, Luna,” to which Luna only nodded.
Professor Dumbledore regarded the Ravenclaw fifth year over the top of his spectacles. “I appreciate your honesty, Miss Lovegood. Would you care to share your reasons for answering the way you did?” Almost as an afterthought he added, “It’s all right to remain silent if you wish.”
Luna met the headmaster’s gaze. “I will explain, but before I do I want everyone, especially Harry, to know that even though I can’t promise to give my life for him in good conscience, I still want to do what I can to help.” She glanced at Harry as if weighing the effect of her words on him. “First, I’m not a very close friend of Harry’s. I’m a Ravenclaw, one year below Harry and therefore don’t spend much time with him or the other sixth years of either house. Second, this is my OWL year and I don’t feel I can devote much time to extra training because of my revision preparations. Finally, as the daughter of a journalist, I feel that I must keep my distance from all parties in this war. My father has taught me to try to see both sides of a story and to form my own opinions. Last year I made the decision to join the DA and therefore the fight against Dark wizards. I still am true to that decision because I can see what Lord V-V-Voldemort is doing to our world. What I’m trying to say is that whatever I can do for the Wizarding world I will. I won’t commit to one person, but I will commit to the cause I believe in. Harry is a big component of that cause, so I promise to do what I can to help him.” She stopped and let her protuberant eyes rest on Harry. “Do you understand, Harry?” she asked, looking him in the eye.
“Yeah, I do,” Harry answered. “I’m good with it. Thanks.”
“Whatever help you are willing to provide is greatly appreciated, Miss Lovegood,” Professor Dumbledore added. “Please stay for the remainder of this meeting so you can determine your level of participation.”
Luna smiled vaguely and Ginny could see that her friend’s mind was beginning to wander. I can’t believe that’s really Luna! ishe thought as the room began to hum with several conversations at once. She’s surprised the heck out of me, out of all of us, this week!
Professor Dumbledore now addressed the group as one. “As startling as Miss Lovegood’s honesty may seem, I understand her motivations and will now proceed with my original outline for this meeting.
“As I stated earlier, each of you has an important part in this war whether you are a student or an adult.” He paused to refill his teacup and then levitated the pot around the circle for anyone who wanted more. “I’m not certain the students know all the adults present, although most are professors here at Hogwarts.”
Ginny studied the assembled witches and wizards who were populating the other chairs. She immediately recognized all but one. Beside Remus Lupin sat Kingsley Shacklebolt, Tonks and Professors McGonagall and Sprout. Professor Flitwick was on Professor Dumbledore’s other side while Madam Pince and Madam Pomfrey stood in the shadows behind Dumbledore’s chair. Looking at the assembled faculty, Ginny suddenly understood how much Professor Umbridge had been up against at the end of the previous school year.
Professor Dumbledore now introduced the witch Ginny didn’t know. The petite, Oriental woman was dressed in white trousers and a sort of short dressing gown that was tied together with a black belt at her waist. Her feet were bare and her greying hair was neatly pulled back into a long plait. Ginny wondered why the woman felt familiar until Professor Dumbledore said, “May I present Mrs. Ming Chang. She is the mother of one of the seventh years here at Hogwarts. Because of her position at St. Mungo’s Hospital where she is a Healer in the Spell Damage ward, she is unable to join the Order and wishes that her daughter not be made aware of her involvement. We will respect her wishes because she has volunteered her services to us.
“I wish I could say the plan I’m about to discuss with you has been in place since September and that we were here to report on our progress. As it is, let me outline what the plan entails. First, Harry has agreed to resume his Occlumency lessons, this time with Remus Lupin.” Ginny glanced at Hermione to see the older girl trying very hard not to look smug. “Second, he has agreed to have his supporting circle of friends train with him in the following areas: advanced duelling, sponsored by Kingsley Shacklebolt; Apparation training to be conducted by Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall–” To her right, Ron whispered, “Wicked!” causing Ginny to shake her head. “–and Tai Chi training/physical conditioning taught by Ming Chang. Third, because each of Harry’s friends has unique talents which are valuable to the war effort, each of them will be asked to take on an additional area or two of training or research.” He now addressed Harry, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Luna and Neville directly. “I will now pass out your modified time tables. Please understand that this is training over and above your current course loads. You will be expected to still maintain your academic marks to Hogwarts’ standards in the subjects you are currently taking, even though your new time tables give you less time for completing assignments. As a final caution, the adults have agreed to remain silent about our activities and I must ask you six to do the same. It is of the utmost importance that Voldemort not find out what we are doing to help Harry guarantee his demise.” He looked around the circle. “Any questions? Good. The meeting is adjourned.”
With this, six small pieces of parchment floated to their owners and Ginny and the others quickly put their heads together to compare notes. Luna, it seemed was included in only two of the extracurricular activities: Apparation training and something called “Spell Research”. The note next to this activity explained that Luna and Hermione would be helping Madam Pince search for spells to be used in the Advanced Duelling training as well as focusing on trying to find a spell for Harry to use against Voldemort.
“That’s right up your alley, Hermione,” Ron said smiling at her. “I reckon you’ll get to read all sorts of books from the restricted section of the library!”
“I’m looking forward to it, Ron,” Hermione said peering at her timetable. “I’m just concerned that I’m going to have to borrow one of those wretched Time Turners again to do a decent job of everything. Thank goodness Apparation Training is only on Saturday mornings!”
Neville pointed out, “It looks like only Harry, Ron and I are in Fencing on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Do you s’pose the three of us are really going to have to fight the Muggle way, I mean, real hand-to-hand combat?”
“It might have come in handy at the Ministry last June,” Harry commented darkly. “I’m glad that we’re all taking Advanced Duelling on Mondays and Wednesdays, though…” His face took on a haunted look Ginny had come to recognize as his brooding expression.
“I wonder why I’ve only got Advanced Spell Casting,” Ginny mused trying to distract Harry from his memories. “It looks like only Harry and I have that one. It’s on Fridays for three hours!”
“Dunno, maybe because it’s your OWL year?” Harry said shaking his head and trying to read Ron’s schedule upside down. “Hey, look, Ron. You’re going to be spending Sunday nights with Professor Dumbledore. What’s it say? The writing is too small.”
“Get some better glasses, Potter. It says, ‘Battle Strategies, Tactics and Planning’,” Ron grinned. “Oh, and there’s a footnote…‘Regular games of Chess with the headmaster.’ Brilliant!”
“You’re going to have to buckle down during the week and actually get your homework done,” Hermione chided Ron whose ears began to turn pink.
“Well, maybe while I’m with Dumbledore you can look over my essays to see that I’ve done them right,” Ron countered with a smirk of his own.
“I don’t think so, Ron,” Hermione rejoined. “I have Spell Creation with Professor Flitwick on Sunday nights and–”
“Will you two save the bickering until we get back to the common room?” Ginny interrupted her annoyance plain in her voice. “I want to find out what Neville’s specialty is going to be.”
Neville gave Ginny a grateful smile. “I’m going to study Advanced Herbology with emphasis on plant-based healing potions for field use during battle,” he said proudly, “on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays with Professor Sprout and Madam Pomfrey.”
“That’s wonderful, Neville,” Ginny said. “Maybe this will help you with your regular Potions lessons with Professor Snape.”
“I doubt that,” Neville said ruefully, “but I’m glad you mentioned it. Hey, does anyone know what this Tai Chi stuff is we’re all taking at half six in the morning?”
“No, but I think we’re about to find out,” Harry observed as the circle of chairs magically disappeared.
Ming Chang called out to the group as the teachers began moving toward the door, “Everyone, I’d like your attention, please. I will be training Harry and his peers every weekday morning at half six in the antechamber off the Entrance Hall. All of you are invited to participate in our morning sessions. Please wear loose-fitting clothes you can easily move in.” Some of the teachers looked mildly interested while others just shook their heads and continued out the door. She turned toward Harry, Ginny and the others. “I heard your question, Neville. What would you like to know?”
Neville looked a little sheepish as he asked, “What is Tai Chi? I’ve heard of it before, but don’t know where.”
Mrs. Chang smiled at the teens. “I’ll be going over all that tomorrow morning. Can you wait until then?”
Neville muttered, “I guess so,” as he and the others nodded the affirmative.
“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then,” Mrs. Chang told them as they prepared to leave. “Please remember to wear those comfortable clothes. We’ll be doing a lot of moving.”
“All right,” they chorused.
The door had barely closed behind them when Ron groaned, “What have I gotten myself into? Lessons at half six in the morning! And before breakfast, too! Argh!”
“Oh, grow up, Ron!” Hermione scoffed. “Getting up an hour early is not the end of the world.”
“Yes, it is!” Harry, Ron and Neville all said together causing the girls to fall into a gale of giggles which spilled out into the hallway as the gargoyle at the bottom of the spiral stairs sprang aside to let them pass.
“Only you would think beauty sleep is more important than physical conditioning,” Luna observed appraisingly. She stopped and gave the Gryffindors a little wave. “See you Saturday,” she called and began meandering along the corridor in the direction of the library.
Ginny and Harry remained standing where they were, watching her go, as Ron, Hermione and Neville headed in the opposite direction.
“I’m glad Luna’s willing to be part of the training,” Harry murmured, his gaze still following Luna. He reached for Ginny’s hand as they, too, headed toward Gryffindor tower.
“Why do you say that?” inquired Ginny.
“Well,” he hesitated, “Luna may not believe in everything we Gryffindors stand for, but she’s on our side and that has to count for something.”
“If Hermione can stand her twice a week, she may be able to come up with something valuable you can use.”
“That’s a big ‘if’, Ginny.”
“I know, but Luna’s the best researcher in my year, Harry. She knows the library as well as Hermione does and she’s really good at Ancient Runes and Arithmancy; probably the best in the class. We all go to her for hel–”
Harry silenced Ginny’s recital by placing a finger gently on her lips. “Ginny,” he said, “I like Luna. I trust Luna and that’s good enough for me.”
“Oh, but–”
“No ‘buts’, Ginny. Talking about Luna can wait. This can’t…” He suddenly dropped his bag to pull her into an alcove behind a statue and began to kiss her passionately while tangling his free hand in the hair at the nape of her neck. “Oh, Merlin, Ginny! I love you so much!” he breathed into her hair. He kissed her again before pulling back to gaze into her eyes, his own green ones considerably darkened by the passion Ginny saw in them. “Thank you for what you said up there in Dumbledore’s office. I don’t know how I can every repay you for the pledge you made today. It means so much…I’ll do everythi–” He stopped abruptly as Ginny repeated his gesture from earlier with her own finger.
“Stay alive, Harry. That’s all I ask,” Ginny whispered urgently.
“I’ll try,” Harry said, “but I’m not guaranteeing that Volde--”
“Mr. Potter! Miss Weasley! Come out of there this minute!” Professor McGonagall commanded as she poked her head around the statue at them her eyes blazing.
Reluctantly, Ginny released Harry’s waist as he slipped his hands from under her hair. They picked up their bags and joined their head of house in the corridor.
“Why aren’t the two of you down in the Great Hall? Dinner is nearly over!”
Harry glance at his watch. “We were talking and lost track of time,” he said defensively.
“Hmph! The number of times you and Mr. Weasley gave me that excuse in your first year…I should have turned you two into pocket watches then just so you’d get to class on time! Perhaps I should carry through with that wish now?”
“No need, professor. We’ll be going now,” Harry said solemnly as Ginny giggled nervously.
“Good. Run along, then,” the professor told them. As they passed her she added, “Oh, Miss Weasley…The next time you and Miss Granger wish to brew a potion together you may use the empty dorm room at the bottom of the girls stairway in Gryffindor tower. No one should bother you down there and it’s much safer than trying to work in the second floor girls’ lavatory.”
Wide-eyed, Ginny turned and sputtered, “Thank you, Professor. I’ll keep that in mind.”
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Ginny was more than a little worried about how she was going to get all her homework done with the added chores she would be facing during her detention with Professor Snape after dinner that evening. After a quick meal with Harry, she rushed off to the dungeons without telling him where she was going. She didn’t want to have to tell him that she was using contraband ingredients to make him feel better!
She shouldn’t have worried, though, because she surprised herself by actually enjoying the time she spent in the potions dungeon. During the first two hours, Professor Snape tried to repulse her and Colin by making them prepare piles of different animal innards for that week’s potions assignments. After the first few minutes of becoming used to the smells and the textures, Ginny began to enjoy the repetitive motions she was using in her preparations. As long as she kept up a rhythm, she was able to let her mind drift off on its own accord: even the professor’s biting commentary didn’t faze her and eventually Professor Snape gave up trying to upset her and went back to correcting his parchments. He dismissed the pair after only three hours and Ginny was able to complete her assignments before going to bed even though Harry had been quite concerned about her absence.
“Ginny, I’ve been looking for you all evening,” he said as she climbed through the portrait hole five minutes after curfew. “Where were you?”
She hesitated, then said, “Well, if you must know, I was in detention with Professor Snape.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m a little embarrassed about it, okay?”
“I’m sorry, Ginny. I reckon he’s just as rotten to you as he is to me and I just hope he wasn’t too hard on you tonight.”
Ginny smiled. “It wasn’t that bad, really. Once I got over being squeamish and got into a rhythm, ingredient-preparation wasn’t much worse than cooking at home.”
Harry looked sceptical. “I don’t believe that.”
Ginny looked at her watch. “Well, it’s true. And what’s also true is that I have to get my Herbology essay finished for tomorrow,” she said as she plunked herself down across from Hermione who waved at her over a pile of books.
Harry sat down as well and with a shake of his head, turned back to his own homework.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Ginny woke up with a start. Something had startled her out of a restless sleep peppered with nightmares about being on the wrong end of Lucius Malfoy’s and Bellatrix Lestrange’s wands. She sat up shakily and hugged her knees as she looked for the source of the disturbance.
A softly twittered hoot caught her attention and Ginny turned to find Hedwig perched on the headboard of her bed.
“Where’d you come from, girl?” Ginny asked holding out her arm. “Did Harry send you?”
The elegant white owl hopped onto the new perch and extended her leg. A small piece of parchment was attached and Ginny retrieved it as she asked, “Why is he up at this hour of the night, Hedwig?”
The owl fluffed her feathers as if to say, “I don’t know,” and flew from the bed through a small opening in the hangings without waiting for a reply or an owl treat.
Curious, Ginny unfolded the hastily scribbled note.
Ginny,
Meet me in the common room. We need to talk.
Harry
Ginny frowned at the cryptic note and slid out of bed. On a hunch she pulled two vials of the Draught of Peace from her trunk and headed downstairs. She felt shaky enough from the dream herself to warrant taking a dose, but for some reason she wanted someone with her at least this first time. Maybe if they took the potion together she wouldn’t feel so apprehensive.
Harry had lit a fire and was pacing in front of it when Ginny entered the common room. He looked up at her approach and when she was near enough, enfolded his girlfriend in a warm hug.
“Harry, you’re trembling!” Ginny exclaimed. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t help it. I never meant for you to have dreams like that!” he nearly wailed, clutching her more tightly to him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”
In an effort to comfort him, Ginny began tracing slow circles on his back with one hand. “It’s all right, Harry. You have nothing to apologize for,” she soothed. “How do you know about my dreams?”
“I–I think you shared them with me,” he murmured. “I was thinking about you before I went to bed and after I’d gone to sleep I began picking up scattered images.”
“What did you see?” Ginny inquired.
Harry thought a moment. “Tom Riddle coming out of the diary.”
“That’s one of my more common dreams, Harry. What else?”
“Lucius Malfoy. He was pointing his wand at you. He muttered something, a spell I think, but that’s all I saw.”
“That’s a new one tonight. Were there more?”
“There was something about the Department of Mysteries and then a long one in a forest.” Harry hesitated and Ginny suspected that the dream she’d been having about being cornered by Dementors, then having to face the two people she was most terrified of–Bellatrix Lestrange and Voldemort–had scared him as much as it had her.
“Go on.”
“You were surrounded by Dementors. Something other than a Patronus made them drift away. I couldn’t see who pointed a wand at you, but you were clearly petrified. You yelled something and, and that’s all I remember except maybe some pain. Did the dream continue?”
Ginny nodded her head. “Yeah, it did. I was facing Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange. Bellatrix had her wand on me. She cast a couple of curses I couldn’t block fast enough, but I don’t remember what happened next since Hedwig woke me up,” she admitted sadly. She looked up into his eyes as she whispered sincerely, “Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry you had to see that.”
He backed away from her and went back to pacing before looking at her with an agonized expression on his face. “It’s still all my fault, Ginny. If you weren’t involved with me you’d be free of those nightmares!”
Ginny froze at his words, anger clouding her pretty face. Suddenly, she stormed over to Harry and grabbed a handful of his pyjama shirt pulling him over to the nearest sofa where she proceeded to clamber onto the cushions without letting go of him. Looking down into his startled eyes, she began attacking him verbally.
“Now you listen to me, Harry James Potter!” she hissed savagely. “You are not going to feel guilty about my nightmares! Do you hear me? Those dreams are myresponsibility, my way of coping with the events of this war. If my unconscious mind chooses to come to terms with decisions I have made during my waking hours by giving me nightmares, then so be it. I accept that, Harry, and you need to, too.” She released her hold on his shirtfront but continued to hold his attention as she said a little more calmly, “Harry, love, I realize that you’re still in recovery from your depression over losing Sirius and that there are bound to be setbacks. But this doesn’t have to be one of them.”
Harry looked at her with a shocked expression on his face. “Recovery?”
“Yes, Harry, recovery. That’s what the Muggle psycho-analyst Dad talked to said you were going through.”
Harry was clearly angry as he asked, “When did he talk to this person?”
Ginny chose her words carefully as she answered, “About three months ago. I heard Mum and Dad talking late one night when Ron and I went home for that weekend in November. It was one of the deciding factors that resulted in all of us going to the Burrow in December.”
“Does your dad know about the contents of the Prophecy? Do you think he would have said something about it?” Harry asked suspiciously.
Ginny shook her head. “I don’t think so. I believe he thought you were mainly still grieving for Sirius. I think he told Mum that he ran into the analyst in the course of one of his investigations and asked a few general questions to help him cope with your situation.” As Harry began backing away from her she continued, “He thinks of you as his seventh son, Harry. Anything that hurts you affects him. He needed some answers and talked with someone he trusted just in case you needed someone other than Professor Dumbledore to talk to.”
Harry stood frozen in place, his eyes wide behind his glasses. “His seventh son…” he whispered. “Blimey! How did I deserve that?”
Ginny jumped off the sofa and went to him. “You’re Ron’s best mate and you love me. That’s how, you silly boy!” she answered him teasingly. When he closed his eyes and let out a huge sigh she said, “I hope you’re feeling better about all this.”
With another sigh Harry said, “I guess I have to be. But something still bothers me.”
“What’s that?”
“How did I come to view your dreams in the first place?”
“I have no idea. Maybe it’s something we should talk to Professor Dumbledore or Professor Lupin about the next time we see them.”
“All right,” Harry agreed finally. “It’s just that some strange things have started happening lately. I suppose I’ll just add sharing your nightmares to the list of things I need to talk about with one or the other of them.”
Ginny smiled up at the young wizard she loved so much. “Thank you for being so concerned about me, Harry. It means a lot, you know,” she told him sincerely.
“You’re welcome, love,” he said taking her into his arms. They shared another embrace as Ginny nestled her ear against Harry’s chest. She could hear his heart beating and it filled her with a sense of security she remembered from hearing her mother’s heart when she had still been small enough to sit in the comfort of her mother’s lap.
At length, Harry loosened his grasp and leaned back to plant a kiss on the top of Ginny’s head. “I hate to let you go, but six o’clock is only four hours away and I need to get some sleep,” he said ruefully.
Ginny stifled a yawn and pecked Harry on the cheek before walking over to the stairs that led to her dormitory. “Good night, then, Harry. Sleep well,” she called softly.
“See you in the morning, Ginny,” Harry’s voice floated toward her from his side of the stairwell.
Back in her dormitory, Ginny sat on the edge of her bed and uncorked one of the vials of the Draught of Peace. Although she was no longer bothered by the dreams themselves, the fact that she had shared them with Harry was disturbing enough to override the fact that she was about to take a potion not authorized by Madam Pomfrey. Wondering absently whether this was how Harry had felt the other night, she raised the vial to her lips and drained it in one big gulp, a technique she had perfected as a child when her mum made her take vile-tasting elixirs when she was feeling ill. The Draught didn’t have too bad a taste as far as potions went and it began slowly taking effect as she put the remaining vial back in her trunk and climbed back into bed. Soon the sense of security she had felt downstairs in Harry’s arms came over her again and she was able to close her eyes and drift off to sleep.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
It was a distinctly bleary-eyed group of students that assembled in the anti-chamber off the Entrance Hall at half six on Tuesday morning. To Ginny’s surprise, Luna showed up saying that since she was included in the other major group activity she had decided to be part of this one as well.
“Besides,” she added to no one in particular, “My father’s planning another excursion to the Himalayas this summer and I need to be in shape for all the walking.” The others just nodded as the boys went back to inspecting the insides of their eyelids.
“Welcome to Tai Chi,” Mrs. Chang greeted them as she strode briskly into the room. She walked quickly over to stand in front of a lightly snoring Harry. She pulled out her wand and cast a quick series of spells which caused him to wake up quickly, his eyes wide open. “No snoring in my classroom, Mr. Potter! Up and at ‘em!”
Hermione poked Ginny with her elbow. “I bet you’ll want to learn those spells. They could come in handy sometime, ya know.”
Ginny grinned mischievously but said nothing.
Mrs. Chang now pointed her wand at the middle of the empty room and quickly conjured several large mats. She removed her travelling cloak and walked to the centre of the room and sat down. “Come have a seat,” she called as she adjusted the black sash on what Ginny had begun to think of as her white pyjamas.
When the group was settled in a semi-circle in front of her she said, “Before we get started I want to tell you a little about what you’re going to be learning each morning. First of all, Professor Dumbledore thought it might be a good idea for all of you to participate together in a stress-relieving activity; something in which you are active but that also doesn’t seem to be related at first to the other extra training you are receiving.” She looked pointedly at Harry who shifted under her gaze. “Secondly, the more you ask of your bodies physically, the more focussed your mind tends to become. The study of Tai Chi does just that. As we train the body into various positions and learn to focus the mind on tranquil thoughts, your focus in other subjects will increase as well. Any questions so far?”
Neville raised his hand. “Do you have to be a good fighter or duellist to succeed at Tai Chi?” he asked.
“No, actually you don’t, Mr. Longbottom,” Mrs. Chang. “Tai Chi can be thought of as a type of standing meditation. It’s slow and requires concentration which in turn builds confidence and balance within and without the body. Here. Let me show you.” She stood gracefully and took what could only be a fighting stance. Then, she began to move in slow, fluid movements, twisting first one way, then the other and shifting her weight from one foot to the next.
Ginny and the others watched the demonstration in fascination until Neville exclaimed happily, “I’ve seen this somewhere! I think it’s something I can do!”
Mrs. Chang beamed at him. “Now that’s the kind of attitude I’m looking for, young man!” she exclaimed bringing her movements to a stop. “Everyone, please get you your feet. Normally I would start the lesson with five minutes of silent meditation, but since I sense that at least Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley have all ready done their morning’s meditation,” a comment which caused everyone to chuckle as Ron’s ears turned scarlet, “let’s begin with learning some of the basic movements. Then, if there’s time, we can begin to put them together.”
The remainder of the lesson was spent in fierce concentration as Mrs. Chang walked amongst the group correcting postures and making encouraging comments. By the end of the hour Ginny’s thigh muscles had begun to burn and she was more than a little discouraged. She had always thought she had good balance, especially on a broom, but at the moment, she wasn’t so sure. Her uncertainty must have shown on her face because Mrs. Chang sat down on the floor and asked for questions or feedback the group.
Luna, who had hardly said a thing the entire hour, was the first to raise her hand. “Is it true that the ancient Chinese were taught these poses by the animals? If so, which ones were they?” she asked.
Ginny caught Harry and Ron exchanging eye rolls as Mrs. Chang answered, “No, my dear. The thirteen basic postures we learned today were first formulated by a man named Chang Sang-feng around 1420 to simulate animal movements. They were later linked together into the forms we will be learning in future lessons. If you’re interested, I have several books on Tai Chi history which may give you the information you need.”
Luna looked slightly disappointed as she murmured, “Thanks. I’ll consider that.” As she spoke, her normally vague look took over and Ginny could tell she was thinking of other things all ready.
“Will this get any easier?” Neville asked quietly.
Mrs. Chang smiled at him. “As with anything worth learning, Tai Chi is difficult at first. In time I’m certain you will find a balance within yourself that will allow you to learn without falling over,” she responded teasing Neville gently.
Neville grinned sheepishly as his friends smiled self-consciously. Ginny was rather grateful that their new instructor was taking him seriously and thought Harry, Ron and Hermione were of the same opinion. At one point or another on this first morning, they had all ended up on their backsides and there had been a lot of nervous laughter.
“Should we do warm-up exercises before we come tomorrow?” Hermione asked next.
“That won’t be necessary. There will be warm-up and focus sets built into every session. Eventually we will be working in complete silence or with the addition of some calming music,” Mrs. Chang told the group. “Are there any more questions? No? Then I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
As the six students moved toward the door Mrs. Chang called, “Ginny, Harry may I have a word, please?”
Ginny asked Hermione to save her a seat at breakfast then joined Harry where he was seated on the floor with Mrs. Chang.
“I asked you to stay because I sense the two of you have reservations about why Tai Chi is being included in your training,” Mrs. Chang said looking pointedly at Harry.
Ginny didn’t say anything as she toyed with a loose thread in the hem of the warm-up jacket she wore; the jacket was one of her favourites, a hand-me-down from Charlie who had given it to her when she had joined the Quidditch team last year. She felt comfortable in it and at the moment was considering lending it to Harry who had tensed up immeasurably at Mrs. Chang’s candour. She wondered how irritated Harry was going to sound when he finally said something.
“It’s not that I didn’t have fun this morning,” he began. “I’m just wondering why we’re not learning a more violent form of martial arts. I mean, wouldn’t learning hand to hand combat be more suited to fighting this war?”
Mrs. Chang sat thoughtfully for a full minute before she answered, “Indeed it would, and if that’s what you desire to learn in addition to what I have been instructed to teach you I would be willing to do so. However, from what Professor Dumbledore has told me, Harry, it seems that learning to focus your energy, especially angry or negative energy, is what you really need. In Tai Chi the student first learns to channel such energy and use it constructively instead of destructively. Holding anger inside oneself upsets the energy balance within the body. The more you practice the Tai Chi forms the more in control of yourself you will become.”
Ginny thought she understood what Mrs. Chang was saying. “So would learning to centre oneself be beneficial to the study of Occlumency?” she inquired.
Mrs. Chang smiled. “Yes, Ginny. The physical aspect gives the body something to do while the mind rids itself of negative energy and emotion.”
“So why aren’t we learning to do this at the end of the day?” Harry asked. “I’d think that practicing calming down would be better for going to sleep when I seem to need it the most.”
“Most people practice Tai Chi in the morning to bring a positive balance to the rest of the day. You can do some of the meditation exercises before bed if you think it’s necessary, although I had the impression that Remus Lupin was going to cover that aspect in your Occlumency lessons.”
“It might not hurt to try a combination of the various methods until you find something that works,” Ginny told him quietly. “Keeping an open mind about closing your mind may take a while. Trying different methods at different times of the day may be what you need to shut Voldemort out and who knows … they might just improve your outlook on the situation!”
Harry was silent for a moment. “All right,” he said finally. “I reckon I am feeling a little more optimistic about the rest of the day.” He snorted. “Maybe, though, it’s mainly because I just realized that today is a Snape-free day: no Potions!”
This struck Ginny as rather funny and she giggled softly into her hand. Leave it to Harry to express his optimism in potions terms!
Mrs. Chang smiled, too, and remarked, “That is definitely something we’ll have to consider. I may question you later on one of the days you have double Potions with Professor Snape.”
Harry looked annoyed. “Fair enough,” he responded. “Now, did I hear you correctly that Tai Chi will be useful in my Occlumency? Does Remus approve?”
“He seems to. Both he and Professor Dumbledore are opposed to your method of exhausting yourself in order to have a nightmare-free night’s slumber. I think you’ll soon realize the advantages of movement-based meditation once we begin exploring the role of the chi in the body.”
“Chi?” Harry and Ginny asked together.
“Yes, the positive energy I spoke of earlier. The Chinese believe the chi is an essential force that animates the body. It circulates in patterns flowing through the nerve paths and cardiovascular system. When the chi is balanced, the body is healthy.”
“So you’re telling me that right now my chi isn’t balanced?” Harry queried. “I wonder why?” he added sarcastically.
Ginny shook her head at Harry’s rudeness and tried to change the subject. “Will we be learning more about this tomorrow?”
“A little,” Mrs. Chang said following Ginny’s lead. “There are a few things we all need to learn before we go into this subject much further.” She now summoned a quill and some parchment from her cloak. The fact that the quill was acid green in colour didn’t seem to go over too well with Harry in his present frame of mind.
“Is that what I think it is?” he asked warily, an eyebrow ascending into his hair.
“If you mean a Quick Quotes Quill, yes, it is. However, this one records only what is said and will not invent its own sentences.”
Harry’s eyebrow descended gradually into its natural position. “All right,” he said slowly. “Can we test it first?”
Mrs. Chang wet the end of the quill and set it on its point over the parchment. “Make columns ‘Ginny’ and ‘Harry’. Record single word responses,” she instructed clearly. The quill wrote the two names and then otherwise remained motionless. Mrs. Chang looked up at the two students in front of her. “I will call out a word. Please say the first idea that comes to mind. Banana.”
“Pie,” volunteered Ginny.
“Monkey,” said Harry.
The quill inscribed the words in the appropriate columns, and then waited, poised over the parchment, for the next entry. Mrs. Chang slid the parchment from under its point and handed the paper to Harry. He scanned it, nodded, and then passed it over to Ginny who glanced at it before handing it back to the other witch.
“Shall we begin?”
When the two teens nodded, she pulled out her wand and cast a privacy bubble over the three of them–Ginny could see the rainbow hues shimmering in the sunlight coming in through the windows and wondered absently whether or not a pair of Fred and George’s Extendable Ears could penetrate the sphere. Next, Mrs. Chang said, “I’m now going to set up personal secrecy cubes. The quill will record your responses, but none of us will hear the other’s answers. If you wish, I will show you the response sheet at the end.” With that, three transparent boxes flew out of her wand and settled over the occupants of the bubble. The silence inside was complete, but Ginny felt very relaxed and eager to see what would happen next. She glanced at Harry who seemed a little anxious. Without thinking, Ginny extended her hand through the barrier and grasped Harry’s hand. His shoulders lost some of their tension at her touch.
“Ready?” Mrs. Chang’s voice interrupted their exchange. “First word…broom.”
As Ginny answered “flight”, her attention rested on the quill as it skated across the parchment. Nothing appeared under either her or Harry’s name, though. Total privacy…hmmm. I like that, she thought and readied herself for the next word. Two minutes later Mrs. Chang lifted the secrecy cubes and handed the parchment to Harry. Ginny scooted closer to him and peered over his shoulder at the table which was now filled with their responses.
WORD ASSOCIATIONS
HARRY POTTER AND GINEVRA WEASLEY
................................. Ginny.......... Harry
broom----------------- flight-- freedom
chocolate---------------- frogs-- Dementors
Quidditch------------- Ron-- Ron--
quill-------------- homework-- Rita Skeeter
The Burrow------------ home-- acceptance
Hogwarts-------------- school-- home
Ron Weasley----------- brother-- brother
Hermione Granger------ friend-- sister
Neville Longbottom---- determined-- emerging
Luna Lovegood--------- brilliant-- observant
myself---------------- confident-- uncertain
family---------------- security-- loathing
Professor Dumbledore-- beard-- manipulative
war------------------- family-- unfair
Chamber of Secrets---- diary-- rescue
Triwizard Tournament-- anxiety-- dragon
parents---------------- supportive-- gone
Thestral-------------- scary-- transportation
homework-------------- Hermione-- Hermione
headquarters----------- gloomy-- Sirius
Ginny looked up at Mrs. Chang. “This seems to reflect how we were brought up. I would have thought Harry and I would have more in common,” she commented cocking her head to one side.
“Miss Weasley, I see much more than the three common responses. I see your life experiences, your hopes, your insecurities, your humour. Does Miss Granger possibly hound her group of friends to get their homework done?”
“Yes!” Harry and Ginny practically yelled and then fell into mirthful giggles before Harry asked solemnly, “What will you do with this?” Wariness and curiosity warred for dominance in his face.
“Not much right away until I have the responses from all six of you. Then I will study the group’s dynamics and determine the best possible methods for teaching you and making Tai Chi something you might wish to pursue even after Hogwarts.”
“What will become of the data you collect on us?”
“Mr. Potter, I will treat these files as I would any patient’s on the Janus Thickey ward: with the strictest privacy charms I can cast without resorting to blood magic. Only you and I can open your file.”
“How do I know you won’t share the information with Rita Skeeter and company? I’m not too fond of reporters after what she did to me summer before last.”
“You’ll have to trust me on that, Mr. Potter. I give you my word that I will never breach the oath of privacy I took over twenty years ago. Nothing is more important than my patients’ privacy–yes, for now you and your friends are my ‘patients’–and that is why I cast the privacy bubble over us.
“Part of what I must teach you and what you must be open-minded enough to learn is trust.”
Harry lowered his head and sighed at her words. “It’s hard sometimes, Mrs. Chang, for me to trust people…especially after last June.”
“I understand, Mr. Potter. I’m here because I know I can help you with your preparations. You’ve been dealt a bad hand many times in your young life and have a great responsibility to fulfil. Part of completing that responsibility has to do with trust: I think you will need to rely on your support system through your final confrontation.”
When Harry didn’t respond she continued, “I have one last question. The response this time must be in full sentences and will be recorded on the parchment. Again, you may review the responses when we are finished. I’ll lower the cubes now…” The boxes settled over their heads as the quill stood once again on its point. When all was quiet, the question that rang out in Ginny’s box startled her a little: “What scares you the most about Voldemort?”
Ginny took her time answering, carefully wording her sentences to make certain her thoughts were true to her beliefs. When the parchment was passed to her the question and both responses were recorded there:
Ginny Weasley: Voldemort scares me because he can control people through possession and the Imperious Curse. I know what he is capable of doing to people and I never want to feel that powerless again.
Harry Potter: I’m not afraid of Voldemort himself. Instead, I’m scared of what he can do with a wand. He’s a powerful wizard and I’m…I’m just sixteen…I don’t know enough magic to fight such a powerful, dark wizard and survive…
A lump had risen in Ginny’s throat as she read her boyfriend’s response. As quickly as she could without arousing Harry’s suspicions, she handed the parchment back to Mrs. Chang and moved to vacate her cube, intending to step out of the room to collect her emotions.
“Ginny, please be seated again,” Mrs. Chang requested. “I’d like you to be part of the last of our discussion.”
Ginny returned to her cube to find the side between her and Harry had become opaque. Grateful that Harry could no longer see her cry she let the sobs come. She cried for his lost innocence, she cried for her own; she cried because of Harry’s bravado and her own seeming temerity; she cried mostly because even with the assurances of the last few days, Harry still seemed to think he alone had to fight a madman.
Suddenly, a large hand snaked its way through the barrier to clutch at her hand. Ginny squeezed back and almost instantly began to sense, rather than hear, Harry say, I’m sorry, Ginny. I know you’re upset by my response, but she did ask us to be honest. Everyone expects me to be Superman, but that’s not who I am. To you and my friends I want to be ‘just Harry’ and nothing more. Please don’t worry about me, Ginny. I’ve done enough of that for both of us.
Ginny squeezed the hand she held and thought, I’ll try, Harry. I’ll try. She closed her other hand around he angel pendant and felt the original, familiar magic reassuring her as the privacy cube ceased to exist.
“Hey, you two. This is no time for being all gloomy. We have a goal to work for which is a start in a positive direction. Besides, it’s no fair keeping secrets from the shrink!” Mrs. Chang interrupted with a smile. “It’s almost time for breakfast and you still have to change.”
Ginny turned to Harry and asked, “What’s a shrink?”
“It’s Muggle for Mind Healer or psycho-analyst; a rather derogatory term, I’d say,” Mrs. Chang answered for him as she rolled up the parchment and murmured a spell over it. The thick paper glowed orange for a split second before returning to its original colour.
“Dudley’s school nurse wants him to see a shrink because he’s such a bully,” Harry volunteered with a snort of disgust. “As if something like that would help his attitude.”
Mrs. Chang extinguished to torches and put on her cloak. “Before I go, I’d like to apply a Cheering Charm to each of you that will last the rest of the day…it might help with Ginny’s reaction to your response, Harry.” Without waiting for him to reply, Mrs. Chang flicked her wand first at Ginny, then at Harry, and Ginny immediately felt more a little more positive about what they had discussed. “Run along, now. I don’t want you to be late for your first lesson…especially since it’s a Professor Snape-free day for Harry,” Mrs. Chang teased lightly.
Ginny and Harry joined her in the Entrance Hall. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow morning then,” she said and a moment later the oak front doors closed with a solid thud that felt satisfyingly safe to Ginny.
Harry steered her now toward the marble staircase. “Race you back to the tower,” he challenged.
“You’re on!” Ginny responded and began running up the staircase with Harry in hot pursuit.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Just before curfew that evening Harry dropped his rucksack on the floor of the common room next to Ginny’s table with a resounding thud and sank into a chair next to her with a poorly disguised groan. “What did I get myself into?” he asked his shoes as he let his head contact the table with another loud thump.
“I take it your first fencing lesson wasn’t too successful,” Ginny commented setting her quill next to her Potions book.
“Tonks was brutal! I ache in places I didn’t know I had muscles!” Neville exclaimed as he joined them. He turned to Harry and said, “Ron’s still with Madam Pomfrey having her look at his knee. He said to go on to bed without him because Hermione’s with him.”
Ginny looked at Neville in alarm. “What did he do? Is he seriously hurt?” she asked rising.
Harry laid a restraining hand on her shoulder and forced her to sit down again. “He’ll be all right. Ron just twisted around funny and we all heard his knee pop. Tonks told him to go have it looked at just in case,” he informed her reassuringly.
“Well, if you’re sure…” Ginny hedged still more than a little concerned. Then, she queried, “Other than that, how was it? I take it you three saw lots of action tonight.”
“You could say that,” Harry said as he pulled a book and a half-completed essay from his bag and placed them on the table with a groan. He reached up and massaged the muscles of his upper right arm. “I never knew a sword could be so heavy.”
“Not even Godric Gryffindor’s?” Ginny asked, one eyebrow raised.
As Harry shook his head Neville informed her, “Tonks demonstrated three different methods of sword fighting and had each of us learn a few of the basics of each. She put the three of us on our backsides more times than I care to count.”
“Do you think it might be useful?”
“Yeah, I do,” Neville agreed. “There’s a type of Chinese fighting technique–I don’t remember the name–that uses long or short poles. That might come in handy sometime since I’m not so good with a wand.”
“Balderdash!” interjected Harry. “You got two E’s in Defence last year and you were damn good at the Department of Mysteries!”
“I agree, Neville,” Ginny said adding her two Knuts worth.
“Well, in that case…” Neville hedged.
Further conversation was curtailed as the portrait hole opened and Hermione stepped through before she turned to help Ron over the threshold.
Ginny stood up and quickly crossed the common room to lend a hand in steadying her brother. “Are you all right?” she asked him as the three made their way unhurriedly toward the door to the boys’ staircase.
“I’ll be fine tomorrow, Ginny,” Ron told her as he grabbed for the railing. “Hermione promised Madam Pomfrey that she’d cast one last healing spell before I went to sleep tonight.”
Hermione eyed Ron suspiciously as she told Ginny, “Your brother refused to stay over night in the hospital wing when Madam Pomfrey insisted he do so after one of her healing spells didn’t seem to do any good.”
“I see,” Ginny said trying hard to keep her voice steady and not laugh in her brother’s face. “Well, then I’d better let you two get upstairs. G’night, Ron. Sweet dreams,” she added slyly as the two began the slow ascent to the sixth year dormitory.
“What was that all about?” Neville inquired.
Ginny let her laughter have a free reign before she mastered her voice enough to choke out, “Ron’s perfectly all right. He’s just taking full advantage of Hermione’s ministrations and milking the situation for all it’s worth!”
Harry smirked at Neville who seemed slow on the uptake. The other boy suddenly shook his head and murmured, “Oh my!” before chuckling himself. The other two joined in and it was a few minutes before the three at the table calmed down enough to return to their homework.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Her angel pendent began vibrating violently on Thursday morning at the end of Ginny’s Herbology class.
Harry’s in trouble! she thought. Something was going terribly wrong with Harry, but because she couldn’t dare to skive off this review session, Ginny placed a hand on her necklace and sent a few calming thoughts to Harry through the angel. She hoped it would work…
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
“Did you hear the explosion?”
“How could you miss it? The whole castle shook!”
“Is it true there’s a hole in the ceiling?”
“Yeah, but it’s completely blocked by furniture that got stuck together after a cauldron blasted through!”
“How’d that happen?”
“Something exploded in the Potions dungeon.”
“Duh! Which year’s responsible…first?”
“No, sixth!”
“What were the sixth years working on?”
“Sticking Solution.”
“Oh, wicked! What happened?”
“Harry Potter blew up the Potions classroom!”
The news spread like wildfire. Indeed, it was true that there was a hole in the ceiling. It was also true that the entire classroom was covered in a substance so sticky that it defied even Mrs. Scower’s Magical Mess Remover which had Mr. Filch in a horrid frame of mind. Moreover, several students, mostly Slytherins, were nursing minor burns where the hot liquid had scorched them. What was worse, though, was Professor Snape’s fate; he was said to be sticking to the sheets of a cot in the hospital wing with his eyes and mouth glued shut.
“What did Snape do to Potter to get him that angry?”
“Rumour has it that Snape was needling Potter as usual about something. Then he took it up a notch.”
“And ka-boom! Every cauldron in the classroom belched its potion and the whole mess drenched Professor Snape!”
“You should’ve seen it…the stuff just rolled off his hair and stuck to everything else!”
The corridors resounded with laughter. “I always knew Snape was a greasy git. This just proves it!”
End of Part Six
Chapter 7: Chapter 7
New Year, New HopePart Seven
Author’s Notes: As of the publication of HBP, this story has officially become Pre-HBP, almost AU. However, as the author, I reserve the right to add in bits of current canon as I see fit. I will continue to publish the story as I originally conceived it and hope you, my readers, will continue to follow the story and add your reviews. I appreciate the moments you take to add your words of encouragement or criticism because I do take into consideration what each of you writes to me.
And now for your reading pleasure…
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Ginny’s angel pendent was vibrating violently again.
Harry’s in trouble!
Ginny glanced up at Professor Binns and decided that sneaking out of class without permission wouldn’t get her a detention. The elderly ghost never raised his eyes from his notes and even if he did notice her, he wouldn’t know who she was to begin with.
Her decision made, Ginny quietly packed up her things and, avoiding the curious stares from those few classmates who were still awake, slipped out into the corridor. She glanced at her watch as the door shut with a soft click. There were nearly thirty minutes left in the current lesson; if she met someone she would instantly be suspected of skiving off. Right now she really didn’t care.
Without regard to the amount of noise she was making, Ginny tore up the first flight of stairs leading to the seventh floor. At the portrait of the Fat Lady, she made a quick detour into Gryffindor Tower, and then resumed her search for Harry.
Several minutes later, she skidded breathlessly to a halt in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and began pacing along the blank wall across from it.
I need to find Harry. I know he’s here and doesn’t want to be found. He needs me. I want to help him deal with whatever’s happened. Other jumbled, Harry-centred thoughts flew through her head as she marched past the blank wall. I know he’s here… please let him want me to find him here!
The door materialised. Ginny sighed in relief and gently opened it to reveal the smallest space she had ever seen. There, in front of her, sitting on a moth-eaten mattress covered in ragged linens under the steeply sloping ceiling of what could only be a stairwell, was Harry. The mattress itself was elevated above the floor on a board that balanced precariously on wooden crates. There was no room to stand. At the head and foot of the mattress were several shelves covered with an assortment of dusty boxes. Spiders of several species scuttled away from the sudden light. Ginny shuddered involuntarily as she took in the scene before her.
“Oh, Harry!” she breathed.
Harry looked up. “Welcome to my cupboard, Ginny,” he said miserably.
“May I… may I sit down?”
Harry glanced around the cramped space and scooted toward the foot of the mattress.
“I’m scared, Ginny…”
Harry’s quiet words hit her with the power of a Bludger travelling at full speed. It was the first time Ginny had ever seen Harry look scared or heard him admit anything like this before and it shook her to the very core of her being.
Gingerly, she squeezed onto the mattress next to Harry, letting the door shut behind her. The darkness was almost complete; no air moved, a tiny amount of light leaked in through the vent in the door, claustrophobia reigned. Ginny pushed her discomfort and horror to the back of her mind. Harry needed her; she pulled him into a gentle embrace and waited for him to react. He sagged against her, trembling almost uncontrollably. A moment later, he snaked his arms around her, returning the hug. In the cramped space, all she could do was murmur soothing words and rock back and forth a little and wait for his tremors to stop.
“Harry… why are you scared?”
A noise from outside drowned out Harry’s response. Angrily, Ginny wished she had thought to cast a silencing charm on the door; she was sure Peeves had found them. Muttering a spell Fred and George had taught her over the summer, Ginny hexed the poltergeist through the vent in the door.
“That’s not nice,” he screeched. There was the sound of something overturning. If she hadn’t been so concerned about Harry she would have found Peeves’ discomfort funny. She lit her wand without asking for Harry’s permission.
Harry had pulled away at the intrusion and drawn his knees close to his chest. He rested his forehead on his knees, lacing his fingers through his hair, refusing to look at her.
Ginny sat quietly beside him. Harry looked utterly miserable and again, Ginny’s heart swelled with emotion. She had hoped that Harry’s emotional state had taken a turn for the better with all the support he had recently discovered, but with people like Professor Snape sabotaging his self esteem, there was no telling whether Harry had hit rock-bottom again and would have to try to claw his way back out of depression. She hoped that this was just a small bump in the road and that Harry would be feeling better in a day or two. Taking hold of Harry’s closest hand and entwining her fingers with his, she asked, “What are you scared of, love?”
“Myself,” he stated simply.
“You?” she asked softly, hoping she was masking her surprise well.
“Me. My magic. My thoughts. My attitude,” he admitted slowly. “I can’t control any of it. I get angry and it feels as if I’m going to explode if I don’t let it out.”
“Is that what happened this morning?”
“Yeah.”
“What happened?”
“Snape was goading me as usual… saying stupid stuff... and I finally just lost my temper.”
“What was he saying?”
“The usual rubbish about how weak my potion-making skills are and how he was manipulated into taking me as one of his N.E.W.T. students.”
Ginny thought carefully before she next spoke. She was convinced that there was more to Professor Snape’s goading of Harry. “He does that to you in class, right? So it’s not just an isolated incident.”
“All the time. Has since the first day I entered his classroom.”
“I know. Hermione told me, so there’s got to be more to it than Snape breathing down your neck.”
Harry shuddered and closed his eyes. “Blimey, Ginny. For some reason it felt as if he was deliberately trying to provoke me today, maybe to see how far he could push before I made a fool of myself!”
Harry squirmed a little and Ginny instantly knew that what she was going to hear was extremely unpleasant. Instead, she suddenly felt a slight surge of magic travel up her arm from their clasped hands. It was very much like a reverse of the feeling she’d had the night she had linked the two pendants. A moment later she was forced to close her eyes as images tumbled into her mind.
She was standing at her usual desk three-quarters of the way down the centre aisle of the Potions classroom listening to her cauldron bubble while she cut up the last of her ingredients. Behind her, the click of Professor Snape’s heels receded down the aisle toward a hiccupping noise issuing from someone else’s potion. She heaved a sigh of relief.
“Bloody Snape! How can I grind those beetles any smaller?” she grumbled to herself as she poked at the contents of her mortar with her pestle. The other cauldron gave a mighty belch and splashed Sticking Solution all over the floor. The heel clicks stopped and she heard the professor issuing wand-movement instructions on how to clean up the mess with “Evanesco” before it dried and stuck to the floor.
She turned to sneak a peek behind her to see which Slytherin was receiving special treatment. “Draco…figures…”
Beside her, Neville murmured, “Not fair. Not fair at all!”
“Silence, Longbottom!” the Potions Master scolded, coming up behind them. He leaned in and spoke into her ear as he poked the tip of a quill into her piles of prepared ingredients. “Potter–cut those pieces of erumpent hide smaller. They will never soften if you leave them that big!”
She ignored Professor Snape’s criticism and glanced at the board. She had to finish this potion on time and with reasonable success; her mark in Potions depended upon it. Instruction ten called for seven drops of distilled bat guano. She rummaged through her potions kit and extracted the right bottle. The voice in her ear suddenly hissed, “Don’t add that now… do you want to set the school on fire? I swear–you get more incompetent by the day, Potter! One of these days Longbottom’s going to be smarter than you!”
She closed her eyes and thought, Control. I must keep calm. Don’t let him get you angry…
Professor Snape wandered off again. She read the instructions again thoroughly, all of them, for the fourth time in ten minutes and gently dripped the distilled guano down the bowl of her ladle as instructed. She stirred gently and watched the colour of her potion change; she needed electric blue, but had to be satisfied with a violet-blue instead. What had she done wrong? Dean turned around at this moment and shook his head. “Don’t let him get to you, mate. Your potion’s colour is no worse than mine or Neville’s.” She glanced up to peek at the others’ mixtures and shook her head. Both mixtures were an azure blue that was close to the specified colour; no matter that her friends were now frantically poking their wands under their cauldrons to reduce the flames, their solutions were almost boiling and giving off copious amounts of silver-grey steam. She sighed in relief: if Neville and Dean exploded their cauldrons because they let their potions boil over she wouldn’t be given an automatic zero for today’s Sticking Solution.
Ginny was appalled. It was one thing to hear it from Hermione, but when it came straight from Harry’s mouth, from his mind… “Harry, are you sending these images to me deliberately?” she asked.
When he nodded, she said, “But that’s entirely unfair. I mean, he’s always been really hard on anyone who wasn’t a Slytherin, but to blatantly belittle you from the start is… is…”
“…what Professor Snape gets away with,” Harry grumbled. “And I’m not finished yet… it just gets worse from here.”
The scene changed a little. Thanks to Hermione’s hissed instructions, her Sticking Solution was now the proper colour and she was straightening up her work area while her mixture simmered. Without warning, the voice in her ear was back. “You’re just like your father, Potter. He never paid attention to his mixtures; he always needed Black to bail him out just like you need Granger. Those two were forever disrupting the lessons with disappearing ladles and switched ingredients that created mayhem when they smoked or exploded. They were never serious about their work… never! And neither are you. Fifty points from Gryffindor for not doing your own work in my class today! I should have overridden Minerva McGonagall’s pleading and kept your miserable hide out of my classroom this year. You don’t deserve to be in this level of my class.”
“Leave me alone, sir,” she requested through clenched teeth. “And leave my father out of your classroom.”
“Now, now. Temper, temper, temper,” the voice crooned silkily. “Be careful or I’ll just have to give you a zero. Your father would have been quite proud of that mark, you know…” He resumed walking toward the Slytherin students as she stood there seething.
She had felt her anger build with each remark. She closed her eyes again and clenched her fists to try to stuff the anger back into its cubby hole in her mind. Her efforts to calm herself weren’t working; she could feel a new sensation force its way into her consciousness and recognized it as revenge. A revenge that was powerful and satisfying at the same time; retribution of sorts for all that had been heaped on her self-control over the last five months. She sighed and tried to clear her mind of this new feeling as well, failing miserably. The pressure was building and she couldn’t stop it. All the hurt feelings and angry thoughts she had ever had toward a certain teacher suddenly surfaced and focused into one single thought, “I wish you would just shut it and leave me alone!”
A low rumbling now began issuing from every station in the room. The students around her looked at each other in alarm. The rumbling grew more intense as every cauldron of Sticking Solution began to bounce around, the contents sloshing and swirling as one. The pressure inside her mind continued to boil and swirl, struggling to be released. Her magic was out of control as every single cauldron belched up its contents. The streams of potion arched into the air, meeting above the very point below which Professor Snape was standing. The column and several cauldrons hit the ceiling, blasting a hole through the solid stone; their contents coalesced on their way back down.
She heard someone yell, “Professor, watch OUT! RUN!” but didn’t know if he had time to move.
Someone grabbed her arm and pulled her violently out of the way as someone else yelled, “TAKE COVER OR YOU’LL BE STUCK!”
The mass hit Professor Snape squarely on the head and rolled down his greasy hair to stick to his face and robes before splashing in the direction of the Slytherin contingent of the class.
The classroom emptied almost instantly of hysterical students leaving a trail of sticky footprints leading up to the Great Hall and beyond. She and the other Gryffindors had left the scene with the others: they now stood in an alcove near the marble staircase shedding their ruined robes and lining their shoes sole-up for Hermione to cast “Scourgify” on them.
She sank down onto the stone floor and put her head on her knees, muttering, “What have I done? What have I done?”
The scene faded…
… And Ginny found herself trembling as a mix of her own emotions warred inside her head, the most powerful of which seemed to be indignation and a new loathing for a particular teacher.
Harry now spoke, the calmness of his voice betraying his real emotions. “I’m sorry, Ginny. I should have been more in control. I failed and now I’ve got to face the consequences. If Snape dies because of what I did I’ll be thrown into Azkaban, I know it…”
“Oh, Harry, it wasn’t your fault! You’ve put up with Snape’s treatment for far too long! Some of the blame has to be placed on him.”
“And it should,” Harry agreed, “but that still doesn’t excuse what I did.”
“Can’t you or Ron or Hermione report what he’s doing to Dumbledore or McGonagall?”
Harry scowled. “Like they’d really do anything about it,” he scoffed.
Ginny closed her eyes. “Does this have anything to do with why you never went back to Occlumency last year?” she asked as Harry muttered something about throttling Ron. “No, Harry, Ron had nothing to do with it. You don’t need to hurt him.”
“Then who…”
“Harry, I heard Professor Dumbledore telling Mum and Dad last summer that you’d had a falling-out with Professor Snape during one of your lessons.”
“Great. Why am I supposed to keep quiet about what I’m supposedly learning when Dumbledore tells everyone that I can’t be civil to the one teaching me?”
“He wouldn’t disclose the details, if that’s what you’re concerned about; but suffice it to say that all three of them were very concerned for your mental well-being,” she told him soothingly.
“Yeah, right,” Harry grumbled. “And I’m a Crumple-Horned Snorkack.”
“Harry,” Ginny pleaded, “Please believe me–it’s not something I’d joke about lightly. My parents knew it was dangerous for you not to close your mind, but last September when you rejected further Occlumency lessons with Professor Dumbledore, they just assumed you knew what you were doing.”
“Well, they’re wrong. I don’t know what I’m doing,” Harry responded miserably. “I’m terrified that Voldemort is going to try to force his way into my thoughts again like he did last year. If he does there’s no telling who’s going to suffer, because I can’t control my emotions or my magic!”
Ginny sighed. “What has Mrs Chang been telling us the last three sessions? That learning to control our bodies will help us become more focused and able to control our minds, Harry.”
“I know. But can I help it if I still feel I have to question something I don’t yet believe in?”
“I suppose not. But haven’t you felt something changing from what it was like on Tuesday to find yourself sitting on the floor with your thighs burning from standing in that squatting posture?”
“No,” said Harry sullenly.
Ginny sighed. This was getting her nowhere fast. She changed tactics.
“How long has this been going on?”
“How long has what been going on?”
“The uncontrollable magic.”
“All year,” he sighed. “But it’s only been since that incident with the thestrals and Malfoy that the weird stuff has been happening.”
“What sort of stuff?”
Harry sighed again and began ticking things off on his fingers. “At first it was just little things. I’d walk away from my bed in the morning and come back from the loo to find it making itself and Ron, Dean, Neville and Seamus staring at it. My robes folded themselves last night just because I felt momentarily guilty about throwing them on the floor.” Ginny giggled softly at this. “Doors have been opening themselves for weeks. The other night I Summoned a book from a library shelf just by thinking about it.”
“I bet Madam Pince was none too pleased about that,” Ginny commented, grinning.
Harry tried a wry smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “She chased me out of the library like she did last year when you brought me that Easter egg.”
Ginny chuckled. "Harry," she said, turning serious again. "All these things you've described sound like part of the normal process of developing magic. We've all done a certain amount of wandless magic, haven't we?"
Harry looked confused. "But isn't the ability to control wandless magic something we're supposed to master as we grow older? I don't like it, Ginny. I should know better. It's my anger that gets the best of me and takes over, and it was that anger that made all those cauldrons disappear. I should be able to control that by now."
Ginny thought it over. "You're right, Harry. Most of us do learn to control that type of temper-induced magic, but... wouldn't it follow that the more talented and powerful a witch or wizard is, the more likely he or she would be to spontaneously use wandless magic when it was necessary?"
It was Harry's turn to frown thoughtfully. "Maybe... but why me? Why does it always happen to me?"
Ginny took a deep breath and plunged ahead with a thought she’d been toying with ever since they’d been back at school. “Harry, you’re a very powerful wizard.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Then believe the Prophesy,” Ginny snapped a little more forcefully than she intended.
Harry recoiled and hit his head on the sloping ceiling. If he had looked miserable when she had first come to him, he now looked petrified. There was no room to move, otherwise, Ginny was certain he would have bolted.
“Harry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it like that!” she exclaimed, horrified, her hands flying to her mouth.
“Yes, you did,” he said coldly.
She reached for his hand again. “All right, maybe I did,” she conceded. “I apologise.”
When he refused to answer, she tried again. “Doesn’t the Prophesy indicate that your magic will have grown significantly by the time you face Voldemort?”
Harry tugged his hand away. “I don’t want to talk about this. You’re not helping me by reminding me what I’m trying to forget right now; the thing that ties my stomach in knots every time I think about it.”
Ginny closed her eyes. Dammit, Weasley! Mum warned you to be careful! He’s recovering, for Merlin’s sake! She’d really muffed it and now she would have to pick up the pieces and start over again. “Fine,” she said cautiously. “You asked me why I thought you were powerful. I gave you an honest answer. I’m sorry you don’t like it, but unfortunately, it’s the truth.” She stopped and waited to see if Harry would respond. He said nothing, so she plunged ahead. “Look, you’ve been able to do spells the rest of us haven’t even dreamed of doing since you were thirteen.”
“Name one.” Harry growled.
“The Patronus Charm, for one. . Bloody hell, Harry, you were teaching it to the DA just last year!"
“And…”
“All those spells you learned for the Triwizard Tournament.”
“But anyone can learn those…”
“Not at the age you did. Some of those were beyond N.E.W.T. level, I think. I heard Ron and Hermione talking about them one night.”
“No, they weren’t.” Harry still looked unconvinced and terribly wary. “And Hermione should have kept quiet,” he growled.
Ginny ignored his comment. “Listen, Harry. If it really bothers you, talk to an adult.”
“If you’re suggesting Dumbledore, I refuse to darken his door voluntarily unless I have a lesson with him or he summons me,” Harry said hotly.
Ginny harrumphed. “All right,” she countered evenly. “If you won’t talk to Dumbledore, then you can at least talk with Professor Snape. He’d be quite the captive audience right now, you know.”
“SNAPE?” Harry roared. “Are you daft, girl? I’d never hear the end of it!”
Much to Harry’s consternation Ginny burst out laughing. “Of course not,” she said once she regained her composure. “Seriously, Harry, what about Professor McGonagall or Madam Pomfrey? You have a good rapport with both of them.”
Harry, who had joined in with Ginny’s laughter somewhat half-heartedly at his own expense, shook his head. “I can’t, Ginny. I trust them, but only so far. For one thing, they’re extremely loyal to Professor Dumbledore, especially Professor McGonagall.” A defeated look crept onto his face. “The first thing she’d do is run to the headmaster’s office to report in!”
“She’d do no such thing!” Ginny exclaimed indignantly.
“Of course she would, and so would Madam Pomfrey.” Harry’s shoulders sagged as he leaned his head back against the wall. “For another, I’m not comfortable talking with them about things like this.” He threw her a guarded look. “You’re the only one who doesn’t put pressure on me all the time. No adult here will just let me be me–they’re always expecting me to measure up; I’d be disappointing someone if I admitted to any one of them that I’m scared of myself…”
Ginny sat thoughtfully next to Harry, the lumpiness of the mattress poking at her body uncomfortably. Finally, she asked, “Isn’t there someone here, an outsider maybe that you can try talking to? Someone like Mrs Chang…” She let her voice trail off almost as an unspoken question.
“Why would I want to bear my feelings to Mrs Chang, Ginny?”
“Harry, we both did it all ready. You know, the brainstorming exercises we did on Tuesday. She discovered a lot about how we think just by what we said.”
Harry slumped further down the wall so that his feet hung over the side of the mattress and thudded softly against the door. “I guess you’re right. Maybe I could talk to her. Do you think she’d want to come all the way up here just to counsel me?”
Ginny ran a hand through Harry’s hair several times before answering. “She’s all ready Apparating to Hogsmeade every morning to teach us Tai Chi. If she’s willing to stay a little longer, I say it’s worth a try, Harry. All we can do is ask,” she said, making up her mine to take action on this. “Will you–will you be all right if I go up to the owlery to send her a quick message?”
“I’ll manage, Ginny. I can’t get any worse,” he said gloomily.
Ginny enveloped Harry in a quick hug and whispered something into his ear before sliding toward the door and opening it a crack. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, Harry,” she promised. With those words, she pushed open the door and made her way, blinking rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the light, toward the owlery to find Hedwig.
However, she didn’t get very far. She rounded a corner and was suddenly face to face with the witch she was seeking.
“Hello, Miss Weasley,” Mrs Chang called. “What are you up to? Aren’t you supposed to be in a lesson?”
Ginny glanced at her watch and nodded guiltily. “Muggle Studies,” she replied. “I’m skiving off because I needed to send you an owl.”
“Me? What about?”
“Harry. He needs to talk to an adult who hasn’t got some sort of an agenda for him to follow and we finally agreed to ask you.”
“What’s happened, Miss Weasley? I heard about the Potions classroom. Why does Harry need me?”
Quickly, Ginny explained the morning’s events and her talk with Harry. She ended her story by saying boldly, “Harry trusts you, Mrs Chang. We both do. And now you’re my only hope to get Harry talking to someone who knows more than me.”
Mrs Chang looked at Ginny appraisingly. “Why are you willing to trust me so completely, Miss Weasley?”
“Because I think you work with Neville’s parents and because of our talk on Tuesday after the first lesson,” Ginny replied. “You were honest with us; you didn’t seem to be holding anything back.”
“You’re a good judge of character, Miss Weasley. I was trying to be honest with you.”
Ginny smiled at this. Then she said, “I also heard the spell you used to seal the parchment.”
“It’s a very common spell, Miss Weasley.”
“Not when it’s used with charmed parchment it isn’t.”
Startled, Mrs Chang stared at Ginny. “What do you know about that sort of thing?”
“With six brothers, two of whom who have their own joke shop, I’ve seen enough charmed paper to know to look for certain things. Your parchment didn’t feel right. Besides, you were too willing to let both Harry and me handle your findings when we’d finished. That was the biggest clue Mrs Chang. I suspected at the time that the charm had something to do with fingerprints.”
“You’re right on all accounts. The charm uses the oils found on your skin to create a magical imprint on the parchment. Only when someone whose fingerprints match those the parchment is charmed to recognize handles it does the scroll allow itself to be unsealed.”
“I thought so and told Harry about what I suspected yesterday. I think that’s why he agreed to my asking you to talk with him.” Ginny looked up hopefully at Mrs Chang. “Do you have the time to talk with him right now?”
Mrs Chang hesitated as if mentally paging through her appointment book. Finally, she said, “Yes, if we make it quick. Where is Harry?”
“The Room of Requirement, Mrs Chang. Come with me,” Ginny said, turning to lead the way. When they arrived at the proper place Ginny cautioned, “Don’t be surprised when you open the door. The Room has conformed to Harry’s needs and shaped itself like the cupboard he lived in for the first ten years of his life.”
“Do you want to come in with us?” Mrs Chang asked.
“I’d like to, but there isn’t space enough for three. I’ll wait out here,” Ginny said as she began her pacing. The door appeared and Ginny turned to Mrs Chang one last time. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Mrs. Chang nodded and requested permission from Harry to enter. The last Ginny saw of either of them before the door closed was Harry’s guarded look of gratitude.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
It was a very different Harry who emerged from the Room of Requirement almost an hour later. He paused outside the door and scanned the corridor, finally finding Ginny sitting against the wall near the boys’ loo doing some homework. As he approached her, Ginny studied the set of his shoulders and found that he looked far more relaxed than when she had found him.
She looked enquiringly between Harry and Mrs Chang, who smiled at the two teens and said pleasantly, “I’ll see you two on Monday. Harry, please owl me with your morning timetable. That way we can set a regular time to talk.” She turned to Ginny. “Harry agrees with me that you did right by him when you asked me to help. He’s a very lucky young wizard to have a witch like you looking after him. I must be going now–until Monday, then.” She smiled again at Ginny and Harry and turned to walk briskly towards the Entrance Hall.
Once she was out of earshot, Harry turned to Ginny and, extending his hand, pulled her into a nearby alcove. They sat on the plinth of the shielding suit of armour and Harry gave a great sigh as he drew Ginny to him.
“Are you all right, Harry?” Ginny asked peering into his face.
“I’m feeling better, if that’s what you’re asking,” he told her, “although I’m still in heaps of trouble.”
“I reckon I am. Do you mind my asking what you two did in there?”
“Not really. She coaxed, I resisted. She told me a story, I listened. She was patient, I finally talked.” He ran a hand over his hair as if to try to make it lay down and only succeeded in rearranging the messiness of it. “The more I talked, the easier it got. She wants to set up a regular day for us to talk and I agreed to try what she says is best. She even promised not to tell Professor Dumbledore about our sessions unless I consented.”
Ginny smiled up at him. “Did she answer the questions I couldn’t?” she asked him, drawing him into a hug.
“A few. I’ve got a lot to sort out and it’s going to take time.” When Ginny furrowed her brow he continued, “She did help me find a little of the hope I thought I’d lost earlier. You know, after Potions.”
“Are you… are you still frightened of yourself, of your magic?” Ginny asked, hoping not to cause Harry to retreat into himself.
Harry tensed in her embrace. “I’ve got a lot of thinking to do before I can answer that, Ginny. Right now I’m still scared; there are a lot of questions that I have to find answers to within myself.”
Ginny reached up and covered the bulge under Harry’s robes where she knew his phoenix hung. “Take all the time you need, Harry. You know I’m patient and I’ll always be there if you need me,” she said as he cocked a questioning eyebrow at her. She hesitated, hating what she was about to say, but knowing it was true. “I was frightened for you this morning, Harry. I feared I had lost you to the demons in your mind; that you’d fallen into a place where no one could reach.”
Harry hugged her close, resting his chin on the top of her head. “If you think I hit rock bottom, I suppose I did. I scared me, too. I’m sorry to have frightened you.”
“I accept… and I truly hope you can find the answers you’re looking for, Harry,” Ginny told him, fighting back the tears of relief that threatened to spill over.
Harry noticed and gently caressed her face with the rough pad of his thumb. “I will… with Mrs Chang’s help,” he told her with a sigh. He looked at his watch and smiled mischievously. “I’ll start right after lunch. I think we can make it before the platters disappear from the tables.”
Ginny swatted his arm playfully. “Oh, you!” she exclaimed. “You and Ron are incorrigible when it comes to your stomachs!”
“C’mon, then, Ginny. Let’s eat!” Harry genuinely laughed as they began racing down the corridor toward the stairs.
Ginny slowed a little to watch him take the steps three at a time and suddenly knew that, at least for now, Harry would be all right.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Professor McGonagall approached Harry and Ginny as they sat down for lunch at the nearly empty Gryffindor table. Ginny was finding it hard to look her head of house in the eye. Might it be because I feel really guilty for skiving off most of my lessons this morning to help Harry? she asked herself. She shouldn’t have worried; the subject was completely different from the one she thought she’d have to endure.
“Lessons begin next Friday afternoon. Professor Dumbledore has been called away and won’t be back until late tomorrow night,” the professor told them cryptically. She turned to Harry. “I’ll see you in my office as usual this afternoon, then.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said dully as the professor turned toward the teachers’ table, her walking stick tapping lightly on the stone floor.
“Aren’t you finished with all your back work yet?” Hermione inquired from her place next to Ron. She turned a page in the book she’d propped against a juice jug as Ron elbowed her in the ribs.
Harry sawed furiously at his lamb chop. “No, I’m not. So just leave me alone about it, will you?”
Hermione opened her mouth to say more, but Ginny caught her eye and shook her head at her friend. The other girl backed off and the four of them finished their meal in silence.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Harry burst through the portrait hole, a huge grin on his face. He strode over to the table where Ginny sat with Colin Creevey and several others from her year and plopped himself down on an extra chair facing Ginny.
“I’ve done it,” he announced happily. “I’m finished with all my back assignments.”
As Ginny and the others congratulated him, Ron and Hermione climbed through the hole and headed for their table.
“How come you’re so happy?” Ron asked.
“I don’t have to go back to McGonagall’s office for a week,” Harry said, smiling. “I’ve finished all my assignments and all my other homework.”
“That’s a first,” Hermione commented dryly. “I mean, that’s great, Harry,” she added quickly as both Ron and Ginny glared furiously at her.
Ron shook his head. “Does this mean you’ll get to rejoin the Quidditch team?”
“Not just yet,” Harry replied ruefully. “But if I keep up with my homework for a month and show improvement in my marks Professor McGonagall might let me go back to practice. In the meantime,” he said looking at Ginny, “Ginny’s still Seeker for the Hufflepuff game in February.”
Everyone turned to look at Ginny. “What?” she asked.
“Hey, we’re counting on you the catch the Snitch,” Colin told her smiling.
“Don’t I always?” she asked, somewhat annoyed. “I may not be as skilful a flier as Harry here, but I get the job done, don’t I?”
“That you do,” he replied. “Hey, I didn’t mean to imply that you’re a bad Seeker, but I think you know how we all feel about having someone other than Harry as Seeker.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, never mind. Forget I said anything.” Colin began packing up his books and parchment. “’Night, all. I’m turning in.”
“What’s with him?” Ron asked as Colin stomped up the boys’ staircase.
“I think he fancies her,” Hermione said looking between Ginny and Harry.
Ginny shook her head. “I think it’s time I had a talk with Colin. He hardly spoke to me in Potions today. It’s a bit hard when your partner only communicates with grunts and gestures.”
“You mean he’s jealous of Harry?” Hermione inquired as Ginny nodded.
“Isn’t it obvious,” Ron commented. “Harry’s got Ginny’s affections and Colin doesn’t. He doesn’t want to be ‘just friends’ anymore, I think.”
“Oh, brother!” was all Harry said shaking his head. He looked around at the others. “I know this seems strange, me being caught up on all my homework, but I’m turning in, too. I’m knackered.” He stood up, reaching for Ginny’s hand. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he said giving it a squeeze.
“Sleep well,” Ginny told him softly, rising to give him a quick hug.
He returned the gesture, grabbed his bag, and strode away from the group. At the entrance to the boys’ staircase he turned. “Good night,” he called, disappearing up the stairs.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
“Hey, Ginny,” Harry called to Ginny across the Gryffindor table the next morning. “When’s your next Quidditch practice?”
“This afternoon,” she said casting a nervous glance at the leaden sky covering the enchanted ceiling. “We’ll be lucky if it doesn’t snow.”
“Good. I’ll be there.”
“Didn’t you tell us you couldn’t practice yet?” Hermione queried.
Harry scowled. “Yeah, but McGonagall didn’t say I couldn’t sit in the stands or stand on the sidelines.” He caught Ron’s eye and winked at him. “She also didn’t say my Firebolt had to stay in my trunk either.”
Ron smiled and chuckled deep in his throat. “It’ll be great having you there anyway, mate. We’ve missed you.”
Harry scooped up a forkful of eggs. “Thanks, Ron. It’ll be good to be back.”
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
The sky was an ominous grey and the air had the feeling of impending snow as Ginny and the other members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team took to the skies late on Friday afternoon. After a few warm-up circuits round the pitch, Katie had the group form a circle in the air and used her wand to direct the Quaffle for her team members to catch and throw back at her. When she seemed satisfied that this particular drill had gone well, she had the team play a weaving game which she explained would help their agility in the air. The gist of it was to fly, weaving in and out, through a line of team-mates.
Ginny distinctly heard one of the reserve Chasers exclaim, “I get it, it’s a slalom course!” and when Katie called for volunteers, the young girl flattened herself on her broom and quickly zipped along the line of players staying precariously close to those she was passing.
Everyone was startled the instant she finished by the enthusiastic clapping of someone seated on the sidelines. “Well done, well done! You show ‘em, Rebecca!” Harry called.
“What’s he doing here?” Jack Sloper called to Ginny as Ron raced past, doing his best to imitate Rebecca’s speed and turning control.
“McGonagall’s let him loose!” Ginny called back, laughing. “He can’t practice with us yet, but she didn’t say anything about not lending us moral support from the sidelines.”
“’Way to go, Potter!” Jimmy Peakes yelled in Harry’s direction.
Harry waved enthusiastically at them and the team continued the exercise until everyone had a turn. After that, Katie broke the squad up into their respective specialty groups with the reserve players taking the part of the Hufflepuff team. The Hufflepuff game was just two weeks away which made honing their skills and trying to anticipate which moves the Hufflepuff players would use all the more important.
The longer they played, the colder it became and two hours into the practice, Ginny could no longer feel her hands on the handle of her broom. Just as she was wishing for a cup of hot chocolate to warm up with, Katie blew her whistle and called everyone to the ground.
“That’s enough for tonight, everyone. Good practice; you’re beginning to think like our opponents and find the appropriate moves to catch them off guard. I really like how the Chasers are pulling together and Ron, I hope those two spectacular saves you made weren’t accidents!”
Ron turned beet red at this and said, “How dare you accuse me of sloppy Keeping!” This made the rest of the team giggle somewhat nervously. They remembered all too well what his Keeping had been like the previous year.
Katie had a few more general remarks and then she dismissed the team, admonishing them to take hot showers and get plenty of rest during the following week; they didn’t need anyone in the hospital wing with pneumonia.
Ginny helped Ron and the Beaters capture and crate the balls, then headed for the showers. As she passed under the stands, a hand shot out from behind one of the support pillars, grabbed her arm and pulled her into a dark corner. Too surprised to scream, Ginny stopped resisting when she discovered her assailant was Harry.
“Wanna go flying?” Harry whispered in her ear. He opened his cloak and wrapped it round her, engulfing her in its warmth.
“I’ve just been flying, you ninny,” she answered coyly.
“Not tandem and not with me,” he responded, grinning playfully at her.
Ginny wrapped her arms around Harry’s middle and burrowed in closer to his chest. “As in I get to ride your Firebolt?”
“Yes.”
“As in I get to choose where I want to sit?”
“Maybe.”
“As in you keep me warm?”
“By all means.”
“As in you have your arm around me or I have mine around you?”
Harry thought a moment. “As in I have my arm around you and you keep your hair out of my face.”
“I can do that,” she said, gently pushing him away and reaching up to fiddle with her hair tie. “Well, what are we waiting for?”
A huge grin spread across Harry’s face. “Go put your broom away. I’ll wait here.”
Ginny reluctantly ducked from the comfort of Harry’s embrace and almost ran toward the broom shed. Not only was she excited about getting to ride his Firebolt; she couldn’t believe how Harry’s mood had changed since he had been released from Professor McGonagall’s stern and watchful scrutiny. He’d had another session with Mrs Chang that morning and that seemed to be helping him, too. She welcomed this lighter, playful side of Harry that none of those close to him had seen in a long time.
“How’s that for record time?” she asked as she rejoined him in his dark corner.
“I didn’t have time to miss you,” he teased. Harry shouldered his broom and steered Ginny out onto the pitch again. There, he waited for her to mount the broom after which he took his place in back of her. His cloak covered her once again and Ginny snuggled in as they rose gently above the grass that was slowly beginning to turn white with snow.
Flying with Harry was pure bliss. Ginny marvelled at how the snowflakes seemed to part as they flew forward, a sight that utterly fascinated her. Best of all, though, were the feelings of unmitigated joy and security caused by being on the same broom with Harry.
Harry circled the pitch several times as if to gauge how his broom handled with two riders. He then guided the broom high above the pitch, nearly into the low-hanging clouds, then put the Firebolt into a steep dive. Ginny screamed as her stomach dropped and she instinctively flattened herself against the broom handle. Moments later, her scream turned to laughter and she let out a spontaneous “Wheeeeeee!” that caused Harry to join in her glee. As he pulled them out of the dive, he let out a whoop of his own and used their momentum to climb skyward again. Ginny felt his elation in their closeness and sensed that at least for the moment, he was completely happy.
All too soon it became too dark to fly safely in the snowstorm and Harry swung the Firebolt back toward the ground. They dismounted and stood together on the snowy pitch, absorbed in the afterglow of their shared experience.
At length, as the cold began to seep back into Ginny’s ears and feet, she sighed regretfully and said, “Ron and Hermione’ll be wondering where we are. I suppose we should be going in before they send out a search party.”
Harry chuckled, “Yeah, I reckon you’re right. Besides, if Ron thinks I’ve kidnapped you, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Nor will I,” Ginny concurred, “especially if I miss my last detention with Professor Snape.”
Harry scowled momentarily. “I wish you’d tell me what that’s all about,” he grumbled unhappily. When she shook her head he reached for her hand and drew her toward him. They stood quietly, Ginny with her head on Harry’s shoulder, saying nothing and watching the snow fall around them. Finally, he brushed a few flakes from her cheek and kissed the top of her head. Somehow, this gesture assured Ginny that Harry had at least accepted the fact that she wasn’t about to tell him why she had been going to detention all week. She knew he didn’t like it, but had decided to keep the peace by not asking her about it again. She, too, sensed the return of his good mood.
“Thanks for sharing the flight with me,” he murmured into her hair.
Ginny raised her head and whispered close to his lips, “My pleasure, Harry.” The kiss that followed was as warm and romantic as the weather was cold. When at last they parted, Harry once again encircled her in his cloak. They walked back to the castle and up the stairs to the tower entrance with their arms around each other, where the Fat Lady had to remind them that they should find a broom cupboard to snog in if they were going to keep her waiting so long. Harry winked at Ginny as he said, “Maybe we’ll do just that!”
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Professor Dumbledore had two announcements at breakfast the next morning.
“May I have your attention, please,” his magically enhanced voice commanded over the sleepy grumbles filling the Great Hall.
Silence descended over the tables as Ginny and her friends looked expectantly at the head table.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Dumbledore began, “it is customary here at Hogwarts to leave notices of upcoming Hogsmeade weekends on your Common Room notice boards. However, today I thought it appropriate to announce the date in conjunction with something else. As some of you already know, Valentine’s Day falls on a Friday this year. The faculty and I have deemed it appropriate to hold a Valentine’s Ball the following Saturday, 15 February. Therefore, the first Hogsmeade weekend of 1997 will be Saturday, eighth February. This will give those of you in fourth year and up the chance to descend upon Gladrags in search of the appropriate attire. Any questions are to be referred to your Head of House.”
There was stunned silence following the announcement. Ginny glanced round the Gryffindor table and found a mixture of reactions within her immediate vicinity. Lavender and Parvati, who had immediately put their heads together, were positively beaming. Hermione had a bemused look on her face. Ron, Neville, and Harry, on the other hand, wore shocked and somewhat incredulous expressions. As the headmaster sat down again, complete pandemonium broke out as the students began to speculate about his sanity. Up and down the table Ginny heard the same questions: Was Professor Dumbledore completely mad in allowing them to go to Hogsmeade despite all the Death Eater threats, and why hold a ball now when almost every student was feeling the seriousness of the war?
Ginny, however, thought she knew why. When she was small, her mother had thought up fun activities for Ginny and her brothers whenever the grown-ups’ fears were beginning to rub off onto her siblings. When she considered it, she knew the headmaster was right in holding such an impromptu ball. Hadn’t Harry told her that he had given his Triwizard winnings to Fred and George because he knew over a year ago the Wizarding World would need something to smile about? Well, the student body of Hogwarts certainly needed something to keep their spirits up now, didn’t they?
She nudged Hermione. “Shall we join the mob at Gladrags together?”
Hermione looked at her in surprise. “Why? I’m not going! No one’s asked me yet!”
Ron cut in. “You are too going!”
Hermione’s head whipped around.
“Will...will you...erm...willyougototheballwithme, Hermione?” Ron pleaded in a rush, looking hopeful.
Ginny burst out laughing as Hermione continued to stare at her brother. “I see you’re not waiting until the last minute this time, are you, Ron!”
Ron shook his head. “Not after what happened in fourth year, I’m not!” He looked back at Hermione. “Well, will you?”
“I’m speechless, Ron,” Hermione murmured. “But, yes. I’d like to go with you.”
“Whoo! I’m glad that’s over with,” Ron sighed in such obvious relief that everyone laughed.
Harry had sidled up to Ginny during her exchange with her brother. “Will you go with me to the dance?” he asked quietly, his chin resting lightly on Ginny’s right shoulder.
She reached up and ran a hand through Harry’s hair. He shivered involuntarily, making her grin. “I was hoping you’d ask,” she told him, prolonging the moment. “I’m looking forward to it very much.” She glanced at her watch. “Have you got time to walk me to class?”
Harry consulted his own watch. “Yeah, since we’re going to the same place,” he grinned. “We’d better get the others. McGonagall and Flitwick have all ready left. I don’t think they’d appreciate us being late for our first lesson.”
Ginny agreed and quickly gathered up the bag she’d brought with her while Harry alerted the others. Together, the five Gryffindors left the Great Hall, meeting Luna on the stairs leading up to the Charms classroom where their first Apparition lesson was to take place.
Despite the excitement of Professor Dumbledore’s announcement just a few minutes before, Ginny was feeling extremely tired from her eventful week. When the group reached the classroom Neville poked his head in, found the room empty, and told the others he felt better waiting outside than in. Ginny murmured her agreement and leaned against the wall with her eyes closed as they waited for their diminutive professor.
“Ginny, are you all right?” Hermione asked in a concerned tone. “You looked fine at breakfast.”
Ginny didn’t open her eyes. “I’m fine, Hermione. I didn’t sleep well last night and everything is just catching me up, that’s all,” she yawned at her friend. “I’m planning to use Harry as a pillow if this theory session proves too boring.”
“Don’t you think you’d be better off in bed?”
“No. I want to be here. This is too important to miss, even if I sleep through half of it.”
There was a hint of sarcastic humour in Hermione’s voice as she said, “Just don’t snore too loudly, please.”
Ginny smiled in Hermione’s direction. “Harry’s going to shake me awake if I start to snore.”
“Sorry to keep you waiting, everyone.” Professor Flitwick’s voice interrupted the girls’ conversation. “Let’s go in and get started.”
The next two hours were filled with all sorts of theories, questions, discussions and last of all, the assignment of two hundred pages of reading to be completed by the following Saturday. While the others eagerly participated, Ginny sat and watched, letting the others carry the discussion.
As everyone packed up to leave, Professor Flitwick wandered over to Ginny’s chair. “Miss Weasley, I’m concerned that you didn’t pay very close attention to this portion of the course.”
Ginny smiled at her teacher. “I apologize, Professor. It’s been an overwhelming week for me. I’m hoping next week won’t be quite as eventful,” she told him honestly.
“I hope you are correct, Miss Weasley. Please make sure you find Miss Granger after you’ve read the assignment and have her help you with the review questions.”
“Yes, sir. Will there be a written test next week?”
“No. Not until the following week, after the Hogsmeade outing. Please be prepared, Miss Weasley. Your life may depend upon you having a complete understanding of this subject,” Professor Flitwick cautioned.
“I understand, Professor. I’ll be better rested next Saturday, I promise,” Ginny told him. She bade him good-bye and hastened out of the classroom, hoping to take a short nap before lunch and Quidditch practice.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
End of Part Seven
Chapter 8: Chapter 8
New Year, New HopePart Eight
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
On the morning of the Hufflepuff match Ginny crawled out of bed feeling rested and eager to play. For once, she was not dead tired and in need of several cups of the house-elves' extra-strong coffee to kick her brain into action. This was quite surprising considering that last evening had been filled with two extra subjects because of the match today. Her and Harry’s advanced spell casting lesson with Professor Dumbledore had gone well and had been mercifully short. The three had talked about different methods of casting spells including wandless and non-verbal casting–which the sixth years were currently perfecting, but she, as a fifth year, had yet to learn. They had also talked about how she and Harry were apparently able to share information such as Harry’s memories of what had happened in the Potions classroom. The headmaster had been quite thoughtful when they had finished their story and had proposed that in future lessons the three of them explore what appeared to be a magical mind link between the two teens. It might prove useful in a duel if the two could work together to cast a spell simultaneously.
Who would have thought…Ginny mused as she pulled on her Quidditch robes.
The other lesson she and Harry had gone to was a make-up for Saturday morning’s Apparation group lesson with Professors Flitwick and McGonagall. They were half-way through the theory portion of their training; there were only four more theory lessons scheduled before she and Harry’s other friends would take the written exam. If all went as planned, the practical lessons would start sometime in mid-March. Unlike the previous few Saturdays, Ginny had been an alert and participating member of the group. Professor McGonagall had privately remarked to her at the end of class that she was concerned that Ginny was taking on too much. If this proved to be the case, the Gryffindor head of house was going to recommend that Ginny give up one of her extra activities–and it wouldn’t be her OWL revision. As much as she hated to admit it, Ginny was inclined to agree with her teacher.
Ginny smiled to herself as she descended the stairs to the common room. Today was going to be a good day no matter what; she had a little surprise for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team up her sleeve and she was certain that the element of surprise would be Gryffindor’s advantage in the match this morning. Her smile broadened to a grin as she emerged from the stairwell to find a somewhat bleary-eyed Harry sitting at a table with Hermione and Ron, all waiting to go to breakfast with her. Together, the foursome climbed through the portrait hole and began their descent to the Great Hall below.
Breakfast was a quick affair owing to the fact that Katie was pacing up and down the aisle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables with a piece of toast in one hand and her broomstick in the other. Catching sight of her last two players, Katie grabbed Ginny by the elbow and steered her over to where the rest of the team was breakfasting.
When she saw the breakfast choices, Ginny had to laugh; behind her, Ron let out a groan that was suddenly followed by an outraged “Oof!” as Hermione dug her elbow into his ribs. This section of the table was loaded with what Mrs Weasley termed “slow-acting, stick-to-your-ribs” foods; mainly scrambled eggs, porridge and whole grain cereals, whole wheat muffins and scones, rashers of bacon, a plate of kippers and sausages. A variety of fresh fruits had been piled into a bowl and left in the middle of the table. What had made her brother groan, she knew, was the absence of anything sweet such as his favourite sugar-glazed pastries and the usual carafe of coffee. Altogether, it seemed that Katie was making sure her team had enough energy to last the entire match.
Ginny sat down and filled her plate while steeling glances at Ron and Hermione. The two of them were sitting slightly apart from the others, arguing quietly. From what it looked like, Hermione had been attempting to construct Ron’s breakfast and he was not letting her dictate what he ate. Smirking, Ginny nudged Harry’s trainer under the table with her toe and inclined her head in Ron’s direction. Harry shook his head and turned back to his meal.
All too soon, Katie called the team together. Harry squeezed her hand whispering, “Go get that Snitch, Gin.”
“I’ll be looking for you,” she told him and Hermione as the team departed for the changing rooms.
Fifteen minutes later, Ginny entered the changing room fully padded and clutching Harry’s Firebolt. The broom handle still bore the markings of the abuse it had suffered at Dolores Umbridge’s hands: an eyebolt had been forced through the shaft close to the tail and a large hole had been drilled through the middle of the Firebolt logo. The edges of the hole were rounded and Ginny assumed the broomstick had tried repeatedly to escape its chains and return to its owner. Harry had left the bolt in the shaft thinking that if he removed it the broom would be weakened.
Jack Sloper’s eye widened as Ginny sat next to him for Katie’s pre-match speech. “Is that…Harry’s broom?” he breathed.
Ginny stroked the handle lovingly, feeling the broom almost quiver with excitement under her touch. “Yes. He’s loaned it to me for the match,” she replied.
“We can’t lose if you’re flying Harry’s Firebolt!” Jack exclaimed loud enough for the rest of the team to hear. Five heads suddenly swivelled in their direction, eyes alight with excitement and surprise, as a collective gasp went around the room.
Jack’s enthusiasm was contagious, better than any pep talk Katie had ever given them. The Gryffindor captain caught Ginny’s eye, shook her head, and then smiled. “Let’s get outta here!” she called to the team. “Go Gryffindor!”
The stadium roared to life as the two Quidditch teams walked out onto the pitch where Madam Hooch was waiting. Katie shook hands with Hufflepuff’s captain and Seeker, Summerby, and the players took to the air. As much as Ginny liked Seeking, she still wished she had been reinstated to her rightful position as Chaser when Harry finished his backlog of homework earlier in the month. Maybe next match… she thought as she began circling the pitch in her search for the Snitch.
Slightly below and to her left, Summerby was making slow figure-eights over the snow-drifted pitch. In Ginny’s opinion, he was leaving an enormous section of the pitch uncovered every time he crossed the mid-section of the field: it was as if he was keeping track of her movements instead of actively searching for the Snitch.
The Gryffindor team seemed to be holding its own, having scored the first three goals of the match. Ginny grinned as Ron repelled the Quaffle for the fourth time in twenty minutes. Below her, the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws were cheering loudly and Ginny took a moment to look for Harry and Hermione. She found them in one of the topmost seats in the tower closest to the Gryffindor goal posts. She waved when they looked up and after they returned the greeting, she zoomed off to disrupt the Hufflepuff Chasers with a false pursuit of the Snitch right through the middle of their formation.
Summerby followed her at a breakneck speed, flying right into the path of a speeding Bludger. Ginny chuckled evilly, thinking that it served him right for watching mostly her.
Ginny continued her search for the Snitch varying her flying height and speed. Summerby, she noticed, was finally actively searching for the little golden ball. This bit of news was very satisfying and she felt a little freer to concentrate on what she had to do to ensure a Gryffindor win. This included occasionally listening to the commentary.
“And it’s Branstone with the Quaffle. Long pass to Smith who dodges a Bludger and nearly drops the Quaffle. Good goin’, Kirk! Weasley sees him coming and he…he…scores. Tough luck, Weasley. First goal for Hufflepuff. And Gryffindor still leads 30 to 10.”
Below her, the gold and red clad spectators let out a mighty groan as Ginny glanced in Ron’s direction. She was worried that her brother was beginning to fall apart for some reason. Happily, she was wrong; Ron had already thrown the Quaffle to Katie and was following the ball intensely as it was thrown downfield toward the Hufflepuff side of the pitch.
“Has Ginny Weasley gone to sleep?” the commentator wondered, “Or is she looking for her boyfriend amongst the Gryffindor spectators?”
Been there, done that, Ginny chuckled to herself as a glint of gold caught her eye: the Snitch was hovering just under the commentator’s stand. She glanced at Summerby. It appeared he hadn’t seen the Snitch yet because he was currently flying with his back to it. More good news, Ginny decided as a wicked thought crossed her mind: a diversionary tactic was needed to make sure Summerby stayed away from the Snitch–Gryffindor didn’t have enough points at the moment to overtake Slytherin in the standings–and tricking the Hufflepuff Seeker could be a lot of fun as well as profitable for Gryffindor.
Ginny waited thirty seconds until Zacharias Smith stole the Quaffle from Gryffindor’s Vicky Frobisher and took off toward the Gryffindor goal hoops. Then, making sure Summerby noticed her, Ginny dove straight through the Hufflepuff Chasers, scattering them in all directions for the second time in an hour.
The crowd erupted into raucous cheering as the two Seekers sped wildly down field. Above the whistle of the wind, Ginny heard the commentator yell something that sounded like, “Snitch, Snitch, Snitch!” followed by a collective groan as everyone, including Summerby, realized that the little golden ball was nowhere to be seen and that Ginny had duped him into chasing her.
A half hour went by with the score climbing steadily on both sides, although Gryffindor maintained its lead by an average of forty points.
“And it’s Whitby with the Quaffle. He passes to Branstone over Hooper’s head. Bullet pass to Smith who dodges a Bludger–oh, nice Bludger hit there, Sloper–Quaffle caught by Bell, pass to Hooper to Frobisher and back to Bell. Watch out, Bell…Smith wants that ball back! And that’s a penalty to Gryffindor for Blatching.”
Katie, who had managed to just barely stay on her broom when Smith flew into her, made easy work of the penalty and scored an easy ten points for Gryffindor.
As the ball was thrown back to the Hufflepuff Chasers, Ginny saw the Snitch for the second time that day. Apparently, Summerby had seen it, too, hovering above and slightly in front of the Slytherin spectators. Both Seekers gave chase, each from a different end of the field with Summerby coming closest to the stands and causing those in front to duck or flinch as he sped past. They met up in front of the Gryffindor stands and were treated to a new cheer that made Ginny smile.
Ginny, Ginny, she’s our witch
Ginny, Ginny, catch that Snitch!
Ginny waved to her housemates and then leaned forward on Harry’s Firebolt. The broom shot forward just as the Snitch flitted lazily toward the Gryffindor goal posts.
Summerby, whose broom was a rather ancient Clean Sweep 7, urged it forward to keep up with Ginny who had checked the Firebolt’s speed to make the chase a little fairer. The two fliers whizzed past Ron who had joined in the cheering as Hooper snatched the Quaffle from Whitby and raced down the pitch. The Snitch dodged left, then right, causing Ginny and Summerby to slow down a bit as they neared the hoops. Ginny stretched out a hand that Summerby tried to bat out of his way, but the Snitch seemed to decide that the game wasn’t over; it suddenly zoomed through the leftmost ring. There was no way both Ginny and Summerby could fit together through that hoop, so, with one last shove apiece, they separated to fly around it.
The commentator’s groan of, “They’ve lost the Snitch,” barely registered in Ginny’s ears. Frobisher had just aimed a well-placed Quaffle through the Hufflepuff right hoop. The score was now 120 to 70. If she could catch the Snitch before Hufflepuff scored many more points, Gryffindor could take the lead in the Cup standings. She began searching for the Snitch again.
The day grew colder as the match continued; the grey sky became much darker, threatening snow, and the wind picked up speed. As powerful as the Firebolt was, Ginny began noticing that it slowed down quite a bit when she flew into the wind. She absently wondered if Summerby was noticing the same thing with his broom–it might make a difference in where they were flying when the Snitch reappeared.
Unfortunately, the Snitch was nowhere to be seen, and although she hunted high and low and over and under anything that might hide it, the little ball with silver wings steadfastly refused to show itself. Ginny was becoming frustrated as well as cold; the biting wind had numbed her hands long ago and she was now having trouble holding onto the Firebolt’s handle. It was also hard to hear the commentary. She only caught fragmented sentences here and there like the shriek of “Is Gryffindor attempting a Parkin’s Pincer?”
This made Ginny look down. Indeed, her team’s Chasers were performing the “PP1” as Katie had coded it–PP2 being the Porskoff Ploy. Zacharias Smith had just wrestled the Quaffle from George Hooper and Katie was rather angry about Smith not being called for cobbing. The sight was exciting to watch because of how potentially dangerous the move was: when performed correctly, it looked like an elaborate game of chicken. If all went right, the targeted Chaser would have to make a defensive move such as a blind Reverse Pass over his shoulder while either diving or climbing to a safer height. The dangerous part was that no one knew which way the target would fly until it was almost too late to check up. In addition, there was no way for any of the Chasers to predict which way the Quaffle would go. Few Hogwarts teams had been successful at pulling this move off, but since Katie had drilled her Chasers well there was hope that another ten points would result from the attempt.
Katie had taken the most dangerous position, that of flying headlong at Zacharias while Hooper and Frobisher zoomed toward him from both sides. To his credit, he held his line until the last possible second. From Ginny’s advantage point, she saw that he had braked and was looking around wildly for one of his team-mates. Finally, he dropped the Quaffle and pulled up hard on the handle of his broom. Ten feet in front of him Hooper and Frobisher neatly crossed paths and Katie dove swiftly for the Quaffle catching it and lobbing it back to Hooper who scored another ten points for Gryffindor.
This bit of excitement made Ginny forget how cold she was until she went back to looking for the Snitch. She glanced at Summerby; he, too, had been watching the Chasers and was now resuming his figure eight pattern. Still no Snitch.
Ten minutes later, another bit of commentary reached Ginny’s ears.
“And it’s Bell with the Quaffle. Reverse Pass to Hooper who throws to Frobisher, now back to Hooper. Whitby and Branstone give chase. Quaffle to Frobisher who zigzags away in time to throw to Bell who tosses it back. What’s that? Did Bell just yell ‘PP2’? That must be code for something–yes, it’s a Porskoff Ploy! Well done, Gryffindor! And the Quaffle is caught by Bell…”
The rest of the commentary drifted away on the wind as Ginny flew in the opposite direction. Then, she saw it...the Snitch had suddenly appeared in the middle of the pitch just above the footprints in the snow. It was time to end the match, she decided and circled around to use the wind to her advantage. Unfortunately, this move attracted Summerby’s attention and as Ginny dove for the ground, he followed.
“Look at Weasley!” yelled the commentator. “That’s a Wronski Feint if I ever saw one.”
Wronski Feint indeed, scoffed Ginny as she neared the ground, concentrating on the Snitch’s movements. As she pulled out of her dive, she heard two things; Smith grunting with the effort to slow his broom and the unmistakable hum of a Bludger as one was blasted past her left ear. Ginny heard a thump as the iron ball embedded itself momentarily in a snow bank.
Just beyond her vision Summerby had straightened out. She could hear the flapping of his robes as he pulled up level with her. The Snitch now took the opportunity to fly into the wind, speeding off down field toward the Hufflepuff end of the pitch. Ginny leaned forward on her broom urging as much speed out of the Firebolt as she could get in this wind. Suddenly, a fist shot across her line of vision, making her flinch and pull up slightly on the handle. Summerby zoomed ahead toward the Snitch.
Oh, no you don’t! Ginny thought. That Snitch is mine!
She increased her speed and purposely flew close enough to Summerby to bang shoulders with him. The two Seekers followed the Snitch around the pitch, twice trading elbows in the ribs and trying to push each other from their broomsticks. The Snitch flew into the wind finally and Ginny reached for it as it slowed. Summerby had the same idea and batted her arm out of his way. The Snitch flew left. Ginny, who was closer, switched hands and leaned low on the Firebolt as the ball flew straight down the middle of the pitch toward the huge snowdrift under the Gryffindor goal posts. Summerby copied her and soon the two were bumping and pushing each other toward the posts. Fifty feet, forty feet, thirty feet…
With one last grunt of effort, Ginny elbowed Summerby’s hand aside and reached for the Snitch. She leaned forward, arm outstretched, and felt her fingers close around the cold little ball just before she ploughed headfirst into the snow bank. Grinning from ear to ear, she stood up, holding Harry’s broomstick in one hand and the Snitch aloft in the other as the stadium erupted in a deafening roar.
“Gryffindor WINS!” yelled the announcer as her team dismounted around her.
“Party in the common room in fifteen minutes,” called Ron as he slapped her on the back.
“You did it!” bellowed Geoffrey Hooper.
“We’re a shoo-in for the Cup match,” shrieked Vicky.
“What’s the final score?” Ginny called.
“Two-ninety to eighty,” someone answered her before she was engulfed yet again in a crushing group hug.
Harry and Hermione joined the team on the pitch. “Great game, Ginny,” Hermione exclaimed, hugging Ginny.
Over Hermione’s shoulder, Ginny caught Harry’s eye. He smiled broadly and shook his head at the snow-coated broom still in her hand. Ginny pulled out of Hermione’s embrace. “Thanks, Harry. You helped us win the match,” she said returning his smile.
He took the broom saying, “I’ll wait for you outside the changing rooms, Ginny,” and walked away toward the entrance to the changing rooms.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Hermione met Ginny at the top of the girls’ staircase the morning of the Hogsmeade weekend. They descended into the common room together, chattering excitedly about going shopping in the village. Hermione, along with most of the girls from fourth year up, needed to purchase new dress robes for the following Saturday. Ginny, however, had not had the nerve to owl her parents to ask them to buy her new robes so she had to be content with letting out and shortening her old ones.
“Ginny, I have an idea,” Hermione began as they climbed through the portrait hole. “There’s a cute little fabric shop a couple of doors down from the Three Broomsticks which has really pretty trims and ribbons. What would you say to adding some lace in a contrasting colour to your old robes to make them look different? You could even create a sash from a wide ribbon if you wanted, too.”
Grinning, Ginny observed, “You’re beginning to sound like your dorm mates. Is this Hermione Granger I’m talking to?” Hermione made a face and shook her head as Ginny sobered, saying “Seriously, I like that idea a lot. Only, my biggest problem isn’t colour or length. It’s that I’ve grown since third year and even though Mum taught me to sew the Muggle way, I still don’t know the proper spells to magically let my robes out in the right places.”
Hermione smiled. “Leave that to me, Parvati and Lavender. Between the three of us, you’ll look better than you did at the Yule Ball.”
Ginny pulled Hermione toward her into a one-armed hug. “I appreciate you helping me out on this. I just didn’t have the heart to ask Mum and Dad so soon after Christmas.”
“My pleasure, Ginny. This is going to be fun,” the older witch told her as they entered the Great Hall for breakfast.
They ate quickly, then joined Harry, Ron, Neville and Luna in the queue for Hogsmeade in the Entrance Hall. Mr. Filch held his usual clipboard and list of students with permission to go into the village. As they approached the doors, Harry stepped out of line.
“Have a great time,” he said glancing around sheepishly.
“Hold on...you’re not going?” Ron sputtered in surprise.
Harry plunged his hands into his pockets and stared at his shoes. “Can’t. Dumbledore’s orders. I still have a detention to make up for the mess I made of the Potions classroom.”
Ron glared at his sister as she asked, “Is there anything we can bring you from Honeydukes or Zonko’s, Harry?”
Ginny refused to take Ron’s challenge as Harry shrugged. “Nothing I can think of. Thanks, though. I still have more than enough from Fred and George’s Christmas box.”
Several minutes later the five were walking down the stone front steps and into the sunlit, if frozen, February morning. The girls bantered casually back and forth, every once in a while tossing comments and hints about Valentine’s Day gifts in Ron and Neville’s direction. The two boys, Ginny knew, were doing their best to ignore the girls because they were loudly anticipating the delicious sweets they wanted to stock up on at Honeydukes. He never seems to grow up when it comes to his stomach! Ginny thought with a grin as she glanced at her youngest brother.
“Do you want to tackle Gladrags or visit that fabric shop first?” Hermione asked Ginny and Luna as they approached the village. (Ron and Neville were now too deep in conversation over chess strategies, or at least Ron was, to pay much attention to the girls.)
“Let’s get Gladrags over with before everything’s picked over,” Luna said, once again surprising Hermione and Ginny with how lucid a statement like this seemed.
“Then it’s settled,” Hermione told Ginny, recovering first.
“We’d better tell Ron and Neville where we’re going,” Ginny suggested. “I’m not too fond of Zonko’s and I know Ron’s keen to spend some time there to get some items that Fred and George refuse to send via owl. They don’t want to harm the owls if their dangerous merchandise explodes.” She walked over to her brother and rescued Neville from Ron’s recounting of his latest tactic to out-wit Dumbledore.
“I’m not stepping into that mad-house,” Ron responded.
“When should we meet you at the Three Broomsticks?” Neville asked.
“How about noon?” Ginny suggested.
“But that’s three hours from now!” Ron whined, “What are you possibly going to do with all that time?”
“Shop,” Ginny, Luna and Hermione said together, suddenly exploding into fits of giggles.
Neville looked at Ron as he commented with a shake of his head, “I’ll never understand girls and their love of shopping! What about you, Ron?”
“They’re barmy, mate,” Ron agreed. He turned to the girls. “See you at noon, then.” And he strode off down the street toward Zonko’s with Neville trailing behind him.
Even though it was still fairly early in the day, the line into the robe shop ran down High Street toward Scrivenshaft’s quill shop and wrapped around a corner of the building. It was halfway down the side street toward Madam Puddifoot’s when Luna, Ginny and Hermione arrived a few minutes later. They found the end and settled in for a long wait.
After five minutes, though, Hermione said, “I wonder how long this line is. It seems a shame that we’ll waste so much time standing here when we could be doing something useful.”
Ginny offered to find out and left her friends to find someone to ask. She stopped about half-way up the line, almost to the corner where the line curved around the building. “How long is the wait?” she asked a Ravenclaw prefect she knew from her Muggle Studies class.
“We,” the other girl indicated her four companions, “got here forty minutes ago. It’s about an hour’s wait from here.”
Ginny thanked her and walked back to Luna and Hermione.
“It’s worse than I thought,” she reported, then told the others what the prefect had said.
“I don’t mind keeping our place in line,” Luna offered. “If you two have other shopping to do, go ahead. We can trade off when you get back.”
Hermione smiled at Luna. “Thanks. You don’t really have to do that, you know.”
“I know,” Luna said, her eyes travelling up the wall of the building opposite the one they were leaning against. “I thought I saw some ladeps just now and want to see if they’re living in that wall over there. That could be why there are those black stains under the eaves.”
Ginny and Hermione exchanged eye-rolls. “All right, see you in a bit,” Ginny said stepping into the street. Hermione muttered something to Luna that Ginny didn’t quite catch and the two began strolling toward High Street.
Several minutes later, the girls entered the fabric shop. Hermione led the way over to a wall covered from floor to ceiling with spools of ribbon and lace. They began inspecting the merchandise trying to decide where to start.
“It would help if we had your robes,” Hermione finally muttered, pulling a card of lace from one of the higher shelves.
“I’ve got it,” Ginny told her smugly. From inside her cloak, she pulled a miniature cream-coloured dress robe. Hermione shook her head as her friend muttered, “Finite Incantatem” and the garment returned to its full size. Ginny draped the robe over several bolts of fabric.
“Good thinking, Ginny, to have shrunk that,” Hermione said. Ginny thought this was high praise, indeed. “Now we can try different colours and styles without having to guess what they might look like.”
Ginny began pulling down spools of ribbon in different colours and patterns and setting them on her robes. Hermione did the same and soon they had three piles to unwind and place at the waist, on the sleeves and neckline or the hem: “yes”, “no”, “maybe so.” The “no” pile was sent back to the shelves with a flick of Hermione’s wand and Ginny marvelled at how the older girl’s specific banishing spell sent the rejects back to their rightful spots.
Twenty minutes later, Ginny stepped back from the robe for what seemed the hundredth time. She glanced at the pile of possible trims and laces and let out a frustrated sigh.
“What is it?” Hermione queried. “Not finding anything that catches your fancy?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know,” Ginny whined. “I’m feeling like I haven’t seen every possibility yet. Ya know what I mean?”
Hermione smiled. “I do. And I have a feeling that when we get to Gladrags it’ll be my turn to be just as frustrated. Tell you what. I’ll stay here and you go looking. I think I saw some Muggle-style sequined material up by the counter that could be used to make a bolero jacket or a shawl. You could also look at the tulles and chiffons over there.” She pointed toward a stand of bolts upon which stood a manikin in a filmy set of flowing dress robes.
“Back in five,” Ginny said and began exploring the bolts of material as she wended her way toward the sequins Hermione had pointed out. She walked around the display fingering the various materials and looking at prices. Not entirely satisfied with what she saw, she drifted toward the rack of chiffon. This was more to her liking: the colours of the thin material were both bold and subdued depending upon what bolt she looked at. Suddenly, an idea came to her and she grabbed two bolts of the filmy material and scurried back to where Hermione was waiting.
“Look what I found!” she crowed breathlessly. She dumped the material down next to her robe and unrolled a short length from each bolt.
“Oh, Ginny, what a find! What are you thinking of doing with these?” Hermione asked.
“I see two possibilities. One, I could buy enough to use as a drape that hangs down my back and creates a new, softer neckline for the dress by hand sewing it along the edge. The other thing I was thinking was to get enough to either make a very short cape that could be decorated with ruffles and ribbons. Depending upon what we do with the robe itself, maybe we could make an outer skirt that fastens around the waist.”
“Hmmm,” Hermione mused scratching her head. “I’m going for the retro-eighties look myself.”
“Retro-eighties?” Ginny asked, puzzled. She’d never heard of such a thing.
“Yeah. My mum has some pictures of one of her ball gowns from ’80 or ’81 that she wore in a friend’s wedding as the Matron of Honour. She hated the dress, but I liked it.” Hermione dug into her satchel and pulled out a self-inking quill and a scrap of parchment and quickly sketched her idea.
Frowning, she asked, “How much per metre?”
“One galleon two sickles,” Ginny replied doing the figures in her head. “I think I have enough money to buy five metres of the material I choose and six metres of ribbon and/or lace. Would that be enough trim?”
“Yeah, I think so, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask.” Hermione stood back and considered the two bolts of cloth. “Hold them up to your face, Ginny. I want a better look at how each looks with your colouring,” she directed. “All right,” she said after a long moment of considering. “I like the green, orange and yellow geometric better than the blue and lavender floral. The bold colours match your hair better.”
“Hermione, I’m sick of green and orange. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought this over,” Ginny sighed. “Everything I own seems to be in those colours. Even the necklace and earrings Harry gave me for Christmas are green–not that I’m complaining, mind you–and that’s what I’m going to accessorize with. But I still don’t know why I brought this over!”
“I think you’re just used to wearing clothes in those colours because they look so good on you. Now let’s take a second look at that blue…” Hermione took the blue bolt from Ginny and draped it over the robe again and stood back. “You know, the more I look at this on the better I like it. The flowers aren’t as bold and there’s a hint of cream that matches the material of your robe. I think that whatever we do with this it’ll look really nice.”
Ginny smiled as she fingered the material. “Thanks. But would this clash with Harry’s green dress robes?” she wondered aloud.
“No. I think he finally talked your mum into buying him basic black the last time she went dress robe shopping in Diagon Alley. No matter what, you’re going to look like a jewelled butterfly next to him.”
“Good. That’s settled, then.” Ginny grabbed the bolt of blue material and walked over to the pile of trims and ribbons they hadn’t put away yet. She and Hermione quickly found a dainty lace and two different widths of satin ribbon in a complimentary shade of blue and began discussing what to do with them;.
Fifteen minutes later, the two rejoined Luna in the line for Gladrags. The queue had shortened considerably during the time Ginny and Hermione were in the fabric shop and she was almost at the door. The three girls exchanged places and Luna set out on her own errands. By the time she came back twenty minutes later, there were only two Hufflepuff seventh years in front of Ginny and Hermione waiting to enter the shop. The three friends spent the next few minutes discussing Ginny’s finds and before they knew it, it was their turn to go through the door into the clothing shop.
“Wow!” Ginny gasped and stopped to take in the shop. “Where do we start looking?”
“Duh…The racks with our sizes,” Hermione said with a shake of her head. “Unfortunately, I don’t know where to begin either!”
The interior of Gladrags had been magically expanded to accommodate twice as much merchandise as the store usually displayed. There were long rows of robes hanging on racks that stretched from one wall of the building to the other. Along the back wall, the usual set of four dressing rooms had been increased: Ginny counted twenty cubicles in all.
As Luna and Hermione began walking toward their respective sizes Ginny called, “I’ll see if I can get us a cubicle.” The others agreed and Ginny made her way to the back of the shop.
“How many?” the saleswitch asked as Ginny walked up.
“Girls or robes?” Ginny inquired.
“Girls.”
“Two. I’m here for approval.” Ginny hefted the heavy parcel she carried and looked pointedly at the saleswitch.
“Come with me.” The saleswitch led Ginny to one of the roomier cubicles and unlocked the door. Inside was a pile of discarded robes. With a few muttered words, the robes had hung themselves back on their hangers and had sailed back to their racks over the heads of the browsing students.
With a grateful smile, Ginny set her package on the floor under the tiny bench and sat down to wait for Hermione and Luna. She didn’t have to wait long. First Luna, then Hermione returned, both laden with an armload of rainbow-coloured robes.
“This may take a while,” Hermione said as she squeezed into the small room and hung the robes on a hook.
“No problem. Why don’t you give the rejects to me when you’re ready,” Ginny suggested.
“Sounds good to me. Is it all right with you, Luna?” Hermione queried.
Luna murmured the affirmative from beneath a cloud of neon purple tulle. Ginny shut the door and waited for the first rejects to float over the door to her. She didn’t have a long wait: from within the cubicle she heard Luna muttering something about looking like an oversized grape and a minute later the offending garment sailed over the door into Ginny’s arms. She looked at the size, hung the robe back on a hanger and set out to find the correct rack. By the time she returned to the cubicle there were three more robes lying on the floor in front of the door.
“You’ll want to use this charm, dear. It puts the inventory back much quicker,” commented an elderly witch who Ginny guessed that this was the owner of the shop. “I’m grateful for your help. Not too many young people bother cleaning up after themselves these days.” She flicked her wand at the pile of robes and incanted, “Ablegato.”
Ginny smiled at her and tried the new charm on the next robe that her friends dropped over the door. The spell worked and Ginny watched the robe fly to the correct rack. I could get used to this, she thought as Hermione exited the cubicle.
“Did you find something yet?” Ginny asked her friend.
“Not even a possibility. Time to go get more,” Hermione sighed.
The next hour went much the same way, but with Hermione becoming more and more frustrated with each successive trip. Finally, in utter frustration, she stood at the end of the row of robes she’d been choosing from, and brandishing her wand, yelled, “Accio the perfect dress robe!”
To Ginny’s utter amazement, a sea foam-green robe separated itself from the mass of lace and satin and flew into Hermione’s outstretched hands. She stared at it in shock. “This…this is the perfect dress robe?” she sputtered. “It’s got a huge stain down the back of the bodice and there’s a tear in one of the sleeves of the jacket!”
Luna walked over and studied first the back, then the front. “Well, what are you waiting for? Go try it on Hermione,” she urged the irritated witch. “It’s obvious whoever thinks this is your robe tried placing it where you’d find it, then sent it to you when you passed it over.”
“Well, I found it several times and rejected it because of the damage,” Hermione said testily. Ginny and Luna looked at her expectantly. “Oh, all right!” she exclaimed and stamped past Ginny and back into the dressing room. The other two girls could hear her muttering to herself as she changed clothes yet again. There was silence.
“Erm…Luna…do you think this is good or bad?” Ginny inquired eyeing the door.
“Good. Definitely good. The robe has stayed on more than thirty seconds, so she must be looking at it from all angles,” Luna said sagely. “The only question is whether or not we can repair the sleeve and get the stain out without resorting to paying off the house elves.”
“Luna! Shame on you!” Ginny exclaimed shaking her index finger at her friend.
“Well, it’s true,” Luna said defensively. “The only way she’d even agree to asking the house elves to do extra work for her is to compensate them for their efforts.”
“Yeah, I know,” Ginny agreed. “Harry finally told her that Dobby was the only elf who would clean Gryffindor tower and she threw a wobbly. He didn’t hear the end of it for days. Made life right difficult for all of us, she did.”
“What made her calm down?”
“Ron finally insisted that she go down to the kitchens with him where he made her apologize to all of the elves and promise not to leave any more hats or socks in the common room for them.”
“So have the elves come back?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t been down to the kitchens or seen Dobby for some time, so I don’t know if he’s still cleaning the tower solo.”
Luna was about to reply, but the door to the dressing room opened revealing a very radiant Hermione. She stood there, framed in the doorway, in the pale grey-green, form-fitting robe with a square neckline that showed her curves in all the right places. The skirt ballooned from the snug waist, falling to the floor in graceful folds and Hermione seemed to float as she took a few steps forward. The other two girls stood rooted to the floor and gaped at her.
“Oh, my!” Ginny breathed finally. “Ron’s going to–”
“–Flip?” Hermione provided.
Luna added, “Swoon.”
“Gape.”
“Keel over.”
“Gawk.”
“Faint.”
“Fall over.”
Luna and Ginny finally ran out of words, so they resorted to gestures which caused all three to dissolve into helpless giggles.
“Well, let’s see the back,” Luna finally demanded with a smile.
Hermione revolved slowly in place for the other two to admire her ensemble. In Ginny’s opinion, Hermione would surely have made the cover of Teen Witch Weekly in what she was wearing.
“Hermione, I don’t see the rip or the stain,” Ginny said in a puzzled tone.
Hermione drew her wand from the hidden pocket of her skirt. “Finite Incantatem,” she muttered and suddenly a large grey spot appeared on the back of the bodice. The stain was so dark it was visible through the thin material of the bolero jacket.
“What will you do if you can’t get the stain out?” Ginny worried.
Hermione sighed. “Well, I could disguise it with a spell like this one. Or, if that doesn’t work, I’ll just have to wear a different jacket.”
“O.K.,” Ginny said slowly. “Now you said there was a tear in one of the sleeves.”
Hermione stopped the temporary masking spell she’d used, allowing the rip to become visible. Luna stepped forward and inspected it.
“That should be easy to fix,” she volunteered sagely. “Nothing’s eaten the material, so there shouldn’t be any problem with creature secretions.”
Hermione looked revolted and quickly exchanged looks with Ginny who couldn’t think of a thing to say after Luna’s pronouncement.
“I think I found what I want,” Luna suddenly informed them, gathering up a pile of pale blue material. “I’ll go make my purchase and wait for you outside.”
Her companions agreed to this and watched her saunter away without showing them what she was buying.
Shrugging, Ginny asked Hermione, “Would the robe still look good if you had to shorten the sleeves of the jacket?
“It should,” Hermione replied, “but I don’t think I’ll have to. Parvati is a wiz at repairing rips. Some of her weaving spells are so intricate you can’t find the damaged area after it’s been repaired.”
“How do you know?” Ginny asked as Hermione walked back into the cubicle.
“Oh, I let her practice on that set of school robes I wore to London last June,” Hermione replied. “I was going to throw them away–they were in such bad shape–but Parvati wanted them, so I let her have them. When she returned them to me in September they looked new!”
Ginny glanced at her watch. “Hermione, we need to get going. It’s almost noon and you know how Ron is when his stomach is kept waiting!”
Hermione giggled and emerged from the dressing room carrying the green dress robes and Ginny’s package.
“We can’t have that, now, can we?” she mused, leading the way to the counter. She quickly made her purchase and ten minutes and more giggling later, the three witches joined Ron and Neville at one of the tables in the Three Broomsticks.
Ron’s only comment was, “Did you find something?”
Both Ginny and Hermione smiled mysteriously. “We did, but you can’t see what we bought until the fifteenth,” Ginny told her brother.
Ron shrugged. “Right. Now what do you want for lunch?”
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Later that evening, Hermione was helping Ginny revise for her OWLs on one of the sofas facing the common room fire when Harry clambered through the portrait hole after his fourth Occlumency lesson with Remus. Both girls looked up as he sat between them and then unceremoniously lay down with his head in Ginny’s lap and his knees lopping over Hermione’s legs.
“Hey, that’s Ron’s territory you’re encroaching on, Harry!” Hermione cried pushing him off and standing up.
“What’s my territory?” Ron asked as he entered the common room for the door leading to the boys’ dormitories.
“Hermione’s lap,” Ginny giggled.
“Oy, Potter, keep your legs away from my girl!” Ron ordered, also grinning.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Weasley,” Harry drawled.
Ginny grinned at Harry’s response as it reflected the fact that her boyfriend was distinctly distracted by the hand she was slowly combing through his unruly hair. Harry’s eyes were closed and Ginny thought that if he were Crookshanks he’d be purring.
Hermione rolled her eyes and followed Ron over to one of the tables as Ginny asked quietly, “How was the lesson, Harry?”
Harry kept his eyes closed as he gave a contented sigh. “Very different from last year with Snape.”
“How so?”
“For one thing, my head doesn’t feel as if something’s been burrowing into it. For another, I actually think I’m making progress. After four lessons last year I still hadn’t a clue how to clear my mind. Tonight, I was able to empty my head of thoughts and all emotion five times consecutively before Remus tried the Legilimens spell on me. I kept him out of my head a few seconds longer each time, too.”
“Harry, that’s wonderful!”
Harry reached into his robes and pulled a slim book. He handed it to Ginny saying, “He’s been talking with Mrs. Chang. They’re coordinating their lessons so that I get the full benefit of their expertise, whatever that means.”
Ginny turned the book over to peer at the faded gold lettering embossed on the spine. How to Clear the Mind: Techniques and Exercises for Trouble-free Living, she read. “This looks promising,” she remarked handing it back.
“Yeah, Remus had me try a few of the exercises during my lesson and at least the ones we did are surprisingly easy. I’m supposed to practice the harder ones this week and report to Mrs. Chang and Remus how I’m getting along.”
“Do you think you’ll be able to do that?” Ginny asked, concern creeping into her voice.
“Yeah, I do. The most difficult exercise is the most distracting because I’m supposed to do it while I’m doing my homework.”
“Why?”
“Improves concentration on two things at once. Remus says that eventually we’ll be duelling while he’s trying to invade my mind. He wants me thoroughly prepared.”
“That sounds difficult,” Ginny remarked. “I hope he won’t try that right away.”
“Nope. He promised to wait until I have mastered all the techniques in the book.” He opened his eyes as Ginny stopped caressing his scalp. “Hey, why’d you stop? That feels good!”
Ginny resumed her ministrations. “Sorry, Harry. Something you just said triggered a memory of Tom. I suspect that no matter what form he takes, be it Riddle or Voldemort, he will try anything to gain the advantage over you in any way he can.”
“Unfortunately, yeah, so I have to be prepared,” Harry said, yawning. He burrowed further into the sofa cushions and Ginny could feel him relax almost completely.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“That I’m a lucky bloke.”
“Lucky? How?”
“I have you to look after me,” Harry said with a smile. He opened his eyes, looking intently at her. “Mrs. Chang called you my ‘advocate’ the other day.”
“Oh, what’s that?”
“Someone who helps another to get what they need. Sort of like Neville’s Gran does for his parents.”
Ginny considered this before saying, “I’d look after any of my friends, Harry, if that’s how I could help.”
“I know you would, but Mrs. Chang,” he frowned in concentration, “she told me how you talked with Professor Dumbledore and went looking for someone to help me last week after you found me in my old cupboard. That’s the sort of stuff an advocate does.”
“That makes sense,” Ginny said slowly, “but, erm, I really didn’t know what I was doing. I was just acting on instinct, Harry.”
“That’s what I told Mrs. Chang. But she still said that what you did was important to helping me heal and get my focus back.” Harry yawned again and peered at his watch. “Bloody hell, it’s only half past nine and I’m completely knackered. I’m sorry, Ginny. I just can’t keep my eyes open any longer.”
Ginny patted the top of Harry’s head. “Good night, then, Harry,” she told him, giving him a little push to help him sit up.
Harry hauled himself to his feet and extended his hand to her. “Come up with me, Ginny,” he invited.
Ginny’s eyebrows shot toward her hairline and she shook her head. “What about your roommates?”
Harry scanned the room, seemingly trying to account for the other four boys. “Ron’s busy with Hermione and Neville over there and Seamus and Dean…” He pointed to one of the window seats. “…are playing chess instead of doing homework. They won’t go up for at least an hour.” He turned to her and offered his hand again. “I just want you to help me fall asleep.”
“But…the rules…the stairs…” Ginny protested.
Harry grinned. “Haven’t you been listening to Gryffindor’s resident expert on Hogwarts: a History? Hermione knows it’s perfectly safe for girls to come up to the boys’ dormitories. She comes up to talk with Ron all the time. Our stairs aren’t booby trapped like yours are.”
As much as she wanted follow Harry, Ginny still wasn’t sure this was a good idea. “But Ron, the other Prefects…won’t we get in trouble?”
Harry shook his head. “I’ll handle Ron the Prefect. He’ll leave us alone if I tell your brother you’re helping me with my Occlumency. Besides, I’m too tired to do anything but go to sleep, Ginny.” He yawned hugely again and pushed his glasses up to pass a hand over his eyes.
For her part, Ginny felt her reluctance begin to crumble. What could tucking Harry in hurt? she asked herself. It’s not as if we’re off in some broom cupboard… As she stood up to go with him, she couldn’t resist teasing him a little, “All right, little Harrykins, Mummy’s coming.”
Harry shot her a startled look. “You’re sounding too much like my Aunt, Ginny. Only, she’s never been that nice to me and she’d never say that to me. I’m not Dudley!” he said vehemently.
Ginny had realized her mistake as soon as the words had left her lips. “I apologize,” she said contritely.
Harry sighed. “I should not have let that comment get to me. I’ll try harder to keep my temper.”
“You’re doing better than last year, if that helps,” Ginny ventured looking at him hopefully. They reached the stairwell door and began walking up towards Harry’s room.
“I don’t want a repeat of last year or even the beginning of this one,” Harry told her as they stepped inside. He led the way over to his bed and opened the hangings. “I’ll be back in five.” He grabbed his pyjamas and disappeared into the loo.
For want of something to do, Ginny pulled back the covers of Harry’s bed and fluffed and arranged his pillow. That done, she looked about Harry’s part of the room, finally spying the little Occlumency book Harry had placed on his bedside table when he left. She picked it up, turned to the first chapter and began to read.
“Have you mastered the first exercise?” Harry asked, causing Ginny to jump. He sat beside her on the bed and took off his glasses.
She smiled sheepishly. “Numbers one and two don’t seem that hard. I haven’t tried three yet and four looks downright impossible! Which ones do you have to do tonight?”
“The first,” he said, smothering yet another yawn. “It’s deceptively easy when I’m calm and ready to sleep, like tonight. But I found it nearly impossible a few nights ago when all I could think about was how much I detest Potions even without Snape breathing down my neck.”
Ginny suppressed a grin as she patted Harry’s leg. “Well, we won’t dwell on that tonight,” she said getting up to give him room to get in bed.
Harry swung his legs onto the mattress and lay back on his pillow with a contented sigh. He pulled up the blankets and patted the mattress near his head.
Ginny tried one more time to leave and go back to the common room without getting into trouble. “Good night, Harry,” she murmured, smoothing the covers over his chest as her mother had done when she was little. She hesitated a moment, then leaned down to kiss Harry’s forehead, placing a hand on his head. Raising up, she trailed her hand over Harry’s cheek as she turned to leave and was rather surprised when Harry caught her hand.
“Wait, Ginny. Would you, would you…I liked your fingers in my hair earlier. I was concentrating on the motion…” he trailed off, his green eyes imploring her to stay.
Ginny sat down and leaned back against the headboard of Harry’s bed. Harry closed his eyes as she began stroking his forehead with her thumbs. She could tell he was somewhat resistant to her touch at first by the way he tried to hold his own head, but as the seconds turned into minutes he stopped fighting her and let her work her fingers at the back of his scalp. Pretty soon, Harry’s breathing deepened and steadied and Ginny eased off the bed and out the door, closing it softly behind her.
A startled “Ginny?” coming from further down the stairs disturbed her own sense of peace as she turned to begin her descent to the common room.
“Harry’s asleep,” she whispered to Ron as she passed him. “Don’t disturb him for a while, all right?”
Her brother nodded and followed her over to the sofa. “How’s he doing?” he asked tentatively.
Ginny smiled. “It’s going better for him this year,” she said, gathering up her books.
“That’s good, but what were you doing up there?”
She corked her ink bottle and wiped the tip of her quill free of ink as she answered impishly, “Running my fingers through Harry’s hair, Ron. It’s a great tension reliever. You and Hermione should try it some time.” As Ron’s jaw dropped toward the floor, she hoisted her bag onto her shoulder.
“Good night, Ron. See you in the morning.”
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
The scene in the Gryffindor sixth year girl’s dormitory on Sunday afternoon resembled the workroom of Madam Malkin’s, Ginny reckoned. Dress robes of every colour and in various states of alteration or repair adorned the beds. In the middle of the room Lavender and Parvati were holding court, their wands out and Parvati’ dress-making equipment neatly assembled on top of Lavender’s trunk.
When Hermione donned her purchase from the previous day all the girls present began exclaiming over her transformation from “bookworm to beauty,” as one starry-eyed fourth year put it. The comment and something Parvati said sent Hermione and Ginny into gales of laughter.
“What’s so funny?” Lavender demanded as she tacked a bit of ribbon onto the robe she had puddle on her lap.
Ginny regained her composure first. “She got the same reaction from Luna and me yesterday,” she explained, smirking.
“Oh. Well, in that case,” Lavender continued looking pointedly at Hermione, “how come you bought this dress robe instead of a cleaner, less tattered one?”
Hermione sighed and Ginny guessed that the older girl was beginning to feel a little bit like that Rindercella character she’d read about in her mum’s Muggle storybook a few years back. “This was the only one at Gladrags to answer my Summons,” Hermione admitted sheepishly.
“Summons?” several girls asked at once.
“Yeah,” Ginny said and quickly told the story of Hermione’s search for the perfect ball gown.
When she finished, Parvati beckoned for Hermione to come closer so she could examine the jacket. Parvati took one look at the rend in the sleeve and began chanting “Vieo” repeatedly as she gently tapped her wand down the two sides of the rip. When she was done she gently tugged at the material and pronounced the repair, “Good as new.”
Hermione took off the jacked and studied Parvati’s handiwork. “I knew you could help me with this,” she said appreciatively. “Thank you.”
“Any time, Hermione. Now let’s see the stained area,” Parvati instructed.
Hermione disrobed, put on her dressing gown and handed her new dress robes to Parvati.
“It doesn’t go through the lining material…” she muttered. “It doesn’t seem to be oily…and I don’t think it’s food…Hmmm…” She looked up at Hermione. “Hermione, do you mind if I try a couple of spells?”
“No. Go ahead,” Hermione told her.
“Finite Incantatem,” Parvati intoned. Amazingly, most of the stain disappeared. She tried a mild cleaning spell Ginny recognized from helping her mother do the family laundry. The rest of the grey area vanished.
Hermione beamed as Parvati handed her robes back. “This is incredible! Thank you! Would you show me those spells sometime, Parvati? They probably will be dead useful someday when I have a family of my own.”
Lavender’s head jerked up from the skirt she was hemming for one of Ginny’s dorm mates. “Are you trying to tell us something, Hermione?” she inquired quickly and Ginny thought the image of a Muggle radar antenna homing in on a signal was an apt description of Hermione’s roommate.
Hermione smiled. “Whatever do you mean, Lavender?”
“Well,” the other witch sputtered, “I thought that you and Ron had been getting quite chummy lately and, after all, he has figured out that you’re a girl finally…”
“Well, he did ask me to the ball rather quickly…” Hermione said letting her voice trail off suggestively.
“He put Seamus and Dean to shame!” Lavender exclaimed in exasperation as she went back to her hemming.
“Harry was rather quick, too,” Parvati observed glancing at Ginny. “Are the rumours true that you two got together over Christmas?”
“He wouldn’t have asked me to the ball if he wasn’t interested in me,” Ginny returned.
“That’s true,” Lavender said slyly. “I’ve also heard rumours that you two have joined the seventh year snog-fest down in the common room after midnight every now and then.”
“So what if we do?” Ginny asked.
“Ginny! You know that’s not true!” Hermione burst out.
Ginny laughed. “And how would we know what you and Ron get up to when you take on extra Prefects duties, Hermione? Seems there are some rather busy broom cupboards on your patrol route…”
“How–how do you know about those?” Hermione spluttered.
Ginny grinned and pulled a short length of flesh-coloured string from her pocket in answer to her friend’s question.
“Ginny Weasley! You wouldn’t!” Hermione cried indignantly. “That’s an invasion of privacy!”
“Don’t get your hair all in a bunch,” Ginny said. “I have no intention of using these on you and Ron. However, Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy were rather interesting to listen to on Friday night.”
“Oh, do tell!” Lavender and Parvati squealed together.
As Ginny changed into her dress robes she considered how much she wanted to tell. She hadn’t heard much, really, and what she had wasn’t worth repeating. Finally, she said, “I think they were just getting started because there wasn’t much to hear. Just a lot of rather wet noises and a few coos.”
“Rats!” Lavender said reaching for the column of buttons that hung open down Ginny’s back. “Now what’s the problem with this?”
“I grew,” Ginny said sheepishly by way of explanation. “Do you think it’s salvageable?”
“Of course it’s salvageable, Ginny,” Hermione said. “All it needs is a few spells. Now hold your breath. I’m going to button you up.” And before Ginny could breathe in properly, she felt the buttons zip closed with a small zipping sound, effectively knocking the wind out of her.
“Parvati,” she gasped, “DO Something! Can’t. Breathe.”
Parvati obligingly touched her wand to the side seams of Ginny’s robes, allowing Ginny to breathe freely as the material expanded.
“That should be better,” Parvati said as Ginny tested the side seams of her robes by breathing in an extra-deep breath. The seams held and Ginny let out her stomach a little. The material was still stretched tightly across her body, but that could be remedied later.
“Is that all you wanted us to do with these?” Lavender asked in a bored voice.
“No. We bought this yesterday,” Hermione volunteered, holding up the chiffon, ribbon and trim she and Ginny ha purchased. “There’s enough material here to make Ginny beautiful for a certain someone.”
The other girls looked up at this as Lavender asked, “You mean, Ginny, that you want us to design your dress robes?”
“If that’s what you mean by making what I’m wearing look completely different, then yes!” Ginny exclaimed, slightly exasperated.
Lavender grabbed Parvati’s arm squealing, “This is going to be good!”
End of Part Eight
Chapter 9: Chapter 9
New Year, New HopePart Nine
A/N: As Valentine’s Day 2006 approaches, I feel it’s time to find the romantic in our young hero. My beta at Phoenix Song, Aggiebell, asked if Harry had Neville’s help in choosing Ginny’s gift. The answer is ‘no’; Harry came up with the idea all on his own. He whispered to me that it was his way of making Valentine’s Day a memorable one for Ginny.
Aggiebell, thank you for the advice and help you gave me with this chapter. You gave me the reasons to do with it what I was inclined to do in the first place.
Harry, Ron, Hermione, Luna, Ginny and Neville met Kingsley Shacklebolt in an unused classroom for their first group duelling session after dinner on Monday evening. The fact that the lesson soon resembled a miniature DA meeting immediately put the friends at ease. This was familiar territory, something they had prior knowledge of, as opposed to their Tai Chi lessons each morning, and as soon as they had done some preliminary exercises–a ten-minute warm-up period where they performed every spell Harry had ever taught them while their instructor took notes on a clipboard–they paired up and tried a new spell, a Trip Jinx that Harry remember Malfoy using on him the night the DA had been compromised.
They hadn’t been at it for very long before Ron began complaining that his elbows and knees were becoming raw from hitting the floor so hard.
Harry skidded up to him on his stomach, sent his way by Neville’s well-placed hex. “Fourth year Third Task practice all over again, mate?” he quipped, grinning at his friend.
Ron’s ears turned scarlet. “Yeah, thanks for reminding me, Harry,” he sulked. He picked himself up again and turned his back on Ginny so she could have another go at the spell.
“Professor Shacklebolt, what good will a Trip Jinx do us in a major duel?” Hermione inquired sceptically five minutes later.
“Throw your opponent off balance and you just may save yourself from a major amount of pain,” Harry answered before the Auror could.
“Very succinct answer, Harry,” Professor Shacklebolt observed.
“I’ll remember that,” Hermione said, satisfied by Harry’s answer.
The pairs were soon turned into trios. Each person had a specific job to do as either a runner, a trainee or a placer. The runner ran away from the trainee who attempted to trip her while the placer stood by ready to position some of Professor Flitwick’s pillows under him when the runner was sent sprawling. “A moving target is much harder to hit,” Professor Shacklebolt intoned knowingly before he turned the group loose again. When everyone had had a turn with all three positions he dimmed the lights and called the group to order.
“We need a scenario,” he told the group. “Let us pretend that our classroom is in an underground cavern.” Several of the group, including Ginny, scowled at this idea and their instructor hurriedly offered his explanation. “You know from experience that when we duel in the real world, it’s usually not in the best of conditions; there may be obstacles hampering a direct view of the opponent, the footing may be treacherous, and visibility can often be quite poor. One never really is lucky enough to duel in a place as big and empty as the Great Hall or, say, the lawns around the castle. What I’m going to do now is create a duelling space that hampers your vision–next session, I’ll vary the conditions in a different way.
“Please get into your spell practice trios again. Mr. Potter, Mr. Longbottom and Miss Granger gather near the door. Mr. Weasley, Miss Lovegood and Miss Weasley, please begin together over there somewhere,” he pointed in the opposite direction. “You have three minutes to track and tickle or trip each other in the dark. The team with the most members left standing at the end of the three minutes wins. Have I made myself clear? Good. On three. One…two…three!”
The lights suddenly went dark and Ginny unexpectedly found herself battling a panic she thought she had rid herself of long ago: her mind had transported her to the underground cavernous room where she had first set eyes on the dim figure of Tom Riddle emerging from her diary. She froze, fighting the need to flee the spectre, and only just managed to dodge a Trip Jinx when Ron grabbed her arm, tugging her away from the spell.
“Get between Luna and me,” he ordered firmly, his commanding tone betraying his concern for her. “That was too close.”
Ginny had to agree as the three circled the room listening intently for clues to the other team’s whereabouts. She momentarily clutched her angel pendant feeling its comforting magic, then followed after Ron. The movement helped her focus on the task at hand. She heard someone on her left cough and sent a Tickling Charm in that direction. As soon as the spell left her wand, she instinctively pulled Ron and Luna behind a row of nearby desks. The three quickly crawled away under their cover.
“What’d you do that for?” Ron demanded over his shoulder in a hoarse whisper. “You just gave our position away.”
“Just watch,” Ginny whispered back as the other team returned fire from three different positions. “Now we know where they are approximately, too. Your little sister isn’t as dumb as you think she is.”
“I never–” Ron sputtered.
“They must have spread out,” Luna interrupted.
“Ron, do you have any ideas?” Ginny asked changing the subject.
Ron didn’t reply right away and Ginny knew without having to look that he had settled into his chess tactics mode of thinking. “Let’s go after them one at a time,” he finally muttered. “Neville’s probably the easiest, then Hermione, then Harry.”
“Which one’s which? How can you tell?”
“Listen for their footsteps. Neville’s are the heaviest–he’s wearing boots tonight. Harry’s still got on his uniform shoes which aren’t as heavy as Neville’s boots but are still easy to distinguish from Hermione’s trainers. Hermione’s…well, er…she doesn’t weigh as much so her footfalls are…erm…much softer.”
“Gotcha,” Ginny whispered a smile curling her lips at Ron’s hesitant description of his girlfriend.
The three crouched low for several seconds listening to the other team moving around the room and Ginny thought she could hear Neville’s boots crunching the gritty dust on the floor in front of her. Suddenly, Luna pointed her wand and sent a Tickling Hex straight ahead. Neville’s loud shouts of laughter filled the room.
“One down…” Luna said triumphantly just as she herself was hit with the same hex.
“Let’s split up,” Ginny suggested to Ron as their instructor levitated Luna and Neville behind the teacher’s desk and cancelled the spells. “I’ll go back the way we came. Maybe we can pick them off from behind.”
Ron nodded in agreement and began crawling away toward the door. Ginny watched his trainers recede into the dark corners, a feeling of mild panic sweeping over her again. This is just an exercise, she told herself sternly. Focus on the objective and hex Harry!
“Like you could really do that,” a little voice in her head scoffed. She chose to ignore it and sat listening to the sounds of her surroundings before moving from her hiding place.
She had crawled perhaps twenty paces when she heard the rustle of robes. Smiling to herself, Ginny took careful aim and whispered the incantation for the new Trip Jinx. As the spell shot from her wand an identical spell was hurled her way. She ducked, dodging right and firing a Tickling Charm toward her attacker. The two traded several more volleys until Ginny heard the thud of someone falling flat on the floor, just as the lights came back on. Cheering, Ginny emerged from behind the desk she had hidden behind to see Hermione sitting several yards away nursing a banged-up elbow.
Ron let out a whoop of delight as Ginny exclaimed, “We won, Ron!”
Harry extended his hand to Ron. “Well done, mate,” he said smiling. “Tactics beat out spur-of-the-moment hot-headedness every time.”
Ron’s ears turned pink for the second time in an hour under Harry’s praise and he remained silent as the group gathered around the teacher’s desk to see what they’d be doing next.
“First of all, from now on, please call me Kingsley. You’ve all known me as Kingsley for over a year now and I feel rather awkward being called ‘Professor’. Also, if we’re going to work together to get you to improve your skills use of our given names has been proven to build trust and camaraderie faster than titles and surnames.
“Right. Now for a few notes. You work together very well,” Kingsley stated surveying the group over the top of his clipboard. “I have a feeling that if I rearranged the group configurations you’d all work together equally well. The fact that the six of you have done battle together shows in the high level of trust and communication I saw going on in this exercise. I have a few observations and criticisms I’d like to discuss now.” He consulted his clip board. “Ginny, at the start of the exercise you seemed to freeze in place. Is there a reason for it?”
The question took Ginny quite by surprise. She stared at the floor as she answered, “I was caught by some rather unpleasant memories, sir, and lost my focus.”
“Has this ever happened before?” The question was not accusatory in tone.
“No, sir. Never,” Ginny answered as Harry shot her a questioning look. She shook her head at him and mouthed, “Later.”
“Not even last June?”
“No, sir. I, we were too scared and too busy trying to survive for me to dwell on such things. I was focused on helping Harry and my friends.”
“I understand that, Ginny. I apologize if I have made you uncomfortable. I’m just trying to understand what happened just now. You seemed to recover quickly when given the chance and support from your comrades.”
“It wasn’t that hard to do. All I needed was a nudge in the right direction,” Ginny said truthfully.
“And Mr. Weasley’s quick thinking kept you from being the first out of the exercise.”
Ginny smiled at Ron. “Ron’s looked out for me since I was old enough to walk. It’s not easy growing up as Fred and George’s little sister.”
Kingsley let out a low, rumbling chuckle. “Right. Safety in numbers…” he said. He made some notes on his clipboard and then turned to Neville. “I have a suggestion for you: Either learn to walk quietly in those boots or wear different shoes next time. Your opponents were able to find you just by listening to you walk.”
Neville looked abashed as he mumbled, “Yes, sir. I thought as much.”
Kingsley looked a little disconcerted at Neville’s meek acceptance of his criticism. It must have been his first experience with someone like Neville, for he certainly didn’t react like any of Ginny’s other teachers to Neville’s demeanour. Hermione caught Ginny’s eye and shook her head; they both suspected that Neville’s Gran was the reason for her grandson’s subservient response to authoritative criticism. From just one meeting in St. Mungo’s both girls had deduced that Mrs. Longbottom treated Neville like a little boy whom she found lacking in every sense of the word. The determined look on Hermione’s face told Ginny that her friend was gearing up to try to cheer Neville up after the lesson ended.
An exasperated exclamation from Kingsley brought Ginny back to the lesson. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Luna, there were no nincompimples telling you to stand up and look to see who you’d hit with your spell!”
Luna shrugged as if to say, “There were, too!” as the critique of the group’s tactics move to Hermione.
Ginny tuned out for the moment to further ponder Luna’s behaviour. By now, after nearly five years of observing her friend in lessons, Ginny suspected that Luna loved bating new teachers with her unusual pronouncements just to see what she could get away with and what the instructor’s exasperation point was. Clearly, she had pushed Kingsley past his frustration point and was satisfied with the degree of battiness she could achieve during lessons. If past first lessons were a pattern, Ginny knew Luna would work hard to learn the day’s lesson before she began experimenting and seemingly goofing off in class.
Ginny’s mind stopped its wandering as Ron came under Kingsley’s scrutiny. “Ron, I commend you for two things: first, you pulled your sister to safety while exposing your person to danger, and second, you helped your team by developing a strategy that was easy to achieve as a goal. I can see why Professor Dumbledore thinks so highly of you.”
As Ron stood dumbfounded next to Harry, Kingsley continued, “So that ends tonight’s lesson. School rules dictate that I can’t keep you past nine o’clock and even though it’s only half-past seven at the moment I think it’s best we part for the evening. You undoubtedly have homework and I must get back to London. I’ll see you back here on Wednesday night and we’ll do some drills of defensive spells you know. You need to know these spells so well that you don’t have to think or speak the incantations when the fighting gets hairy.” He paused and looked at each student except Harry. “If all of you are intent on helping Harry, the more dedicated you are to honing your defensive magic, the more you will help him.” Everyone nodded solemnly.
“Now for your assignment. I’d like a foot of parchment on how you see your performance during tonight’s exercise to be turned in on Wednesday. Until then, constant vigilance.”
“I thought ‘constant vigilance’ was Mad-eye Moody’s line,” Ron said a few minutes later as they trooped toward the stairs.
“It is, but I think Mad-eye tends to rub off on those he trains,” Harry remarked.
“I thought it was a good idea that he reminded us to be careful,” Hermione said thoughtfully.
“The Slytherins are meaner than ever this year,” Neville observed. “It’s getting harder to watch your back with them lurking behind every corner, statue or suit of armour.”
“What do you mean?” Luna asked.
“Well, just last Thursday I caught a couple of Slytherin seventh years picking on a Hufflepuff second year outside the greenhouses.”
“What happened?” Ginny asked.
“I went to get Professor Sprout. She gave the Slytherins a week’s worth of detentions.” He grinned. “I got to supervise one of them shovelling dragon dung into the compost pile the next day after lessons. By the time he was through he was covered from head to foot with the stinking stuff.”
“And what happened to the other one?” Harry asked his face alight with anticipation.
Neville rubbed his hands together gleefully. “I get the other one after lessons tomorrow. I can hardly wait!”
“Neville, I’m surprised at you,” Ron exclaimed. “Do I detect a degree of malicious satisfaction or are you just happily gloating?”
“Both,” Neville said, grinning, causing the others to chuckle at the Slytherins’ expense.
By now, they had reached the stairs leading down to the Entrance Hall. Luna stopped and wished them all good-night before leaving them to go down to her common room. Harry and Ginny lingered to watch her descend to the Entrance Hall as the rest of the group continued their ascent to Gryffindor Tower.
“Ginny, what happened tonight?” Harry inquired his face full of concern.
Ginny fidgeted with a strand of her hair as she replied simply, “Riddle.”
“Flashbacks?”
“Uh-huh.”
Harry drew her into a loose one-armed hug that felt very comforting. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked as they reached the portrait hole. He mumbled the password and the Fat Lady swung forward.
Ginny shook her head. “I’ll be fine, Harry, after I write that essay we were assigned. I think Kingsley gave it to us to help me get over what happened.” She climbed through the hole and waited for him to follow her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Hermione and Ron trying to show Neville how to walk with a stealthy tread. She grinned and pointed this out to Harry who shook his head and smiled back. “Shall we go to the library and get our essays done, then?” she asked coyly knowing full well that Harry had other ideas on where they could go…and they didn’t involve much available light to revise by.
Harry threw his head back, chuckling. “You’ve been around Hermione too much lately. I think she’s rubbing off on you.”
Ginny scowled. “She is not. And don’t you ever let her hear you say that!”
Harry smirked at her as he said, “Let me get my bag and I’ll meet you back here in five minutes.”
“See you in a bit,” Ginny said and pushed open the door to the girls’ stairs. She was looking forward to going to the library tonight and it was all because she would have Harry’s company.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Friday was Valentine’s Day. Knowing that the ball was the next evening, Ginny didn’t expect to receive anything from Harry. She was therefore quite surprised when he met her at the bottom of the girls’ stairs that morning, a shy smile hovering about his lips. He was obviously hiding something behind his back.
“Good morning, Harry,” Ginny greeted him, stopping on the last step so that she didn’t have to stand on tip-toe to kiss his cheek.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Ginny,” he told her bashfully. He held out a small bouquet of flowers to her. “Hedwig made a special trip for these. They’ve been charmed to stay fresh without water.”
Ginny flashed him a brilliant smile. “Thank you, Harry,” she said taking the flowers. She noticed there were several varieties she didn’t recognize. “Are these Muggle flowers?”
“Yeah, they are. I didn’t want them biting your nose or sticking a leaf in your ear when you sniffed them,” he said looking sheepish.
“Oh, Harry, you’re so thoughtful!” she exclaimed as he plucked a white gardenia from the middle of the bouquet and tucked it behind her ear.
He led her over to one of the chairs facing a corner and pulled her into his lap. “I think you are lovely today, Ginny. Did you know that?” he commented.
She giggled as she glanced at her uniform. “If you say so,” she told him as she wriggled around in his lap to get comfortable. “Tell me about the flowers.”
Harry held onto her arm to steady the bouquet. “My Aunt has many of these in her garden. Most of them are planted annually and some are even considered weeds.” He chuckled sadistically, “I’ve weeded them enough to know what they are at least,” he said as he pulled the bouquet closer to him.
“Oi, Harry! If you two canoodle much longer you’re going to miss breakfast!” Ron interrupted them causing both Harry and Ginny to jump.
“Happy Valentine’s Day to you, too, dear brother,” Ginny smirked sliding off Harry’s lap. She looked at her watch. “I’ll meet you in the Great Hall. I’m going to put these on my bedside table,” she told Harry and sprinted up the stairs to her room.
Forty-five minutes later, Ginny breathlessly joined Luna and two other Ravenclaws at their table in Greenhouse Three. Through the open door she could see Neville Longbottom pruning a shrub that he had tied securely to a stout pole. The plant’s fanged flowers strained against their bindings in a futile attempt to bite his gloved hands.
“You’re late,” Luna commented pointing out the obvious. “We can’t start without you.”
“I know. Harry and I had breakfast together and we lingered a little too long,” Ginny said as she selected a trowel from a flower pot on Professor Sprout’s work table and prepared to shovel dirt around the jumping juniper Luna was straining to hold in its new pot. “Luna, I need a favour. Could you come with me to the library during break? There’s something I’d like to look up and two pairs of eyes are better than one.”
“Which broom cupboard did you use?” Luna asked with a smirk as their juniper twisted in her hands.
Ginny stuck her trowel into the mixture of dirt and dragon manure Luna had already prepared. “I’m not telling you,” she said loftily and poured a large measure over the juniper’s root system.
“Put down your trowels and bring your pots to me,” Professor Sprout called at the end of the hour.
Ginny heaved a sigh of relief and helped Luna carry the four jumping junipers they had re-potted over to the watering station where the professor was now standing.
“Why are we going to the library?” Luna enquired as they put away their trowels and picked up their bags.
“I’ll show you when we get there,” Ginny told her vaguely leading her friend up the stone steps at a brisk pace.
Five minutes later, Ginny stood on tiptoe to reach a large book on a high shelf in the Muggle Studies section of the library saying, “Harry gave me a bouquet of Muggle flowers this morning and insisted on telling me what each one was. I think he wants me to look up what they mean.” She handed the book, Flower Talk: a Guide to the Language of Flowers in the Victorian Era by Daisy Chane, to Luna and pulled out the list of flowers she had scribbled at breakfast when Harry wasn’t looking.
“Oh, a mystery to solve,” Luna observed. “I’ll be glad to help.”
They carried the book to a nearby table and set to work. With two looking up the common names of the eight species in the bouquet they finished with almost five minutes of their break to spare.
“Okay,” Ginny sighed looking at their notes. “What do you make of this?”
Luna took out a fresh roll of parchment and tore it into eight pieces. “Did Harry give you the gardenia, too?” she asked writing on one of the pieces.
“Yes, he plucked it out of the middle of the bouquet.”
“Did he say anything cryptic?”
“Yeah, he did, come to think of it.” Ginny frowned in concentration. “He said, ‘I think you are lovely today’ which made me laugh because I’m wearing my uniform.”
“Did you look up gardenias?”
“Uh-huh. They mean ‘you’re lovely’ or ‘secret love’.”
Luna beamed and began writing as fast as she could. “Ginny, Harry wrote you a love letter in flowers. Oh, this is so romantic!”
Ginny giggled. “You sound like Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil.” She picked up the first two pieces of parchment and peered at them.
Luna shrugged. “I’m having fun, Ginny. Thanks for asking me to help. Now all we have to do is figure out how to group the flowers so that you understand what Harry’s trying to tell you.”
The bell rang making them jump. “We’ll have to do that in Charms. C’mon or we’ll be late,” Ginny said grabbing the flower book and setting it on a shelf she could reach. Luna shoved the pieces of parchment into Ginny’s bag and the two sprinted down the corridor toward the Charms classroom.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Ginny dropped her school bag at the foot of the old tree down by the lake and sat, leaning against the trunk and gazing out over the water. It was too cold to be out here, if only for a few frigid minutes, but in the crowded castle there really weren’t many places where she could truly be alone. With a frustrated sigh, she dug a small piece of parchment from her pocket and spread the wrinkled sheet on her knees.
It had taken most of Charms for her and Luna to decipher Harry’s flower code while trying to look as if they were really doing their assignment. They had mastered their new freeze-drying spell, all the while keeping an eye on Luna’s charmed quill that was under the desk. She had spelled the quill to write down the phrases they had copied from the flower book as they dictated the order possibilities despite the fact that Professor Flitwick was hovering four desks away supervising Colin Creevey and his partner. What Ginny now held was the result of their labours:
Flower list in the correct order: Coreopsis, Marigolds, Yarrow, Jonquils, Peonies, Forget-me-nots, Dandelions, Aster
Ginny,
Your constant cheerfulness comforts my heart, heals me as no other can. Until now, though, I have been too bashful to admit my affections for you: I love you truly. Your wishes have come true.
Love, Harry
She giggled at the old-fashioned wording of the message: Harry had never been one to act the romantic and tended to be very careful when displaying any emotion other than happiness or anger. Even his rare on-the-mouth kisses were somewhat restrained, sometimes leaving her desperately wanting more than he was willing to give. So what was she to make of the message? As un-Harry-like as it was, she supposed that he was sincere in his efforts to tell her how much she meant to him when it didn’t seem he could muster up the courage to tell her in person. With this thought in mind, Ginny hugged the parchment to her chest, a smile dancing at the corners of her lips as she planned the kiss she would give him tonight when they were finally alone in the common room.
End of Part Nine
Chapter 10: Chapter 10
Author's Notes: Well, here it is, folks...the long-awaited Valentine's Ball. I hope you enjoy Harry and Ginny's night of romance. I had a lot of fun writing it, even if one of the characters kept me from completing this chapter for five months while he refused to cooperate with me. In the meantime, thank you to both my betas (Aggiebell at PhoenixSong and Lady Narcissa at Sugar Quill) for all their hard work to make this chapter the best it can be. I'm a better writer because you've taken the time to help me show me how I can improve.
New Year, New Hope
Part Ten
Ginny stood on the landing at the top of the stairs that led down to the common room. She was nervous for some reason, not at all sure of herself. She glanced down at her newly transformed dress robes and marvelled silently at Parvati’s and Lavender’s creation: did she really look as stunning as Hermione had intimated? Only the look on Harry’s face would confirm what Ginny hoped would be true; that she looked as grown-up as the dormitory mirror said she did.
When Ginny had given Lavender and Parvati permission to “design”, as they put it, she had given them only one instruction: “Don’t make me look like a Plain Jane.”
The two older witches had then taken over, and when they were done cutting, trimming, casting, and stitching, the other girls in the room had said Ginny’s robes rivalled Hermione’s in sophistication and elegance.
The butterflies in Ginny’s stomach made themselves known again and she stepped back inside her room to steady her nerves. I’m being completely silly, she told herself as she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror.
“I told you before, Ginny, your beau will think you’re beautiful,” the mirror said. “Come here and take a good look at yourself, my dear.”
Ginny did as she was told, not quite believing that the vision looking back at her was really a fifteen-year-old girl. Ginny had decided to put her hair into a simple chignon at the back of her head which accentuated the new deep sweetheart neckline of her robes and emphasized the little bit of cleavage she possessed.
Parvati and Lavender had cut off the original sleeves and enlarged the armholes slightly when they had faced the openings to make the bodice sleeveless; a bit of blue lace and some deeper blue ribbon at the neckline and that part was finished.
Ginny loved the new length of the double skirts. Two years ago, her robes had been floor-length. Now they cascaded gracefully from her waist, ending mid-calf and showing off her slim ankles and high-heeled sandals. Lavender had loved the idea of fashioning an overskirt from the blue chiffon and had expertly created one that looked as if it were original to the robes. A sash of deep blue satin ribbon held the overskirt in place.
At this point Parvati had pronounced the robes done, but Ginny protested that it was February and the castle was draughty. Begrudgingly, Parvati and Lavender had taken inventory of what was left of Ginny’s purchases. Much to everyone’s surprise, there was enough material left to make a wrap. Parvati taught Hermione the mending spell as the two wove rectangular pieces of chiffon together to form a wrap long enough to either drape gracefully across her shoulders and down her back for dancing or, doubled over, act as a shawl for warmth. Then Lavender and Ginny experimented with different laces until Ginny was happy with the effect and satisfied that she wouldn’t catch her death of cold.
“Ginny, are you in there?” Hermione called from the landing outside the dormitory. “Ron says Harry’s going spare with anticipation downstairs and was contemplating his chances with the slide until I volunteered to come up.”
Ginny opened the door. “I’m ready, I think,” she gulped.
Hermione embraced her carefully. “I told you earlier: you look stunning. Now go knock him dead before Harry does something he’ll regret!”
Reassured, Ginny squared her shoulders and walked down the stairs to the common room.
“Here she comes, Harry,” Ginny heard what sounded like Dean’s voice announce as she reached the bottom step. “Hey, put your tongue back in your face, Harry!” someone else teased. Her brother added his voice to the chorus of appreciative murmurings, “Take your eyes off my sister! She’s Harry’s date tonight!” To which someone added, “Would you rather we looked at Hermione?”
“Ginny, you look wonderful,” Harry grinned, coming up to her and extending his hand. He was dressed in a black Muggle tuxedo, complete with a midnight blue waistcoat and bow tie. Over his left shoulder he had slung a long black cape, the lining of which matched his waistcoat and tie. Unfortunately, his hair looked worse than it usually did because it was sticking up at odd angles. It looked to Ginny just the way it did when they met by the fire after one or both of them had experienced a terrifying nightmare. One glance confirmed that he had been running his fingers through his hair.
Ginny took his hand and advanced several steps into the common room before stopping in front of him. Reaching up, she tried to finger-comb his fringe over his scar the way she knew he liked to do. His hair felt stiff and unyielding under her fingers as if he had poured an entire bottle of Sleakeasy’s Hair Potion on his head. This won’t do, she thought, reaching for her wand. He’s worked too hard on his hair to go to the Ball looking like this. With one quick look around the common room to see if any of the boys were watching – and they all were, of course – she pulled out her wand and stepped back so that she wouldn’t hit him in the face when she cast her spell. “Reparo crines passi,” she murmured and watched as his hair carefully rearranged itself to look as if it would actually stay in place for once. She smiled happily at his startled expression as she replaced her wand in her skirt pocket. He drew her to him, carefully kissing her cheek and murmuring his thanks. Someone behind them called, “Go find a broom cupboard, Potter!”
Laughing, she pointed to her handiwork and replied, “Thank you, Harry. You clean up rather well yourself.”
Harry pulled a gold pocket watch from his waistcoat pocket and, looking at Ron, Hermione and Ginny, asked, “Shall we go then?”
The trip down to the Entrance Hall was rather different than usual. First, the Fat Lady made them all stop so that she could see how they looked. Second, as they traversed the hallways, the suits of armour turned their helmets and even emitted what sounded suspiciously like wolf whistles. Ginny caught Hermione’s eye and the two girls broke into giggles.
The Entrance Hall was absolutely packed with waiting couples. Ginny was the first to see that Colin Creevey had Luna Lovegood in tow.
“And isn’t that Neville?” Ron asked pointing. “Who’s he with?”
Hermione grabbed Ron’s hand hissing, “Ron, it’s not polite to point!”
“It’s some girl from Ravenclaw,” Harry suggested, descending one flight of steps.
“That’s Eloise Midgen,” Hermione informed them. “Let’s invite them to sit with us at dinner. Neville looks a little out of sorts at the moment.” She stepped away from Ron, her hand lingering in his grasp as she murmured, “Be right back.”
The others resumed their search for friends they knew.
Ron elbowed Harry and nodded in the direction of the corridor leading to the Slytherin common room. “Wouldn’t you know? It’s Malfoy and Parkinson.”
“Isn’t he wearing the same robes he wore to the Yule Ball?” a voice behind them asked.
Ginny turned to see Lavender and Parvati with Seamus and Dean.
Lavender giggled into her hand. “I thought he looked like a vicar last time. He still does!”
“And chartreuse does not go with that Pansy cow’s complexion. She looks positively green!” Parvati chimed in. “I wonder if it’s her robes or her date that’s turning her that colour.”
Ron leaned over and whispered into Ginny’s ear. “For once, I agree with them.” This sent Ginny into a gale of giggles.
“What’s so funny?” Harry asked.
Ron repeated his comment and soon all three were chuckling at Malfoy’s expense. “It’s not like they never do that to us,” Harry told Ginny when she remarked that they were above such comments.
“I know, Harry,” she said, slightly irritable. “But all of a sudden it just seems wrong to laugh at Malfoy. I can’t explain it.”
“I think you’re channelling Hermione,” he said, his tone teasing.
“I am not,” she retorted.
“Then when did Fred and George’s little sister suddenly develop a conscience toward Draco Malfoy?” he asked, his face taking on an expression of superiority.
“Never you mind,” she told him loftily.
They dropped the topic as the doors to the Great Hall opened, revealing a magnificently decorated room. Intimate tables set for eight had replaced the long house tables. In the centre of each table a graceful heart-shaped recirculating fountain splashed merrily, the potion cascading from each spout casting a pale pink glow onto the table as if lit from within as it fell gracefully back into the basin at the bottom of the fountain.
Ginny’s eyes now travelled to the walls, which were swathed in white brocade and lit at floor level between the stained-glass windows by the same pink potions as those on the tables. The windows themselves were tastefully draped with graceful white swags which reflected the pink glow back into the room. High above, near the middle of the enchanted ceiling, fairies flitted around a newly installed crystal chandelier and tiny cupids strummed their harps as soft background music for the happy partygoers. The only indication that this was a Valentine’s Ball was the banner which hung over the head table at the back of the Hall; it wished the students a magical evening filled with love.
“This is a sight better than how Lockhart had this place decorated back in second year,” Ron commented to Harry as the boys led Ginny over to one of the tables halfway up the hall.
“Yeah, I agree,” Harry said as he pulled out Ginny’s chair for her. “However, I’m hoping those cupids stay where they are. They remind me too much of what Madam Puddifoot’s was like last year.”
Poor Harry, Ginny thought as Hermione walked up to the table with Colin, Luna, Neville and Eloise.
“It’s so nice of you to invite us to sit with you!” Eloise exclaimed once Neville had seated her. She looked significantly at Luna as she continued, “None of our housemates indicated that we were welcome at their tables tonight.”
Ginny’s eyes widened at the thought of how petty the fifth- and sixth-year Ravenclaws were and she had to fight the urge to say something indignant. Instead, she remarked, “Luna you look really nice tonight. You, too, Eloise.”
Both girls coloured prettily and Luna glanced down at the form-fitting dark blue evening robes she was wearing. For once, she wore a simple silver chain and knotted silver earrings rather than her usual bottle caps and radishes. With her long blond hair piled high atop her head she looked very sophisticated. “Thank you. I had a lot of fun with you and Hermione last week in Hogsmeade, Ginny. It was the first time I’d ever had anyone to go with,” she confided.
Hermione, who had been talking with Eloise, looked over at Ginny and Luna. “You made the robe shopping fun,” she said, and for the first time Ginny believed that the older witch was sincere and not just putting up with Luna’s quirkiness.
The conversation continued until Professor Dumbledore stood from his chair and announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, please rise for the Head Boy and Girl and their partners.”
There was a general scraping of chairs as the students rose. The doors to the Great Hall opened and admitted the four seventh-years who slowly made their way toward the head table where they took places on either side of the headmaster. He sat down again which seemed to be the sign for everyone else to do the same.
Ginny looked at her place setting now for the first time and picked up the little card that sat in the middle of her plate. It listed the menu selections and her mouth watered as she tried to make up her mind. She was torn between the Caesar salad and the prawn cocktail as an appetizer, finally deciding on the salad to go with her choice of Dover sole almandine with baby mixed vegetables. Beside her, Harry was explaining to Colin how ordering worked. She had to smile as they both intoned simultaneously, “Mushroom soup, joint of beef with Yorkshire pudding and jacket potatoes,” at the same time.
Eloise tapped Ginny’s arm. “You mean we just order from our plates?” she asked an incredulous look on her face.
“Yes. Watch.” Ginny ordered her meal, speaking clearly to her plate. As the Caesar salad in an elegant glass bowl appeared in front of her Eloise and Luna both giggled and tried it themselves. Eloise commented that she wished she could get her food like this at home as her crab cakes and Luna’s prawns made their appearances. Luna remarked that if they could do it like this every day it wouldn’t be very special and Ginny silently agreed.
The group around the table was partly through their main course when Ginny felt someone brush against her chair. Looking up, she came face to face with Draco Malfoy, who had Pansy Parkinson attached to his elbow.
“Well, this spoils my evening,” he drawled to Pansy loud enough for everyone at the table to hear. “We could have done with avoiding the misfits’ table.”
“There’s no other way to leave the Hall, Draco,” Pansy pouted. “We had to come past this awful table.”
“Just be thankful the blood traitors, Mudbloods and freaks are all sitting together,” Draco purred soothingly. “I’m hoping that they’ll stay off the dance floor so they won’t ruin the evening for the rest of the school when the music starts.”
Eight forks clattered to the table as Ginny felt Harry tense beside her. Her angel, whose chain she had wrapped around her right ankle, began to vibrate as he fought to control his temper. People at nearby tables stopped their conversations and turned to listen.
“Keep your remarks to yourself, Malfoy,” Harry said in a low voice. “Why don’t you and Parkinson find that hole you crawled out of and leave us alone?”
“We have just as much right to be here as you,” Pansy spat back.
“Then find someone else to bother,” Ron said from across the table.
Pansy put her nose in the air and turned to Draco, simpering. “Let’s go back to our table; I can talk to Millicent later. Otherwise, I’ll have lost my appetite.” She tugged firmly on his elbow and nearly dragged him back the way they had come.
“I could have done without that,” Hermione said to no one in particular.
“I, for one, am going to ignore what just slithered past,” Colin said, causing the rest of the table to snicker.
Ginny glanced at Harry as her angel slowed its vibrations. “Don’t let him ruin the ball for you, Harry. He isn’t worth it.”
“I wish I could ignore them,” Harry said, inclining his head toward her so that only she could hear. “He’s been obnoxious the last few weeks and so has Pansy. I’m not proud of it, but those two are beginning to get to me.”
“When has he harassed you?”
“Mostly between lessons. He’ll come up behind me and say something about what I did to Snape or how he has more control over his magic than I do. Things like that.”
“Have you reported him to McGonagall?”
“Not yet. I’ve been trying to handle him on my own. So far I have.”
Ginny reached over and lightly squeezed Harry’s knee under the table. “I’m glad.” She smiled and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Neville caught her and gave a low whistle which drew the pair back into the general conversation.
As the last of the pudding dishes vanished from the tables, Professor Dumbledore rose from his seat and called the dance to order. He introduced the orchestra and cleared the dance floor of tables as he had done at the Yule Ball.
Harry nudged Ginny as the Head Boy and Girl led their partners onto the dance floor. “I’m so glad I don’t have to do that this year!” he remarked.
“Why? You did a passable job that night.” Ginny grinned, knowing that Harry was thinking about the Triwizard Yule Ball.
“I think not!” Harry disagreed with a shiver. “Parvati led me that night. I had absolutely no idea what I was supposed to be doing!”
“Well, I hope you will tonight. I don’t plan to sit on the sidelines and watch everyone else. Besides, I know for a fact that Professor McGonagall has been giving small group dance lessons in her office ever since this ball was announced and that you have gone to every single one of them!” Ginny grinned at the stunned look on Harry’s face.
“Who told you?” he demanded. “Can’t anyone keep a secret around here?”
Ginny schooled her face into an innocent expression. “No one told me, Harry. It wasn’t that hard to figure out when you and the other sixth year boys were all very hard to find on Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday afternoons right after classes ended for the day. Besides, I think it’s sweet of you to want to surprise me.”
“I–I just wanted to be…prepared…I–I don’t want to step on your toes,” Harry stammered gazing at the floor. “I don’t want to disappoint you with my ineptitude.”
“You won’t and we’ll have a good time dancing, too. Come on, the floor’s nearly full.” Ginny grabbed Harry’s hand and led the way through the forest of students towards the middle. The music switched from a slow tango to a fast waltz as Harry put his arm round her waist and raised their clasped hands. “I know this one!” he crowed and counted, “One, two, go.” He leaned in, taking a step forward and forcing Ginny to take her initial step backward.
The dance was an exuberant whirl of Ginny’s skirts and Harry’s cape. Ginny threw her head back joyfully as they spun around the floor with the other dancers, sensing the freedom of their movement together and the confident warmth of Harry’s hand on her back. Her enjoyment must have been catching because when she next looked into his face she saw her own smile mirrored in his green eyes. All too soon the dance ended and Colin tapped Harry on the shoulder.
“May I cut in?” he enquired as the introduction to the next waltz began.
Harry reluctantly gave Ginny’s hand to Colin and stepped back to ask Luna to dance with him. Ginny smiled at her new partner and forced herself to concentrate on keeping her feet in synch with his so she wouldn’t feel the loss of Harry’s presence. Twenty minutes and two partners later Harry strode up to Ron (who had taken Neville’s place) saying, “I’d like to dance with my partner, please.”
Ron nodded, mumbling something about finding where Hermione had got to. Harry put his right hand possessively on Ginny’s waist. “How about another go at this?” he asked shyly.
“I thought you’d never ask.” She smiled up at him as they joined the circle of dancers whirling around the room in a gigantic circle, this time to a polka so fast that the two were soon falling over each other’s feet and laughing so hard they nearly had to stop.
“That was fun,” Harry panted as the band struck up music for a much slower foxtrot and the dance floor began to fill up again.
“I agree, but I don’t want to do that again any time soon. I’m knackered,” Ginny concurred, squeezing Harry’s bicep. She was extremely glad for the new, shorter length of her skirts, because unlike the girls in full-length robes, her feet had been free from the extra material, which had caused several couples to end up unceremoniously on the floor.
Ten minutes later, Harry led her toward the refreshment table as the “real” band for the evening took over and filled the hall with music so loud the windows rattled.
“Having a good time?” Harry asked as he handed Ginny a cup of punch.
“Absolutely,” she said simply and gratefully. “I’m really enjoying the evening.”
They wandered out into the Entrance Hall where a photographer had set up his equipment. The harassed wizard was trying to get Luna to look at him directly, but wasn’t having much success as Colin caught Ginny’s eye and shrugged helplessly. Ginny had to wonder what interesting curiosity was preventing Luna from cooperating.
“I’d like a picture,” Ginny requested of Harry.
“All right,” he said, the reluctance evident in his voice. “If you really want one...”
When she nodded, he led her over to the sign-up table and handed over the requisite number of Galleons for two copies of the portrait. They then joined the short queue of couples waiting their turn in front of the camera. The line moved quickly and the photographer was soon positioning them with their heads close together. “Look straight at the camera,” he told them. They did so and the photographer disappeared behind the big wooden box. He snapped one photo and reappeared a second later shaking his head vigorously.
“No, no, no...That simply won’t do!” he muttered striding back to Ginny and Harry. “Young man, we simply must do something about the shadows your fringe is casting on your eyes. And those glasses...they’re reflecting the flash. Makes an awful mess of the photo. Let’s tilt your head like this...and like this...put your hand on her waist like so...and fix your fringe...OH!” The astonished wizard had reached up and brushed the hair out of Harry’s eyes exposing his carefully hidden scar. “Mr. Potter! Pardon me! I’m terribly sorry,” he squeaked, looking decidedly flustered. “Oh, dear, this will never do! Let’s try something new. Hmmm, different lighting, another new position...” He bustled about agitatedly.
“I wish he’d just reposition us and the lights and get on with it!” Harry grumbled as the photographer called his assistant over to bring a clean comb and a mirror so that Harry could rearrange his fringe.
After what seemed an hour, but was more likely only five minutes, the photographer was finally satisfied with his lights, camera settings, the position of his subjects, and the absence of shadows on Harry’s face. He snapped six shots in succession and then solicitously ushered Ginny and Harry away from the backdrop.
“Mr. Potter, please forgive me for all the fuss,” he began in a somewhat patronising tone. “I wanted you to have the most perfect photo possible and it’s such an honour to meet you...a real pleasure for me to take your picture.” He hesitated slightly before adding, “I would so like your permission to use the best, and only the best of these pictures for my upcoming brochure...” He gazed at Harry hopefully.
“No, sir. You may not use one of the photos,” Harry said with forced politeness.
Harry, Ginny knew, was now just barely holding onto his temper. She could hear him grinding his teeth as her angel began to vibrate again. She leaned over and whispered, “It’s only a picture, Harry. It’s not a big deal.”
Harry sighed deeply. “Look, Ginny, it wouldn’t matter so much if he just displayed our portrait in his studio. It’s the fact that he wants to use it on a brochure to hand out to people. A Death Eater could easily take one to Voldemort; that would put you right up there at the top of Voldemort’s hit list. He’d try to use you to get to me and I couldn’t stand it if something happened to you.”
“I know you want to protect me, Harry, but please be reasonable.” Now it was Ginny’s turn to sigh. “We’ve been over this before. You know my family’s history and how involved they are in this war. And whether or not my picture is on a brochure isn’t going to make one iota of difference. Then there’s what happened when I was a first year...” She paused, thinking. “Now, if it’s privacy you want I could understand that, but you wanting to keep me safely off of Voldemort’s hit list is a little ridiculous at the moment.”
Harry shoved his hands in his pockets and turned to the photographer. “Can you guarantee that your brochure won’t fall into a Death Eater’s hands?” he asked pointedly.
The photographer shook his head. “I cannot honestly say, Mr. Potter. It’s nearly impossible to know who is and who isn’t one of them,” he said softly.
“Then I can’t let you use our picture,” Harry told him, “mainly for privacy reasons and also because at this time I don’t want to become an advertising gimmick. Maybe when I’m out of school I’ll reconsider, but right now I don’t want to have my picture plastered all over London and Hogsmeade. Does that make sense?”
The photographer nodded.
“Then, sir, I am requesting that you send me the seven negatives and any extra prints you make from those negatives. Will you do that for me?” Harry asked evenly.
Ginny stood with her mouth hanging open as the photographer sputtered, “Yes, M-Mr. P-Potter. I’ll see to it myself.”
“Then I shall expect those negatives to show up with the photos by the end of next week, exactly when your assistant said they would be returned to us, thank you,” Harry said. He nodded curtly to the photographer and began ushering Ginny back toward the Great Hall, his hand at the small of her back.
“Why do you want the negatives and extra prints?” Ginny asked as they strolled toward the big wooden doors.
Harry stopped and leaned toward her. “I just don’t trust anyone in the media, not after what Rita Skeeter and her photographer pal Bozo did to me fourth year... Anyway, if I have the negatives and extra prints, the photographer can’t make illegal, unauthorised copies of our picture to use for his personal gain. If I have the original negatives, then I have a leg to stand on if I ever have to bring charges against him,” he explained softly, his lips brushing her earlobe and causing her to shiver.
“All right, I can see your point, but the man does seem honest to me,” Ginny countered.
“He may be, but I’m not taking any chances. I just don’t want to invite trouble...” Harry sighed again, causing Ginny to pull him closer.
“Oh, Harry. I know you think trouble always finds you when you least want it,” she said, “but I was hoping for once that we could have a nice evening together without inviting it. I regret that I made you get a picture you didn’t particularly want in the first place.” She looked up into Harry’s wonderful green eyes as she continued, “It was selfish of me. I’m sorry.”
Harry smiled wryly. “Apology accepted, Ginny. Now how about that slow dance you promised me earlier? The band’s starting one now.”
“You’re on,” Ginny agreed and slipped her hand into his as they walked towards the Great Hall.
“Someone else fawning over you, Potter?” a voice sneered from just outside the Hall. “It’s getting a little old, you know, watching people make fools of themselves around you.”
Ginny glanced first at Harry then at Draco who had emerged from the shadows as he spoke. Not again, she thought frantically as her mind flashed back to a similar encounter in Flourish and Blotts. Why can’t he just leave us alone and go find someone else to irritate?
The little voice from their group duelling sessions was back in her head. ‘He’s just trying to get me to cause trouble again. I’ll try to make him go away without causing too much of a scene. Let’s go.’ She felt Harry’s hand on her back urge her forward through the doors.
Without thinking, Ginny resisted as she replied in kind, Not just yet. Malfoy will just follow us. We need to be careful, Harry. We’ve had a rather nice evening so far and if Malfoy’s set on being bitter, all we can do is try to deflect his anger. You don’t need another trip to Dumbledore’s office because you’ve let your magic get out of hand.
“Thanks, Ginny,” Harry answered back with a grim smile. “I’ll try to keep my temper under control.” He turned his attention back to Malfoy.
Ginny squared her shoulders and looked at Malfoy, too. “Actually, we were arranging to meet the photographer later in the week to negotiate a very lucrative business deal for Harry,” she said before Harry could utter a word. “Something you probably wouldn’t have the slightest idea about since all your money is ‘old money.’”
“Like you’d know something about that, Weaslette,” Malfoy sneered.
“Oh, on the contrary, now that Fred and George’s shop is so successful, the Galleons are just rolling in,” she told him sweetly. “They’re really good at business and have been helping Harry invest. He’s got loads of gold coming in from various deals, and it’s all because they’ve been counselling him, making sure Harry gets everything he’s worth.”
“That may be, Weaslette, but even if your family now has two Sickles to rub together it doesn’t make one iota of difference. You’re still a family of blood-traitors who’ll get what’s coming to them eventually. All the new money in the world won’t let you into the respectable parts of the Wizarding world; it’s the old money that counts,” Malfoy stated, scowling.
“Oh, like your father used it to bribe his way into Minister Fudge’s inner office? Like that did him a lot of good after he got caught at the Ministry last June,” Harry remarked evenly looking Malfoy directly in the eye. The two stared at each other for a full minute before Harry broke eye contact and turned to Ginny. “There’re still a few moments left in that dance you promised me. Come on before it ends.”
Ginny nodded her assent; they left Malfoy fuming by the Entrance Hall doors and headed for the dance floor. As they neared the crowd of dancers, Ginny grabbed Harry’s hand and pulled him toward the middle just as the slow song ended.
Harry followed her hesitantly as the next song started.
“Come on, Harry, let’s have some fun!” she shouted above the whine of a magically amplified guitar.
The song was a fast one requiring only a minimum of talent to dance to. As Ginny began dancing in circles around Harry, he stood nearly stock still, just barely moving his feet and obviously self-conscious as he watched the other dancers. He really doesn’t know how to dance, Ginny thought; an idea occurred to her. She bounced over to Harry, took his hand and leaned in close to holler, “Shall I jinx you with Tarantallegra? It might help you get moving!”
He scowled fiercely as he bellowed back, “Don’t you dare! I told you I can’t dance, Ginny, so just give it up!”
“No way! Now just relax a bit and follow what I do,” she yelled as the song’s chorus caused everyone around them to fling their arms high and wave their hands in the air. Ginny did the same, looking pointedly at Harry who half-heartedly raised his hands, too. “Now bounce!” she commanded suiting actions to words as the crowd surged up and down around them.
“This is silly,” he shouted, “do I have to?”
“Yes! You can do this, Harry. It’s fun! Bounce like an excited little kid!”
Harry stopped dancing, his face a mass of emotion. ‘I was never allowed to get excited when I was little,’ the voice in her head said suddenly. ‘Dudley beat the stuffing out of me every time I showed even a little bit of excitement about something.
Ginny’s eyes widened. “Oh, Harry!” she breathed as she stopped dancing and threw her arms around his neck.
His arms encircled her reluctantly as she stood on tiptoe to kiss him passionately. He resisted at first, his eyes darting from one dancer to the next, but no one was paying attention to them.
We’re not going to get in trouble, Harry. Do you see what Cormac McClaggen is doing with that seventh year Hufflepuff girl? They’ve been like that the entire ball! Ginny thought, hoping Harry could hear her thoughts. I don’t see how the teachers could miss that!
‘So you think they’ll get into trouble before we do?’ the voice asked. Harry seemed to relax just a little when Ginny nodded against his mouth.
She broke the kiss and pointed towards the tables. He nodded and followed her almost eagerly off the dance floor. However, instead of sitting at their table, Ginny led him to the most secluded corner she could find. Using her wand, she levitated a fountain off one of the tables and enlarged it enough to hide the two of them. Satisfied that they had at least a bit of privacy, she stowed her wand and leaned close to Harry, eventually resting her head on his shoulder.
“I’m sor–” he began, but Ginny silenced him with a finger to his lips.
“Shhhh. It’s all right,” she told him moving her hand to his cheek and brushing her fingertips lightly over his skin. “It’s my fault you felt awkward out there and I’d like to apologise,” she continued, tilting her head a little to the side and licking her lips seductively.
Harry bent over her and touched his lips to hers. She waited, mostly to gage his agitation, and partly to let him take the initiative. He did. His first kiss was one she would have classified as a “child’s good-night” kiss. It ended abruptly when a nearby chair scraped against the floor, causing Harry to lift his head. When no one seemed to take interest in what they were doing, he leaned in and gave her one of his “cautious Harry” kisses which left her wanting him all the more.
She initiated the next kiss, deepening it almost immediately, inviting him into her mouth and pulling him with her toward the wall because her knees had suddenly gone weak with his passionate response. Time seemed to stand still for Ginny. It was only the two of them here in this glowing pink corner behind the fountain; nothing else in the world mattered other than the wizard who somehow could talk to her mind. She felt his hands wandering over her sides and tasted his passion for her with each new kiss.
“Oi, Harry! That’s my sister you’re snogging!” Ron’s voice barked as he suddenly stuck his head around the fountain making both Ginny and Harry jump.
Harry maintained his hold on Ginny’s sides as he raised his head just enough to say, “Yeah, she is, so go away and give us some privacy!”
“Oh, come on, Harry. Let’s dance,” Hermione coaxed reaching around the fountain to grasp Harry’s sleeve, tugging him away from Ginny. “You can find a broom cupboard upstairs later.”
“Hermione!” Harry exclaimed in exasperation. “Let go of me!”
“Not until you dance with me again, Harry,” Hermione stated firmly. “We’ve only had one dance together and I want another one.” Harry flashed Ginny an apologetic look as Hermione nearly dragged him back towards the dance floor.
“Did she have to do that?” Ginny asked glaring at Ron as they followed Hermione and Harry away from the corner.
Ron shrugged. “You know how Hermione gets. She saw the two of you leave and wanted to make sure you were all right, I reckon. Either that or her Prefect’s instincts kicked into high gear.”
“I suppose I should be grateful to her, but I can’t help being really angry at her for stealing my partner!”
Ron stopped at the edge of the tables and they stood for a moment watching Harry and Hermione and the other dancers. “Well, if you think Hermione stole your partner, why not dance with hers?” he asked with a quirky smile.
Ginny giggled. “You mean like Mum used to make us do?”
Ron groaned. “Don’t remind me! Those lessons were torture!” He extended his arm, looking hopeful. “Well, shall we dance?” Ginny took hold of her brother and followed him to where Harry and Hermione were dancing.
It was fun dancing with Ron; he was just about as bad at fast dancing as Harry was. Ginny glanced over at Harry several times and noticed that he was a little more relaxed now that he saw that Ron seemed to have two left feet as well. The song ended and a slow one began, but Hermione claimed Harry for this one as well, so Ginny and Ron walked over to the refreshment table.
As they sipped their butterbeers Ginny asked, “If Hermione keeps Harry out there for another couple songs, who are you going to dance with?”
“Don’ know,” Ron replied looking around.
Ginny inclined her head to the left as she suggested, “What about Padma? She’s sitting over there by herself and doesn’t look too happy.”
Ron shot her a startled glance, then grinned sheepishly. “I doubt she would. I wasn’t very nice to her two years ago.”
“Then make it up to her. Hermione won’t mind. She’s having too much fun dancing circles around Harry.”
Ron drained his bottle and handed it to a passing house-elf. He inhaled deeply, looking doubtful. “Do you think I should?” he asked uncertainly. Ginny nodded affirmatively, grinning at her brother’s insecurity. “Well, here goes...” He straightened his dress robes. With one last look at his sister, he strode off toward Padma’s table leaving his sister to watch the dancing by herself.
Ginny watched Padma’s face as Ron stumbled over his dance invitation. It was clear that at first Padma thought Ron was joking until he pointed toward the dance floor where Hermione was dancing with Harry. The two were soon dancing on the edge of the crowd.
“Hello, Ginny.” She recognized the deeply-accented voice instantly. She turned to see Dean standing in front of the punch bowl, a cup of bright pink punch held in his hand. “Would you care to dance?”
Ginny hesitated, searching the dancers for Harry. She found him dancing not with Hermione, but with Parvati. Setting her bottle down on the table behind her she said, “Sure, Dean. I’d love to.”
Dean proved to be a relatively competent dancer and Ginny found herself copying many of his steps. It was fun to dance with someone who knew what he was doing, and she soon began to enjoy herself. Pretty soon, though, she began to feel as if she were being watched. It wasn’t a creepy feeling; it was just that she could feel someone’s eyes on her as she danced. She began looking around and found not one, but two pairs of eyes focused on her; one looked away, the other did not. She flashed a smile at the second pair of eyes, the green ones belonging to Harry Potter. He smiled back and went back to dancing with Parvati.
The watcher was not so easy to find again; it took several songs for Ginny to find him sitting at a table on the edge of the dance floor regarding the dancers with a certain distain. She turned her back to them and managed to dance Dean further in toward the centre of the dance floor.
“Why is Draco Malfoy watching you?” Dean asked between songs.
Ginny shivered a little as she replied, “I’m not sure, Dean. Harry and I had a spot of trouble with him earlier. I was hoping he would leave me alone the rest of the evening.”
A slow song began and she looked around for Harry as Dean asked formally, “May I have this dance?”
Ginny grinned. “Of course, Dean. I’d be delighted,” she replied in kind. Dean drew her into a formal and rather exaggerated ballroom dance position and soon they were laughing almost uncontrollably as they stumbled over each other’s feet.
“I can’t find the beat to this song,” Dean complained, grinning. “Is this a foxtrot or a waltz?”
“A cha-cha?” Ginny giggled.
“It’s definitely not a cha-cha, nor is it a waltz,” a voice drawled from behind Ginny, “so I’d like to cut in.”
“Oh, no!” Ginny groaned just loud enough for Dean to hear.
“Ginny?” Dean queried, looking concerned.
“There goes my evening,” she grumbled looking up at her partner. “It’s OK, Dean. I’ll hex him if he doesn’t behave himself,” she told him and waited as the two boys exchanged places. “Tell Harry,” she mouthed to Dean over Draco’s shoulder as he danced her away.
Draco was as smooth at dancing as he was at stirring up trouble between their houses. He had replicated Dean’s formal stance and although there was a good four inches between them, his hand was light on her back and his steps sure as he steered her toward the edge of the crowd where there was more room to manoeuvre. If her partner had been anyone else, Ginny would have enjoyed this dance immensely. As is was, she was determined not to enjoy herself, holding her body stiffly erect and responding mechanically to the pressure of Draco’s hand on her back.
“Will you relax?” he complained in an annoyed tone. When she didn’t respond immediately, he continued. “You’re making it difficult to lead. I won’t bite or hex you here.” He let go of their clasped hands and gestured towards the teachers who were keeping watch over the dancing students.
Ginny relaxed a little and Draco spun them around. “That’s better,” he said. “You dance well...for a Gryffindor.”
“Should I take that as a compliment or an insult?” she asked flatly.
“A compliment.”
“Then, thank you.” Curiosity got the better of her as she asked, “Where did you learn to dance?”
“My mother taught me. It’s an old Malfoy family tradition,” he told her matter-of-factly. “It wouldn’t do to stumble all over my feet at the Minister for Magic’s Christmas Ball now, would it?”
Ginny considered this before answering. “Ministry Ball or not, I think it’s tradition in all wizarding families for a mother to teach her children formal dancing. My mum taught me and my brothers.”
Draco inhaled as if to reply, then seemed to think better of it. They danced in silence after that and, in spite of herself, Ginny responded easily to Draco’s steps, enjoying the feeling of dancing with a partner who knew what he was doing.
‘Ginny? Are you doing all right?’ the voice in her head asked suddenly, causing her to misstep. Draco frowned at her and she quickly matched her footsteps to his again.
Yes, Harry. He hasn’t tried anything yet, she sent back after a pause.
‘I’m over by the refreshment table if you need me,’ Harry’s voice told her.
Thanks, love. She turned her attention back to her dancing before Draco could comment.
The song ended and Ginny tried to extract herself from Draco’s grasp with a polite “Thank you.”
“Not yet, Ginevra,” he hissed in her ear. “I’d like another turn around the floor with you.”
Since he seemed to have no intention of letting her go, Ginny stepped closer to him again. As she did so, he did as well until there was no space between their bodies.
He’s asked for one more dance, Harry, she thought. To Draco, she inquired, “Where’s Pansy? I would have thought she had you down for every dance on her card this evening.”
Harry’s ‘Good luck’ nearly interrupted Draco’s disdained reply of, “She’s off powdering her nose. She dragged Millicent off to the ladies’ fifteen minutes ago. I don’t understand what was so important that it couldn’t wait until after the ball.”
Ginny forced an airy laugh. “Gossip can never wait, you know that,” she explained, “and Pansy’s favourite pastime, besides bating Gryffindors, is spreading anything petty or mean-spirited she hears.”
Draco looked down his nose at her. “I suppose none of what I’ve heard from Pansy about you, Granger, Longbottom, Weasley, Lovegood, and Potter taking extra lessons in the mornings is just hearsay, then.”
Ginny answered carefully, considering what might be common knowledge to the rest of the school and what would be dangerous for Draco to know. “It’s not. You heard correctly.”
“What are you doing, then?”
“It’s an exercise class. We want to stay in shape since Hogwarts doesn’t have a Physical Education department.”
“Whose idea was that?”
“Hermione’s, actually.”
“Why? You’re already on the Quidditch team. Surely you get enough exercise at practice.”
“The exercises we do in the mornings get us ready for the day...wake us up better than the usual scramble to go down to breakfast on time.”
“That’s daft! Why wouldn’t you want to stay in bed?”
“I, at least, am not sleeping through my morning lessons any more. Getting up and doing an hour of exercise helps me focus.”
Harry’s voice in her head suddenly commented, ‘It looks like he’s fishing for information from where I’m standing. What’s he want?’
He’s trying to get information on our extra lessons. The Slytherins have finally noticed what we’re doing every morning before breakfast, she sent back.
‘Well, just be careful,’ he cautioned.
I will.
Draco was laughing. “Binns’ class was always good for an additional few minutes of sleep. Why give it up?”
“I can’t do that this year, not with OWLs coming up in June.”
Draco smiled. “Those exams aren’t as tough as everyone makes them out to be.”
“Oh? And I suppose you got all O’s?” she asked pointedly.
“All right, maybe not that easy.” He changed the subject. “I heard Longbottom started doing extra work for Sprout. What’s up with him? He’s not taking remedial Herbology, is he?”
“Far from it. Professor Sprout requested that Neville help her propagate a difficult to raise species for the seventh years to study. She only asked him because he received an Outstanding on his Herbology OWL.”
“Fine, fine,” Draco said sounding bored. “I suppose that’s the same reason Pince has taken a sudden liking to Granger and Looney Lovegood.”
Ginny bristled. “Don’t call Luna that.”
“Why not? She’s certainly a queer duck. Hardly anything she says makes sense.”
“How Slytherin of you to say that!” Ginny exclaimed angrily. “Luna’s a brilliant witch and a loyal friend. I reckon you don’t know how to be a loyal friend: you only expect people to follow you!”
“I’ve got friends,” he shot back.
“Right. Crabbe and Goyle. Those two would be the first to run when the duelling got hot. Luna and Neville stood beside Harry and the rest of us last June at the Department of Mysteries even though they were hurt and scared nearly to death. That’s more than I can say for your father’s cronies.”
Draco dropped his arms and stepped away from Ginny. “You leave my father out of this,” he demanded above the music as he lengthened the distance between them.
“Why should I? It’s true, isn’t it?” Ginny regarded Malfoy’s sudden rigidly defensive stance. His silence was all the confirmation she needed to know that her accusation had, indeed, hit home.
Harry’s voice inquired suddenly, ‘What’s going on, Ginny? I don’t like what I’m seeing.’
Tell me where you are. I don’t think I’ll be dancing with Malfoy much longer.
‘To your right, in back of Malfoy. Why?’
I’ve just accused Malfoy of something. I’ll tell you about it later. Give a wave so I can see you.
Harry complied and Ginny spied him standing talking with Colin and Luna. “Thank you for the dance, Draco,” she said walking towards him. “Just think about this: I can count on my friends for support. Can you count on yours?” With that, she made her way over to where Harry, Colin and Luna stood at the edge of the crowd.
When she looked back over her shoulder, Draco had left the dance floor and was again seated at his table. Pansy was back from powdering her nose, it seemed, and had attached herself to his elbow for the second time that evening.
“All right, there?” Harry asked as she greeted him and Parvati.
“Yeah, I think so,” she said somewhat shakily. The song ended and Harry escorted Ginny and Parvati over to the refreshment table. Ginny scanned the room over her punch glass as she said, “We may have more trouble with the Slytherins tonight.” Harry raised an eyebrow as Parvati left to join a group at another table. “I accused Crabbe and Goyle of being cowardly followers instead of loyal friends.”
“What brought that about?”
“Malfoy was fishing for information like I told you. He said some things about Neville and Luna I didn’t like and I’m afraid I made the mistake of comparing Crabbe and Goyle to the likes of the Death Eaters we encountered last June,” she said tetchily. “Malfoy didn’t like it and stopped dancing with me.”
Harry sighed. “Well, what’s done is done and we’ll deal with whatever trouble Malfoy has in mind when it comes. Now how about that slow dance you promised me?”
Ginny grinned. “I’d like that very much, Harry.”
+*+*+*+*+*+
The last song ended and everyone remained where they were as Professor Dumbledore walked up onto the platform and shook hands with the lead musician.
“Let us all give a round of applause to the musicians for their marvellous music,” he called addressing the Hall at large. “This concludes…”
Ginny tuned out the headmaster as someone rudely pushed past her, knocking her into Harry. He caught her deftly, keeping her from slipping on the polished floor.
“Thanks, Harry,” she breathed. She heard a vicious giggle and peered over Harry’s shoulder to see who was laughing at her.
They weren’t hard to find. Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson had paused on the edge of the dance floor mimicking Ginny’s graceless stumble. The Slytherins in the vicinity had witnessed the incident and were pointing in her direction while Pansy pantomimed being jostled as Draco stepped away.
“Oh, very funny, Pansy,” Ginny grumbled. Really, those two were quite out of hand. She turned her attention back to Harry just as the doors to the Great Hall burst open. Everyone turned their heads to see Peeves somersault into the room followed by Mr. Filch.
“This doesn’t look too good,” Harry murmured in her ear. “Let’s get out of here through the back room.” He took her hand and began leading her toward the door Ginny remembered the Triwizard champions used in her third year.
She looked around for Ron and Hermione as Harry took her hand and pulled her toward the back of the Hall. Her brother, Hermione, Neville, Colin, Luna, and Eloise stood under one of the windows about half-way down the room. Harry caught Ron’s eye and pointed to the door behind the musicians who were still breaking down their instruments. He nodded and spoke to the others as Ginny glanced upward, checking to see if Peeves had spotted them. He hadn’t, but the rest of the students weren’t so lucky.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Peeves cackled at his audience as he picked up one of the fountains and lazily upended it over the mass of students heading for the door. He bounced gleefully up and down as his female victims screamed helplessly under the shower of pink potion and Professor Dumbledore shouted for the Bloody Baron to come and supervise the school’s most ornery pest.
The Bloody Baron didn’t arrive quickly enough. By the time he materialized, Peeves had zoomed over to the Entrance Hall doors and closed them with a mighty bang, causing the safety locks at the top of the doorframe to fall into place. The crowd of students, seeing that they were locked in, surged, screaming, back toward stage and Professor Dumbledore.
“SILENCE!” Dumbledore roared and everyone quieted down. “We are not trapped in this room. There are other exits which we will use.” He turned to the poltergeist. “Peeves, what is the meaning of this interruption? Surely you do not wish to be banished from Hogwarts Castle for disrupting our evening.”
“N-n-no, your Headship, sir,” the little man stuttered. “I was just having a little fun.”
“I do not find this disruption the least bit amusing. Please open the doors so that we may exit in an orderly manner.” He turned to the Bloody Baron. “See to it that Peeves does so. There is another matter we must attend to immediately.”
The Baron floated closer to Peeves as a crash in the back room resounded through the Great Hall.
“Yes, sir,” Peeves simpered. He tipped his hat at Dumbledore and bounced away from the stage. As soon as his back was turned, though, the little man made a face that only the students milling beneath him could see. Nobody laughed; they just eyed the poltergeist warily.
Peeves seemed to be enjoying the attention. As Professor Dumbledore and the other teachers followed the musicians into the back room (Ginny thought it must have been something urgent to cause them all to leave the room), the little man swooped toward the ceiling and began swinging on the chandelier. Crystal decorations and candle wax began raining down on the students who scrambled, screaming, as far away as they could. Most of the crowd headed for the locked doors to the Entrance Hall, but Harry urged Ginny and the others to follow the Professors. Behind them, several students began banging on the closed doors and someone even tried to open them with their wand.
“You’re locked in!” screeched Peeves. “Oh, what a lovely end to the ball!”
“Let us out of here!” someone demanded. It sounded like Pansy Parkinson.
“Seven hundred locked in tight-y
All they do is scream and fight-y!” chanted Peeves.
Ginny looked nervously at Harry as the poltergeist continued to taunt his victims, showing no sign of obeying the student’s demands. Instead, he spun the chandelier in a circle and, letting the motion fling him away, swooped down and picked up several more of the fountains. These he lobbed lazily towards the crowd who parted as they came sailing over their heads in quick succession. The fountains smashed on the floor spraying everyone in the vicinity with glass fragments and potion as the poltergeist lazily made his way toward the doors, the Bloody Baron following in his wake.
A familiar voice now rose above the others. “Oh, for crying out loud! Won’t anyone light a fire under Peeves and make him let us out? That door should have been opened ages ago!”
Ginny glanced at Harry. “Malfoy!” they said together.
“What’s got his knickers all in a bunch,” Harry mused, “other than the fact that we’re all trapped?”
“I think we’re about to find out,” Ginny commented, looking toward the ripple in the crowd as it parted just enough for her to see the Slytherin.
“Who let this pest in?” Malfoy demanded, pointing to Peeves who had finally reached the doors. He began quietly unlocking them without disturbing the scene unfolding below.
No one answered, so he called, “Doesn’t anyone want to be let out of here? What about you, Potter? We’d like to see you leave.”
The crowd of students cheered lustily and eagerly shifted to surround the two sixth years who were now standing in the middle of the Great Hall. It seemed that even in their fright the thought of a fight between Slytherin and Gryffindor was more appealing than gaining their freedom.
“Hey, Potter!” he called. “You’re doing extra lessons this term. Show us what you’ve learned and let us out of here.”
“I can’t do that, Malfoy. The castle’s magic is too powerful for me to mess with it.”
“Oh, yeah. Well, how about taking on Peeves, then?”
“I won’t do that either. I’m not stupid enough to try to persuade Peeves to do anything.”
Malfoy turned to Ginny. “Hey, Weasel! How can you stand to have a boyfriend who won’t take a challenge from me or mess with a measly poltergeist?”
Ginny moved closer to Harry before answering, “Harry’s wise enough to decide what battles to fight and which to walk away from. I’ll take him over you any day.” She squeezed Harry’s hand as he stepped in front of her a little.
“You leave Ginny out of this. Whatever you have to say to her you can say to me.”
The Slytherin stepped further into the centre of the circle. “What’s the matter, Potter, are you afraid your girlfriend will think less of you if you fail?”
“I’m not going to qualify that with an answer,” Harry said softly, and Ginny could feel him stiffen a little at the suggestion.
“What’s wrong, Potter? Afraid I’d best you in a duel? I seem to remember something like that happened during second year...exposed you for the Parseltongue you are,” Draco challenged. “That seems like a defeat to me.”
“I seem to remember, Malfoy, that during first year you challenged me to my first wizard’s duel. You failed to show up that night,” Harry countered calmly. “Instead you told Filch where we’d agreed to meet. At the time I thought you were acting rather cowardly.”
“Don’t call me a coward,” Malfoy snarled, his fists clenching at his sides.
“I’ll speak the truth if I want to,” Harry stated evenly. A gasp seemed to ripple around the circle.
The two young wizards stood eyeing each other in the middle of the dance floor, Malfoy glaring malevolently at Harry. Harry calmly stood his ground, his arm now casually draped around Ginny’s waist with his hand touching her bare arm. To the majority of the onlookers the two rivals were just having a mild disagreement. However, Ginny knew just by glancing at the tension in Harry’s jaw that he was anything but calm; his back muscles were tense under her palm, too, and where his hand touched her arm a warm place had formed; her boyfriend seemed to be siphoning some sort of energy through their contact. As Harry broke the contact, Ginny saw a fleeting image of the two of them cuddling under an afghan before the Burrow’s hearth. Suddenly, she understood what was happening; Harry had been drawing on her more calming memories.
A surprised “Oh!” escaped her lips as Draco looked away first.
Harry glanced down at her as he reached for her hand. “C’mon, Ginny, let’s get out of here,” he said. “This git’s not worth getting angry over.”
Ginny nodded, amazed that Harry had calmed down enough to walk away from Malfoy.
They had not gone five steps when someone nearby yelled, “The chandelier…Run for it!”
Several girls screamed. And as everyone scattered Ginny heard Mr. Filch bellow, “PEEVES!”
Very few heard him. The chandelier hanging just above the place they were standing moments before creaked once and ripped out of the beam it was attached to. Time seemed to slow down as Harry turned, pushed Ginny behind him, and focused his wand on the falling chandelier. A great jet of purple light flew from its tip and engulfed the mass of crystal and candles, arresting its descent half-way between the ceiling and the floor just as Professors Dumbledore, Snape and McGonagall re-entered the Great Hall.
“Clear the room!” Harry ordered straining to keep the chandelier hovering at a safe distance above the heads of the crowd. No one hesitated and moments later the doors burst open and the Hall was empty except for Harry, Ginny and Professors Dumbledore, Snape and McGonagall. Professor Dumbledore quickly murmured some instructions to the other teachers who departed before joining Harry in gently lowering the chandelier to the floor.
“Well done, Harry!” he said striding up to a shaking Harry and Ginny.
Harry stowed his wand inside his jacket and put an arm around Ginny’s shoulders. “Thank you, sir. Did every one get out safely?”
“Yes, Harry. That was a very impressive bit of magic, my boy, and, if I might say so myself, a very good use for all that excess magic you were emanating a moment previously,” the headmaster said, smiling. “You saved Madam Pomfrey a great deal of work and agitation tonight, too. I’m sure she will appreciate the extra sleep.” He winked as Harry turned pink with the praise. “However, I must request that you and Miss Weasley come up to my office in a half hour’s time to discuss what happened. There are some loose ends I want to clear up and think it’s best that we do so soon. Agreed?”
Ginny and Harry nodded. “Yes, sir,” they said simultaneously and walked out into the Entrance Hall, where they were greeted by tumultuous applause and calls of thanks and appreciation. Harry steered Ginny up the marble staircase as soon as he could get them away from their well-wishers and into an empty classroom on the second floor. He was shaking as he took her into his arms and hugged her to him.
“Are you all right, Harry?” Ginny asked pulling out of his embrace slightly to search his face.
Harry stepped away from her completely and began pacing between the desks. Ginny was at a loss to know what to do for Harry as she silently watched him try to puzzle something out. Finally, he stopped and spun around to face her.
“How did I do that?”
End of Part Ten
Chapter 11: Chapter 11
New Year, New HopePart Eleven
“How in the world did I do all that, Ginny?” Harry repeated as he resumed his pacing between the desks.
Ginny could only shrug. “Did you use a spell you’ve learned from Dumbledore or one of your other instructors?”
“No. Ginny, I have no idea where that spell came from. It was as if I pulled it out of thin air.”
“It looked like an amplified version of Wingardium Leviosa to me,” she volunteered as she slid onto the instructor’s desk at the front of the room.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” he said with a shrug. “It all happened too fast for me to remember exactly what I did and that’s what’s bugging me.” He struggled to find the right words. “It, it was as if I...instinctively...knew which spell to use and how to cast it.”
Ginny smiled. “Well then, there’s nothing to worry over. You kept a lot of people safe tonight which is more than Malfoy did.” Harry raised an eyebrow as he paced past her. “When you to ordered everyone to leave, he was one of the first out the door.”
“Figures. Always too busy thinking of his precious hide to make sure others are safe and sound,” he grumbled.
Ginny’s smile broadened. “Spoken like a true Gryffindor, Harry. Your selflessness and chivalry are shining through at the moment,” she said proudly, “and that’s what makes you so special.”
Harry stopped pacing and stared at her. “Special? I don’t get it.”
“Only you would stop the descent of an enormous chandelier to make sure that 700 of your closest friends got away safely. Professor Dumbledore praised you for your quick thinking and I think he’s going to make sure you know just how much he appreciates what you did tonight. Now come on. He’s waiting for us.” Suiting words to actions, Ginny slid off the desk and, grabbing Harry’s hand, led him to the headmaster’s office.
The gargoyle was already standing aside to reveal the spiral staircase when they arrived; the door to the office opened as they stepped off onto the landing. “Please enter,” the headmaster requested.
Harry stepped back to let Ginny walk in first. The portraits overhead began murmuring amongst themselves as the pair came to stand before Dumbledore’s desk. The headmaster Summoned an extra chair and Ginny perched on the edge of the one that slid itself behind her knees. Harry did likewise, but sat hunched over, staring at his highly-polished shoes, ticking something off on the fingers of one hand and shaking his head. He seemed to be going over the events of the evening from what she could catch of his murmurings. Concerned, she sent out the thought, “You were a hero tonight, Harry.”
Harry’s voice in her head answered, “Yeah, I’m beginning to see that, but I still can’t help feeling as if I’m here because I’m in trouble.”
Ginny didn’t get the chance to reply before Dumbledore addressed Harry.
“Harry,” he said gently, “look at me. First and foremost I want to thank you for what you did tonight. Actions such as those you took at the end of the ball show why the Sorting Hat was willing to put you in Gryffindor House instead of Slytherin; you thought of others instead of just yourself, a quality which is found inherently in those who are Sorted into your house.”
Harry looked up and Ginny could see the acceptance in his eyes. He’s going to be all right, she thought as her boyfriend smiled for the first time since they had taken refuge in the empty classroom.
“Thank you, sir,” he said.
Over the next twenty minutes the three went over the events of the evening from Harry’s and Ginny’s points of view. At length, Professor Dumbledore said, “I’m satisfied that my own observations have been corroborated by what the two of you have seen and I appreciate the time you have taken to help me.
“Miss Weasley, I have one more item to discuss with Harry. Would you be so kind as to wait outside for a few minutes?”
Ginny nodded and quickly left the room. As the door closed behind her she debated whether or not to wait on the landing or out in the corridor. Knowing how much Harry valued his privacy, she descended to the hallway and struck up a conversation with the nearest portrait, a funny little witch who had nothing but awful things to say about Peeves. The two of them were laughing merrily when Harry slipped an arm around Ginny’s waist, startling her and causing her to shriek.
“Young man,” the portrait said to Harry, “you’ve done something no other student has managed to do since a group of students known as the Marauders terrorized the school with their pranks twenty-odd years ago; you thwarted one of Peeves’ pranks and saved the good wizards and witches who run this school a lot of grief. Well done, Mr. Potter, well done.”
Ginny and Harry stood staring at each other and the portrait for a full minute. In Ginny’s case, she couldn’t believe that Fred and George hadn’t managed to do something like this to the poltergeist. But more than likely, they would have aided Peeves instead.
As for Harry, he simply just shook his head and murmured a polite thank you. Finally, he whispered in Ginny’s ear, “Let’s go find a broom closet before all this praise goes to my head.”
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
To say that the next week was anything but normal would have been an understatement. Somehow, the Daily Prophet got wind of the chandelier story and the result was not one but three articles on the subject. Needless to say, Harry and Ginny had no peace while the rumour mill chewed on all the “evidence” and speculation generated by the articles–especially the one by Rita Skeeter–and as proud of Harry as she was, Ginny finally lost her temper and yelled at a second year when the poor girl tried to get her autograph.
“Harry, I don’t know how you put up with this,” she commented at dinner one evening as Harry politely refused to sign an autograph book. “All I did was stand behind you that night. Rita Skeeter’s got it right for once that you did all the work that night, but someone else has got the first and second years believing that I did as much as, if not more than, you that night! It’s quite annoying to have people tugging on your sleeves all the time! How can you stand the attention?”
He considered a moment and then commented, “Habit? Experience? Professor Dumbledore warned me about accepting things from other students a long time ago. You never know if something as innocent as an autograph book has been turned into a Portkey.”
“Even from someone as innocent as a first or second year?” Ginny asked incredulously.
“You never know who their parents are.”
“Oh. I guess you’re right, but it doesn’t seem as if anyone is becoming discouraged by your refusing them.”
Harry smiled. “Eventually, they do. Especially if the next big event is controversial enough.”
“So what do I do in the meantime?”
“Just smile and tell them you’re late to Potions?”
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
“Ginny, hey, Ginny…wake up!”
Someone was shaking her shoulder. She pulled away from their touch. “Wha?” she murmured opening one eye. “Whas’up? Go ‘way.”
“Ginny, History of Magic’s over. You don’t want to be late for Transfiguration.”
That got through Ginny’s tired mind better than the shaking. She lifted her head from her arms, wincing as she discovered her left arm was asleep. The pins and needles tingling their way down to her fingertips woke her enough to cap her ink bottle and put it, her quill and her parchment back into her bag. “Thanks, Colin,” she said, yawning hugely. She hoisted her bag onto her shoulder.
“No biggie, Ginny,” he said picking up his own bag. “C’mon. We’ll take the long way and sprint the last corridor.”
“No, Colin. Not today. I’m too tired,” Ginny admitted.
Colin turned around and walked backward, looking intently at Ginny who was startled to see an expression of deep concern on his face. It didn’t dissipate as he said, “Ginny, you’ve got to stay awake during lessons. This is the fourth time in two weeks you’ve fallen asleep during History. You never used to fall asleep. Is something wrong?”
Ginny pondered the question a moment hating the answer she was about to admit. “Yeah, there is,” she told him, using her hand to direct her friend out of the way of several other students. “But I don’t know what to do about it.”
“Is it the extra stuff you’ve been doing with Harry?”
“Some,” she answered honestly, “but mostly it’s the extra homework every teacher’s giving us. OWL year stinks!”
Colin turned around and held open a tapestry to let Ginny to pass through before he did. As they descended the stairs he asked, “What about Quidditch?”
Ginny sat on the bottom step, oblivious of the students rushing up and down the stairs around her. “That’s what saps most of my energy,” she admitted. “That and staying up until three or four in the morning to get my homework done.”
Colin sat next to her and patted her shoulder bracingly. “Have you thought of giving up something so that you’ll have more time to sleep or get things done? I’ve seen your homework planner, Ginny. You don’t have any time to yourself.”
Ginny looked at her friend. “If I give up an activity I’m going to disappoint someone and I don’t want to do that. People are counting on me…I can’t let them down.”
Colin harrumphed. “And do you think the quality of your work or participation isn’t suffering because you’re spreading yourself so thin? Ginny, no one’s going to be disappointed in you if you give them a valid reason for why you’re quitting something. Look at Hermione…three years ago she was so overwhelmed by the sheer number of classes she was taking that she snapped at anyone who got within an arm’s reach of her precious piles of homework in the common room. She only calmed down when she stormed out of Divination and never went back to that class.”
“I remember,” Ginny murmured, unconvinced.
“Look, Ginny,” Colin said, “I’m not trying to make you do anything you don’t want to. I’m just concerned. You’ve taken on a lot with those extra training courses you’re taking to support Harry.” Ginny looked at him sharply as he said this. “I admire you for what you’re doing for him, but let’s face it…eventually you’re going to have to figure out what’s best for you before you get into trouble, just like Hermione did.” He stood and hoisted his bag to his shoulder as the bell rang. “Will you think about giving something up?”
“Yeah, I’ll think about it,” Ginny said as she followed him out into the corridor. As the classroom doors began shutting along the hall in front of them she cried, “Last one to Transfiguration sits next to a Slytherin!”
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
“…Now one last deep, cleansing breath…and let it out slowly through your nose...I’ll see you all tomorrow morning,” Mrs. Chang told the group quietly two mornings later.
As the six students picked up their bags and headed for the door, Mrs. Chang touched Ginny gently on the shoulder. “Would you stay behind for a minute, Ginny? I won’t keep you long.”
“Sure.” Ginny put her bag on the floor again.
When the others had gone Mrs. Chang looked Ginny in the eyes and stated not unkindly, “You’re troubled, Ginny. Do you want to talk about it?”
Ginny looked away, running a hand through her hair and suddenly fighting back the tears. “I’m overwhelmed…” was all she managed to choke out before she lost her battle with her emotions.
Mrs. Chang guided her over to the floor mats where Ginny sat down and began sobbing into her hands.
“Tell me about it…”
“It’s my OWL year…I’ve got so much homework…I can barely keep up…Quidditch…Quidditch makes me so tired…I fall asleep in class almost every day...And…and…I’m trying to support Harry with all this extra training…no matter what I do I’m falling behind…I’ve got four huge essays to complete by Friday and two from last week that I didn’t turn in...My OWL study group told me last night that I’m slowing them down since I hadn’t revised enough on my own...I’m letting everybody down!” The last thought came out as a howl of misery accompanied by another flood of tears.
Mrs. Chang knelt in front of her and offered a silk handkerchief to Ginny. “You’ve taken on quite a load, Ginny,” she said quietly. “May I suggest something?”
Ginny swiped at her eyes and took the proffered handkerchief. “Sure. Thanks,” she sniffed. “Any idea you have is better than where I am now.”
“Ginny, I don’t think anyone will think you’re letting them down if you tell them the truth. We all know this is your OWL year and if you need to use that as your excuse for giving something up or reducing your participation in an activity nobody is going to think less of you. They might be a little disappointed at first, but in the long run they’re going to admire you for knowing when to say enough is enough and think about your health and your future,” Mrs. Chang advised softly.
Ginny smiled despite her frustration. “You sound just like my mum, Mrs. Chang. I’ve been hearing her voice nagging me in my head for the past week and I guess I just needed someone to say it out loud.”
“Can I ask what you plan to reduce or give up?”
A hollow laugh caught in her throat. “I can’t give up doing homework no matter how much I want to. And I can’t give up training with Harry. It’s too important that I stay with him as one of his support team, so I guess it’s going to be Quidditch,” Ginny concluded with a note of sadness in her voice.
“Are you going to give it up completely or just reduce your involvement?”
Ginny thought a moment. “I–I still want to be part of the team,” she began slowly. “Maybe our captain would let me work with the reserve team or something.”
Mrs Chang smiled at her as she said, “I think that’s a very wise decision and probably an agreeable option for both of you.”
“You think so?”
“I do. Think on it a little and if that’s what you really think will help you, then talk with your captain. I think he or she will understand.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Chang.”
Later that evening, Ginny sighed and closed her Herbology book with a decided snap. She couldn’t concentrate because she was so tired. The Gryffindor team’s pre-dinner Quidditch practice had been gruelling and she ached in places she didn’t know she had muscles. The Chasers had been learning a new move, the Twist and Shout, which required her to twist towards her flanking team members and throw the Quaffle almost over her shoulder, a move that was similar to the Reverse Pass but a lot more daring. She moaned softly and rubbed the back of her neck before reaching for her book to put it in her bag. She was going to bed, homework be hanged.
Harry must have sensed her discomfort because suddenly his warm hand descended lightly on her shoulder and began to gently knead the muscles there. “You alright?” he inquired.
“Yeah, just tired,” she replied leaning into his hand. Then, as almost an afterthought, she asked, “Harry, what would you think of my asking Katie to put me on the reserve team?”
His hand stilled as he pondered her question, then asked, “Is that what you really want?”
Ginny nodded and leaned her head against his shoulder. His hand stayed where it was, gently soothing away the tension and helping her gather her thoughts. “It is, Harry. I just don’t have the quality time or the energy I need to revise for OWLs now that we’re doing all this extra training.” She twisted her head to look into his eyes when he stiffened a little. “Don’t blame yourself, Harry. Supporting you is what I want to do most besides passing my OWLs,” she assured him quickly. “Do you think Katie will understand?”
“Yeah, I think she will,” Harry said thoughtfully. “After all, she’s revising for NEWTs herself. Who knows…she might even figure out a way for you to work with the reserve players which would improve their skills and keep yours up while giving you the break you need.”
Ginny wriggled out from under his hand, her neck suddenly becoming chilled from the absence of his warmth. “Are you all right with this?” she asked.
Harry looked momentarily hurt by her question, but shook his head as he said, “Ginny, do what you need to do to plan for your future. You know your limits better than I do and if this is what you need then do it.”
Relieved, Ginny gave him a quick hug and stood up. “Thanks, love. I’ll go ask her now.” With that, she crossed the common room and sat in an empty chair across the table from the Gryffindor Quidditch captain.
“Hi, Ginny. What’s up?” Katie asked. “You look pretty serious.”
“Katie, I’ve come to ask you to put me on the reserve team,” Ginny told her. “I’ve got OWLs coming up and I just don’t feel I’m giving my revising or the team the quality they deserve. Don’t get me wrong; I still want to be on the team. I just think I’d be more useful in some other capacity.”
Katie leaned back in her chair and tossed her quill onto the table. “I understand where you’re coming from, Ginny. NEWTs are coming up sooner than I think and I’m beginning to feel the panic a little, too.” She sighed and looked thoughtful for a moment. “What do you think of this…would you be willing to play in a match if the team needed you to, with say, a week’s notice? Also, the other reserve Chasers need someone to help them drill while the rest of the team is working on new moves. It wouldn’t take the whole practice, maybe an hour at the most at the beginning. Would you be willing to supervise the reserve team during practices if I promoted Vicky Frobisher to take your place?”
Ginny smiled at her. “Yeah, I think I can handle that. Do you want me to tell Vicky we’re switching places or do you want to?” she asked.
“I’ll do it. She may have some questions only I can answer,” Katie said picking up her quill. As Ginny rose to leave she called softly, “Thanks for being honest with me, Ginny. I hate to lose you as a first team player, but I think the younger team members will benefit from your help.”
Ginny nodded. “You’re welcome, Katie. See you next practice.”
“Did she offer you the role of reserve supervisor?” Harry asked as she slid into her chair again.
She began gathering up her homework as she said, “She did, but on the condition that I be ready to play in a match if necessary with a week’s notice.”
“That’s reasonable, I reckon,” Harry said. “You going up to bed?”
“Mm-hmm,” Ginny answered stifling a huge yawn. “I’m knackered. I need my beauty sleep.”
Harry put down his quill and slipped an arm across her shoulders, drawing her close to him. “You might need rest, but you certainly don’t need beauty sleep. To me you’re always beautiful,” he murmured softly in her ear, surprising her with his unexpected sentimentality.
She grinned sleepily at him, feeling suddenly contented and warm inside. “Thanks, love. I’ll take that thought to bed with me. I can’t afford to fall asleep during my first lesson again and I’ll sleep better with something so personal to think about as I drift off.”
“Good night, then. Sleep well.” He gave her a quick kiss before going back to the essay he was writing.
“You, too. See you in the morning, love,” she murmured and left the common room, a happy but weary expression on her face.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Two weeks after Ginny began working with the reserve team, Katie found her revising in the common room. “Ginny, I need you to play in the Slytherin game on Saturday,” Katie said as she seated herself next to Ginny.
“Why?” Ginny asked, curious. “I thought you wouldn’t need me so soon now that you promoted Vicky.” A terrible thought occurred to her. “Have–have the Death Eaters attacked someone’s family?”
“No, it’s nothing like that,” Katie assured her quickly. “I need you to sub as Chaser for Vicky. She was called home for a relative’s funeral. I think her grandmother died–natural causes, not Death Eaters–and she won’t be back until next Monday.” She looked at Ginny hopefully. “Will you play?”
“That’s a shame about Vicky, this being her first match after you reinstated her as Chaser and everything,” Ginny said, somewhat relieved. She consulted her homework planner and then grinned at her Captain. “Nothing major’s due before the match, so of course I’ll play. When’s practice?”
“Forty-five minutes. Go get your robes on and meet me in the Captain’s office in twenty. There’s a new move I want to go over with you before we begin practicing it.”
Ginny shoved her homework into her bag and sprinted towards her dormitory, happy for the chance to be practicing for a real game but also worrying a little about how she was going to fit three full practices back into her schedule. She changed quickly, deciding to worry about the time she was giving up later.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+
Ginny glanced around the pitch as she zoomed towards the Slytherin goal, the Quaffle tucked securely under her right arm. Harry was high above her moving in slow circles with Malfoy marking him from the other side of the pitch. More importantly to her, however, were the locations of the two other Gryffindor Chasers, Katie Bell and third year Geoffrey Hooper, and their three Slytherin opponents; the former were right where they should be, flanking her on the right and left, ready to catch the big red ball when she chose to make her move. The latter, of course, were giving chase and trying their best to distract her teammates. She was nearly to the goal now and with an almost imperceptible nod to the right, she flipped the Quaffle in that direction and flew over Geoffrey, who now assumed the “point” position and made the twelfth Gryffindor goal of the match.
“And that’s another goal for the Lions,” came the announcer’s voice over the cheering from the Gryffindor supporters in the stands. “Gryffindor leads Slytherin by twenty points making that a score of 120 to 100.”
Luna’s lion hat roared its approval from the stands as the Gryffindor supporters joined in with deafening cheers and wild clapping.
“Slytherin's now in possession of the Quaffle,” the voice droned on. “Vaisey lobs it to Urquhart who tosses to Pritchard. Now why are they throwing that ball backwards? What’s this...leapfrog?”
Ginny had to laugh as the opposing Chasers flew over each others’ heads in a burst of speed mostly forward, sometimes back towards their own hoops, all the time closing the distance between themselves and Gryffindor’s Keeper. They did indeed look like little children playing a game of leapfrog.
“Don’t let their tactics confuse you! And keep an eye on those Bludgers!” Katie yelled as she signalled to Ginny and Geoffrey to give chase. The three Gryffindors tore after the Slytherins in the precision delta formation they’d drilled endlessly during the last few days of practice.
“The Gryffindor Chasers zoom down-field intent on getting the Quaffle back. That’s a beautiful Troy Triangle if I ever saw one. Not as intimidating as the Hawkshead, but just as effective. But what’s this? They’ve scattered and it’s one-on-one now. Bell snatches the Quaffle from Vaisey and tosses it to Hooper, who barely evades a Bludger. Good catch, Geoffrey! Hold onto it until you get past Urquhart. He’s got a reputation for blurting! Nasty ploy, that...Oh, sorry, Professor.” The commentator didn’t sound one bit sorry to Ginny who reversed in mid-air and tore down-pitch after Geoffrey, Pritchard close on her broom tail.
“That’s right, Weasley, protect Hooper’s flank. Hey, here come the Bludgers! Nice swerve there, Hooper. And it’s four Chasers haring it towards the Slytherin goal hoops. Hooper passes to Weasley, back to Hooper, now Weasley. Oh, she nearly drops it as she barrel-rolls out of Pritchard’s reach, one hand on her broom handle. Here come Bell and Vaisey...”
The Slytherin goal came nearer. “Weasley feints left, trying to draw the Keeper in that direction. Look at her fly...she’s going nearly vertical towards the middle goal and throws the Quaffle at the ring over his head. What a move!” A thunderous cheer erupted from the spectators as the commentator’s voice pronounced, “And that’s the fourth goal of the day for Gryffindor Ginny Weasley! My, that witch has spunk! Hey, that was deliberate blatching! Madam Hooch is calling for a penalty shot. Go Ginny, go Gryffindor!” Seconds later there was another muttered, “Sorry Professor. I know I shouldn’t be taking sides.”
As Ginny looped around the goal posts to regain her breath and composure, the two teams took up neutral positions around the pitch, waiting for her to take her shot. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she fixed her eyes on the Slytherin Keeper. He hovered exactly in the middle of the three goals in perfect position to move any way he needed. “Think, Weasley. What’s the best tactic to use?” She replayed the last few goals in her head and made her decision. Flying straight at the Slytherin Keeper, she suddenly dove under him, turned her broom sharply to the left, and threw the Quaffle as hard as she could at the left goal hoop. The big red ball just barely made it through the ring and the stands exploded as her success was followed by the announcement of the new score.
“And Gryffindor now leads by thirty points.”
Elated, Ginny flew around the goal posts again and returned to her proper position; the Slytherins promptly took possession of the Quaffle and went tearing down the pitch towards Ron and the Gryffindor goal again. Ginny chanced an upward glance in Harry’s direction. He sent her a quick smile and she watched him briefly as he lazily looped Malfoy and began marking him. Bringing her attention back to her part of the match, Ginny raced after Pritchard and began distracting his attention away from Vaisey and Urquhart.
“Now it’s Hooper at mid-field. He and Bell have left Ginny Weasley in their wake. Hooper bats the Quaffle from under Urquhart’s arm. Catch it Bell! Don’t let it touch the field! Hey...look at Weasley dive...look at her speed! That’s the Seeker in her...YES! She catches the Quaffle!”
As Ginny’s hands closed around the ball, she smiled, gained altitude quickly and flew towards the Slytherin goal, swerving right then left as both Bludgers flew past her head in quick succession, the other five Chasers close behind her. The hoops grew larger and larger. She glared at the opposing Keeper thinking, “Right or left hoop? He’ll be expecting the middle since I chose it last two times.”
“Weasley flies directly at the middle hoop. Hey, she’s now flying in the wrong direction! That’s a tactic we haven’t seen in a while: confuse to conquer. A quick pass to Bell who lobs it back to Weasley. She tosses to Hooper. Urquhart snatches the Quaffle in mid-air. Oh, great aim with that Bludger, Peaks! Scare ‘im a little! Urquhart nearly drops the Quaffle. Bullet pass to Vaisey. Lob towards Pritchard. Quaffle falls short. Bell catches it and throws hard at Weasley who’s lagged behind again. Weasley catches the Quaffle, turns, and heads for goal. Here come the other five Chasers. She aims right, throws le...OH, MERLIN!!!!”
WHAM!
Ginny felt the jarring impact as Vaisey and Pritchard deliberately rammed into her, squashing her between them. Pritchard’s big hand closed around the handle of her broom and he yanked hard, snapping it in two from the unequal force exerted upon it. As the Quaffle plummeted towards the grass, followed by the two Slytherins, she fought to gain control of her broken broomstick. The broom seemed to have a mind of its own and wouldn’t respond to her commands; instead, it swung left, right, then left again in a crazy zigzag pattern, all the while heading for the knot of players in front of her. She flew higher. Just as she thought she was out of danger, both Bludgers slammed into her from opposite directions. She felt one impact her left hip and the other the middle of her lower back. The combined impacts unseated her and sent her tumbling headlong towards the pitch. Her last thought before she blacked out was, “I could have made that goal!”
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Everything was black except for a tiny pinpoint of golden light. As it began to grow bigger, Ginny focused on it, willing it to come nearer. Very slowly it did, until she felt her mind reach out to grasp it; she didn’t want to slip back into the darkness. Presently, the golden light turned a shade of pale grey which reminded her of the late autumn fogs that sometimes enveloped The Burrow. “Where am I? What am I doing here?”
She thought she heard people talking and began concentrating on identifying the voices. The hushed tones of the speakers made it nearly impossible to identify who they were. Ginny forced her befuddled mind to listen for and recognize other sounds that would give her clues to her whereabouts; a cabinet door clicked shut somewhere on her right, the scrape of a chair echoed several times, glass clinked on her left. She sighed inwardly, happy to know she was safe; she was lying in a bed in the Hogwarts’ hospital wing.
Before she could wonder why, a door closed and footsteps approached her bed.
“Any change?” a worried male voice inquired. It sounded like Harry’s.
“None so far.” This voice belonged to Hermione. “Oh, Harry, it’s been almost three weeks!”
Ginny heard the scrape of a chair being drawn close to her bed. “I know, Hermione,” Harry murmured sadly as he sat down. “Madam Pomfrey told me Ginny will wake up when she’s good and ready and not a minute sooner.” He paused, then asked, “How are you holding up?”
Hermione sighed. “About as well as you can expect. I should be in the library completing Professor Vector’s Arithmancy set, but my heart’s just not in it. I’m just barely keeping up...” she let the sentence fade without completing her thought.
Harry seemed to agree as he said, “I only go to lessons to give my brain a distraction. I reckon an appearance in class each day should count for something.”
They were silent for a while. Finally, Hermione admitted quietly, “I’m worried about Ron. He seems so lost and withdrawn. He’s taking Ginny’s accident personally, blaming himself for not looking out for her like their mum asked him to. I’ve never seen him so torn up before...not even over Percy.”
“Yeah, me, too. I don’t think Ron’s gotten a full night’s sleep since the match.”
“None of us has, Harry. I don’t think we’ll sleep well until we know she’s out of danger.”
Someone stood up and began to pace. Ginny guessed it was Harry. “I just wish she’d wake up. Madam Pomfrey can’t do any more for her until she’s able to get some answers from Ginny herself.”
“I know. And that’s what worries me. The longer Ginny’s comatose, the fewer her chances are of a total recovery without some sort of life-support. That Muggle medical book my Dad sent me isn’t very encouraging. The author discusses the various types of machines needed to sustain life. They all require electricity and won’t work here without complicated magic to make them run.”
“What about the books Professor Dumbledore let you borrow from his own library?”
“Not much encouragement there, either. They all say the patient needs certain potions and spells, and Madam Pomfrey is giving them to Ginny already. I’ve cross-referenced everything I can think of from the use of oxygen vapours and blood diagnostic spells to medical Legilimency and heart-monitoring charms; there’s nothing anywhere that discusses what spells are needed to activate a comatose brain.”
“Won’t Enervate work for her?”
“Not this time. Her concussion was too severe. Madam Pomfrey said it was too risky to use that spell right after the collision.”
“What about now? I thought Madam Pomfrey mended Ginny’s head when she healed all her other broken bones.”
“She did, but remember she said Ginny had a mild brain injury that wouldn’t respond to treatment right away.” When Harry didn’t respond audibly Ginny listened carefully for more information. She didn’t have to wait long as Hermione continued with a weary sigh, “The swelling needed to go down naturally, not magically, Harry. No one knows how long that will take…”
“So we just have to wait for Ginny to wake up on her own.” Harry didn’t seem satisfied with the way this conversation was going.
“That’s all we can do, Harry.”
“Isn’t there someone at St. Mungo’s studying brain activity or something?” Harry was beginning to sound desperate.
“If there is, we have no way of knowing. You heard Mrs. Weasley: There’s no money in their Gringotts vault for such expensive experimental treatment. Even if there was, I don’t think her parents would want Ginny to be a guinea pig unless there was substantial proof of success.”
“Ron said the same thing the other night when he was ranting about how inadequate he feels right now.”
“He’s not the only one,” Hermione continued with a weary sigh. “I just wish I had more ideas on how to make contact with her. Madam Pomfrey told me that talking to Ginny is probably the only way to reach her and we’re doing that already!”
Harry sighed and Ginny imagined him running his fingers through his hair as he spoke. “Blimey, I hate waiting like this! I feel so useless!”
“I know, Harry. I know,” Hermione said and Ginny heard their quick embrace which broke up as the hallway door closed and someone approached with plodding footsteps.
“Ron. Come sit down,” Hermione called softly. Ginny heard a sigh as the chair took his weight. “Relax a bit before we go to dinner. There’s a Prefects’ meeting afterwards and we need to stay awake for it.”
“Hey, mate.” Harry’s voice greeted her brother.
“Still no change?” Ron sounded defeated. When there was no verbal response, he asked, “Why do we bother? She’s never going to wake up.”
Harry’s voice was tense as he demanded, “How can you say that, Ron? She might be able to hear you. Do you want her to give up trying to come back?” The pacing footsteps resumed. “She just has to wake up!”
“She will, Ron. At least…I hope she will,” Hermione said tiredly. “I just can’t give up hope yet and neither should you.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Ron stated glumly. “She isn’t your sister. If I ever discover why Dumbledore wasn’t at the match to stop her fall like he did Harry’s that time, I’ll...”
“He can’t be at every match. He has a school to run,” Hermione said tiredly. She was quiet for a time before she said soothingly, “Several teachers tried, Ron, but their spells only slowed her down. Ginny was falling so fast it was almost impossible to arrest her descent completely. You know that...”
“That’s just not good enough. And I could have helped if I’d had my wand,” Ron ranted, the helplessness evident in his voice.
“Ron, you couldn’t have done anything; you were too far away...”
“I was not. She’d just caught the Quaffle on our end of the pitch and...”
“And had dropped it to take control of her broken broom!”
“I know that, Hermione...”
“Please, Ron, not now,” Harry said irritably. “I’m not in the mood to listen you and Hermione rehash Ginny’s fall.”
The chair scraped again as Ron stood up. “Come on, Hermione. I’m in no mood to take his cheek. I know when I’m not wanted.”
Ginny heard Hermione’s squeak of protest and exasperated, “Oh, all right! Stop snapping at each other, will you!” and then two sets of footsteps retreating from her bedside.
The third set of feet had resumed their pacing. Harry was still with her and Ginny wondered if there was more to the subtle tension she had felt between Ron and Harry than they were letting on.
Suddenly, the mattress under to her right hip sagged as Harry sat next to her and she felt her right hand being lifted and clasped tightly. Harry, it seemed, had been waiting to be alone with her because he let out a weary sigh which sounded like “peace at last!” and began stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. Ginny remembered how perfectly their hands fit together and how she never wanted to let go. Harry’s hand was big and comforting; the palm somewhat callused, the fingers long and bony and slightly rough at the tips. It was a familiar hand and Ginny took comfort in its strength.
Harry sighed again, then said, “If you’re in there, Ginny, I want you to know that I worry about you. I want you back and it’s hard to wait for you to make up your mind. I’m...I’m...lost without you.” He choked and didn’t seem to be able to go on. He squeezed the hand he was holding and then Ginny felt his free hand caress her cheek and smooth her hair. “I never thought I’d ever say this to someone...I need you, Ginevra Molly Weasley. Come back and let…let me l-love you.”
Ginny felt Harry’s body shake as if he were sobbing, but didn’t hear a sound. She heard him sniff quietly several times a few minutes later and decided it was time to open her eyes. She hated to have people cry over her, especially her mother and, of all people, Harry.
She opened her eyes.
Harry had taken off his glasses and covered his eyes with his free hand, tears leaking through his fingers. Ginny squeezed his hand and whispered his name. Harry’s head whipped around; relief, surprise and joy crossing his features. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve as he realized she had awakened.
“Ginny! You’re back!” he breathed.
“Hi, Harry,” she whispered. She smiled at him and squeezed his hand again.
Harry covered the hand he held with his other one, grinning. He opened his mouth to reply just as Madam Pomfrey bustled over carrying a tray of potions which she placed on Ginny’s bedside table. She, too, was smiling.
“You’re back with us Miss Weasley. Good, good.” She turned to Harry. “I realize you’d like to have some time with Ginny, Mr. Potter, but I also know there are others who need to know she’s awake. By the time you’ve delivered your good news, we shall be finished here.”
Harry reluctantly slid off the bed and shoved his glasses back onto his nose as Madam Pomfrey picked up the first goblet of potion. He gave Ginny one last smile before heading for the door. As it closed behind him, Harry’s whoop of joy and the sound of his pounding footfalls echoed back into the ward.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
It was a much different group that clustered around Ginny’s bed three days later than the one immediately following her awakening. Ten minutes after Harry had left the hospital wing, a boisterous, chattering throng of Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws and nearly everyone in Gryffindor House had descended upon the ward to welcome Ginny back. It had taken Madam Pomfrey almost an hour to shoo everyone out into the corridor since people kept sneaking back in. Finally, exhausted, but happy, Ginny herself made her well-wishers quit the ward with the threat of a few well-placed bat bogie hexes. Her well-wishers reluctantly left her side and took their revelry back to their common rooms where, it was reported, the partying lasted until the various Heads of House put a stop to it. This present group, however, had none of the joy of that evening past.
Gathered around Ginny’s bed were her parents, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Madam Pomfrey, Professor Dumbledore, and Professor McGonagall. They had just learned that in addition to the many broken (and now healed) bones she had sustained in her fall, Ginny was partially paralyzed from the waist down. One of the Bludgers had damaged her spinal cord, which rendered her left leg useless. Ginny was now fighting back tears as she struggled to make her own wishes known: the overwhelming opinion in the room was not hers.
Finally she almost yelled, “I will not go to St. Mungo’s! I want to recuperate here!”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Ginevra Weasley, listen to what Madam Pomfrey and Professor Dumbledore are saying,” her mother said, exasperatedly. “You’re in no condition to return to lessons and you know it!”
Ginny glared at her mother. “Yes, I do, but I refuse to go. You can’t make me.”
“Oh, yes, I can. You’re still underage and your father’s and my responsibility,” Mrs. Weasley said heatedly. “St. Mungo’s is where you belong if there’s a chance of you recovering completely.”
Ginny sighed and willed herself to become calmer. “I just want to be with my friends,” she pleaded quietly. “I want to be where I can ask my teachers questions about their lessons. I may not be able to go to class, but at least here I’ll be guaranteed visitors my own age.”
Madam Pomfrey glared at Ginny with her no-nonsense expression. “Miss Weasley,” she began, “there are Healers at St. Mungo’s who are much more knowledgeable about your type of paralysis than I. You’ll have the best treatment possible from Healers who work with patients like you every day. Please, consider going for your own good.”
Ginny fiddled with the hem of the sheet covering her legs, hot tears coursing down her cheeks. “I am considering it, but I want to know why someone can’t come here to help me.”
“We can investigate that possibility, Miss Weasley, but it would be much less expensive if you were hospitalized where the specialists had access to you.”
Ginny nodded and swiped at her tears with a frustrated hand. Finally, she looked up at her father. “Dad, tell me the truth. Do you and Mum have enough gold in Gringotts for a stay at St. Mungo’s as lengthy as the one Madam Pomfrey is suggesting?”
Mr. Weasley shook his head and looked away as her mother buried her face in his shoulder, sobbing quietly. That was all the answer Ginny needed. Wiping her eyes on the edge of the sheet, she looked resolutely from one face to the other. “I know you all want what’s best for me,” she began softly. “But the truth of the matter is twofold: one, I don’t want to leave Hogwarts; and two, we Weasleys, though strong in our love for each other, don’t have the same strength in gold. I know the treatment I need will be expensive, but I also think we as a group can find a way to give me what I need without shipping me off to London at the cost of two hundred galleons a day! I also know I need to be where I know I’m a part of your lives...” She trailed off, trying to let her words sink in.
Professor Dumbledore broke the silence that followed Ginny’s speech. “Arthur, Molly, I think our decision has made itself,” he said gravely. “Ginny is quite welcome to recuperate at Hogwarts. We,” he looked around at the assembled group, “all want what’s best for your daughter and I’m sure all of us will see to it that she does what the specialists recommend and that she keeps up with her OWL studies as well as her other schoolwork.
“Things have a way of working themselves out. I wish to speak with the school Governors now and want you to come to my office to participate in the conference call. Poppy, Minerva, please come up when you can.”
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley nodded numbly and after embracing Ginny, followed the headmaster out of the ward. Madam Pomfrey turned towards her office as Professor McGonagall squeezed Ginny’s hand before she, too, left for the headmaster’s office. Ron, Hermione and Harry were left standing silently by Ginny’s bedside.
Ron was the first to speak. “Blimey, I hate being poor!” he exploded. Hermione laid a comforting hand on his arm. “No, Hermione, I can’t be calm about this! We’re talking about Ginny’s life here and all Mum and Dad can do is tell us they don’t have the gold to get my sister the help she needs!”
Ginny clenched her fists as she rounded on her brother. “Did you hear a word of what I said, Ron?” she yelled. “Have you even considered what I might want? I want to stay here. This is where I belong. Madam Pomfrey healed my broken bones and kept me alive for nearly three weeks, for Merlin’s sake! She knows what she’s doing. We’ve already talked about what she and I have to do if I’m to stay here. Ron, I refuse to go to St. Mungo’s where I’ll be shut up in a room with nothing to do but think about what happened. At least here I’m guaranteed distraction by visitors and access to my teachers.” She looked at the others wistfully. “Maybe when I’m strong enough I’ll be able to go back to Gryffindor Tower.”
Ron had the grace to look ashamed. “I’m sorry, Ginny. I’m just so frustrated with the whole business.”
“I know, Ron. I’m frustrated too. Please be patient. Maybe Professor Dumbledore and the Governors will be able to help Mum and Dad find a solution to their financial problems.” She reached out and squeezed her brother’s hand. “We can always hope.”
Ron nodded sadly. “I guess that’s all we can do right now,” he said dejectedly. His expression told Ginny that they weren’t through discussing the subject, but she also knew that Ron needed some time to curb his anger before they could talk. Sure enough, Ron looked at her glumly and mumbled, “I gotta go.” He turned away and walked towards the door, his shoulders slumped, his head down. Hermione gave Ginny a quick smile of encouragement before she went after Ron.
Thinking that she was alone, Ginny lay back on her pillows and let her tears flow freely. “Why me? What did I do to deserve being paralyzed?” She ached all over; not just physically, but mentally as well. She was so tired of trying to maintain a brave face for everybody in light of how serious her situation was. She could hardly move without having to drag her lower body. She knew she needed help, and like Ron, she found it very hard to swallow her pride and ask others to help her.
“Why is it always my family? Why does everything always come back to money?” The treatment she needed was so bloody expensive! She felt so guilty having to put her mum and dad through so much anguish. They didn’t deserve more worries; not with Bill and Charlie out on Order missions almost daily, Percy’s stubborn refusal to acknowledge his mistakes of the last year, and Fred and George’s constantly dangerous new product development. Now her parents were going to have the added worry of financing Ginny’s recovery. Ginny gave up being quiet and began sobbing aloud.
An arm snaked beneath her shoulders and gathered her into a tight embrace. Harry’s familiar scent filled her nostrils and she buried her face in his neck as he gently stroked her back. He said nothing, letting her cry until her sobs subsided into the occasional hiccup.
At length, he gave her one last squeeze, and then pulled away enough to look at her blotchy, tear-stained face. “Ginny,” he began hesitantly, “I...I’m so sorry you have to go through this.”
Ginny sniffed and swiped at her face with her hand. “What can I do about it? It’s my fault I’m here.”
“No, it isn’t, Ginny.”
“Yes, it is. I wanted to play Quidditch. I knew the risks of playing such a dangerous game and I was willing to take them.”
“And you played wonderfully. The younger players idolize you.”
“Maybe. But I certainly should have known better than to let myself be sandwiched between the other Chasers like that,” she said bitterly.
Harry sighed and pulled her close again. “Think about it, Ginny: you were totally focused on getting the Quaffle into scoring position and what you needed to do to help us win the match. So were Katie and Geoffrey. All three of you were trying to protect that ball.”
“But the two of them stayed on their brooms.”
“Ron thinks you were pushed.”
“I wasn’t. When Vaisey and Pritchard flew into me, Pritchard reached over and deliberately snapped my broom handle in two. It was the Bludgers that knocked me to the grass, though, not the Slytherin Chasers. They helped, but I think it was the Beaters who made me fall. I should have tried harder to get to safety.”
“Hindsight is hell, Ginny,” Harry said not unkindly. “Look how long I felt guilty over Cedric’s death. Because of who I am he’s gone only for the reason that Voldemort didn’t want any witnesses except the Death Eaters that night. You helped me see that. Don’t you feel guilty about being part of a sport you love.”
“I can’t help it,” she sighed. “And now I’ve added this to my worries.” She swept her hand in a wide arc that took in the bed and her lower body. “Mum and Dad can’t afford to send me to St. Mungo’s, so I’m probably stuck like this for the rest of my life,” she added glumly.
“You may not be. I heard that Madam Pomfrey is in constant contact with the Healers at St. Mungo’s trying to find a way of helping you.”
“A lot of good that’s going to do if mum and dad don’t have the gold to bring them here or send me there for treatment. The only thing that’s going to produce enough money is a miracle.”
Ginny felt Harry shift restlessly before he spoke. “I disagree,” he said quietly.
Startled, Ginny looked up from the sheet she was twisting in her hands. “Why?”
Harry didn’t answer her right away. He seemed nervous as he slid off the bed and began pacing. “Ginny, I have an idea about how to help you,” he said, “but I want to ask your permission to carry it through.”
Ginny looked back at him curiously. “Why would you need my permission?” she asked.
“Well, it concerns you and your family,” Harry told her quietly. “I know how proud you all are about being self-sufficient. It’s part of what I like about you. Anyway, ever since Ron and Fred and George rescued me from the Dursleys’ the summer between first and second year, I’ve wanted to do something for your family to thank them for taking me in. I know your parents would never accept a donation to their bank account, but I think that under the circumstances, I have my chance.” He ceased his pacing and searched Ginny’s face as he said in a rush, “Ginny, I want to pay for your treatment. I have more than enough gold in my vault at Gringotts to finance my schooling and to get me started in a career. Not to mention what I inherited from Sirius. I want to share it with you and I don’t want to do it behind your back. I’m telling you what I want to do because you’d probably figure it out on your own anyway.”
Ginny closed her eyes, unable to understand why Harry was being so generous. “Why?” she finally asked.
“It’s my way of thanking you for giving me hope when I really needed it. I have a family because yours took me in.” Harry suddenly turned away and walked over to one of the windows. His voice was full of emotion as he said quietly, “Because I love you.” He stood gazing out on the grounds, his head bowed a little. Then, as if he’d made up his mine, he opened the window, turned, and strode back to her bed. Without a word, he threw back Ginny’s blankets and gently picked her up.
“Put me down, Harry!” she demanded, throwing her arms around his neck.
“No, Ginny,” he said, walking over to the window with her. “You asked me why I want to pay for your treatment. Look out there. Just look.”
Ginny turned her gaze towards the window. The early spring day was sunny and a warm breeze brushed her face and toyed with wisps of her hair. On the grass below them several groups of students were taking advantage of the mild day to revise in the sunshine while others strolled around the lake. If she craned her neck, Ginny could see the tiny figures of one of the Quidditch teams practicing for the next match.
“Ginny, I want you to be down there,” Harry said huskily. “I want you to be able to choose whether you’ll stroll around the lake or fly on your broom or sit with Hermione and revise beneath a tree. You don’t belong confined to a bed. If you accept my gift, maybe...” he broke off and cleared his throat. “Maybe you can do those things again.”
Ginny tore her gaze away from the scene outside, hope and pride warring in her conscience. “Do I dare hope to do the things I’ve seen out the window? Can I swallow my pride and accept Harry’s generosity? If I do, can I face my family if they somehow find out? Mum and Dad would be devastated and I don’t know if I could face Ron’s anger and disappointment. Then again, what would life be like if I held onto my dignity and passed on Harry’s offer? How would I feel watching my brothers and friends fly and walk and run and help Harry when I can’t? The answer is; I would be utterly miserable. I just know my disability would eat at me from the inside out because I’m not the type of person who settles for letting others do what I should be doing.” Again, a decision seemed to make itself for her. “If accepting Harry’s help means that I can try for a second chance at living a normal life on two good legs, I will.” She took a deep, steadying breath before looking into Harry’s expectant face.
“Ron...Ron needs to know, Harry. He’ll figure it out just as fast as I would have. He’ll be hurt if we’re not honest with him about where the money is really coming from,” she began. She looked back at the scene below the window. “Harry, I want to be able to choose how I spend my days outside, too. I accept your gift because I now have something to hope for.”
Ginny felt Harry exhale and watched as a smile played about the corners of his mouth. “I’m glad, Ginny. Shall I go talk to Professor Dumbledore now?”
“Not just yet. Would you stay with me a little longer? I don’t want to be alone right now.”
“Sure, Gin.” He left the window open and returned Ginny to her bed. Harry climbed up onto the bed with her and they talked until Ginny fell asleep with her head resting on his shoulder and his arm wrapped protectively around her.
End of Part Eleven
Chapter 12: Chapter 12
Author's Notes: A/N: The posting of this chapter should have taken place three weeks ago. Unfortunately, due to some computer problems which resulted in my husband having to completely strip our hard drive and rebuild it from scratch, you, my readers, have had to wait quite patiently for what happens to Ginny and Harry. Thank you for being patient. Your reviews are always appreciated and help keep me going when writer’s block threatens to derail the advancement of the story.
New Year, New Hope
Part Twelve
Ron came bounding into the ward the next afternoon, a grin lighting up his face. There was no need for Ginny to guess what his good mood was about. The change in his demeanour from what it had been since her diagnosis was striking; just seeing her brother happy again made all her ruminations over accepting Harry’s offer worthwhile.
“Hi, Ron. What’s up?”
“Oi, Ginny,” Ron greeted her as he came to stand next to her bed. “Mum and Dad will be here in a few minutes. They sent Hedwig with a note. She made record time, too. You know how Mum got into the habit of time-dating her letters when Errol started taking longer than usual to deliver the mail.”
Ginny smiled at her brother. “That’s great, but how did Hedwig get to The Burrow?”
Shaking his head, Ron said, “She flew.”
“I know that,” Ginny said impatiently. “Did you send her home with a note to Mum and Dad yesterday?”
Ron shook his head again. “No. Harry did. He sent her as soon as he left you. His note told Mum that Hedwig knew to stay at our house and keep Errol company until there was any news I needed to know. I’m really glad he thought to send her.”
“Poor Errol,” Ginny sighed, grinning. She was just about to elaborate on her comment when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley entered the hospital wing.
“We have wonderful news, darling,” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed as she walked, no, nearly skipped, to her daughter’s bedside. Ginny hadn’t seen her mother in such good spirits in a very long time.
“Professor Dumbledore found a source of financial aid,” Mr. Weasley told her, a genuine smile lighting up his tired face.
Ginny grinned back. “That’s wonderful!” Then, she asked tentatively, “Erm, is this financial aid as in a loan of some sort that you’ll have to repay or is it like a scholarship? Please, be honest with me.”
Mr. Weasley shook his head. “Eighty years ago someone set up an endowment for students injured on the Quidditch pitch and no one has used the money in all those years. Dumbledore received permission from the school Governors to access the account at Gringotts. As long as you’re a Hogwarts student and you have not completed your seventh year we don’t need to repay the money.” He reached for his daughter’s hand. “You’re a very lucky young lady,” he told her, smiling broadly.
Looking at her parents, Ginny was suddenly overcome with gratitude for Harry’s generosity. What he had done, what she had done by accepting his offer, was bringing a great sense of relief to the two adults who meant the most to her. He had taken a grievous burden from their shoulders and allowed them a moment of true happiness. That they believed Dumbledore’s story was a gift in and of itself, and Ginny knew that she would never reveal the real source of her recovery money to them. She thought she now understood why Harry wanted his gift to remain secret; the lines of worry, fear, and responsibility would just be etched deeper into her parents’ faces if they knew the truth and that was something she really did not want to see.
She also knew she couldn't bear her parents’ disappointment in her if they discovered her part in Harry’s big-hearted scheme. No matter what form it took, charity was something her parents refused to accept and, like Ron, they would rather go without than be beholden to someone else. Her mother believed, too, and her father agreed, that accepting a highly-priced gift from one’s boyfriend made a girl a “kept woman”: Ginny thought the out-dated idea ludicrous, but at the same time knew her mother meant to use that particular notion as a means of guiding her only daughter. It was one of those pearls of wisdom which had been part of her life for as long as she could remember. For that matter, even Ron knew that too expensive a gift would somehow besmirch a girl’s reputation. Secrecy, therefore, was imperative if Harry was to get away with paying her medical bills.
Ginny glanced at Ron (who didn’t yet know about Harry’s offer) and studied his face. As happy as he was at the moment, he seemed older than his seventeen years; his worry over her and his two best friends was engraved upon his features, aging his appearance prematurely. She wondered idly, if the times and their circumstances had been different, whether Ron would still have the somewhat baby-faced appearance that still clung to Neville Longbottom. Not that that was bad, mind you; Neville was a fine young man with huge problems and burdens of his own. He was lucky, too, that he had adults in his life who tried their best to shelter him and make certain that his new-found success in the Herbology lab brought out the best in him. Clearly, that would have been the answer, for Ginny knew that Ron still did not have a real direction for his life, did not yet know what his life’s work would be beyond helping Harry defeat Voldemort. Even with all the career counselling in the world, her youngest brother seemed lost regarding what he really wanted to work at for the rest of his life.
She wondered, too, how much last year’s brain attack was responsible for the changes in Ron. Whenever he rolled up his sleeves–which nowadays wasn’t often even on the hottest of days–his scars were visible. Ginny had overheard Madam Pomfrey speaking via fireplace to her mother: the matron was still quite concerned that the brain’s tentacles had invaded Ron’s body and had been keeping a critical eye on him all year. The changes in Ron were subtle, manifesting themselves in the mature way he now regarded his homework, how he seemed to enjoy the responsibility of being a Prefect this year, and how he regarded his relationship with Hermione. To Ginny, the changes seemed a good thing, but maybe so mature an attitude in someone so young was what had Madam Pomfrey’s knickers in a twist. Then, again, she wondered if his time in Professor Dumbledore’s office was having a subtle effect on how her brother approached life now; maybe some of the battle strategies he was learning over the chess board were helping him cope with his own private battles. There was something to ponder in the wee hours of the morning...
A comment from her mother brought Ginny back to reality. She gave the older witch a searching look.
“...gave me a list of specialists she’d like us to interview, dear,” she said looking pointedly at Ginny. “She thinks it best if we interview them all at once instead of having them come in on different days. That way, we can choose a treatment method right away. The sooner you start treatment, the better your chances for a full recovery.” She handed Ginny the list of names.
Ginny stared at the list: many of the names were identified as ‘Head’ of various Departments at St. Mungo’s. She couldn’t believe what she saw. “You...you want me to choose who helps me?” she asked, dumbfounded.
Her mother smiled at her. “Yes, Ginny. For once we have a choice rather than having to take what we can afford.”
Ginny began to protest, but Ron interrupted. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Ginny. This is about your health and getting you back into Gryffindor Tower where you belong. Be happy that you don’t have to take second best for once!”
“All right,” she said slowly after a moment. “When do we start the interviews?”
Mr. Weasley answered her. “I’d like to send out the owls right away so that we can schedule everyone without tiring you.”
“Hermione’s already made up a chart, much like my revising schedule from last year. It’s colour-coded and everything,” Ron interjected enthusiastically. “She’s allowed for twenty minutes rest/discussion time between interviews.”
“That’s so thoughtful,” Mrs. Weasley said. “And so helpful, too. It’s going to make for a long day tomorrow, but we might as well use it. What do you think, Ginny?”
Shaking her head, Ginny smiled at her brother. “Please thank Hermione for me. Did she send the chart with you?”
Grinning smugly, Ron reached into his robes and pulled out the piece of parchment Hermione had enchanted. When he unrolled it across Ginny’s legs, the individual squares flashed when tapped with a wand, just as they had for the revising schedule Ron had grumbled about so much last year and Ginny was using this year. This time, however, a Healer’s name occupied each of the squares instead of a revising subject.
Ginny heard a note of pride in his voice as Ron said, “It’s all done for us: a list of questions–approved by Madam Pomfrey–for us to ask, a rating sheet to use for comparison, even the letters. A couple of quick spells and everything was ready for sending. All we have to do is send the owls.”
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Three days later, Ginny lay on her stomach staring out the window. She ached everywhere: not just her back and hips, but her arms and good leg as well. It had been an agonizing day filled with activities that never seemed to end. Healer Alexander had appeared at half past eight, just as the first bell was sounding, and had begun Ginny’s day with something she said Muggles called deep tissue massage. This painful pushing and kneading were followed by an hour of exercises after which Healer Rodkey took over. Healer Rodkey had made Ginny turn over on her stomach without assistance and then had cast several spells over her spine and bad leg. The spells hurt, causing a burning sensation throughout the injured area that brought tears to Ginny’s eyes and making her wonder why she had agreed to subject herself to this daily torture.
Ginny was then allowed a fifteen minute break. She hadn’t moved from where she lay, so she could only hear what was happening around her. She chose to ignore all but the most unusual sounds closest to her bed and wondered absentmindedly if they had anything to do with what she would be doing next.
At the end of her rest period, Ginny felt two sets of hands turning her onto her back and assisting her into a sitting position. She wondered absently why it hadn’t been done using magic, but decided that her caregivers didn’t want to startle her. Healer Rodkey and Madam Pomfrey were now standing on either side of her bed.
“Ginny, I’ve done everything I can do for now,” Healer Rodkey began. “Now it’s up to you.”
Ginny frowned. “How do you mean?”
“Well, it’s time to get you out of bed. I need to evaluate whether or not you’ve made any progress.” Healer Rodkey stepped aside to reveal a metal contraption which looked like a small tubular fence. “This is a walking frame, Ginny. Elderly Muggles use them to lean on when they walk, much like a wizard uses a walking staff. I’d like you to have a go at using it. If nothing else, it will get you out of bed and hopefully on your feet.”
Ginny looked at Madam Pomfrey, who smiled encouragingly at her. She took a deep breath and asked, “What are you waiting for? Let’s get a move on!”
The two older witches helped Ginny manoeuvre her body so that she was sitting with her legs dangling over the edge of the bed.
“Carpet slippers?” Ginny inquired eying the stone floor.
“Not today,” Healer Rodkey told her. “Part of this little test is to see whether or not you can feel what’s under your feet. If you can, I’ll know my spells and other therapies are working. If you can’t feel the cold floor with your left foot I have to find a way to stimulate or repair the right set of nerves so you can. Does that make sense?”
Ginny nodded, suddenly wishing that Hogwarts offered an anatomy course. If it did, and she’d taken it, she’d know for certain what Healer Rodkey was talking about. Well, if it’s any consolation, she thought, all I’ll have to do is ask Hermione for her help and tomorrow there’ll be a stack of Muggle books as tall as I am sitting on my bedside table. She stared at the walking frame, picturing the battered round one she had seen in the attic at home that she and her brothers had used as babies. What goes around comes around, she thought ironically and slid quickly off the bed before her healers could offer their assistance.
It was very strange putting weight on her feet after so long without standing up. The first thing she noticed was not how cold the floor was, but how weak and wobbly her legs felt. She grabbed the side of the bed for support as her knees buckled.
“Not so fast, young lady,” Madam Pomfrey warned coming around the side of the bed. “I know you’re eager to be back on your feet, but…” She let her voice trail off in quite the effective warning.
Ginny stood where she was, subtly shifting her weight from one foot to the other and getting used to the sensation of standing again. It was weird; the muscles in her right leg had taken only about thirty seconds to remember what their primary function was whereas her brain was still deciding what to tell the muscles in her left leg to do two minutes later. The floor is cold! she thought as she curled the toes of her right foot. The automatic acknowledgement of the sensation made her very aware that she could barely feel the temperature of the stone beneath her left foot and that she had to concentrate very hard on keeping her left knee from collapsing. Tears of frustration began to spill over as a wave of intense pain suddenly engulfed the left side of her lower body.
“Ginny, what is it?” Healer Rodkey inquired calmly. Only her eyes showed that Ginny’s reaction to being on her feet was causing any alarm or concern.
“It hurts,” was all Ginny could gasp out. She struggled to get back onto the bed.
Madam Pomfrey drew her wand and gently levitated Ginny onto the bed and magically flipped her over onto her stomach. “What part of you hurts, Ginny?” she asked. “It’s is important for us to know so we can help you.”
Ginny concentrated on finding the source of her pain. “My left hip mostly. There are shooting pains… going up and… down my left leg, too,” she gasped out as a particularly bad spasm caused her to try to draw her injured leg up toward her body. To her dismay the leg barely moved.
Healer Rodkey cast several spells that Ginny couldn’t feel, then added a final one that suffused Ginny’s lower back and legs in soothing warmth. “I think I know how to help you now, Ginny,” she said coming around the bed and conjuring a stool so she could meet her patient’s eye. “There’s more damage than I expected, but less than there could be. Will you trust me to use what I know even if you get discouraged? You’re in for a long, painful recovery, but now I can hope you’ll be walking short distances with assistance by July, possibly the middle of June.”
Ginny exhaled slowly and managed a weak smile. “Yes, I trust you,” she said quietly. “I know you can help me.”
“Good. I think you’ve had enough excitement for one day. We’ll have another go at standing in the walking frame tomorrow. Now get some sleep, Ginny. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Ginny closed her eyes murmuring, “’morrow.” She was asleep before Healer Rodkey could levitate the walking frame to its cupboard.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
The next few weeks were virtual torture for Ginny as she worked with Healers Rodkey and Alexander. She was so sore and tired sometimes when her friends came to visit after lessons let out for the day that she could hardly keep her eyes open. However, she could see and feel the improvement in strength, balance and stamina the treatments were bringing about which was encouragement in itself.
Personally, though, Ginny thought her progress wasn’t good enough; she wanted very much to make her left leg move independently like the right one did. She wanted to feel the chill of the stone beneath both feet equally; she wanted to support her weight on both legs so she could stand tall; and, most of all, she wanted to walk with quick assurance down the seventh floor corridor and greet the Fat Lady with the password like every other student living in Gryffindor Tower. She stubbornly refused to accept that no one had so far found the spell or the potion that would stimulate the severed nerves that Healer Rodkey was trying so desperately to repair with her painful nerve stretching spells. So, day in and day out, Ginny bravely endured the pain and said nothing as she hobbled behind the walking frame and cried herself to sleep every night.
Through it all, Harry stayed at her bedside whenever he could manage it. Hermione and Ron were often with him and the four of them continuously talked about what they would do first when Ginny was released to come back to Gryffindor Tower. When training and Quidditch required him and Ron to be elsewhere, though, Hermione would often tutor Ginny in Transfiguration or Charms, having been given permission from their teachers to use the materials or animals Ginny’s classmates were practicing on. They had a particularly giggly session one afternoon when Ginny’s frog began to squeal like a pig when she tried to silence it.
Other visitors joined the parade of students entering and exiting the hospital wing as Ginny became stronger and the OWL exams neared. Luna convinced their study group to stop meeting in the library so Ginny could join in. The girls quizzed each other on set subjects each evening using the revising schedule Hermione had set up for Ginny earlier in the year. In fact, Hermione often came to visit after dinner and, while not formally participating in the revising session, was available for consultation whenever anyone was stuck and needed help. On more than one occasion Madam Pomfrey had to stop the group from becoming too aggressive with their Defence spells, since, as one of the members of last year’s DA who had attained a near-perfect score in that subject on the written exam, Hermione was the expert and could easily demonstrate the spells and supervise the group’s practice session.
Gryffindor’s Quidditch team would sometimes come in after practice, everyone still clutching their brooms and, more often than not, spattering the pristine stone floor of the ward with mud and rain water. One afternoon after a particularly frustrating and arduous practice, Katie Bell joined Ginny for tea and sympathy, practically begging the younger witch to get well enough to sit in the stands and coach the Chasers from the sidelines. Not knowing what to say to sooth her captain’s frustrations, Ginny volunteered to talk to the team.
“I knew you’d find a way to help us,” Katie smiled. “The few practices you helped me coach the reserve players made a difference. You have a knack for explaining what needs to be done during a move better than I do. I’ll bring my extra copy of the playbook next time I come to visit. It’ll be a helpful reference for you the next time there’s a dispute like we had today.”
Shortly after this conversation Ginny again found herself involved in the sport with which she seemed to have developed a love-hate relationship since her accident. True to her word, Katie sent the younger members in to see Ginny when she needed someone to patiently explain game strategies or rules. It was a bitter-sweet experience for Ginny as she answered all their questions and settled their arguments; she longed to be zooming around the pitch with them, but at the same time, she was grateful her bed-ridden condition kept her firmly on the ground. In short, she was too scared at the moment to mount her broom and try to fly.
One Saturday afternoon soon after the Easter holiday, Jimmy Peaks, Richie Coote and all six Chasers raced into the hospital wing, brooms in hand, laughing and praising Ginny at the top of their voices. The Gryffindor team had just won its match against Ravenclaw and was now tied for first place with Hufflepuff. An impromptu party ensued as first Ron, and then Harry appeared with food and cold butterbeer. As dinner time approached Ginny noticed Madam Pomfrey lurking about the entrance to her office and pretending to stifle a yawn. The others finally took the hint and one by one thanked Ginny for her help before they gathered up the remains of the party and went upstairs to finish celebrating.
Harry remained behind to finish cleaning up. “I missed you out there today,” he said diffidently as he Banished a couple of the butterbeer bottles. “The match didn’t feel quite right without you somewhere on the pitch.”
“That’s really sweet of you to say, Harry.” Ginny Summoned a broom and dustpan from the cupboard her walking frame was stored in and set the implements sweeping up crumbs and bits of butterbeer labels. “I missed being out there, too. I could hear the commentary, but it just wasn’t the same, you know?”
“Yah, I do.” Harry sat down in the chair next to Ginny’s bed. He seemed nervous all of a sudden.
“What’s on your mind, Harry?”
“It’s nothing,” he said vaguely, not looking at her and twisting his wand between his fingers.
“That’s not what your wand is telling me,” Ginny pressed, looking pointedly at the battered wooden cylinder which was now emitting red and gold sparks.
Harry harrumphed. “I can’t keep anything from you, can I?” he joked tensely, still avoiding her eyes. Finally, he got up and began pacing. “I don’t know why this has bothered me for so long but it has.”
“Tell me,” Ginny prompted.
“Do you–areyouattractedtoMalfoy?” The words came out in a rush as Harry strode over to an open window. If he hadn’t been so serious about the question, Ginny would have laughed.
“What makes you think I’m attracted to Draco Malfoy?” she asked carefully.
Harry turned to face her. “The Valentine’s Ball. You said some things to him and danced with him an awfully long time that night. If I’ve got... erm... competition for your feelings, I want to know so I can win you back.”
Ginny held out her arms, her voice and smile as warm as she could make them. “Come here, Harry, and let me tell you a little secret.” He came over and hesitantly sat on the edge of the bed letting Ginny take his hands in hers. “You, Harry James Potter, are my one and only. You have had my heart since I was a little girl; I’ve never had eyes for anyone else–not Colin, not Neville and certainly not Draco Malfoy. So get that silly notion that you have competition for my affections out of your head. Do you understand me?”
Grinning, Harry leaned forward and took her in his arms. “Yes, Ginny, I do.”
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
The last bell had rung a few minutes earlier and Ginny was anticipating Hermione’s visit while their boyfriends were at Quidditch practice. She could hear the myriad voices and the thunder of feet echoing through the castle corridors as the majority of the students raced outside to catch the last remnants of the early May sunshine. Ginny had been enjoying it too as it filtered in through the hospital wing windows. She was listening for the Gryffindor Quidditch team to pass by on their way to the pitch when Hermione burst through the heavy doors, clearly upset over something.
Ginny looked up, startled. “Hermione, what’s the matter?”
Hermione dropped her bag on the nearest bed and began pacing at the foot of Ginny’s, her face betraying the turmoil she seemed to be feeling. “Ginny,” she began, “I just overheard the most disturbing conversation and I don’t know how ask you about it without it hurting our friendship.”
Ginny pulled herself up straighter in bed. “Hermione, what have you heard? And how could it hurt our friendship?” she asked, wondering what could be so awful Hermione wouldn’t want to be her friend any more.
“Your Healers were strolling in the corridor just now—I’d stopped in the alcove behind that statue of Florence the Healer to repack my bag so they couldn’t see me. Anyway, they were saying how lucky you were to have a rich boyfriend to finance your care, that you must have coerced him into helping you somehow,” Hermione told her, stopping to face Ginny over the length of the bedcovers. She began worrying the end of her scarf as she nearly whispered, “If what they said is true, Ron’s going to be so embarrassed, so angry, so hurt, and then I’ll have to choose between being your friend or Ron’s and I don’t want to have to do that.”
Stung by Hermione’s words Ginny said softly, “You may not need to choose.”
“Why not? If you’ve coerced Harry into paying for your treatment, then I’ll have to choose because Ron sees most situations in black and white with no shades of grey to allow for unseen circumstances. He’ll want me to choose between the two of you; the traitor or the boyfriend. Please, tell me what I heard is untrue!”
“What you heard is not entirely true,” Ginny said slowly, trying to assess the situation. Hermione wasn’t one who usually jumped to such ridiculous conclusions and that was what was causing Ginny the most concern. Does she honestly think I’d act the gold-digger just to secure the treatment I need? I mean, we’ve been friends since her second year! And what about Harry? She’s known him longer than she’s known me, so she ought to know better than to think he’s stupid enough to be coerced into paying for something that’s not his idea in the first place! No, I don’t think that’s what’s bothering her. There’s something more to it... She buried her hurt feelings quickly, knowing that Hermione would demand her entire attention.
“I hope not, because if it is you’re lower than a Slytherin!” Hermione burst out in an uncharacteristic bit of name-calling.
Ginny nearly giggled. “Hermione,” she said quietly when she had control of her imagination again. “The only valid part of what you overheard is that Harry is paying for my Healers.”
At this the older girl gasped. “But the money…”
“Hermione, listen. Harry’s paying for my treatment because he offered to; he wants to, he’s volunteered to.” She felt her ears growing pink as she admitted, “He’s doing it as much for himself as for me. He loves me, Hermione, and like you and Ron, can’t stand to see me depressed and unhappy, so he found a way to try to make me happy again.”
Hermione eyed her dubiously.
“Do you remember the afternoon Madam Pomfrey told us I was paralysed? Well, after everyone left I just broke down and cried because I was feeling so sorry for myself. Harry caught me crying and told me about the idea he wanted to carry out. Please believe me when I say that I resisted his help a long as I could.” When Hermione continued to look sceptical, Ginny said, “I’m a Weasley just as much as Ron is: we’re a proud family when it comes to money and it really hurts to not have the financial resources some of our friends do. Harry could see how desperately I wanted to make a full recovery, not just a partial one that would never make me whole again.”
“I understand that, Ginny. But why is he doing this for himself?”
“It has something to do with wanting to make others as happy as our family has made him. Mum and Dad accepted Harry without question at a time when he needed it most. But you already know that. He now sees that our family needs him and he has the capital to make things happen for us.”
“But how–”
“A couple of summers ago Harry watched Mum search the corners of our Gringotts vault for stray coins to pay for five sets of Lockhart books. At the time Harry wanted nothing more than to share the money in his own vault with Mum and Dad; he was truly embarrassed that we saw the piles of gold and silver in his vault that day. Ever since, Harry has been looking for an opportunity to help our family. Making us happy makes him happy!”
“All right,” Hermione said slowly. “What does making your parents happy have to do with you?”
“Think about it, Hermione. Did you see how happy Ron was when he brought me the news that Professor Dumbledore had found the grant money for injured Quidditch players? It was as if a huge weight had been taken off his shoulders. Mum and Dad reacted just as my brother did. Just seeing Ron and my parents happy again was enough for both Harry and me to know we’d done the right thing.”
Hermione sighed. “I remember… I was worried as much about Ron as I was about you, Ginny. Everyone was so scared we’d lose you and when you woke up and couldn’t walk, Ron could hardly stand it. I’ve never seen him so miserable and never want to again,” she admitted.
“I know,” Ginny agreed. “Harry and I could see how much my paralysis was hurting Ron, especially when my recovery prospects looked so bleak. Harry told me that afternoon how worried Ron was and how much he wanted to see his friend smile again; he set up the fund with Dumbledore’s assistance that afternoon.”
Hermione considered this news. “So the Galleons…”
“Aren’t just for me,” Ginny said smiling. “Harry made sure there is enough in the endowment vault for several seriously injured players from any house; even the Slytherins can access the endowment if they need the money. Also, Dumbledore added a clause to the bank’s contract which stipulates all the interest plus a certain amount from Harry’s vault will be added to the main fund every quarter. That way whoever accesses the endowment can be assured of payment in full.”
Hermione groped for the nearest chair and sank into it looking stunned. “Ginny, I apologize,” she finally murmured. “I jumped to conclusions too fast for my own good. Can–can you forgive me for doubting your integrity?”
Ginny lay back on her pillows before answering. Finally she said, “Yes. I forgive you. But tell me one thing…”
“What’s that?”
“Did you mean it when you said I was lower than a Slytherin?”
Hermione blushed as she answered, “At the time, yes, but not any more.”
“Good, because if you call me that again I just may have to hex you,” Ginny teased, fingering her wand.
Hermione threw her hands in front of her face crying, “Oh, no! Not the Bat Bogies!”
“Oh, yes, Hermione. Bat Bogies plus a few new nasties I’ve learned recently from Harry and Professor Dumbledore!”
“Oh, don’t go dragging them into this,” Hermione cried in mock agitation. “I’ll never stand an ice cube’s chance in hell against their wand work!” She sobered a little, but just the same, an awed smile played about the corners of her mouth as she said, “You should see how fast Harry’s becoming at non-verbal spells. It’s positively frightening.”
“How so?”
“I can’t compete with him any more and neither can Ron. There’s a new determination to how Harry duels that is so focused on defeating his opponent that no one has a chance to survive the exercise. It’s as if he’s fighting for someone’s life other than his own …” Hermione trailed off looking thoughtfully at Ginny.
Ginny’s eyebrows shot toward her hairline. She lay back on her pillows fingering her angel pendant. I think she means...ME! Harry’s fighting for me? She had to find out.
“Hermione,” she asked tentatively, “do you–do you think Harry’s fighting for me?”
Hermione looked at her in wide-eyed realization. “Ginny, I think you’re right! It makes sense, it really does. And it would explain a lot of what’s been going on with him.”
“What makes sense?”
“Well, both Ron and Harry were tremendously upset after the Quidditch match,” she mused thoughtfully. “Ron withdrew and became predictably moody, but Harry, after Professor Dumbledore physically dragged him away from your bedside, began driving himself. You know how he gets every once in a while when he obsesses over something.”
“Yes, but hasn’t he tended to brood alone, somewhere away from everyone, in the past?”
“Uh-huh, but this time it was very different. This time, he focused his energy on improving his duelling instead of becoming tetchy and depressed. I’m almost certain Harry’s wand-work began improving right about then, especially his non-verbal spell-casting. I don’t know when he found the time, though.” She frowned, a puzzled expression flitting over her face.
“Hermione, how was Harry sleeping right after my accident?”
“Not very well. Ron said he hardly spent any time in his bed. Would you know anything about that?”
“I think,” Ginny said pondering aloud, “I think he went to the Room of Requirement under his invisibility cloak and worked off his pent-up energy there. It’s not like he would be allowed to jinx all the furniture in the Gryffindor common room every night, right? And if he was making a lot of noise an empty classroom wouldn’t be acceptable because Mr. Filch or Mrs. Norris would be sure to discover him. The Room seems to be the one place Harry can escape to when he doesn’t want anyone to find him.”
Hermione smiled. “I think you’ve solved that little mystery, Ginny. But what, other than his concern for you, would motivate Harry to go to such lengths to practice his duelling at all hours of the night?”
Don’t be daft, Hermione! You know as well as I do that everything boils down to Harry’s involvement with the prophecy. “I need to think on that,” Ginny said vaguely, unwilling to share her thoughts just yet.
“There’s one more question I need an answer to,” Hermione stated almost hesitantly. Ginny looked expectantly at her friend. “If Harry’s fund is paying for your treatment, what sort of reparation or punishment is being levelled on those responsible for your fall? Shouldn’t their families be at least partially responsible for the financial burden of your recovery?”
Ginny sighed. “I wish it were that simple, Hermione. The truth is, none of the families is paying a thing: Mr Vaisey actually said he wished I’d died in that fall–good riddance and all that–and Mr Pritchard laughed in Dumbledore’s face and told him that he’d pay for a Gryffindor’s medical bills when hell froze over. The Beaters’ parents said much the same thing.”
Hermione’s eyes were round as she asked, “They had the audacity to say that to Professor Dumbledore? Isn’t there some sort of legal recourse your family could pursue?”
“If there is, Dad and Mum haven’t discussed it with me. And with that sort of attitude, it would be rather hard to recover what I’m owed without a lengthy court battle.”
Hermione looked scandalized. “Are you certain your parents won’t fight for your rights?”
Ginny frowned at her blankets. “I think they would if they had the money,” she admitted quietly. She felt sick as she added, “It always comes down to cold, hard Galleons and the fact that we haven’t got any. It’s not fair!”
“Ginny Weasley, stop feeling sorry for yourself! You’re beginning to sound like Ron! I don’t like his attitude sometimes and I certainly don’t like yours at the moment!” Hermione scolded.
Hermione’s words made Ginny think. “Sorry. I can’t help it sometimes. It’s a hard habit to break.
“I wonder,” she mused aloud, “if there’s a clause in the endowment contract that discourages litigation. It would be just like the goblins to stipulate that if there is any sort of legal battle between the parties involved they won’t allow the recipient to receive the money.”
Hermione frowned thoughtfully at this. “Have you spoken to Bill about your idea?”
“No, but I remember him saying once that whenever they can, the goblins will sneak language into a contract that will enable them to manipulate the wizarding population to their satisfaction; they like to keep their hands on our Galleons! According to Bill, it seems a clause like the one I’m thinking about is standard procedure in all endowment contracts. But would Dumbledore allow such a clause?”
“I don’t know, Ginny. But I do understand about that sort of prejudice, especially when it comes to those tight-fisted goblins. But this still puzzles me: wouldn’t Dumbledore have levelled some sort of punishment on Vaisey and Pritchard for causing your accident in the first place?”
Ginny chuckled quietly. “Apparently, Professor McGonagall has taken care of that. I heard that she and Dumbledore let a week go by while they gathered their facts and then descended on the Slytherin common room to announce that from that day until the end of the school year, all four Slytherins would be spending their Saturdays in Professor McGonagall’s office. Doing what, I don’t know, but it’s got to be unpleasant whatever it is. I’ve heard grumbling from the other Slytherins who came in here for various maladies that it isn’t fair that their team is being punished for poor sportsmanship.”
“That’s a rather light charge for what it’s cost you,” Hermione remarked, “but if it affects the Slytherin’s ability to play in the last few matches of the season with their established team it might just affect their standing in the Cup race.”
Ginny grinned evilly. “There’s no time to completely train four new players before their next match, even if they have reserves like Gryffindor does. Harry said Slytherin isn’t slated to play a match again until the end of this month: they’ve got less than three weeks and that’s not enough time to learn all the moves, even by Slytherin’s belligerent standards. And you know Harry and Ron are just beside themselves that Slytherin will probably finish at the bottom of the table this year.”
“Good! It serves them right for what they did to you,” Hermione stated righteously. “I’m glad something is being done to make those four accept responsibility for their actions even if the parents won’t!”
Ginny had to agree. “Me, too, Hermione. Me, too.”
The girls fell silent. As she lay on her bed staring blankly over Hermione’s head, the words of the prophecy tumbled around Ginny’s mind. They still scared her, but knowing that there were preparations in place which would increase Harry’s chances of survival and victory tempered her negative feelings enough so that she could think rationally. Is love what is fuelling Harry’s determination to fight better? Can there be a connection between Harry’s love for me and his resolve to defeat Voldemort? What about how much he cares for Ron and Hermione? He knows he has their support and that of Luna and Neville. Does that kind of love count, too? Is Harry so focused because he’s fighting to preserve the part of the Wizarding world that makes him happy, the part that gives him a reason to fight and live? She hoped whatever answers she eventually came up with would reflect her own desire to give Harry the life he truly deserved.
At length, Hermione brought out her latest rune translation and set to work while Ginny tried to concentrate on a book she was supposed to read for Charms. Harry and Ron found them still reading the same paragraphs over and over, too lost in thought to realize they hadn’t made any progress on their homework.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Lessons had barely begun for the day and the hospital wing was quiet except for the soft humming coming from Madam Pomfrey’s office where she was busy making up multiple batches of Pepper-Up Potion. The wet, rainy, early May weather of the last week had produced a steady parade of sneezy, runny-nosed students amongst whom Ginny had recognized Harry, Jimmy Peaks, Demelza Robins, Ron, and Katie Bell as well as most of the fifth years from every house. Between all the extracurricular activities and the frantic hours of revising everyone was doing for their end-of-term tests no one seemed to be getting enough sleep: Hence, the increased number of students dragging themselves through the hospital wing doors.
The humming stopped as the door to the corridor opened for the nineteenth time that morning. Madam Pomfrey called to the newcomer, “I’ll be with you in a moment. Take a seat in the waiting area, please.”
But the person didn’t take a seat as instructed. Instead, he continued past the chairs and literally ran into the office.
“What’s the meaning of this, Neville, bursting into this office at such speed?” the matron snapped as she turned from her stirring.
“Madam Pomfrey!” Neville exclaimed breathlessly. “I think I’ve discovered something.” He held up a small bottle filled with something olive green in colour. “The compound I’ve been extracting from the Stinksap seems to be working!”
Madam Pomfrey finished wiping her hands on her apron. “You’re certain, Neville? What evidence do you have?”
Neville extended the hand clutching the bottle toward Madam Pomfrey. “Have a look. I brought you one.” He performed a charm of some sort which caused the office to glow green for a moment. Madam Pomfrey peered at what he was showing her.
“And you say there are more samples, that the compound has caused this change?” she inquired in a voice almost as excited as Neville’s.
“All of them, Madam Pomfrey,” he said flushing excitedly. “All the samples except the controls show signs of nerve regeneration. Professor Sprout thinks we may have found a way to help people like Ginny!”
Ginny’s head snapped up at the mention of her name. She knew Neville was learning about Medicinal Herbology as his contribution to Harry’s war effort, but to have become the subject of one of Neville’s experiments was truly a surprise. She listened intently for more information. Apparently, Neville thought it prudent for Madam Pomfrey to see his experiments for the two left the ward as soon as the Pepper-Up Potion had been securely bottled and set aside to cool down.
Half an hour later, Healer Rodkey came in for their session. She and Ginny had just begun Ginny’s strengthening exercises when an owl flew into the ward.
“Catch it, Ginny!” Healer Rodkey called over her shoulder as she rummaged in her bag for her spectacles.
Ginny held out her arm for the bird to land on, but when it refused to act like a proper post owl, she stood up and reached for the flighty little thing. It swooped playfully about her head, just out of reach, and in exasperation, Ginny let go of her bed and took several steps forward until she could snatch the bird out of the air like Ron sometimes had to do with Pig.
“Got it!” Ginny cried, then let out a surprised, “Oh my!” for she suddenly realized she was standing in the aisle between the two rows of beds. She looked up to see Healer Rodkey beaming at her.
“Another milestone,” the healer said smiling. “You did that without thinking. Now how about taking our little messenger back to your bed so we can relieve it of its burden?”
Ginny scowled at Healer Rodkey. “You tricked me!” she exclaimed.
“No, I gave you a purpose.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Just the fact that you wanted to catch that owl more than you had reservations about pursuing it. If I had tricked you, you probably would not still be standing there looking smug and triumphant! Now, please go back to bed.”
Ginny thought about the three D’s of Apparation, not that she could do it, but because it was something to focus on other than how hard the floor would be if she fell. With that thought her courage failed her, so she summoned her walking frame and made it to her bed with the owl safely clutched in her fist.
There were two scrolls tied to the bird’s leg; one addressed to her, the other addressed to Healer Rodkey. When Ginny saw her note was from Neville, she eagerly unfurled the parchment and began to read.
Ginny,
I have something wonderful to discuss with you about a discovery I’ve made. I’m meeting with your healers from St. Mungo’s and Madam Pomfrey and Professor Sprout at ten o’clock. I should be done by eleven. May I come visit you then?
Neville
Healer Rodkey tapped Ginny on the shoulder. “I have to go. If this is what I think it is, the day is about to become very exciting,” she said and, grabbing her cloak, swept out the door and into the hall.
Silence descended on the cavernous room. Ginny, too excited to sit and study, grabbed her walking frame and dragged herself out into the aisle between the rows of beds. She practiced her walking until shortly before eleven when Neville was due to arrive. She had just Banished the walking frame to its store cupboard when the main door banged open and Neville nearly fell into the ward clutching his bag and trying to straighten his robes at the same time.
“Madam Pomfrey said I could tell you the news because I did most of the research,” he panted, collapsing into the chair beside Ginny’s bed.
“What is it, Neville?” Ginny prompted. “You were so excited earlier and Healer Rodkey left in such a hurry no one would tell me anything!”
In answer, Neville withdrew a very familiar-looking book from his bag. He looked up, startled, when Ginny gasped softly.
“You’ve used it, too?” he asked tremulously, holding up Uncommon Uses for Everyday Potions.
Ginny nodded, still too surprised to say much. She concentrated on easing herself onto her bed and hoisting her legs up manually so that she could lie down: She could not lift her left leg without magic or her hands and as tired as she was, her muscles were twitching like crazy. Neville watched her efforts from his chair, but did not offer assistance; for that she was grateful.
At length she said, “That book helped me with a project that was near and dear to my heart.”
Neville took this as her prompt for his face turned serious. “Ginny,” he began softly, “I felt just awful when Professor McGonagall told us that Madam Pomfrey thought you had been paralyzed in your fall. She said you were in a coma and no one knew when you would wake up.” He stopped as if remembering and drew in a shuddering breath which told Ginny that what he was about to say was hard for him to articulate. She waited patiently sensing that he needed time to gather his thoughts. “Everyone was so worried,” he continued eventually, his hands twisting in his lap. “You’ve always been such a good friend to me and the other Gryffindors that I felt–I felt compelled to find a way to help you. That night I couldn’t sleep, so I searched through the research materials I’d been studying with Professor Sprout. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find what I was looking for. The next morning I went to her with my idea and she agreed to help me. I knew that if you were truly paralyzed, you needed a specialized nerve restorative potion and I wanted to be the one to develop it using the medicinal plants I was growing and researching.” He stopped and scrubbed his palms on his knees before looking up at her.
“Don’t the healers at St. Mungo’s have such things at their disposal?” Ginny interrupted, puzzled.
Neville shook his head. “According to Madam Pomfrey, no. And if they did, they’d be so exorbitantly expensive no one would be able to use them,” he said matter-of-factly. “If something had been available, your healers would have prescribed them to you when you began your treatment.”
“Oh.”
“Anyway, Professor Sprout sent me to the library to gather information.” He stopped again, looking thoroughly disheartened. “There was nothing in the books I went through. Not a clue. I knew I had read about the potion I wanted to make somewhere in one of the books, but I couldn’t find what I was looking for. I got so discouraged culling through the Medicinal Herbology, the Medical Potions and even the regular Potions sections that I nearly gave up.” He levelled his gaze at her, his expression hopeful. “Was it… was it that way with you?”
Ginny nodded, fascinated by the similarities in their stories. “Yeah, I was frustrated, too, Neville. The library had never failed me before,” she said with a wry smile.
Neville smiled back. “Madam Pince was no help, either,” he continued with a shake of his head. “All she cared about was keeping her precious books from suffering any damage. The books I needed were on the top two shelves of the Potions section and she told me to re-shelve any books I took down by climbing a twenty-foot ladder and putting them back by hand! Do you know how heavy a six-inch thick book is that high up? Blimey!”
Ginny smiled and looked down at her where her feet stuck up under the blankets. “I must have climbed that bloody stepladder all the way to the top seventeen times!”
“I’m glad I’m not the only one,” Neville chuckled. “Anyway, I was running out of books when I found this one.” He tapped Uncommon Uses for Everyday Potions, grinning from ear to ear. “This little gem is a goldmine of information, Ginny. I could hardly believe that after all those other books this little thing had what I had been searching for all along; the information I needed to begin my experiments. I was so excited that after Madam Pince chased me out of the library I stayed up all night taking notes.”
“Did she give you a warning about how dangerous that book is?” Ginny asked.
“Yeah, she did,” he admitted sheepishly. “And she scared me with how she said it, too.”
“Did you know that if two people with two different purposes read that book it will show different things on each half of the book?” Ginny asked.
Neville looked fascinated. “It does? Can I see?”
“Give it here.” Ginny held out a hand, concentrating on what she wanted to read about and opened the book when he gave it to her. “Okay. Let’s see if it works like it did when Hermione and I read it together,” she said beckoning Neville to the bed. The two of them watched the pages carefully. Just as it had last time, Ginny’s side showed variations of the Draught of Peace while Neville’s page changed rapidly to show a very complicated potion containing ingredients Ginny had never heard of before. Neville’s eyes widened as he breathed, “Whoa! Two different subjects in the same book! No wonder she said it was dangerous!” He looked curiously at Ginny. “Do you mind my asking what type of potion Hermione was thinking about?”
Ginny grinned devilishly. “Love potions!”
Neville’s eyes widened. “You mean she wanted to seduce Ron?”
“Who else would she want as her boyfriend? I mean, this was right after we got back from the Christmas holidays when Ron was still hemming and hawing around trying to drum up the courage to formally ask her out. Poor Hermione was going spare with the frustration of it all. I mean, Ron wasn’t arguing with her so much any more, but he hadn’t gotten around to kissing her yet. So when we looked in this book together it gave her recipes for what she desired most. You should have seen the look on her face!” She shook her head as she closed the book and handed it back to Neville.
“Well, did she make any of the potions it showed her?” he asked expectantly.
“She didn’t need to. Ron asked her to the Valentine Ball and put an end to both of their frustrations!”
“I remember,” Neville said as he went back to his chair and put the little book back in his bag. He sat down and looked directly at Ginny. “Anyway, back to my findings. There are three plants that could be used to make up the base for my potion. When I asked Professor Sprout about them she said we only had two of the three in the greenhouses. I was thrilled that one of them was…”
“Mimbulus mimbletonia?” Ginny interjected, beginning to share his excitement.
“Actually, it’s the Stinksap the plant produces that I have to use!”
“You mean that slimy, stinking green stuff you squirted all over the train compartment that time?”
“That’s the stuff! The plant is so rare that no one knows much about it other than the Medieval Assyrian Healers used it for potions and poultices to cure grievous ailments.”
“Do you know what those were?” Ginny inquired.
“There’s only one reference to a specific nerve healing potion in a very old book Madam Pomfrey found in the Ministry library in London. A couple of other books from the St. Mungo’s library mentioned a calming draught and a blood restorative of some sort. The Uncommon Uses book describes how, among other things, boiled Stink Sap was used for healing war horses in the fifteenth century and that three hundred years later the American colonials soaked rags in a concoction of boiled Stink Sap, juniper berries, chaparral, and goldenseal and used them to cure deep bayonet wounds by stuffing the rags into the holes.”
“That’s rather revolting,” Ginny commented. Then she said, “I thought the American colonies didn’t have the kind of weather to successfully raise plants like the Mimbulus mimbletonia.”
Neville grinned. “The Salem witches who brewed the bayonet potion were ingenious herbologists. They had spells for creating all sorts of specific growing conditions and were highly successful in growing rare plants like the mimbletonia. They left valuable parchments detailing the brewing of their potions and one had a footnote in it about an experiment someone started for healing wounds that caused loss of feeling.
“Those were the ones Madam Pomfrey and I were most interested in. We experimented with several healing remedies and discovered that they really did work.”
“Do I dare ask how the two of you tested these remedies?” Ginny asked with a hint of trepidation in her voice.
“No, Ginny, don’t ask,” Neville told her with a shake of his head. “I’ve heard rumours of how Fred and George test their products and our method was similar.” Ginny shuddered at this. “Anyway, Madam Pomfrey is having me write up our findings for the English Healers Journal and from that we hope someone will be willing to fund further research into my work,” Neville finished proudly sitting up a little straighter.
“That’s wonderful, Neville,” Ginny exclaimed genuinely excited for him, “but what’s that have to do with me?”
“I’m getting to that,” he told her pulling a well-used notebook out of his bag. He leafed through it until he found the page he wanted. “I guess it was three weeks ago that it happened. I was working on three potions at once and lost track of time while I was boiling down a batch of sap. When I finally looked back at the cauldron the liquid inside had separated into three different layers, so I called Professor Sprout. She showed me how to save the separate liquids to use in our experiments. One trial led to another and three days ago I started the experiment that excited me so much this morning.” Neville stopped and puffed out his chest, the big grin spreading across his face changing his entire countenance. “Ginny, Madam Pomfrey, Professor Sprout and your healers think I’ve replicated an ancient, long-forgotten nerve restorative used during Merlin’s time! Whatever I did to the recipe is showing signs of certain modern healing properties which promotes nerve regrowth.”
Ginny was stunned. “Do you… do they… think I’ll get better if I take your restorative?” she breathed. This news was too good to be true and she hardly dared hope for a positive answer. “Will I… will I walk normally again?”
Neville came to stand at her bedside. “If all goes well with the replication of my experiment, your recovery will be accelerated enough that Madam Pomfrey and your healers think you’ll be walking unaided to the Hogwarts Express from the coaches in June. Is that the kind of news you were hoping for?”
Ginny’s heart swelled with emotion. “To be honest, Neville, I haven’t had much hope of ever walking normally again, even with everything that Healer Alexander and Healer Rodkey have been doing. They say that most of the nerves leading to my left leg were severed when the Bludgers broke my back and hips, so I’ve resigned myself to a life of very limited mobility,” she told him truthfully. “As it is, I’m overwhelmed that you wanted to help me. I really don’t know what to say except ‘thank you’.”
“You’re welcome, Ginny.”
She looked away out the window. “Tell me something… if the potion gives me my mobility back will others benefit from your research?”
“Yes, Ginny, they will.”
“I’m really glad.” She swiped at her eyes as she reached for his hand. “We’re lucky to have you, Neville, all of us who need your potion. You must be really proud of yourself.”
Neville studied their clasped hands, his grin sliding from his face to be replaced by the look of uncertainty Ginny had often seen there. “I guess it’s my turn to be honest,” he said. “Pride is a feeling I’ve rarely known. My Gran… she says… she tells everybody…”
“That you’re not like your father?”
“Yeah. That I’ll never be like him or Mum… that I’m a disappointment to her.”
“Look at me, Neville. You don’t have to be like your parents. You have talents that are uniquely yours. Tell me; at sixteen did they make a major medical discovery that could help thousands? No? Then you have done something that they never accomplished and you should be proud of that. You’ve found an area of interest that you can turn into your life’s work if you really want it to.”
“Professor Sprout said that, too. It’s what I want to do.”
“Good. I’m glad for you, Neville, and I hope your Gran will come to understand how important your experiments are.”
“I think she will once my article gets published.” He slipped a hand from hers and held it up before his face. “I can just see the title page, ‘Sixteen-year-old Develops Life-Changing Potion’.”
“That’ll get her attention.”
“I hope so. I’m getting really tired of having Gran tell people I’ll never measure up to my father.”
“Well, if your potion really does help me, she’ll have to change what she tells people,” Ginny said bracingly, “because I’m going to see that the wizarding community knows it was you who helped me. Now, when can I take this miracle cure?”
“Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall have owled your parents for their permission to use you as my test subject. Their replication experiments will be done in a day or two. If the results are what I expect them to be, I’ll let you know what they say.” Neville looked at his watch. “Hey, my lunchtime’s up, so I need to go.”
“Thank you, Neville. You have no idea how hopeful you’ve made me.”
Neville picked up his bag. “On the contrary, Ginny, I think I do because you’ve made me happy, too.”
“Good. Now off with you before your teacher gives you detention for being tardy.”
Neville hefted his bag and strode out the door, his head up and shoulders confidently back, as Ginny lay back on her pillows thinking, Walking, not dragging my body, is just one giant step away.
End of Part Twelve
Chapter 13: Chapter 13
New Year, New HopePart Thirteen
Ginny stood, supported by Madam Pomfrey and Healer Alexander, in the aisle between the rows of beds, ready to try walking on her own for the first time in months. She’d just proven to herself and her healers that the potion Neville had created had done what they thought it would by walking behind her walking frame with an even gait and only a small limp. Her parents, all her brothers, Neville, Hermione and Harry had applauded her efforts and called encouragement to her as she traversed the length of the hospital wing. They were now stationed along the aisle to lend a hand if she needed it.
Twelve hours earlier she’d taken Neville’s potion under Madam Pomfrey’s supervision and then had endured the agonizing hours of pain required by the re-growing and realignment of the network of nerves that had been severed or damaged by the Bludgers. Harry had insisted on sitting with her, saying that when he had been re-growing the bones in his arm during second year he had desperately wanted someone to distract him from his pain. Madam Pomfrey had huffed and sputtered about complete bed rest, but had finally relented under their steady insistence that Ginny would be better served by his company. Harry’s presence had helped her through the worst of it; his hand had never left hers and when the pain seemed almost unbearable he distracted her with imaginative stories he had made up as a little boy when Uncle Vernon had locked him in his cupboard.
She now took a fortifying breath and nodded at the two healers who let go of her. For the first time since the beginning of March she took a small step forward by herself with her left leg. She paused, getting used to the sensations of temperature, weight transfer and balance among other things. Two more steps followed before she wobbled and almost fell. Ron, who was closest, was at her side instantly offering his hand. She shook her head. “I can do this, big brother,” she murmured refusing to take it.
“I know you can, but I’ll be right here if you need me,” he said, his voice full of emotion.
Ginny glanced at him with a determined smile. “Thanks. I know you are,” she said and, looking away, again focused her attention on the doors at the opposite end of the room.
Her progress was slow and painful. She felt every protesting muscle and what seemed to be every newly-repaired neuron as she willed her hips and legs to cooperate. Finally, exhausted but triumphant, she fell into her mother’s tearful embrace as the cheers of those closest to her reverberated from the ceiling.
“Oh, Ginny. I’m so proud of you,” her mum murmured joyously into her hair. “And Neville,” she called, raising her head and extending a hand to him, “you’ve given Ginny her life back! Come here so I can thank you properly.”
Neville joined the hug somewhat reluctantly. “It wasn’t just my work, Mrs. Weasley,” he said in a somewhat muffled voice. “I had lots of help from Madam Pomfrey and Professor Sprout.”
“I know that, Neville, but it was your idea in the first place, your desire to help my daughter, that set everything in motion and for that I’m eternally grateful to you.”
Ginny let go of her mother with one hand and held it out to Neville. “Thank you,” was all she could say.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
“A swimming pool? Where do we get a swimming pool?” Ron demanded incredulously two days later. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville and Ginny were enjoying the last few minutes of the evening’s visiting hours before the four completely mobile Gryffindors had to go back to their common room for the night.
“We could use the prefects' bathroom,” Hermione suggested.
“That won’t work,” Ron stated negatively. “Too many of us take baths in the morning. There wouldn’t be any privacy.”
“Ron, we’ll be in there an hour before anybody gets up.”
“That’s what you think. Terry Boot had filled the tub before I walked in at half past five this morning!”
“Well, we can turn off the bubbles in all the taps and put up an ‘Out of Order’ sign on the door.”
“Every morning? You’ve got to be kidding! No one’s going to believe that bathroom is out of order every morning, Hermione.”
“All right, then, we’ll just have to share.”
“No way. There’s not enough room. You heard Mrs. Chang this morning. We’ll need just as much room in the pool as we need in the room downstairs.”
“So we’ll expa–”
“Would you two stop it? We’re getting nowhere with you bickering like this,” Harry interjected, sounding frustrated.
“Sorry, Harry,” Ron mumbled, glancing between him and Ginny who sat listening to the sparring match with an amused look on her face.
“Here’s my solution,” Harry volunteered. “Why not conjure a swimming pool in that unused classroom down the hall? It’s right next to the teachers’ bathroom on this floor, so it would be easy to connect the pool to the existing pipes.”
“Spoken like a true Muggle pumbler,” quipped Ron.
“It’s plumber!” Harry and Hermione corrected together. Ginny snickered behind her hand earning herself a glare from Ron.
“Whatever,” Ron groused.
Ginny spoke up for the first time since the conversation began. “That sounds like a good idea, actually.” All eyes swung toward her bed. “I wouldn’t have so far to go, then.”
“Shouldn’t we try to talk to Professor McGonagall about our idea?” Neville asked.
“No, I think Mrs. Chang was going to,” Harry said. “And anyway, I think Ginny doesn’t start Tai Chi again until Monday. And then, only if there’s a pool available.”
“Harry’s right,” Ginny said. “The only way I can participate in Tai Chi is if I have a means of support and lots of resistance to work against: the water in the pool provides both.”
Neville looked at her curiously. “Why?” he asked.
“Well, if I lose my balance, I fall slower in water. It’s already supporting me, so I’ll have time to catch my breath and prepare for a softer landing. As for the exercise, it’s harder to move in water than it is in air,” she explained. “But at the moment, I’m not going to be doing anything on Monday unless I somehow come up with a bathing costume.” She waved a hand toward the end of the bed where her feet made little hills under the blankets. “I can’t go to Hogsmeade like this. I don’t have the strength yet.”
An uncomfortable silence settled over the group for a moment before Hermione inquired, “Have you owled your mum to send your bathing costume from last summer to you?”
Ginny glanced sideways at Harry as she said, “No, I haven’t because it’s a two piece bikini and the top doesn’t fit me any more. I grew.” She felt her face heat up as the words left her mouth and she shared a meaningful look with Hermione.
Hermione turned away snickering behind her hand as Ron cried, “Ginny!” and Harry’s face turned scarlet.
“Well, it’s true,” Ginny retorted, glaring at her brother.
“We don’t want all the gory details,” he said defensively.
“Well, maybe Harry does,” Neville teased, waggling his eyebrows at his friend.
Ginny chose to ignore their remarks, turning to Hermione who had recovered from her giggling fit. “Are there any spells in your Transfiguration books that could change some of my clothes into a one piece suit? There’s nothing in Grade Five.”
Hermione looked immensely pleased as she answered, “Yes, there are, as a matter of fact. Let me look them up. There’s an entire chapter covering the transfiguration of clothing. We covered it at the beginning of the year.” She dove beneath her chair for her book bag as Harry and Ron rolled their eyes. She must have caught them because she commented, “You two have your bags.”
The two boys reluctantly reached for their Transfiguration books and half-heartedly began paging through the proper chapter as Neville rose and bid Ginny good night. Five minutes later, Ron poked Harry asking, “Do you think this is what they want?”
“What have you found?” Ginny queried from where she sat reading over Hermione’s shoulder.
“Hopefully something that will last longer than an hour without being renewed,” Harry commented. “The one I found seemed to be used only for emergencies when temporary cover was needed.”
Hermione shot Harry a funny look as she asked Ron, “What page?”
He peered at his book. “One hundred seventy-nine. It’s the one on the bottom.”
With a squeal of delight Hermione exclaimed, “This is it! I remember this one. It’s perfect. Thanks, Ron...and it says here the transformation lasts two hours or more depending upon the magical strength of the witch or wizard casting it. Let’s try it.” She whipped out her wand and pointed it at her scarf which lay on the floor next to her cloak and bag. Ginny watched in amazement as the knitting began to distort and reshape itself, finally ending in what could only be described as a short sleeved, Gryffindor-striped Muggle leotard.
“That’s not right,” Hermione complained, holding up the suit. “Ginny doesn’t need to look as if she stepped out of a nineteen-twenties catalogue.” Looking at Ron again she asked, “How do we reverse or cancel the spell?”
“The counter spell is ‘Finite Incantatem’,” Ron supplied after Harry whispered the answer loud enough for the girls to hear.
It took Hermione just two more tries before she finally held up the finished bathing costume.
“Is this what you had in mind?” she asked Ginny.
“Yes! That’s exactly it, Hermione,” Ginny exclaimed, beaming at the red and gold striped racing suit. “I won’t fall out of the top of this.” She giggled at the sight of her brother and Harry turning pink yet again. “Now it’s my turn to learn that spell.”
It took Ginny a few more tries than it had Hermione to master the spell since it was non-verbal and she had never practiced a spell just by thinking it. However, she eventually ended up with an acceptable costume. As she held up the garment for the others to admire she asked, “How about you, Ron? Are you going to try this spell, too? You should know it if you’ve covered it in Transfiguration.”
“I...erm...well,” he sputtered.
Harry poked Ron with his elbow. “Neither of us did very well on that spell last October,” he admitted looking sheepish and trying very hard not to look at Hermione who was shaking her head with a hand over her eyes.
“Well, let’s see you try anyway,” Ginny challenged looking directly at Harry.
Harry stared back and Ginny knew he was caving when a grin threatened to split his face and ruin his concentration. I can out-stare him any day, she thought as he broke eye contact and took the handkerchief she held out to him.
Ten seconds later Ron’s jaw nearly hit the floor as Harry held up a pair of brightly coloured men’s swim trunks. “Where...why...how did you learn that?”
“Professor McGonagall made me do that spell a hundred times the first day I was in detention with her doing my make up assignments,” Harry admitted quietly. Ginny raised an eyebrow and glanced pointedly at Hermione. Both of them realized that this was the first time that Harry had spoken of his forced academic confinement in their head of house’s office each afternoon.
“So now he tells me,” Ron moaned. He opened his mouth to add more, but was distracted by the hospital door opening.
“Good evening, everyone,” Mrs. Chang greeted them as she came to stand at the foot of Ginny’s bed. “It’s nearly curfew, but I’d like to show you something before Harry, Ron and Hermione have to go back to Gryffindor Tower.” She paused and looked directly at Ginny. “Are you up for a little stroll, my dear?”
Ginny nodded and Summoned her walking frame from its cupboard.
Mrs. Chang led the four out of the hospital and down the corridor toward the teachers’ bathrooms. It was hard going for Ginny, who needed to rest frequently in spite of all the progress she had made in the last few weeks. They finally stopped in front of the door to the empty classroom Ginny and the others had discussed earlier.
“I met Neville on the way here and sent him to fetch Luna from her OWL study group,” Mrs. Chang told them when the four asked why they weren’t going in.
“Mind you,” she cautioned a few minutes later when Neville and Luna were standing at the back of the group quietly gasping for breath after their rush from the library, “this is still a work in progress. However, when it’s done the school will have a wonderful place for injured students and the Quidditch teams to use for physiotherapy and specialized conditioning.”
Ginny and the others waited expectantly as she drew her wand and unlocked the door.
“Ginny, you go first,” Harry whispered in her ear. He gave her a little push toward the door and followed close behind as she pushed her walking frame ahead of her through the arched doorway.
She stopped at the top of the ramp leading down into the room, her mouth hanging open in wonder. As the others gathered around her she managed to breathe, “This is all for us?”
“And anyone whom Madam Pomfrey grants permission to use it,” Mrs. Chang told her. “Go on down, Ginny. We all want to see what’s here.”
Ginny shook her head. “Not just yet. I can see better from up here.”
The others agreed, gazing in amazement at the magnificent physiotherapy-training room stretching in front of them. The most prominent feature of the room was an enormous L-shaped swimming pool. Although only partially completed, it was beautiful as well as practical: directly in front of the ramp, the long leg of the ‘L’ extended away from them toward the back wall and seemed to be the shallow end of the pool. In the corner closest to the ramp, Ginny could see a set of circular access steps that led down to the floor of the pool in which a partially finished Hogwarts crest had been laid in tile. She pointed to her left to a long metal bar which was attached to the decorative tile work at the top of the pool wall.
“What’s the bar for?” she asked.
“It’s a grab bar, Ginny,” Hermione informed her from behind. “It reminds me of the stainless steel bars you see in Muggle bathrooms for the disabled.”
“That makes sense,” Luna commented, “especially since this pool isn’t going to be used for underwater frog games.”
Perpendicular to the bar, at each end of the pool, were built-in ledges that Ginny supposed would be used for resting or group gatherings. A barrier made of the same metal tubing as the grab bar separated the shallow end from the shorter deep end which extended half-way into the room to Ginny’s right. In this area of the pool black tiles had been laid out in straight lines.
Again, Hermione supplied the answer. “Those lines are probably going to be used as swimming lanes. Eventually, there should be floating lane dividers spanning that end of the pool paralleling the black tiles, like they have in Muggle swimming pools.”
“Quite correct, Hermione,” Mrs. Chang smiled approvingly.
“What will Ginny use the swimming lanes for?” Neville inquired.
“I suppose that Madam Pomfrey and her healers will eventually have her swimming laps to build up her stamina. I’m sure that any of you who wish to can join her,” she told them.
“That won’t be for a while,” Ginny muttered more to herself than anyone else. She was beginning to tire and leaned heavily on the walking frame.
Luna now pointed to a wooden structure to their right at the bottom of the ramp that looked very similar to the cubicles in the girls’ lavatories. “Are those changing rooms?” she inquired and upon receiving an affirmative answer she commented, “I just hope Moaning Myrtle doesn’t discover this pool any time soon.”
Behind her Harry muttered, “Here, here.”
The area farthest to their right had caught Neville’s and Ron’s attention. The floor here, instead of being textured stone, was covered with thickly padded carpet. Spaced evenly around the three surrounding walls and in the middle of the carpeted area were tangled piles of white-painted, square metal beams, stacks of black-painted blocks and a pile of bench-like padded seats.
Before anyone could inquire further Harry asked, “Will we all get access to the weight machines and free weights?”
“By all means, Harry. I’m told that part of your training with one of your other professors is going to include weight training once everything is set up.”
“Wicked!” was all he seemed capable of saying at the moment and Ginny knew he and her brother were extremely pleased by the prospect.
The last area had everyone stumped. Two bathtub-sized metal pails leaned against the far wall next to some pipe fittings that were sticking out of the floor. Mrs. Chang explained that when set up the bathtubs would be used as whirlpool physiotherapy baths for students with specific injuries.
“We have much of this equipment at St. Mungo’s,” she explained. “As advanced as most wizarding healing methods are, it is to the patient’s benefit to use a little Muggle technology every once in a while.” She glanced at her watch. “Curfew in ten minutes,” she announced. “You’d best be getting back to your common rooms. I’ll escort Ginny back to the hospital wing. Shall we go?”
The group reluctantly left the magnificent room, all talking at once. For her part, though, Ginny remained silent. She couldn’t believe the expense and opulence that had been designed into the room and she could hardly wait to begin using the new facility.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Ginny awakened on Monday morning much earlier than she usually did at the start of the school week. She was filled with a sense of excitement that wouldn’t allow her to go back to sleep so she rose and began her morning routine. That done, she selected an old t-shirt of Bill’s to transfigure into a bathing costume thinking that if the spell wore off before she had a chance to get changed, at least she would be covered. She was just knotting her dressing gown over her suit when Madame Pomfrey came out of her office, still in her own night things, to give Ginny her morning potions.
“You’re up early this morning,” she commented, handing Ginny the firs of several goblets.
Ginny took a sip and made a face. “Why do you always give me this one first? It’s terrible!” she complained. She held her nose and swallowed the rest.
Madame Pomfrey just smiled knowingly and handed her the next potion cup. The liquid within was bitter but more palatable than the first potion. It was different from the other potions she recognized on the tray and she questioned Madame Pomfrey about it. The Hogwarts matron explained that it was a nerve-strengthening mixture that supported Ginny’s regenerated nerves. This made sense and Ginny said nothing more about the new potion.
Luna showed up as Ginny was finishing the last of her potions. Her school robes were unzipped and hung askew from her shoulders revealing a garish bathing costume in shades of brown, olive, orange and yellow paisley. A tiny bag hung from her neck by a long cord and she carried her enormous book bag which was nearly as big as Hermione’s.
“Good morning, Ginny,” she called as the hospital door thumped closed behind her.
“Morning, Luna. You’re the first one here,” Ginny said taking in Luna’s choice of attire. “What’s in the bag?”
“My uniform,” Luna said looking down at her robes. “The house-elves did such a nice job pressing my robes I hadn’t the heart to wad them up and stuff them into the bag for shrinking.”
That made sense to Ginny. “Hermione would appreciate that sentiment,” she remarked gathering a last-minute change of clothes, her towel and her wand and pointing her walking frame toward the door.
“Ready?”
“Of course.”
The two shuffled silently down the corridor toward the P-T Room as Ginny had begun to think of it. They had almost reached the teachers’ lavatory when Luna remarked, “I’m really glad we’re the first to get here. There’s a spell I’d like to perform on all the pipes.”
“What will it do?” Ginny asked, her curiosity peaking.
“Oh, it’s just a little spell to exclude a certain ghost from the new pool,” Luna said vaguely.
“You mean Moaning Myrtle?”
“Precisely. She’s been popping into the Ravenclaw bathroom at the most inconvenient times lately and has really made a pest of herself. I don’t want to have her bother us when we need to concentrate so thoroughly.”
Ginny shot Luna a look. “There’s more to it than that. Spit it out.”
“Oh, all right,” Luna said in a rush. “It has to do with certain boys’...erm...body parts.”
Ginny blushed at the same time Luna did. “Do you mean to tell me that she’s been spying on the boys in the bath?”
“Uh-huh. More specifically, several certain boys, two of whom you know quite well.”
Ginny groaned. “She’s been spying on Ron and Michael in the prefects’ bathroom, hasn’t she?”
“Yes. And I think she spied on Harry two years ago.”
“How do you know that?”
“Myrtle mentioned it once when she was pestering us. It’s really quite annoying, you know, to have her pop up like that when we’re having a lovely discussion about the latest Rune translation we were given for homework. It makes the entire conversation go down the toilet.”
The remark struck Ginny as unbearably funny and she had to stop walking to control her giggles. Luna went on ahead and gave the door the password. She was already waving her wand over the pool as Ginny strolled down the ramp.
Ginny watched in fascination as Luna performed her spell over and over, going to each wall of the pool, both whirlpool baths, the water fountain, and even walking into the cubicles to cast it over each of the toilets in the changing area.
“There! That’s done,” Luna smiled triumphantly emerging from the last cubicle.
“I’ll bet she’s going to be hopping mad you did this,” Ginny remarked dryly. “C’mon. Let’s explore.”
Luna stuck her wand behind her ear and together they made their way over to the carpeted area where someone had assembled the piles of metal tubing, benches, cables, and black rectangles into what she guessed was something called “exercise equipment.” Both Harry and Ron had talked animatedly about it yesterday as if these machines were the answer to their “upper body strength” problems, whatever that was.
Curious, Ginny stood behind a machine that had a long horizontal bar suspended slightly above eye level by a cable and pulled. It was harder to do than she thought. Surprised, she let go and the machine clanged loudly as the bar rapidly retracted toward the machine.
Luna burst into giggles.
“What’s so funny?” Ginny demanded.
“The look on your face!” Luna exclaimed holding her stomach.
“Thanks,” Ginny grumbled, happy to see that Mrs. Chang and Harry, Ron and Hermione had finally arrived.
“Have a seat over here,” Mrs. Chang directed, pointing toward the shallow end of the pool. “Ginny dear, if you’d like to use the steps please feel free to do so.”
Ginny smiled gratefully and found a seat next to Harry. As she sat down a strange feeling engulfed her. Looking around, everything seemed normal except Harry. He looked rather guilty about something. All the others were busy dangling their feet in the warm water or, in Ron’s case, trying to splash Hermione. Harry, on the other hand, was hastily stowing his wand in the back pocket of his swim trunks.
“Harry, did you just cast a spell on me?” Ginny hissed at her boyfriend.
Harry’s ears began turning pink. “It’s just a simple buoyancy spell,” he whispered back. “For later,” he added glancing uncertainly at the water.
Ginny glared at Harry. She couldn’t decide whether she was more perturbed at Harry for hexing her or for presuming that she was too unstable on her feet to stand up on her own in the pool. However, before she could think of a suitable comeback Neville plopped down between them and pointed to the middle of the pool where Mrs. Chang sat on a floating platform.
“I’ll deal with you later, Potter,” Ginny hissed before turning her full attention on their instructor.
Mrs. Chang began their session with their usual relaxation exercises. Ginny was happy to discover that the meditation she had been doing in the hospital wing with Healer Rodkey at the start of their daily sessions was similar to what they were doing now. Within minutes she felt ready to try anything Mrs. Chang wanted her to.
They moved into the pool and went over to the long metal bar as instructed. Just walking over there Ginny could feel the pull of the water on her legs and slowed her pace to make the most of it. This part of the lesson was fun.
“It’s almost like ballet,” Hermione commented to Ginny and Luna as they practiced slow kicks and circle-type leg motions while holding onto the bar.
“What’s ballet?” Ginny and Luna asked at the same time.
“A type of Muggle dance,” Hermione supplied. “If you point your toes and keep your knees straight like this,“ she executed the move they were doing stiff-legged and pointed-toed to demonstrate, “you’ll be doing what ballerinas call barre exercises.”
Luna and Ginny looked at each other, giggled quietly while glancing at Mrs. Chang and tried it. The move felt weird and Ginny wasn’t too sure she liked the tight, restricted feel of the motion. However, she felt more resistance from both the water and her muscles and decided she’d ask Madam Pomfrey about it when she got back to the hospital wing.
“All right, everyone,” Mrs. Chang called, “come to the centre and spread out.” She waited for the group to comply with her direction, Ginny taking a position between Ron and Harry. “Take a moment to centre yourselves...now follow me.”
She led them through a series of slow, fluid movements that really tested Ginny’s body. She felt clumsy and not at all herself; try as she might, she couldn’t fall over. Something seemed to be holding her up!
The spell Harry cast on me! Ginny thought furiously. Potter, what did you do to me again? she demanded, sending her thought at Harry.
A buoyancy spell, replied his cocky voice in her head.
Well, take it off!
O.K. came his cocky reply and with a big splash, Ginny lost her balance and sank to the bottom of the pool.
Pandemonium reigned as she surfaced. Ron had cornered Harry and was almost belligerently demanding to know why Ginny had fallen.
“That’s enough, Ron!” she said hotly pushing her wet hair out of her face. “There’s no need to jump all over Harry for something I’m equally responsible for.”
Ron raised his eyebrows. “Huh?”
Ginny squeezed water from her hair as she continued, “I demanded that Harry lift the hex he put on me before we entered the pool. He did what I asked and I fell.” She frowned at her brother as she said, “It wasn’t very long ago that you and Fred and George thought it was funny to throw me into the pond at home. You laughed when sank to the bottom then. Why not now?”
Ron stepped away from Harry, a stricken look clouding his features. “But that was before you got hurt,” he said in a strangled voice. “I couldn’t bear to have you bedridden again.”
Ginny’s anger seeped away at the concern her brother was so obviously showing. She laid a hand on his arm as she told him, “Well, I’m not hurt, just good and wet, and a little water never hurt anyone.”
“Well said, Ginny,” Mrs. Chang commented from where she stood on the periphery of the group. “Now we all know that Ginny won’t drown if she falls over, so let’s finish up here and get you changed and down to the Great Hall for breakfast on time. Shall we sit on the ledge again to wrap up?”
They all agreed and swam over to the ledge where they had begun the session.
“I want your honest impressions of how our time together went today. Any volunteers?”
Ginny raised her hand before Hermione had a chance. “I really liked what we did today,” she began. “At least for me the water tested my body while giving me an environment I know will support me. Unfortunately, due to Harry’s Buoyancy Spell, I still don’t know definitively whether or not I can stay on my feet during centre exercises.” She flashed Harry an accusatory look as she finished.
“Actually, Ginny, the spell was my idea,” Mrs. Chang told her. “Don’t blame anyone but me for that spell. I asked Harry to cast it.”
“Why?”
“To help you build your confidence, but I see now that my good intentions backfired on me.”
“Do you do that to your patients at St. Mungo’s?” Neville asked a mixture of anger and curiosity showing on his face.
“Only on those who understand and willingly consent to have it done, Neville. Your parents are not cleared for the therapy pool at the hospital, so you have no cause to be alarmed.”
“Thank you,” he murmured sheepishly. “By the way, I think I found muscles Tonks hasn’t tested yet.”
This comment caused everyone to chuckle. Luna spoke up next followed by positive comments from Hermione, Ron and Harry. As time for breakfast was quickly approaching, the six exited the pool and hurried to change out of their wet things. Ginny was finished first and slowly pushed her walking frame up the ramp to the door to wait for the others. She felt pleasantly tired and definitely ready for breakfast and a nap.
A hand placed gently on the small of her back brought Ginny from her thoughts. “I’m sorry about dumping you in the water,” Harry murmured softly in her ear, his breath sending tendrils of excitement down her spine at the nearness of his proximity as the others joined them on the landing.
She smiled up at him. “Apology accepted, Harry. Believe it or not, it was kinda fun getting dunked by my boyfriend.”
He pushed the door open to let her out. “Good. I was hoping you wouldn’t be angry with me.”
She stepped through, quickly followed by the others. As the door closed behind them Harry’s hand travelled further up her back and she turned to give him a quick kiss on the cheek even though Ron was watching. She never had the chance; Moaning Myrtle suddenly zoomed up to the group demanding, “What’s in that room and why can’t I get into it?”
“What’s keeping you out, Myrtle?” Hermione asked.
The ghost glared at her. “There’s a plumbing blocking spell on all the pipes going into that room for starters!” Myrtle whined. “And another spell on the walls so that I can’t get in! See!”
The six friends watched with barely suppressed giggles as Myrtle tried vainly to penetrate the wall next to the P-T Room door several times, finally giving up and facing her audience again. She stamped her foot as she cried angrily, “I want to see what’s in there and somebody had better let me in!” Her voice, now a high-pitched screech, caused six pairs of hands to cover the ears of their owners. “Nobody likes me. I’m not good enough for that rooooooom!” With that, she sailed through the wall into the teachers’ restroom leaving a stunned group of students staring at each other.
When the corridor quit echoing several moments later, Ron said in amusement, “That’s bloody brilliant!”
“Ron!” “Language!” Hermione and Ginny exclaimed at the same time.
He ignored their admonishments. “Well...who finally figured out how to keep that menace out?”
Luna smiled shyly. “I did. She can’t get into the Ravenclaw bathrooms to spy on us either.”
“We need those spells in the Prefect and Gryffindor bathrooms,” Harry remarked dryly as his ears took on a distinctly pink tinge. “I’m tired of trying to cover myself every time she pops out of the toilets. I swear she comes looking for me at least twice a month!” He looked hopefully at Luna. “Will you teach us those spells?”
“Sure, but not today. We might get in trouble if she associates her exclusion with us,” Luna said glancing around the group. “I’d rather not have to negotiate getting into Professor Dumbledore’s office any time soon. The gargoyle doesn’t like me much.”
The others agreed to meet in the Room of Requirement in a few days’ time and they had just begun the walk toward the Entrance Hall when Ron’s stomach let out a particularly loud grumble. His friends began teasing him about it as the group, including Ginny, walked right past the hospital doors.
They reached the stairs and Ginny handed her walking frame to a very surprised Ron. “Here, big brother, make yourself useful,” she smiled sweetly and turned to Harry. “You’ll carry me down if I can’t make it all the way?”
Harry grinned. “With pleasure.”
She reached the bottom without incident and took the frame back from Ron. It felt good to be in a different part of the castle and even better when the whole of Gryffindor House and a good measure of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw stood up cheering as she took a seat with her housemates.
“Welcome back, Miss Weasley,” Professor Dumbledore called when the din subsided to a smattering of applause.
Ginny looked around the Great Hall as she reached for her glass of pumpkin juice. “It’s good to be back,” she murmured as she watched her brother and Harry wolf down their food while Hermione buried herself in the Daily Prophet. As the meal progressed, the hall began to thin out as students left for their first lesson of the day. Many of them stopped by the Gryffindor table to welcome Ginny personally and to find out when she’d be coming back to class.
“That’s yet to be determined,” she said over and over again to her well-wishers. “I still have a long way to go.”
A side benefit of Ginny’s presence was that Neville was getting as much attention as she was.
“Heard you discovered the potion that cured Ginny.”
“Way to go, Longbottom!”
“You’re going to be famous!”
“Keep up the good work!” were among the many appreciative comments that caused Neville to blush with pleasure and smile shyly as he accepted each one.
Finally, it was only Ginny and Colin Creevey left at the table.
“Do you want someone to accompany you back to the hospital, Ginny? You look tired.”
Ginny nodded and stifled a huge yawn. “Won’t you be late to your first lesson?”
Colin glanced at his watch. “Already am, so a few more minutes won’t matter much. Professor McGonagall will understand I think. And even if she doesn’t her detentions are better than Snape’s any day.”
“That’s for certain,” Ginny agreed, pushing away from the table. Colin handed her the walking frame, then picked up his book bag.
Ascending the stairs was much more work and twice as tiring as descending them; Ginny had to pause to take frequent rests as her energy reserves gave way to an almost overwhelming tiredness. It was only with Colin’s distracting banter and words of encouragement that she made it to the top of the marble staircase. As they turned into the hospital wing corridor Colin gulped and laid a hand on Ginny’s arm causing her to look up.
“Uh-oh!” they intoned together for Madam Pomfrey was striding toward them with a thunderous look on her face.
“Ginevra Weasley! Did I give you permission to go to the Great Hall after training this morning?” the Hogwarts matron enquired. She stared pointedly at her patient.
“No, ma’am,” Ginny said trying hard to not look guilty. “You didn’t. I–I was feeling so good after training that I walked past the infirmary without thinking.”
Madam Pomfrey frowned at her for another few seconds. “Ginny, I’m proud of you,” she said unexpectedly breaking into a pleased smile. “I’m very glad you went down to the Great Hall for breakfast with your friends. It shows how much progress you’re really making.” She turned to Colin. “Mr. Creevey, thank you for assisting Ginny up the stairs. Five house points to you. Now you’d best be going to your first lesson,” she directed as she moved to stand next to Ginny. “If your teacher needs a written excuse for your tardiness, please let me know and I’ll be happy to write you one.” Colin waved and sprinted back down the corridor toward the Transfiguration department.
“Well, young lady,” Madam Pomfrey said as Ginny leaned against her, “you’ve had an eventful morning. Was it worth it?”
Ginny nodded tiredly. “It was. Yes, it was.”
“Now let’s get you into bed because I have a feeling that the entirety of Gryffindor tower is going to want to visit this afternoon and you need to be rested.”
Ginny didn’t protest; she obediently climbed into bed, swallowed her mid-morning potions and was asleep before her head hit the pillow.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Two nights later, sore from a day filled with exercise, more homework than she could ever remember, a visit from Healer Alexander–who had made her contort herself into some seemingly impossible postures in order to improve her balance and flexibility, not to mention the none-too-gentle routine massage at the end of their session– and a meeting with her OWL study group, Ginny lay in bed wishing she were sitting on a sofa in the Gryffindor common room talking with Harry. In the past, on nights like this one when she was too tired or emotional to sleep, talking with Harry had helped her relax enough to become sleepy. Somehow, they instinctively knew when the other needed to talk or be held or just needed some quiet company and they would each creep down their respective staircases and meet in front of the fire. That closeness was what she was craving at the moment and unconsciously she opened her mind to him.
Harry, I need you. I wish we could be together right now.
Much to her surprise, his anxious voice came to her. Ginny, is that you? Are you all right?
She relaxed into her pillows a little as she replied, Yes, Harry. I’m all right, I reckon. I just can’t get to sleep. I was remembering how nice it was when we would watch the embers in the common room fireplace together.
Do you want me to grab my map and cloak and come down there? His concern for her touched her deeply. I can be there in five minutes.
No, I don’t think so, Harry. Talking with you like this is almost as relaxing as leaning against you while you run your fingers through my hair.
She could hear his longing for her as he said, You know I’ll come down if you want me to. We could sit on your bed and talk until you fall asleep.
I don’t want you to get in trouble, Harry, she said hastily. With you in my head like this it’s easy to imagine we’re by the fire. She pulled the covers up closer to her chin and closed her eyes. Do you ever wonder why we can talk like this, at this distance? I didn’t know we could.
I didn’t either, he said truthfully. I talked with Professor Dumbledore a little more about our connection last Friday. I think it’s growing stronger, but don’t understand why. Just a few months ago we had to hold hands when you found me in my cupboard after I blew up the Potions classroom. Remember? Now look at us…we’re half a castle apart!
I remember. What did Dumbledore have to say?
He thinks it has something to do with the necklaces you made us. Since they’re connected through your spells, we’re connected through them. Does that make sense?
Ginny pondered this, her sleepy brain just active enough to agree with his theory. He’s probably right. Do you think the connection is a benefit or a liability?
Harry was silent for a while. You know, it’s probably both depending on the situation…He stopped talking, then queried, Ginny...Ginny?
Ginny yawned hugely, unable to keep her mind on their conversation any longer. ‘Nigh…’arry…love you…
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
True to Madam Pomfrey’s prediction, a steady stream of new visitors kept Ginny company after lessons each afternoon following her return to the Great Hall for breakfast. Her classmates provided her with homework help and all the latest gossip. The Chasers from the Gryffindor Quidditch team stopped in regularly after practice to talk strategy and her OWL study group continued to meet in the hospital wing each evening now that the exams were only two weeks away. As always, Hermione was present, revising for her own exams–sometimes with Ron and Harry, others not–and with her encouragement the girls thought they just might pass their examinations–even Potions!
As May marched steadily toward June, Ginny often accompanied her friends to the Great Hall for breakfast after Tai Chi in the P-T room. Although she was gaining strength and stamina along with her ever-growing confidence, she still wasn’t allowed to go back to class yet; Madam Pomfrey was afraid Ginny might be tempted to lug a bag as full of books as heavy as Hermione’s to every lesson and the Hogwarts healer was adamant that her patient not overtax her body with such a tremendous weight–even with the walking frame for stability–until after her release. In addition, the location of Gryffindor Tower made going back to her dormitory for the remainder of the term wishful thinking; the number of staircases the students living there were required to climb made Madam Pomfrey inflexible in her opinion that Ginny was better off sleeping in her bed in the hospital wing rather than climbing ‘nearly to heaven’ every night. Despite these restrictions and thanks to her time in the P-T room, both in the pool and working out on the weight machines, she gave up her walking frame and graduated to a walking stick two weeks before OWLs were to take place.
“You could be Mad-eye’s little sister,” Ron joked one afternoon from his perch at the foot of Ginny’s bed.
“Oh, ha, ha, ha. I’m so amused,” she shot back, whacking him playfully in the shins with her stick as she limped past.
“Hey! That hurts!”
“Don’t compare me to Mad-eye again. Have I made myself clear?”
Ron grimaced and rubbed his legs. “Abundantly.”
Reality began creeping into Ginny’s awareness of the outside world as she continued to breakfast with her friends. Hermione had always brought her copy of the Daily Prophet into the hospital wing, but with so much on her mind, Ginny had not inquired about what was happening outside Hogwarts. Now that she was back at the Gryffindor table where not only Hermione but most of the sixth and seventh years took the paper, she became aware of just how much the war against Voldemort had escalated. From what she heard each morning as she traversed the Great Hall to her seat at the Gryffindor table, the Death Eaters had become much more aggressive than they had been in prior months. In just one week there had been three sightings of the Dark Mark alone and the deaths had touched the students at Hogwarts to varying degrees. Three Ravenclaws withdrew due to parental disappearances, a Muggleborn first year Gryffindor lost her entire family to an attack and a second year girl in Hufflepuff lost an older brother while he was helping his parents defend the family’s home. The papers also reported five Dementor attacks in shocking detail and several gruesome Muggle murders which were baffling both the magical and Muggle communities. It had been reported that one of the murder victims had been the Muggle Prime Minister’s former personal secretary and the papers, both Muggle and wizarding, had been full of sensational speculation; some stories viewed the victim as someone with loose morals and a tainted past while others lauded a life filled with a generous spirit and an integrity worthy of the high office the man had attained.
Other whispered conversations hinted at the number of followers Voldemort was accruing. Ginny heard and even discussed with her friends whom amongst the sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts might be helping to swell the numbers of Death Eaters. Most of her friends selected the Slytherins, but they also passed along nasty rumours that many of the unpopular students had joined up as well. It was at times like these that Ginny wished something just drastic enough to unite the houses would happen.
Despite the intrusion of the war, her endless hours of revising and training in the P-T room and her constant stream of visitors, what thrilled Ginny most was Madam Pomfrey granting her permission to sit in the stands with Hermione for the final Quidditch match of the season. The contest was between Gryffindor and Slytherin as they played for the Quidditch Cup. The two girls left the Great Hall immediately after breakfast on the morning of the match so Ginny would have enough time to climb to her seat without being jostled. It was good just sitting and watching the stadium fill up; the stands were pleasantly quiet at first, which allowed Ginny to get used to some of the negative feelings bouncing around in her mind. Hermione was quite concerned and offered her support by encouraging Ginny to talk through her frightening thoughts. By the time the Gryffindor supporters had gathered in their section, Ginny was feeling happier and ready for Madam Hooch to toss the Quaffle.
The game was brutal from the start. The Slytherin players seemed bent on capturing the Quidditch Cup no matter how many penalties were called against them. Urquhart was called for blurting twice and Vaisey and Pritchard were both penalized several times for blagging; the last time, Vaisey was nearly thrown out of the game because he came away with a handful of twigs from Katy’s broom tail.
Hermione was rather concerned. “Will the loss of all those twigs affect the flight of her broom?” she asked Ginny.
Ginny shook her head and focused Harry’s Omnioculars on the Gryffindor Chaser. “I don’t think so, but she’ll want to do an overhaul on it as soon as the game’s over. It looks to me like she’s not having any trouble with it,” she said.
The Gryffindor team, however much it was abused by its opponents, rose to the occasion and pulled off several spectacular moves that gave the team enough points so that when Harry caught the Snitch both the match and the Quidditch Cup were in his possession. Ginny cheered along with everyone else in her section, but declined to join the headlong rush of housemates as the stands emptied onto the field.
“Go on, Hermione,” she told her friend with a wink. “Go give Ron that congratulatory hug you’re longing to give him. That last save he made was amazing and he needs to know it.”
Hermione didn’t need any further encouragement and left to make her way down to the pitch. For her part, Ginny kept her promise to Madam Pomfrey and began her slow descent to the lawn and then back up to the castle.
She entered the hospital wing humming happily, ready to plop her tired body onto her bed to begin revising for her History of Magic OWL. She never did get to look over her books, though, because the Hogwarts Healer met her at the door, a huge smile taking years off her face.
“I take it Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup again this year, Ginny?” she inquired.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. Your team has taken quite the beating this season and it’s good to know something pleasant has come out of all the worrying everyone has been doing.” Madam Pomfrey paused, and then said, “Let’s give your house something else to celebrate. Ginny, I gave you permission to go to the match this morning to test whether or not you were ready to go back to your dormitory and participate in the last week of lessons before your exams. You have passed that test and are hereby discharged from the hospital wing.”
Ginny stared at the woman she had come to know so well. Finally, she launched herself at the healer crying, “Thank you so much!”
“Now, Ginny, I want you to be careful. You must take your potions when you’re supposed to. I’ll send round a note to inform you of your appointment times with Healer Rodkey, too. She still wants to see you three times a week until the end of term and I need to coordinate both your schedules. Now go collect your things and give your housemates something more to cheer about.”
Ginny gave Madam Pomfrey one last hug and gleefully gathered her belongings from her bedside table. She was back in the Gryffindor common room in time to see Dobby and three other house-elves setting up tables for what was certain to be a rather noisy party.
Later that night, after the prefects had chased the last of the revellers up to their rooms, Ginny descended to the common room to sit by the fire. She wasn’t at all surprised to see Harry lounging in his favourite chair, waiting for her. He stood up with open arms as she approached and enveloped her in a tight hug which she eagerly returned.
“I’m so glad Madam Pomfrey let you out,” he said into her hair. “I’ve missed our late-night get-togethers. Talking things through with you has kept me sane this term. I...I’ve missed you, Ginny.”
“Oh, Harry, I’ve missed you, too,” Ginny said, leaning back slightly. “I was beginning to think I’d have to take all my exams in the hospital wing.”
Harry chuckled and sat back down in his chair, pulling Ginny into his lap. They sat in quiet comfort for a while with Ginny’s head resting contentedly on Harry’s shoulder. At length, Harry turned his head and kissed her gently on the lips. She responded hungrily as he deepened the kiss. It was a long time before they parted to go up to their respective rooms.
End of Part Thirteen
A/N: Many thanks to you my readers for all the nice reviews. I’m really glad you take the time to encourage me with your comments. Also, thank you to Aggiebell for her expert beta job. Her comments, many accompanied by *giggles,* or *EEEEE* [whenever Neville appears], always make rereading my chapters fun. Thanks again, Aggiebell.
Chapter 14: Chapter 14
Part Fourteen
“I can’t believe how hard the OWLs were!” Ginny exclaimed as she, Luna, Hermione, Harry, Ron and Neville descended the front steps of the castle. “I’m glad that’s over with!”
“Ah, freedom!” Ron exclaimed spreading his arms wide and twirling around in a circle.
“No more tests for three months,” Harry chimed in, smiling and shaking his head at Ron’s antics.
“No more Snape breathing down my neck!” breathed Neville, a blissful expression coming over his face.
“But you said you thought you did well,” Hermione said, looking slightly scandalized. “Yesterday you were saying how easy Defence Against the Dark Arts was because you’d been in the DA last year. And the day before that you had even enjoyed your Herbology OWL.”
Ginny just shrugged and continued walking.
“Well, I don’t think they were that bad,” Luna added. “Ancient Runes and Arithmancy had a few tricky questions, but overall, I think I did particularly well on both of those.”
Ginny stared at Luna. “You and Hermione always pass your exams with three hundred percent and stress-free revision while the rest of us have to bully our brains into remembering what we learned five years ago!”
“That’s not true,” Hermione retorted. “I revised plenty last year while trying to make those two gits (she pointed at Ron and Harry) crack the books once in a while. I also think you two had it easy in Astronomy last night because there weren’t any distractions like there were last year!” she added with a significant glance over her shoulder at Hagrid’s hut.
“Will you three stop!” complained Ron. “We go through this every year: I do not like rehashing every single exam after I’ve taken it and I don’t feel like hearing all about yours. Our exams are fait accompli and now it’s time for some fun!”
Ginny looked at her brother in surprise. “’Fait accompli,’ huh? Ron, I think you’ve been spending too much time around Hermione lately.”
Ron just smirked at his sister and linked arms with Hermione.
As they approached the village, Harry asked, “Where to first?”
The group decided to split up and meet in front of the Three Broomsticks at half-past eleven. They paired off and scattered in different directions.
“Harry,” Ginny said as the two meandered their way down the high street, “All I need to do is get a couple of quills and I’m done. What about you?”
“I’m all set, Gin,” Harry told her. “Want to do some exploring after we get your quills?”
“Sure, as long as we don’t go too far. I may not be able to get back in time.” She looked appraisingly at the ornate walking stick she was leaning on rather heavily.
Harry took out his wand and twirled it between his long fingers. “I could always carry you,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eye. “But it would be more fun to float you back to town.”
“Don’t you dare, Potter!” Ginny exclaimed, producing her own wand and brandishing it in front of Harry’s nose. “I happen to know you’d look rather interesting with a bunch of bat bogeys flapping about your face.” At Harry’s look of mock horror, she turned on her heel and began limping hurriedly toward Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop with her walking stick clunking with every other step.
“Did I ever tell you that you sound just like Mad-Eye Moody when you do that?” he asked her as he caught up.
“How un-original, Harry. You need to talk to Ron about the insults he’s been throwing at me lately. You’re beginning to sound like a parrot.”
“Well, it’s true.” Ginny scowled at him until he added, “But you’re a lot cuter, you know.”
Ginny maintained the scowl for a few more moments, and then had to give in to the fit of giggles which had been forcing their way forth. She turned to Harry and said with a snicker, “You’re forgiven for now. But if you bring it up again, you may just find yourself looking down the business end of my wand.”
“I don’t doubt that,” he smirked. “Although I just might gamble on my chances.” He waggled his eyebrows at her as she playfully stuck out her tongue at him.
They had reached the entrance to Scrivenshaft’s by now, so Ginny popped in and made her purchase. (The four new eagle feather quills she bought just barely fit into the Muggle-style handbag she had slung over her shoulder without being charmed smaller. The two rolls of note-sized parchment and the small bottle of peacock blue ink she managed to squeeze in next to her money pouch.) The pair then resumed their stroll down the high street.
The weather was perfect for a walk and Harry, it seemed, was in a rather romantic mood. He reached over, gently extracted the walking stick from Ginny’s grasp and offered his arm as substitute support. Ginny smiled up at him as she took his arm. They headed out of town, past Dervish and Banges and the few out-lying cottages with their enormous gardens, where the road became a winding country lane. They eventually turned a corner and Harry stopped abruptly.
“Harry?”
Shaking his head, Harry led Ginny over to a style at the end of the lane. He gave her walking stick back and leaned heavily on the top rail of the style, gazing toward the mountain which overshadowed Hogsmeade.
Ginny stood next to him, her hand resting lightly on his forearm, and waited for Harry to explain.
At length, Harry said quietly, “Ron, Hermione and I met Sirius here after the Second Task two years ago.” He pointed up the mountain. “There’s a faint path over the rocks and through the trees that leads to a cave hidden in the mountainside about a third of the way up. Sirius lived up there for months, my fourth year...” He trailed off, a faraway look descending upon his face.
“This is the first time you’ve been back here, isn’t it?”
Harry only nodded.
“Is it...is it hard for you...I mean, the memories...”
Harry turned and smiled at her. “It’s all right, Ginny. I brought you here because I thought I was ready to come back myself. I think I’m just a little disappointed there wasn’t a big, shaggy, black dog waiting for us like it did that other time.”
Ginny smiled. “I’m glad I came, then,” she told Harry quietly and watched contentedly as he wiggled his fingers between hers until their hands were intertwined. They leaned against the rail for a while longer, then, with a small sigh, she looked at her watch. “Harry, it’s eleven o’clock. Shouldn’t we be getting back?”
Harry nodded. With one last look at the mountain he took her walking stick again and extended his arm to her. A wistful sigh escaped him as they headed back toward town and their rendezvous with the others at the Three Broomsticks.
They didn’t even get close to the pub, though. They had just passed Zonko’s and were headed toward the post office when the balmy day took on a sudden chill. Looking up, Ginny and Harry spotted a sight neither of them had ever expected: an enormous blue swarm of...
“Pixies?” Ginny looked at Harry for confirmation of her identification.
“Yes, definitely Cornish pixies,” Harry agreed as they stood rooted to the spot. The pixies came swooping out of the sky toward the village to snatch at hair, wands, bags...anything that was not tied down. Several of the blue creatures spotted Harry and Ginny and the two pulled out their wands to defend themselves.
“They’ve been bewitched!” Ginny yelled as her Immobulus hex failed to freeze a pixie that was bearing down on them.
“Try Stunning them, then,” Harry shouted to her. He sent a jet of orange light at a pixie, which did nothing but ignore it. The pixie then made a bee-line for him.
Ginny cast the charm and was quite relieved when this spell worked. Minutes later, when the last of the swarm had passed over the high street, she commented, “I’m glad that’s over with!”
“You’d better hope that’s the last of them. They’re bloody distracting,” Harry said dryly shaking his head as he surveyed the piles of pixies littering the street in front of them. Up ahead, students and residents alike were doing much the same. “They’re not supposed to swarm like that, according to Hagrid.”
Ginny silently began to count stunned pixies, but gave up trying when the number of fallen creatures she reached two hundred and nine. They resumed their trek toward the pub, realizing that the real count easily must have been several thousand.
Thank goodness there aren’t any Dementors yet, she thought catching sight of the look of cautious relief on Harry’s face. He must be thinking the same thing. It still puzzled her at the sudden change in temperature, though.
“Do you see Ron and Hermione or Neville and Luna?” Harry asked, voicing Ginny’s next worry.
Ginny scanned the street and the clusters of hurrying students. “Over there, Harry!” she exclaimed pointing toward the narrow alley between Zonko’s and the shop next to it. She could just make out Ron’s bright head peering around the corner toward the sweet shop: her brother’s height seemed to be an advantage at the moment. They hastened toward their friends as some of the older students and the residents of Hogsmeade began forming battle lines, ready to take on whatever threat was coming next.
“Thank goodness you’re here!” Hermione exclaimed as Harry and Ginny approached. “Those pixies were awful!” She began forcing her hair back into the clip it had escaped from during the scrimmage with the pixies.
“I told you they’d be fine,” Ron retorted.
Hermione glared at Ron. “I can’t help it if I worry about them. It shows that I’ve got more feelings than Merlin gave a pencil!”
Ron looked puzzled for a second, then retorted, “You take that back–how dare you accuse me of being insensitive!”
Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but Harry beat her to it.
“Hey, you two,” Harry said with a worried glance up the street. “This is no time for arguing. Everyone here has to be together in this...no distractions. They need us over there.” He pointed further up the street where the outlines of their opponents, most likely Death Eaters, were growing larger. They could hear the sounds of many footfalls and knew the next battle would be upon them any moment.
“Sorry, mate,” Ron said apologetically. He glanced fearfully toward the advancing foe. “How many do you think there are?”
Hermione followed his gaze. “No telling until they get here. No matter what, though, they’re coming from Hogwarts. I think I heard someone say there’s fighting at the castle.” She had no time to say more. What looked like a battalion of Death Eaters had reached Hogsmeade and was spreading out to surround the village. As they watched, someone shot the Dark Mark into the sky, causing everyone in the high street to look upward. A deathly silence descended on the village. Then, someone screamed.
“Oh, God,” Hermione breathed, a trembling hand flying to her mouth.
Harry took command of their group immediately. “They can’t get away with that,” he declared vehemently. “Neville, Luna. Get Ginny into Honeydukes and down into the cellar. She’ll be safe there. Ron, Hermione. Come with me.”
The tunnel! He wants me to escape back to school using the tunnel. No, I won’t hide like a scared little child. Ginny stepped in front of him. “I’m going with you,” she said forcefully. “You can’t make me stay here.”
Anger darkened his features briefly. “Like hell, you’re not!” he told her heatedly.
Ginny glared up at Harry. “I made a promise that I’d stick by you in battle; that I’d be at your side standing next to you.” She glanced at the others. “We all did, Harry…so you wouldn’t be alone when you faced Voldemort. Now you’re asking me to disavow my pledge? That’s not fair!”
Harry blanched and looked to the others for support. “Can you honestly tell me that you can dodge and move quickly enough to avoid being hit?” he asked quietly.
Shaking her head resignedly, Ginny murmured, “All right, I’ll go. But I don’t want to.” The truth was harder to accept than anything Ginny had yet experienced.
Several loud booms echoed through the streets as shouted curses began flying past the alley. The teens could hear the sounds of breaking glass and more explosions as the battle began in earnest.
Harry drew her into a quick hug, his lips grazing her forehead. “Thank you,” he mumbled into her hair. “I hope you know I want you with me. But having you safe to come back to gives me great hope, Gin. I need that right now.” Then, he, Ron and Hermione ran out into the street to join the fray, Hermione now arguing with Harry, it seemed, all the way.
“Come on, Ginny,” Neville said drawing his wand. Luna did the same and the three cautiously ventured around the corner toward Honeydukes, ducking several times as spells went whizzing over their heads and hit the building behind them. The main combat line had now progressed as far as the post office across the street.
The sweet shop was deserted. The owners had left the door unlocked, Ginny assumed, because it probably would have been fruitless to lock it if the front windows were blown out by wand-fire during the mêlée.
The three students entered the store and Ginny locked them in. “If Harry wants me safe I’m going to put something between me and the battle,” she told Neville and Luna. She pulled down the black-out shade hanging over the window. “I just wish there was something I could do besides hide.” They watched her with compassionate expressions on their faces. Ginny began pacing. “Neville, Luna, I can’t leave this fight. Harry’s out there...and Hermione and my brother! I have to do something...anything! Help me you two!”
Luna was peering through the front window at the multi-coloured flashes of light flying past, her normally far-off expression completely gone. “There is something you can do,” she said, pointing across the street. “Look over there,” she exclaimed, her voice void of its usual dreamy tone, “there’s a stranded group of Ravenclaw third years caught across the street. I recognize them! They’re directly in the line of fire!”
Neville was at the door almost instantly. “We’re going after them,” he said decisively. “We’re going to get them over here safely. Luna, come with me and cover my back. Ginny, lock the door and be ready to open it when we get here. Luna and I will round up as many third and fourth years as we can. There’s no way, even with the spells they’ve learned in Defence this year, they can defend themselves against the Death Eaters!”
Ginny nodded and her two friends slipped out the door. She locked it behind them, and then took up a post where she could see quite a lot of the street in front of the shop. She watched, glancing both toward the main battle and to where Neville and Luna were now crouched behind a barrel trying to persuade the younger students to follow them back to Honeydukes.
From where she stood she could see Harry, Ron and Hermione taking on some of the Death Eaters; Ron and Hermione seemed to be working together, Hermione fending off the pixies as well as maintaining a protection shield around the two of them while Ron cast spells at the Death Eaters in rapid succession. They traded places a few minutes later which seemed to throw the Death Eater into momentary confusion. Harry, meanwhile, took on his opponent alone, a multitude of rainbow-coloured jets of light emitting from his wand. Ginny marvelled at the power and grace he exhibited as he fought. It must be all those hours with Professor Dumbledore and Kingsley Shacklebolt, she thought in admiration.
Ginny wrenched her gaze from Harry just in time to unlock the door for Neville, Luna and the four Ravenclaw girls they had guided across the street.
“We saw another group in an alley over there,” Neville said pointing. “I’m going back for them.”
“I’m coming with you,” Luna said as Neville headed out the door. Ginny heard her mutter “Protego” just before the door slammed shut. She turned to the Ravenclaws. “I’m Ginny. What are your names?” she asked.
The younger girls nudged each other, no one wanting to go first. Finally, one squeaked, “I’m Maura.”
The others followed suit. “I’m Samantha.”
“Emily.”
“Rebecca.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Ginny told them. “Now, let’s get you somewhere safe.” She pointed to the door behind the counter. “The cellar of this store is probably deserted. You get there through that door. I think you’ll be safe down there.”
“What do you mean, ‘probably’?” Maura asked.
Ginny thought a moment and then gestured to her walking staff. “I can’t do steps very well,” she admitted. “I’ve been here almost ten minutes and no one has come in to find out who’s in here. Most likely, the owners are outside defending the village.”
“Oh,” The girls said as one.
“Are you coming with us?” Rebecca inquired.
“No,” Ginny said. “My friends have gone back out for another group and will be coming back here with them soon. I need to stay up here and protect the door.”
“Okay. That makes sense,” Emily said. “Let’s go check it out.” The girls began walking around the counter.
“Stop!” Ginny called. “You’ll need to light your wands. It’s dark down there. You’ll need the wand light until we can find some lamps.”
The one Ginny remembered as Samantha suddenly wailed, “I can’t remember the spell!”
“Lumis,” Maura said.
“It’s ‘Lumos,’” Ginny corrected gently.
“Oh, right,” Maura muttered looking slightly chagrined. “Come on you lot. Let’s explore this place. We’ll see what we can find.”
As the girls headed down the stairs, Ginny heard a loud knock on the door. She drew back the black-out shade to find Neville and two boys waiting to be let in. Luna stood a little apart, her back to the building and her wand ready. As Ginny let the boys in, a purple jet of light struck Luna’s shield with a loud clang causing her to stumble back toward the door. Neville shoved the boys into the shop and grabbed Luna by the neck of her robes, pulling her inside just as Ginny slammed the door and relocked it.
“That was close,” Luna gasped, sticking a finger down the neck of her robes and rubbing her throat where the material had cut into her skin.
Neville introduced the younger boys as Neil and Nikhil who turned out to be brothers from Hufflepuff. Neil, the fourth year, stuck out his hand to shake Ginny’s. She smiled at his formality.
Neville had turned to where Luna was now leaning against a barrel of jelly slugs. “Luna, are you all right?” he inquired, a look of concern on his face.
“I’m fine. I think that was the hex that got Hermione last year. The sparks were beautiful.” The familiar dazed look was back on her face.
Neville walked over to Luna and the two began talking in low voices.
Ginny watched the exchange silently, a small smile playing about her lips despite the danger she knew they were all in. Knowing that she was staring she tore her attention from her friends and focused her attention on the Hufflepuffs. These boys will know a little more than the girls about defensive spell work if push comes to shove, she thought somewhat satisfied. Aloud, she asked, “What’s happening out there? I can’t see much of the battle from here.”
“The village is crawling with Death Eaters,” Nikhil said. “We hid in that alley across the street when the pixies flew by. One nearly got my wand.”
“The fighting is slowly coming this way,” Neil added as more spells hit the building. “Some of the shops are already on fire.”
“Have you ever done any duelling?” Ginny asked with a glance over her shoulder at the street.
The two boys shook their heads. “Not like this,” Neil said. “We’ve had some practice in Defence class, but I don’t think we know enough to go out and do what the sixth and seventh years are trying to do out there.”
“And we definitely can’t fight like Harry Potter,” Nikhil said in an awed voice that made Ginny’s heart surge with pride.
Luna joined the three just then to ask Ginny to release the locking charm she’d cast. She and Neville were going back outside to look for other students who might need help. When her friends had gone, Ginny turned back to the boys. “Do you remember everyone from your years that came to Hogsmeade today?” When they nodded affirmatively, Ginny dug in her bag and produced a small roll of parchment, a small ink bottle and one of her new quills. “Please write down everybody’s name you can remember and what year they are, starting with yours,” she told them.
“How come you need the names?” Neil asked taking the parchment from her.
“The list might come in handy when the teachers and Aurors start looking for the missing. Professor Dumbledore can check my list against Mr. Filch’s. If we know who is in the village, but isn’t present here, we’ll know to start looking for them...they might have become injured...the Death Eaters might have…” Ginny’s voice faltered as she tried to put a terrifying thought out of her mind. Shaking her head, she added, “We’ll cross off each name as Luna and Neville bring them back here. OH!” Ginny let out a small shriek as a spell shattered several of the window panes behind her. Whipping out her wand, she cast a repairing spell on the shards of glass.
“Wicked!” Nikhil gasped, his eyes growing wide. “Thanks for teaching me that spell, Ginny!”
She smiled at him. “Here’s another that’s quite useful.” She then pointed her wand at the window and uttered the unbreakable charm Hermione had taught her. She repeated the charm on the window of the shop’s door.
Neil handed Ginny the completed list along with the quill and ink bottle. “The last I saw them, they were all in the Three Broomsticks. Are Neville and Luna going up the street that far? That’s where most of the fighting is right now.”
“Probably. Neville’s that kind of boy. He’ll go anywhere he thinks he’s needed just as long as he doesn’t have to be on the front lines, is all.” When Neil looked at her quizzically she added, “Neville went with Harry to the Ministry of Magic last year and was part of the duelling there. Harry says that Neville may not be the most accurate spell-caster in a fight, but he provides great support and wouldn’t go anywhere dangerous without him.”
Nikhil’s eyes grew wide for a second time in almost that many minutes as she spoke. “You mean…you’re friends with Harry Potter?”
“Yes. He’s a fellow Gryffindor and best mates with my brother, Ron,” Ginny said her pride evident in her voice.
“Brilliant! Have you ever talked to him?”
“Oh, yes. Quite recently,” Ginny said quietly, glancing briefly out the window. “In fact, he ordered me to hide in here while he and the others in our group joined the villagers in protecting Hogsmeade.” Her thoughts drifted outside to the fighting she could hear but not see.
“He ordered you in here?”
“Yes. He’s my boyfriend and he didn’t want me to get hurt out there,” she said waved her hand at her walking stick. “But first and always, he’s my friend.”
Nikhil had just inhaled to ask another question when the Ravenclaw girls returned.
“We found some lamps,” Emily said happily holding hers up. The others did the same.
“Good,” Ginny said smiling. “Let’s light two of them and put those downstairs. The others can go over on the counter to use later.” She handed the quill, ink and parchment, explaining what she wanted, to Maura who gave her unlit lantern to Emily to put on the counter. When the others came back, they huddled together to complete the list.
“Not all of us got to come,” Maura told Ginny when they were finished. She pointed to the names. “This girl, Orla Quirke, doesn’t have permission to come to Hogsmeade, so she’s at the castle. Then, Mike and Tony are doing detention with Filch for something they did during Care of Magical Creatures. See, I’ve written down where they’re supposed to be. I guess it’s just the four of us and the three boys here.”
Ginny eyed the list. “Do you know where those three might have gone today?”
“Probably Zonko’s,” Rebecca said disgust evident in her voice. “I heard Henry say something about getting prepared for summer holidays.”
“I’ll have Neville and Luna check the joke shop out when they go out next,” Ginny said. “There might be someone trapped there who can’t get out on their own.” She was thoughtful for a moment trying to think of what to have the others do to keep them from getting scared should the battle intensify on their end of the street. She looked at the group around her and said, “In the meantime, why don’t you lot go downstairs and practice that unbreakable charm on the boxes of sweets. If we protect the merchandise, I think the owners will be pleased.”
Neil looked scandalized. “I’m not going to take anything! Don’t you trust me?”
“Of course, I do,” Ginny said, thinking of how Fred and George might have taken advantage of a similar situation when they were younger. “But someone else Neville and Luna bring in might think it fun to nick something when no one’s looking and I don’t want to be blamed.”
The younger students seemed to think about this, and then began drifting down to the storeroom in ones and twos.
Ginny peered out the window again, and spied Neville and Luna dodging spells and herding half a dozen students toward the sweet shop. At the last moment, she threw open the door.
“Thanks for that,” Neville panted. “It’s bloody awful out there. Much worse than the Death chamber was last year.”
Ginny cringed inwardly at his remark as she closed the door of the shop. “I have a list of students from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff for you,” she said recovering her voice. She pointed to the names of the three Ravenclaw boys. “Their house mates think they went to Zonko’s.”
“Good. Let’s have a look,” Neville took the parchment. “You can cross off these three Ravenclaws. They came with us just now.” He indicated three of the newcomers who were standing off to one side with Luna.
Ginny crossed off the Ravenclaws and then turned back to Neville as he said, “The other three are from Slytherin.”
Ginny eyed the group of Slytherins over Neville’s shoulder. The older of the two girls and a boy looked as if they wanted to go back out and join the battle. The younger girl just looked plain scared. “What’s the plan now, Neville?” she asked taking back the parchment.
Neville leaned against a wall and closed his eyes. He was beginning to look tired. “I’m going back out there. I haven’t seen any of the Gryffindors who where were in line with us yet; I think they were all in the Three Broomsticks… that was the first building the Death Eaters hit. There were so many in there…” He let the sentence end in a frustrated sigh. Then, he murmured, “I just hope everybody got out…”
Ginny knew the feeling. She also knew that Neville needed some hope, but all she could offer him and Luna was her support. “You’re doing the best you can, both of you,” she said quietly. “I’d be out there, too, if I could. Here…maybe this will help.” She quickly found two tall glasses on a display shelf and, muttering a spell her mother had taught her, filled them with water. She then handed them to her friends. Luna smiled her thanks and joined Neville against the wall.
Ginny now turned her attention to the Slytherins. She handed over the parchment list to the older girl and repeated the request she had earlier made of the other two groups. To her surprise, instead of getting a surly response the other girl, the younger one, began to cry. “I’m so scared,” she wailed, tears running down her face. She glanced at her housemates. “They want to go back out there, but I can’t!”
As Ginny took the distraught girl in her arms, the boy said, “Don’t mind Imogene. She cries at the drop of a hat. I have no idea why the Sorting Hat put her in Slytherin. Everyone in the common room is sick of her constant blubbering.”
Ginny glared at him. “She has a right to be scared. War is a terrible thing, no matter what side you’re on. I have only one request. Put your name and year on that paper so I know you were here. Then, if you choose, you can go back out there and chose your side.”
I hope you get your due, too, she thought, then mentally kicked herself. Professor Dumbledore would not be proud of that attitude, Ginevra. That kind of enmity between Houses wasn’t going to make the war go away any quicker.
The two Slytherins gave the parchment and quill back to Ginny having identified themselves and the other third and fourth years from their House who had come to Hogsmeade. Then, without another word, they slipped out the door and down the street.
“Can I really stay here?” the weepy girl asked Ginny.
“Of course you can, Imogene. Anyone who wants to stay. Let’s go into the storeroom and see what the others are up to.”
“Give me a minute,” Imogene sniffed. She looked relieved as she produced a handkerchief and blew her nose loudly. While she was composing herself, Ginny took the time to cast a few anti-theft spells around the main candy shop. She could have sworn the two Slytherins had grabbed some sweets on their way out: they had seen her take the glasses down from the display and she wondered if they thought she was giving them license to nick things, too. She hoped her hunch about them was wrong, though.
The two girls finally went down into the storeroom followed by the three Ravenclaw boys. Their housemates and the two Hufflepuffs were looking pleased with themselves: everyone, it seemed, had figured out how to perform the unbreakable charm. They all had successfully cast it on a large glass apothecary jar which had only been smashed twice when it was dropped on the floor. (Nikhil had proudly repaired it each time.) Now, the group was finishing up casting the spell on the boxes of sweets. Ginny introduce Imogene who was immediately recognized by Emma, who inquired if she knew the spell. As Ginny mounted the stairs, the Ravenclaw group gathered around their housemates and the Slytherin and were excitedly relaying their new knowledge to the newcomers.
“We’re off again, Ginny,” Luna said as Ginny returned to the ground floor.
“Where are you going?”
“The Three Broomsticks. It was packed when we left shortly before the Death Eaters appeared. I have a bad feeling we’re not going to find anything good in there,” Neville said shaking his head.
Ginny patted his arm. “Chin up, Neville. No matter what you find there, you did not cause the damage. You aren’t the responsible party for what you’ll find. I hope you know you’re doing a terrific job here.” She gestured toward the storeroom door. “There are ten grateful students down in that storeroom because you and Luna were concerned enough for their safety to bring them here. Do me a favour…just stay safe yourselves.” Then, before her emotions got the best of her and Neville could protest, she opened the door to let them out.
Ginny took up her post behind the door again, listening to the screams and shouts filtering into the shop through the window. From where she stood she could see most of the street in front of the shop as well. She knew the battle had intensified while she had been downstairs. The figures which had been unidentifiable just minutes ago had become recognizable people: two Aurors she vaguely recognized from the Order lurched past, their wands flashing at the Death Eaters they battled. Ginny saw Justin Finch-Fletchley and Ernie Macmillan from last year’s DA go by: they were in Harry’s year and were throwing curses at a Death Eater as they raced from one hiding place to another. On the far side of the street, in the alley where the Ravenclaw girls had huddled, Ginny recognized Cho Chang and her friend Marietta. They were taking turns firing spells at the attackers. Ginny smiled as the seventh years celebrated a well-placed full body bind that caused a black-hooded figure to fall flat on its masked face.
She bit her lip as she thought of all her friends who were scattered about the village. She wanted to be out there, but deep down, knew Harry was right in sending her here. Harry, are you there? It’s me, Ginny. I’m safely locked in Honeydukes and I hope you’re trying to stay safe, too. She didn’t know if he’d hear her thoughts or not, but at least it was worth a try. When no reply came, she grasped her angel and sent Harry strengthening thoughts, hoping that he’d at least feel something through their connection.
Another wave of pixies began to mix with the human combatants. Some seemed to be flying in from the direction of the Forbidden Forest and Hogwarts while others must have revived from their earlier Stunning and were drifting up from where they lay in the streets. No matter where the creatures came from, they were causing mayhem and making it hard for anyone to take aim. Ginny watched Cho and Marietta pick off several before one flew close enough to snatch Marietta’s wand. As the girls retreated into the alley after Stunning the pixie and recovering the wand, Ginny began forming a plan of attack. She knew that she was incapable of actually duelling, but she and some of the willing third and fourth years could actually be useful to their side. Keeping everyone busy would prevent them from becoming too frightened and/or out of mischief. Going to the door behind the counter she surveyed the group below. She noticed that most of the boys were pacing while the girls huddled together in groups of three or four.
“Is there anyone who would like something to do?” she called.
Immediately, several hands were raised, their owners brightening at the idea of being useful.
“The fighting has moved down toward us. The pixies are back again and making it difficult for everyone out there. I’ve just watched two seventh years defend themselves against both the Death Eaters and the pixies and think I know how we can become involved without actually fighting.”
“Do we have to go outside?” someone asked.
“Not if you don’t want to,” Ginny replied. “If I go outside, or even if I don’t, someone will have to watch both the doors to the shop. I’m expecting Neville and Luna to reappear sometime soon and they need to be let in. Anyone who wishes to stay inside can act as a sentry.”
“Will we be learning any new spells?” This question came from Nikhil who looked at Ginny rather expectantly.
She smiled at him as she said, “I’ll teach you everything we need. Now, who wants to help?”
The boys volunteered immediately as did two of the Ravenclaw girls, Maura and Rebecca. Imogene, the Slytherin, stood up. “As long as I can stay inside I’ll help,” she told Ginny in a determined voice.
Ginny smiled. “All right, you lot. Come with me.” She led the way back into the sweet shop where she stopped just on the other side of the counter. “We need four sentries: two for the back door and two for the front. Do all of you remember who Neville and Luna are?”
“We know Luna,” Rebecca said. “She’s a little peculiar, but she’s nice.”
“Good,” Ginny said catching Maura in the act of elbowing Rebecca in the ribs. “You two then, can cover the front door. Imogene, you’ll be at the back door with…” She looked expectantly at the boys and raised an eyebrow.
One of the three Ravenclaws stepped forward. “Stewart Ackerley,” he said looking pointedly at Imogene as if to dare her to hex him on the spot. She returned the look and then gave her attention back to Ginny.
“Thank you,” she said looking at Stewart. “I think you know Luna as well, right?” When he nodded, she demonstrated the locking spell she had been using and how to cancel it to open the door. “This spell also responds to ‘Finite Incantatem’ and ‘Alohomora’ if you forget the counter spell.” She took the four sentries over to the back door and had them practice both incantations with their respective wand movements. The younger students seemed rather pleased with themselves when their spells actually locked or unlocked the door.
“I think you’re ready,” she told them and sent Rebecca and Maura to their post at the front door.
She turned to the other four boys. “These pixies respond only to the Stunning spell. Normally, you can freeze them with Immobulus, but I think they’ve been bewitched. I know you’ve practiced Stunning in Defence class. Can you all do it?”
Nikhil shook his head. “That’s a fourth year spell. I’m only a third year.”
“It’s simple,” Neil said before Ginny could respond. “You do it like this…” He pointed his wand at a spider in a corner of the front window and yelled “Stupefy”. The spider froze until he muttered “Ennervate. ” Then Nikhil had a go at it.
“I’ve got it,” he said happily as the spider awoke and scuttled away.
“Good,” Ginny said. “There’s one last thing before we go out there. I’m going to attach a lanyard to the handle of our wands. When I was watching earlier, one of the pixies snatched a wand and flew away with it. I don’t want that happening to yours. May I use someone’s wand to put one on my own?”
Nikhil handed over his wand when the other boys were reluctant to part with theirs. Ginny pointed it at the handle of her own and muttered “Funalis.” Seconds later, a loop of thin cord dangled from her wand. “This isn’t permanent. All you have to do is have someone cancel the spell with ‘Separe funis’ and the loop will disappear.” She demonstrated and had to smile at the relieved looks on the boys’ faces. They immediately held out their wands and then slipped the cords around their wrists. When everyone’s wand had been protected, Ginny led the group out the back door and into the alley.
“We’ll need to take turns,” she said stopping half-way to the high street.
“Yeah, keep ‘em guessing,” someone said.
“That’s right. We don’t want anyone watching to know how many of us are back here.”
“How far into the street can we go?” someone else said.
“Not very far. Better yet, don’t step out of the alley at all; only Stun the pixies flying past or directly at you. Don’t go after one that’s attacking someone, even if they are on our side.”
“Can we Stun the Death Eaters?”
“No. Do you want them coming after you?” The boys shook their heads vigorously. “Let’s go, then.”
The group quickly found a rhythm for trading places and Stunning pixies without the restrictions of a window in front of them. While she waited her turn, Ginny watched the action in front of their hiding place. If reality weren’t so terrible, she thought, this would be beautiful. The street was eerily lit with a multitude of colourful curse sparks which ricocheted off the buildings and the protection shields of the combatants when they didn’t find their marks.
Suddenly, Ginny smelled smoke closer than it had been before. Edging closer to the entrance to the alley, she searched the street for signs of the fire: the roof of the post office across the street was blazing. She watched helplessly as a flurry of owls burst through the doors and windows and soared in all directions. The roof collapsed. I hope they all got out, she thought watching the fire consume the rest of the building. Most of the birds seemed to be heading for Hogwarts or the forest. She hoped they would make it to safety.
It was now her turn to sight and hex a pixie. As she searched the street for the right one, she saw Neville and Luna making their way up the street with a rather large group of students between them. Their progress was slowed not only because they all had to dodge flying curses and avoid the burning building, but Neville himself was limping badly. Several of the other students were as well. Ginny spotted two pixies flying towards her and Stunned both with one hex. She then left the alley and went around to the back door, gave the appropriate knock (there was no glass in this door), and was at the front of the shop as Maura and Rebecca let everyone in.
Ginny looked around at the assembled group. She recognized many as her fellow Gryffindors and assumed the other eight were some of the missing students on her list. She would have to check on that later. Right now, though, Neville needed her and possibly Luna’s attention.
As Neville collapsed at Ginny’s feet holding his left leg, she inquired, “What happened? Are you hurt anywhere else?”
Neville shook his head. “Bludgeoning Hex meant for Harry,” he grunted through gritted teeth.
“He stepped right in the path of that hex, Ginny!” Luna added. “Harry was down on the ground and Neville tried to cover him.”
“He got the git good, though. Threw a Stunner from behind me and dropped him where he stood,” Neville said with a grim smile. “And no, I’m not hurt anywhere else,” he continued as Ginny glared at him with her best Molly Weasley scowl.
“Do you think it’s broken?” she asked kneeling beside him.
“I don’t think so. My shield was only partially up so the spell was only partly deflected. It hurts like hell to put weight on my leg,” he groaned.
Ginny pulled out her wand and pointed it at Neville’s knee. “Fred and George taught me a few healing spells over the years,” she said with a slight grin. “I’ll heal your leg, then splint it just in case it needs support.”
“Don’t splint it, Ginny. I won’t be able to kneel if I have to keep my leg straight,” he requested.
“You’re sure you’ll be all right, then?” she asked sceptically. When he nodded she continued, “This spell came in handy more than once when a prank went wrong or someone fell off their broomstick playing Quidditch and we didn’t want Mum to know about it. Sometimes it was hard for me to nick Mum’s wand without her knowing when I needed it to fix somebody up. Ready? Hold still...Episkey...”
Neville sighed as his injury healed and he flexed his knee, testing it. “Thanks, Ginny. It still hurts a little, but I can go back out there now.” Luna offered her hand and pulled him upright; he gingerly added weight his leg and smiled when it supported him.
“You are not going looking for any more people,” Ginny said, her tone an exact imitation of the one she had heard her mother use countless times. “You’re staying right here and resting that leg. If you don’t, you’ll just damage it again. Do you understand?”
“I have to go, Ginny,” Neville protested. When she continued to glower at him, he continued, “I owe it to Harry. I made the same promise you did. I may not be able to fight very well, but like you said earlier, there are people in this room who would still be trapped in the crossfire if Luna and I hadn’t found a way to get them out. This is how I’m helping him. Harry knows it, too.”
At this, the assorted students milling about the shop began murmuring their agreement.
His words hit home and Ginny felt her annoyance at Neville ebbing away. “You’re right, Neville. I’m sorry. Please, when you go out again, be careful.” She rose and was just about to retrieve the list to begin her check-in procedure when a thought struck her. “Neville, is there a place where other injured are being taken?”
“Not that we know of,” Luna answered for him. “I’ve seen several and thought about bringing them here, but I decided not to mention it.”
“Bring anyone who’s hurt or hexed here,” Ginny requested. “If there’s fighting at Hogwarts Madam Pomfrey will be too busy to cope with more right now. There’s also the possibility that people can’t get back into the castle. I’ll see what we can set up,” Ginny told them. She looked at Neville again and almost begged, “Please … stay here another few minutes and rest. You’ll feel better for it.” When he nodded, she headed for the storeroom door, pausing to check the newcomers’ names against those on her list first.
One quick glace at the dimly lit room told her what she needed to know: there was no fireplace and no washing facilities at all on the ground floor. She didn’t like the idea of having to break into the private quarters upstairs, but if they needed bandages, water, glasses or pallets for the injured she would have to commit burglary. There was no way out of it.
She heard Neville and Luna leave as she slowly mounted the stairs to the first floor residence over the shop. Like the shop itself, the main entrance to the living area was unlocked. Ginny quickly found a quill and some parchment, wrote a note of apology, and then gathered the supplies she needed from various cupboards. Soon, she was floating three large boxes containing quilts, blankets, several small pillows, a pile of bed sheets, and an assortment of wizarding and Muggle medical supplies downstairs to the shop where she enlisted several girls’ help to set up a make-shift first aid station. Then, they waited.
Over the next two hours, Neville and Luna guided a steady stream of wounded and hexed students to Honeydukes. Some limped in on their own power, while others came supported by friends who left immediately to rejoin the fighting.
Ginny and the younger students not on sentry or pixie duty did what they could for the injured, all the while keeping an eye on the action outside in the street. As the fighting stalled in front of the shop, Ginny discovered that the back door had a steadier stream of traffic than the front: she assumed that Neville and Luna thought it was a safer arrival point.
The one thing that worried her most was the lack of a source of water on the ground floor. She was surprised at how much potable water they needed for cleaning wounds and keeping everyone hydrated. She really didn’t like the idea of sending one of the younger students outside to the well very often, let alone asking someone to go upstairs into the shop owner’s home to fill the various buckets and water vessels she had borrowed earlier–true, they could use Augamenti to fill the buckets, but not everyone knew the spell and it was easier to take on the task herself.. There was no other answer to their problem, so she took on that arduous task herself.
She was coming down the back stairs for the fourth time in an hour, floating several large buckets before her, when a deep and weary voice below and behind her said, “You remind me of Mickey Mouse in Disney’s version of ‘The Sorcerer’s Apprentice’.”
Ginny descended the last few steps and carefully deposited her buckets on the floor before throwing her arms around Harry’s waist and burying her face in his chest. He smelled of dust and sweat and the sharp odour of wood smoke. He held her close as she asked, “What are you doing here?”
“Taking a break,” he said. “Ron threatened to hex me if I didn’t rest a little. It’s bloody awful out there!” He shuddered, then asked, “I’m parched. Is that water for drinking?”
Ginny nodded, and picked up the largest glass she could reach on one of the display shelves. Her movement set off the anti-theft spell she had placed there and she had to cancel it before she could fill the glass and hand it to him. Harry drained it in four enormous gulps and extended it for more. A satisfied smile spread across his face as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Thanks, Gin. I needed that,” he said when she handed the filled glass back to him. He took a smaller sip, seeming to savour its coolness and leaned back against a display shelf.
“How did you get here?”
“Apparated.” Ginny raised her eyebrows in a ‘was that a wise move?’ manner and received a rueful shake of Harry’s head in return. “Ron pulled me into an alley, told me to take care of myself and then levelled his wand at my head,” he said chuckling. “I guess he really wanted me to take his advice.”
Ginny smiled. “And Hermione and Ron?”
“I’ll send them over when I get back. Hermione has been trying to get me to quit fighting since it started. Says this isn’t supposed to be ‘my battle’ and that I need to stay safely out of Voldemort’s clutches. As if I didn’t know that already!” He glanced around the sweet shop and finally gave Ginny a searching look. “She means well, but she just doesn’t understand that I feel…well, obligated to do whatever I can. What…what about…you?”
“I understand, Harry. Go easy on her. Her two best friends are out there fighting and she doesn’t want to lose either of you. Deep down, she knows you and Ron are all she’s got.”
Harry thought a moment. “Yeah,” he said and shook his head. “Anyway, Ron and Hermione’ll be here soon, so is it better to come to the back door or the front?”
“The back. It’s safer.”
Harry took Ginny in his arms again. “I’ve got to get back,” he murmured. “Thanks.” He kissed the top of her head as she pulled away.
“Constant vigilance, Harry,” Ginny told him.
He grinned as he promised, “I will.” He brought his hand up to the centre of his chest, covering the place where Ginny knew his phoenix pendant lay. Ginny reached up and mirrored his gesture, a small smile playing about her lips. Harry Disapparated with the tiniest of pops, leaving Ginny standing next to the stairs and wishing she could go with him. He knows I’m with him. I hope the magic in the phoenix will keep him safe… And for the second time that day, she squeezed her angel and sent him her thoughts.
Harry now began sending the older students who were fighting on the front lines to the back door when he could. They reported that the disappearances were causing confusion amongst the Death Eaters which seemed to be to the advantage of those holding the village. Hermione and Ron were some of the first to knock on the back door. Both gratefully accepted small flagons of water to take back with them.
“I wanted Harry to stay here with you, but he wouldn’t hear of it,” Hermione complained as she downed her third glass of water. “He’s so stubborn…this isn’t supposed to be his big battle! Voldemort isn’t even here. At least, I don’t think he is. But no. Your boyfriend insists on standing with the front lines, trying to get himself killed! It’s as if the Death Eaters are queuing up to oppose him! He’s duelled Mulciber, Jugson and Rookwood already and–“
“–I don’t want to hear any more about it, Hermione. I don’t want to know who is standing in line to take pot-shots at him,” Ginny said firmly. “Please, don’t make me more worried any more than I already am.”
“I’m sorry, Ginny. Is everything going all right here?” Hermione asked, changing the subject.
Ginny glanced about the shop taking in the groups of students talking quietly amongst themselves or helping each other with various tasks. “As long as we keep busy we’re managing. We’re all worried and scared, so I guess everything’s passable. Thanks for asking.”
Hermione hugged Ginny good-bye, took her wand from her pocket and left, leaving Ginny holding her empty water glass.
“We’re holding the village,” Ron reported when his sister pressed him for news. “I think the school’s still standing, too.”
Ginny thanked him and watched silently as he slipped out the door to rejoin his companions.
Harry, himself, reappeared several more times as the afternoon wore on. His clothes were more dishevelled and dirty each time she saw him and Ginny could tell how tired he was just by looking at the set of his shoulders. She began hoping the battle would end soon.
The last time Harry knocked at the back door he staggered in, pain etching the handsome planes of his face. Oh, God! Harry hasn’t received my messages! He’s hurt! Ginny thought with more than a little mental agony. She immediately grabbed a wooden box and gently pushed him onto it saying sternly, “Sit down before you fall down, Harry!”
He smiled crookedly at her as he accepted a glass of water. “Yes, ma’am,” he quipped tiredly and leaned back against the wall with a sigh.
“I’ll be back in a bit,” Ginny told him.
She walked over to another student who was sitting nearby holding a piece of sheet against a nasty cut on her arm. All the time Ginny was with the girl she covertly watched Harry. What she saw alarmed and worried her; he was clearly in great pain, protecting his left arm by holding it close to his body. Any move he made looked as if he weighed how much it would hurt to move against the necessity of the movement: any big shift in his position was done mainly with the right side of his body.
Ginny finished binding up the girl’s arm and tiptoed over to Harry who had closed his eyes when she left him. He flinched and groaned audibly when she rested her hand lightly on his left shoulder.
“You’re hurt,” she stated calmly. “Let me look at your arm.”
“No, Ginny. You don’t need to. I’m fine!” Harry’s voice rose ever so slightly with each sentence, a panicked expression flickering across his face.
“Like hell, you’re not,” Ginny bristled. “Someone’s jinxed you and you’re too stubborn to admit that you’re too tired to keep your shield up all the time or move quickly enough to get out of the way.”
Harry nodded almost imperceptibly but said nothing.
“I thought so,” Ginny said reproachfully. “Well, if you aren’t going to let me have a look, at least stay here and rest until I tell you you can go.”
“How long?”
“I don’t know…fifteen minutes, half an hour. It depends on how hard it is to wake you up!”
Harry’s eyes flew open. “I can’t wait that long! Do you realize that Lucius Malfoy is out there, Ginny! So is Bellatrix Lestrange. They’ve escaped from Azkaban and the Ministry hasn’t done anything! I’ve got to stop them! I’m not going to hide here like a scared little animal in need of hunting down!” He made to get up but sat down again when he saw the look on Ginny’s face.
Ginny had put her hands on her hips and was regarding him with her sternest expression as she threw his words from that morning back at him. “Can you honestly tell me that you can dodge and move quickly enough to avoid being hit in the condition you’re in right now?”
He shook his head in defeat murmuring, “So tired…”
She knelt in front of him with her hands resting lightly on his knees. “Close your eyes, Harry. Go back to sleep,” she told him, her voice once again calm and soothing. “You’re dead on your feet and need to rest. I’ll wake you in twenty minutes. Agreed?”
“Yeah. Thanks.” He seemed to relax a little as Ginny covered him with a blanket and snagged his empty glass from where he had placed it on one of the display shelves.
Ginny’s mind whirled as she limped over to the box of medical supplies. She had to find a way to help Harry as she had every other student who had come through the shop doors. She searched every bottle and jar inside, only to become discouraged when she found only one bottle marked “Headache Powder” that had very little left in it. Maybe this will work and maybe it won’t, she thought as she measured the powder and poured it into Harry’s glass; there was enough for a triple dose and Ginny hoped that it would be enough to dull his pain for a while at least. Next, she searched the shelves for something liquid and sugary to take away the powder’s bitter taste. Finding nothing, she cancelled the security spell on a jar of black cherry hard candies and grabbed a small handful. Oh, Mum, I hope I’m doing this the way you taught me. I need to get this right! she thought as she pulverized the candy and dumped the sparkling sugar crystals on top of the headache powder. She added water and mixed up the drink as she remembered her mother showing her, smiling when the water turned a deep red and smelled of cherries when she sniffed her concoction.
She glanced at her watch. Harry had five more minutes of sleep time left, so she found her bag and began rummaging through it. She found what she was looking for at the very bottom; a vial of the Draught of Peace potion to which she had added arnica, comfrey, thyme and meadowsweet, herbs known for their pain relief properties. She carried it just in case her back muscles began to spasm, which they did occasionally when she was very tired, like right now. The effect of this altered potion was a great sense of calm as the pain disappeared. She almost dropped some into Harry’s drink, but then thought better of it. If Harry was going to go back out into the fighting he would need to be especially sharp-witted and this potion tended to leave the drinker a little fuzzy-headed. However, she slipped the vial into her pocket to offer to Harry if he seemed to be inclined to be cautious now that he was hurt. She didn’t think she would, though.
“Harry, wake up,” she crooned several minutes later.
He opened one eye, then ran his hand over his face. “What’s that?” he asked eying the glass of red liquid suspiciously.
“It’s a pick-me-up, Harry. Lots of sugar,” Ginny told him smiling. “Mum used to make these for Ron and me out of pulverized candy when we were little. I made you one. It’s black cherry flavour, my favourite. Now drink up. The sugar high will give you extra energy.”
Harry took a big gulp. “It’s got something bitter in it,” he said warily. “What is it?”
“Headache powder. The bottle said it was for general aches and pains as well as headaches,” she informed him. “If you insist on being too stubborn to let me treat you properly, the least I can do is ease your pain a little.”
Harry downed the rest of his drink and shrugged off the blanket. “Thanks, Ginny,” he said getting slowly to his feet and using his right hand to hold his injured arm close to his body. He stood over her, his eyes pleading. “Please try to understand why I must go back out there, Ginny. There are things I need to do today and I can’t do them sleeping here.”
Ginny nodded mutely, a huge lump rising in her throat and threatening tears. She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “I know, Harry, I know,” she whispered. “Be safe.”
As Harry returned the kiss, Ginny pointed her wand at his arm and murmured, “Levo doleo.”
Harry’s mouth turned up in a relieved smile as some of the pain left his arm. He flexed his fingers a little. “Thanks. That helps,” he said sincerely.
They walked to the door and Stewart and Imogene let them out. As Harry
Disapparated, Ginny closed her fingers around the unopened vial of potion and breathed, “Be safe, Harry…I love you...”
End of Part Fourteen
A/N: With the completion of this chapter there are only five more to go. They are mostly complete; just a few scenes left to polish up toward the end. When I began this story nearly three years ago I had no idea where I was taking it except that I felt that Harry needed some closure with Sirius and a visit to the style going out of Hogsmeade seemed in order. Also, I wanted to write a more confident and competent Neville who was learning his own strengths as well as his much-maligned weaknesses. Luna soon followed and her role in the battle just naturally attached itself to Neville’s after Harry ordered Ginny to stay behind and protect Honeydukes. Once I knew where I was taking the story the rest was easy although, keeping a believable timeline turned out to be the most challenging aspect of these last chapters.
As always, I’m sending a heart-felt thank you to Aggiebell for persevering through beta-ing of this chapter even though the power cord on her laptop decided to blow up the day after she received it! Thank you also to my new Brit-picking consultant Heliona who agreed with Aggiebell that “Sweet Mother of Gryffindor!” was definitely too American for words and was also something Ginny wouldn’t be caught dead saying! I really appreciate your help in this matter. I also appreciate all the wonderful reviews you are writing. Please let me know how you liked it. I always s write back.
Chapter 15: Chapter 15
Part FifteenThe sun was beginning its descent toward the horizon when someone pounded urgently on the back door of the sweet shop safe house. Ginny was helping a seventh year Hufflepuff girl who was covered with multiple hex marks, so she didn’t pay much attention to the summons until Imogene and Stewart hurried over.
“Ginny,” Imogene began somewhat breathlessly. “Come quickly.”
“Neville’s brought someone in who’s badly hurt,” Stewart explained. “We think you’d better go take a look.”
Ginny cast a final Cancellation Spell on the other girl and reluctantly heaved herself to her feet. She Summoned her list of students and her quill, scribbled a quick note and then limped over to where Neville stood with Ron and Hermione. At first, she thought something was amiss with her brother as he was leaning against the display under the stairs with his eyes closed, but a shake of Hermione’s head told her Ron was all right. Ginny turned her attention to Neville whose tired face mirrored Hermione’s worried expression.
“Neville what’s…” she began. She followed his gaze to the body lying on the floor at his feet. “Harry!” she shrieked, causing many of the room’s occupants to look in their direction. She searched the faces of her three friends. “What … how?”
Ron stepped over to steady her as she dropped to her knees beside Harry. “He’s out cold. Stunned. We thought it best to bring him here,” he said gravely.
Ginny took a calming breath. She couldn’t fall apart when Harry needed her so badly. She glanced up at Hermione. “I’ll need help. Can you stay?”
Hermione nodded after searching Ron’s face. “They can spare me,” she said pulling her wand from her pocket. “What can I do?”
“We need to get him farther into the shop. He’s too exposed here.” Ginny led the way to the centre of the room as Hermione murmured, “Mobilicorpus” and floated Harry before her. Ron brought some blankets from behind the counter and joined the two witches and Harry on the floor near one of the lamps.
“What happened?” Ginny asked kneeling at Harry’s head and running her hand soothingly through his hair. The gesture might not comfort him right now, but it was wonderfully calming to her. The repetitious action helped her focus and she knew she needed to concentrate if she were to help Harry. She didn’t want to do anything to him until she knew all the facts; if she used the wrong healing spell she could do more damage than good.
Neville, Ron and Hermione exchanged glances as if trying to decide who would tell the story.
“We were all there,” Neville finally said. “Harry was duelling with Lucius Malfoy and seemed to be winning, even with his left arm out of commission. I mean, they were both throwing powerful spells at each other, almost as fast as some of the Aurors did last year in the…Death Chamber. Harry had just put the Leg-locker Curse on Mr. Malfoy when he suddenly crumpled to the ground holding his head and retching.”
“His scar?” Ginny asked.
Ron looked significantly at the two girls. “Like Christmas of fifth year,” he said quietly. Ginny knew he was referring to the night her father had been attacked while on duty for the Order. Harry had once told her about the pain he had experienced that night and what it had done to him; she shuddered involuntarily.
“Just because of whom he is everyone on both sides within ten meters or so stopped fighting to see what was happening.” Hermione said taking up the story. “That’s when Mr. Malfoy yelled, ‘Crucio’ and held the spell on Harry for a really long time. It was so awful–no one did anything except watch for about thirty seconds. It was as if both sides were frozen in time,” she said letting her voice trail to nothing, an agonized look crossing her worried face.
Ginny glanced at her brother. He and Neville wore identical guilt-ridden expressions to Hermione’s. She could tell just by looking at them that they seemed to think they had failed Harry for not protecting him.
Hermione closed her eyes briefly before she spoke again. “Ron finally Stunned Mr. Malfoy which lifted the curse. Then, as Harry regained his feet, three other spells hit him together. One was a Severing Hex of some sort.” She pointed to the blood soaking the left shoulder of Harry’s robes. “I think he dislocated the shoulder when he fell on it.”
“Did anyone hear what the hex was? Madam Pomfrey might need to know if it’s difficult to heal,” Ginny said thinking quickly.
Hermione thought for a moment, her brow creasing in concentration. She absently twirled a lock of hair around her finger as she answered, “No, but I remember what colour the light was that hit him. It could be one of the two I know about: Conseco Viscus or Secare Artus.”
Ginny’s breath caught in her throat. The first hex was usually aimed at the bones, the second at the joints. This news was not good. She hardly dared to ask her next question. “What about the other two spells?”
“Stunners,” murmured Ron. “Both in the back.”
Ginny covered her eyes with her free hand. “It’s worse than I thought,” she said shaking her head. She raised her eyes and looked at the others. “Did you get the Death Eater who hurt Harry?”
Hermione smiled and gazed with admiration at Ginny’s brother. “Ron did. Dropped him with a beautiful Stunning spell as he was gloating over Harry’s defeat.”
“Good,” Ginny said. She glanced at Ron. “He deserved it. I hope you tied him up, too.” When her brother grinned, she changed the subject. “Hermione, help me get Harry’s shirt off. We need to find out what the hex did and it’s probably best if we do so before we try to revive him.”
Hermione nodded, seeming to understand that Ginny intended to work on Harry’s shoulder using the Stunning spells like Muggles used ether and other sleeping drugs. He would have no recollection of the pain they put him through as they treated his wound.
As the girls began working, Ron and Neville took their leave, saying they’d come back when they could. Ginny nodded absently, concentrating on keeping Harry’s head and shoulders relatively still while Hermione began stripping away his robes and shirt. Both girls gasped involuntarily at the condition of Harry’s torso when the bloody shirt was pulled open; from the multiple vivid bruises it was easy to see that he’d been hit by some powerful spells and Ginny suspected Harry had several broken ribs. His other injuries were of a more immediate concern, though: first and foremost was the deep gash which ran at an angle across his left shoulder and down his left arm exposing the shoulder joint and upper arm bone which stuck out at an odd angle. On further inspection Ginny and Hermione could see that the ball joint was completely out of its socket. Harry’s arm lay limply on the floor. It, too, seemed to have something wrong with it.
“Secare Artus?” Ginny asked reaching for her wand.
Hermione murmured, “I think so” and placed a lamp closer to their work area so they could see better to bind up the wound.
“We’d better let Madam Pomfrey mend all this,” Hermione advised waving her hand in the general direction of Harry’s injuries. Ginny had to agree, although she hated the idea of not trying to shove Harry’s shoulder back into place. Something told her that setting him right would be less painful than leaving his shoulder alone, but because neither she nor Hermione knew what to do she was helpless. As she began casting cleaning spells and numbing charms on the exposed area, Hermione began ripping up a bed sheet Ginny had taken earlier for bandages.
Suddenly, Ginny froze. “Hermione!” she called quietly, her anxiety over her newest discovery betraying the calmness of her tone. “You need to see this.”
Hermione put down her sheet and hurried over. “This isn’t good,” she murmured. Ginny had finally exposed the full length of Harry’s limp left arm; it was badly swollen and clearly broken in at least four places. She reached for the cuff of Harry’s robes and tugged gently on the material to slide it over her friend’s hand. The simple movement caused the flesh to turn from slightly pink to deep purple.
Ginny bit her lip to keep the tears from spilling onto her face. “This is what Harry was hiding from me when he came in earlier this afternoon. He knew he was too badly hurt for me help him and wouldn’t let me look at his arm.” She glanced pleadingly at Hermione. “I don’t know where to begin, Hermione,” she whispered in desperation. “If we try Episkey we run the risk of healing the bones improperly and I couldn’t watch if Madam Pomfrey had to break Harry’s arm again in so many places.” She looked imploringly into her friend’s eyes. “Help me here…do we just wrap the arm as best we can or splint it like I wanted to do with Neville’s leg?”
“Splint it. It’s a more stable method. I remember Ron could put his weight on his broken leg when Professor Lupin used a Splinting Spell on him at the end of third year…” She trailed off, her gaze becoming unfocused with the memory. After a moment, she shook her head asking, “How can I help?”
Ginny explained what she wanted to do and together they tried to align the bones a little better before she cast the spell. Hermione then returned to her bandage-making because she felt that wrapping Harry’s shoulder and chest manually would be better than making a magical mistake. The final step in the process was securing Harry’s arm across his body in an attempt to keep him from further injuring himself when they reversed the Stunning spells.
When they were done, Ginny began cleaning up their work area, speaking nervously as she worked around Harry. “I really hope we’ve done the right thing, Hermione,” she said fretfully. “I’m very worried about leaving Harry’s shoulder the way it is. It just doesn’t seem right to leave it dislocated like that.”
“What makes you say that?”
Ginny sat back on her heels, twisting Harry’s discarded shirt in her hands as she spoke. “I was barely old enough to understand what was happening the time Charlie fell off his broom and dislocated his shoulder. I remember he walked around for two days before Mum finally forced him to let her look at his injury. She locked the rest of us out of the house, threatening Fred and George with a week’s worth of degnoming if they even attempted to disturb her. Percy led us all out to the far end of the orchard because that was the farthest we could get away from the house and Mum-the-Healer without going to the Quidditch Pitch. We could hear Charlie’s yells clear out there even though I know she cast the most powerful pain reducing spell she knew before she set him right.” She paused, feeling miserable. “I think what I’m babbling about is that I’m scared we’re setting Harry up for more problems than he already has.”
Hermione knelt beside her and draped an arm around her shoulders. “I’m just as scared as you are, Ginny, but you’ve got to admit that what we did is better than just letting Harry’s injuries go untreated.” She glanced around the room. “From what I see here, your goal with everyone else is not to completely cure their ailments, but to lessen the affects and give some relief: I think that was our goal with Harry. Am I correct?”
When Ginny nodded, she went on. “I hope you’re keeping a record of what’s been happening here. It’ll be important later on.”
“I’ve been writing down everything I’ve done for people, so that when they see Madam Pomfrey she’ll know what I did. It just seemed the right thing to do,” Ginny said, and pointed toward the counter. “We need to make note of how we treated Harry, too. The parchment’s next to the cash drawer over there, I think. Will you write it all down?”
“Of course, Ginny. I’m sure Madam Pomfrey will be grateful for your notes.”
“I hope so.”
Hermione found the parchment and began scribbling furiously. Ginny again sat at Harry’s head and gently touched the scar on his forehead. It felt rather hot to the touch and she wondered absently what it felt like inside his head.
All of a sudden, she remembered Harry’s pendant and decided to remove it, thinking that its magic might interfere with the spells the healers would perform at diagnosis; she didn’t want anything to hamper Harry’s treatment. She felt around for the clasp and quickly undid it, drawing the two ends around to the front and gently tugging the phoenix from under Harry’s bandages. The necklace came into view and Ginny tucked it into her pocket for safekeeping.
“I’m done,” Hermione announced coming around the edge of the counter. “Do you want to revive him or should I?”
“You do it. You’re better at advanced spells like that and I want to stay right here.” She sighed heavily, worry creasing her forehead, and resumed running her fingers through Harry’s hair. The adrenaline she’d been running on the last forty-five minutes was ebbing away, leaving her drained and shaky.
Hermione pulled out her wand, but seemed to hesitate. “You’re sure you don’t want to do it?”
Ginny shook her head. “I can’t hold my wand steady enough for that spell right now. Please, you do it.”
“Very well. On three. One…two…three…Enervate!”
End of Part Fifteen
Chapter 16: Chapter 16
Part SixteenThe fighting went on for hours, ranging up and down the high street and along the side roads into the surrounding countryside as each side advanced or retreated. Those inside the sweet shop (now numbering somewhere around sixty well and wounded students) took turns keeping watch: at first, for stray spells close to the front window, then for fires as sparks shooting through the air ignited the thatched roofs of the buildings on either side of the street. The older students were becoming fairly adept at extinguishing and other fire prevention spells. The former they cast at any small fires visible through the haze. The latter, broader group of spells they used the most, since the fire-fighting they were most concerned with had to do with keeping their shelter from joining the conflagration.
A rule soon took effect that if anyone went outside they were supposed to fling Retarde deflagratum, a retardant spell, at the thatched roof of the shop, the most vulnerable part of the building. It seemed to be working: there were only a few singed spots which the owners could easily repair after the fighting ceased. Soon after students began coming to the back door, one of the injured seventh years who came in on his own told Ginny that the untouched building stuck out among the wreckage of the other buildings on the street. From her seat at Harry’s side, Ginny then enlisted the help of the older students to camouflage the shop to make it look as if it had been burned.
Sometime after Neville, Ron and Hermione arrived with Harry, news leaked in that the fighting at Hogwarts was all but over. The rumours flying around suggested that something had happened around the time Harry collapsed which had turned the battle toward the Light side. What remained was the defence of the village and there was hope that it too would end as soon as the Death Eaters either escaped or were captured. For Ginny and the others huddled around Harry, peace and quiet would come none too soon.
Ginny shifted slightly in her position on the floor, trying not to jostle Harry’s head which she held cradled in her lap. “Hermione, would you check on the boys in the alley again, please? They’ve been out there for hours and I’m concerned that their guard is going to slip,” she said quietly.
Hermione patted Ginny’s arm. “Ron’s out there with them now,” she whispered looking around the shop. “You really did a wonderful job keeping everyone from becoming too scared, Ginny. I’m really impressed with the way you organized this...this refuge station. When Harry sent you in here, I never dreamed you’d stay and help so many.”
“You heard me tell Harry that I couldn’t leave. Well, I told Neville that I was staying here and doing my part.” She looked down at the tousled head in her lap. “And I’m very glad I did.”
The two girls exchanged a meaningful look before Hermione stood up. “I think another group’s coming. I’ll go see what they need.”
“Thanks, Hermione.”
Harry stirred and briefly opened his eyes. Ginny caressed his forehead, running her fingers through his fringe. She had to be careful, though. She could see the beginnings of several livid bruises on his face, one of which surrounded his scar.
“That feels good,” he said weakly.
“How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” Harry answered automatically.
“Oh, don’t give me that, Harry,” Ginny huffed softly. “I know you better than that and so does Madam Pomfrey.”
Harry smiled slightly at the mention of the Hogwarts matron. “I guess I’ll have to take her up on her offer of a permanent, private bed now, won’t I?” he joked feebly.
“I really wish you didn’t have to joke about that, Harry.”
“Me, too. But laughing at myself helps take some of the pain away,” he said touching the bloody bandage on his left shoulder. “So does whatever your hand is doing with my hair.”
“Good.” Ginny hesitated. “How...how about your scar?” She touched it lightly with her finger, noticing that it wasn’t as fiery red as it had been when Harry had arrived. The bruise around it had grown darker and Ginny wondered if Harry had a concussion.
Harry closed his eyes, grimacing. “It’s given me a splitting headache. Not as bad as when your dad was attacked, but just about. I’m not getting up any time soon.”
“I should hope not,” Ginny said, imitating her mother. “When this is all over you’re going straight to Madam Pomfrey and I’ll personally assure her that you won’t get out of bed until she says you can.”
Harry managed a weak smile. “Yes, Mum,” he said, causing Ginny to giggle.
They were silent for a time. Harry had closed his eyes and seemed to be relaxing a little under Ginny’s touch as she resumed her stroking. She had almost nodded off from tiredness herself when Harry jerked awake, a panicked expression on his face.
“My wand,” he gasped frantically patting at the pockets he could reach with his right hand. “I’ve lost my wand!”
Ginny reached over and took hold of Harry’s wrist, stilling his terrified searching. “Hush, now, Harry,” she whispered as calmly as she could. “Ron has it. He saw you drop it when Malfoy cursed you. He’ll give it back as soon as we get back to Hogwarts.”
“Are you sure?” His eyes sought hers wildly, pain and anxiety creasing his forehead.
“Yes, Harry. Do you want me to send for Ron now?” Ginny asked, trying to reassure him.
“No. Tell Ron…just to put it…in my trunk,” Harry gasped. “He knows…the locking spell I use. I…I won’t need it very soon, I reckon.”
“I’ll tell him, Harry,” Ginny said giving his wrist a squeeze. “Try to sleep, now. I’ll be right here.”
Harry closed his eyes again, although his body remained tense. He groaned softly as he tried to find a comfortable position. Ginny’s heart went out to him; she wished, for the thousandth time that afternoon, that she could take his pain away completely.
Suddenly, the front door magically burst open causing the sentries to jump back with a loud screech. There was a general scrambling sound as many of the students around the room drew their wands. Ginny felt Harry cringe as several Aurors leapt in and stood gaping at the scene around them.
“What the...Who’s in charge here?” a familiar voice demanded.
Ginny raised her hand, but did not get up. “I am,” she called, resuming her stroking of Harry’s forehead. He closed his eyes again with a soft moan.
The adults picked their way quickly through the maze of pallets and injured students who lay between the displays to where Ginny sat with Harry.
“Tonks?” Ginny asked in surprise and relief. “Is it over?”
“Ginny, thank goodness! Professor Dumbledore is frantic with worry.”
“I doubt that,” Harry murmured sourly.
Tonks looked at him with narrowed eyes. “For your information, young man, he sent out search parties looking for you as soon as he heard you’d been tortured and hurt. Nobody knew where you’d been taken.”
Ginny looked up at the Auror as she said, “Ron, Hermione and Neville brought him here. They thought it was safer than trying to take him all the way back to Hogwarts.”
Tonks considered this. “You know, at the time they were right. It was impossible to get past the school’s main gates because the bloody Death Eaters had been ambushing anyone who approached the school. Still, it would have been nice of someone to tell us Harry was safe.”
“I think they tried,” Ginny said calmly.
Tonks sighed. “It doesn’t matter now. You lot have been found and someone’s going to have to alert Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey that the missing students have been located.” She motioned to one of her companions who came over. The two conversed in whispers for a moment before the second Auror left.
“Whose idea was it to turn this shop into a first aid station?” Tonks asked taking a seat at Harry’s feet. “I mean, I'd seen Neville and Luna talking to stranded students, but we never thought you’d set up a safe area.”
“The safe area was Luna’s idea,” Ginny explained. “She saw a group of girls pinned down by wand-fire across the street when Harry ordered me to hide in here.” She glanced down at Harry just in time to see a smile flicker across his face at her words. “She and Neville convinced me that this was as good a place as any to bring the younger students to keep them safe.” I hope the Aurors don’t know about the tunnel into Hogwarts. I wonder if the pallet I put over the trap door is still where I placed it.
Good thinking, Ginny. I don’t think they know about it, Harry’s voice in her head commented, causing her to startle slightly.
“And the first aid station...” prompted Tonks pulling out a self-inking quill and a notebook. She set the quill to taking notes as the two witches talked.
At Tonks’ request, Ginny explained what had occurred at the shop during the battle.
At length, she sighed. “That’s it. Ron, Hermione and Neville brought Harry in and I haven’t left him since. I nearly forgot about everyone else who needed help after that. Hermione stayed to help out anyone who came in looking for assistance. I don’t even know where Neville and Luna are now. I think Ron was outside in the alley a little while ago.” She pinned Tonks with her eyes as she asked, “Have you seen my brother?”
Tonks smiled and cancelled the spell on her quill. “Ron’s fine, Ginny. Actually, he, Neville and Luna are outside trying to cancel that camouflaging spell you used on the building.”
Ginny shook her head. “I’m not sure what the seventh years used on the building to make it look like the others on the block. By the time that issue came up I was so busy reversing jinxes that I delegated it to someone. I’m sorry, but I don’t remember who it was.”
“That’s all right, Ginny. They’ll figure it out. By the way, how did you get the idea to make it look ruined by fire?”
“I read about something similar in Hermione’s copy of Hogwarts: a History.”
“You did?” Hermione asked coming up to give Tonks the lists of students and Ginny’s notes for Madam Pomfrey. “When did you read my book?”
“Last summer when you and Harry were at the Burrow. You left it sitting on top of your trunk one night, so I grabbed it when I went downstairs to make myself a cup of tea around midnight. The section on Muggle-discouraging magic was absolutely fascinating.”
Hermione looked pleased. “I like that chapter, too. It’s one of my favourites.”
Tonks gathered up her quill and notebook and stood up. “I think I have all I need here,” she said to the other Aurors who had been listening to their conversation. “Let’s start transporting the wounded back to Hogwarts. I hope we have enough Portkeys for those who can’t walk on their own.” The other adults fanned out among the students to assess who could find their way back to school on their own and who needed assistance.
Tonks removed an old glove and her wand from her pocket and knelt next to Harry. “Let’s get you out of here, Harry. Ginny can go with you to St. Mungo’s.”
“NO!” Ginny and Hermione exclaimed sharply. Tonks was so taken aback by their outburst that she dropped both the glove and her wand.
“You can’t send him there,” Ginny pleaded. “He’s not safe there. Please, take him back to Hogwarts.”
Tonks eyed the girls suspiciously and glanced at Harry. “Do you agree with them? Because St. Mungo’s is where you belong.”
Smiling his thanks to the two girls, Harry whispered, “Send me to Madam Pomfrey. She’s mended me before and she can do it again.”
“All right. If that’s what you want, Harry,” Tonks conceded. She took up her wand again and pointed it at the glove. “Portus.” The glowing blue light of the spell surrounded the glove briefly before fading away. Tonks murmured several binding spells which strapped Harry’s bedding to him (“For a softer landing,” she explained), then placed the glove on Harry’s stomach and motioned for Ginny to touch the Portkey.
“This will take you to the hallway outside the hospital doors. Don’t be surprised if there are people waiting there. It’s been one hell of a day,” she said looking at Ginny. “Are you ready? One...two...three...”
Ginny felt the familiar yanking sensation in her middle. The sweet shop fell away and before she knew it, she and Harry were slamming into the hard stone floor of the Hogwarts corridor. As Harry let out a mighty groan, the occupants of the hall let out a cheer which brought Madam Pomfrey hurrying outside to see what the commotion was all about.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Midnight found Ginny, Ron and Hermione sitting in hard wooden chairs next to Harry’s bed. He looked a little better than he had at Honeydukes; Madam Pomfrey had applied some healing spells to his face and ribs and inspected his shoulder and arm injuries. She was reluctant to treat his more grievous wounds, having determined that someone from St. Mungo’s needed to look at them before she sealed up the laceration. She had also given him several potions to counteract his pain and ease the effects of the Cruciatus Curse and the two Stunning spells. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully now under the influence of the Dreamless Sleep potion Ginny had insisted upon helping him drink.
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had Apparated to Hogsmeade to help the Order repel Voldemort’s forces as soon as word reached them about the battle at the school. They had finally joined their children after a quick survey of the village, including an inspection of the Honeydukes safe house. Madam Pomfrey then granted them all permission to stay with Harry through the night, like she had so many other families. Every bed in the hospital wing was occupied and Ginny assumed the exhausted matron didn’t have the energy to argue with anyone who protested that they had a right to stay.
Mrs. Weasley now sat next to Ginny who was holding Harry’s hand. “Ginny, love, you must be exhausted. Go upstairs and have a lie down. I’ll stay with Harry and send someone up to get you if he wakes,” she said quietly.
“No, Mum. I’m too edgy to sleep. Besides, if I went back up to the tower right now, someone would accost me for news of Harry and at the moment I just don’t feel up to being a walking notice board.”
“Well, then, let me see if Madam Pomfrey has any spare pillows. The least you could do is lay your head down somewhere.”
“No, thanks, Mum. I’m too worried about Harry to sleep.” When her mother still scowled her disapproval she conceded, “A pillow will be nice for later. What I really need is some quiet time with just my thoughts. Please, let me just sit here for a while. It’s what I need most.”
“All right, love. I hope you know I’m very proud of you.”
Ginny smiled at her mother. It had been a long time since she had heard those exact words and felt the praise was something to savour and mull over. With a contented sigh, she turned her gaze back to Harry.
As she sat there, Ginny’s tired mind wandered to the events following her and Harry’s arrival in the hall outside the hospital wing. To say that their spectacular entrance created quite a stir was a huge understatement. As soon as Madam Pomfrey whisked Harry into her inner sanctum, those waiting in the corridor descended upon Ginny. She received hugs and handshakes and words of thanks from both classmates and adults alike. Ron and Hermione had appeared at her side as soon as they were able, having run almost all the way back to the castle.
“Ginny, can you and Ron and Hermione let me have a picture?” Colin Creevey requested. Ginny remembered helping him sort out the various curses he had been hit with earlier that day. “We need to commemorate the students who helped save their classmates and the village of Hogsmeade.”
“Sure thing, Colin, but what about Neville and Luna?” Ron asked holding a stitch in his side.
“They’re next. Then I want a group shot of all five of you,” the energetic Gryffindor explained.
They finished the pictures a few minutes later as Imogene dragged Stewart Ackerley over to where Ginny was accepting words of gratitude from a group of seventh years.
“Ginny!” Imogene shrieked as she launched herself at the older girl. Pulling back she gushed, “Thank you for introducing me to Maura and Emma and Samantha and Rebecca. I have friends now thanks to you!”
Ginny stared at the Slytherin in disbelief. Three years with no friends...how awful! “My pleasure, Imogene,” she murmured as Imogene tugged on Stewart’s hand.
Bashfully, more to the floor than to Ginny, he said, “I’m glad you paired us up for sentry duty, Ginny. Otherwise I wouldn’t have made friends with Imogene.” He cast a shy glance at the girl clutching his hand.
Ginny thought, I hope Professor Dumbledore knows these two became friends today. They accomplished something the Sorting Hat meant all of the students to do last year...make inter-house friendships. “I appreciate your help,” she told him.
Maura, Emma, Samantha and Rebecca now pushed their way over to Ginny and engulfed her and the other two students in a huge group hug.
“We want to thank you,” Maura began, “for helping us through a very scary experience.”
“You gave us choices which helped us deal with the situation,” Emma said.
“And we even made friends with someone we never thought we’d like,” Samantha said looking at Imogene. “Thank you, Ginny.”
“I’m really glad to have helped,” Ginny responded sincerely.
Rebecca looked at her watch. “I hate to say it, but we need to get back to our common room,” she said. She squeezed Ginny’s hand. “You really helped us today. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” Ginny said quietly. It was beginning to dawn on her just how many people she, Neville and Luna had helped during the fighting. She waved tiredly at the retreating students and found a place to sit against the wall. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back with an exhausted sigh.
Several minutes later, someone shook her awake. She opened one eye to find Neil, Nikhil and the other boys she had sent into the alley crouched around her.
“We won’t take too long,” Neil began. “We just wanted to tell you that we had fun today. It was wicked having target practice on all those pixies!”
“This lot told me that some of those spells were fifth year level!” exclaimed Nikhil. “Thanks, Ginny.”
“You helped many people, too, you know,” Ginny said. “All those pixies you Stunned could have done a lot of damage.”
The boys considered this. “I guess so,” Nikhil said in a quiet voice. “Erm...one thing...how is Harry?”
Ginny grew pensive. “I wish I knew. He’s with Madam Pomfrey now.”
Nikhil nodded gravely as Neil murmured something about needing to get back to their dormitory before curfew. The others reluctantly agreed and said good-night. Once again, Ginny gave in to her fatigue and rested her head against the wall.
Professor Dumbledore appeared in the corridor around ten o’clock. A middle-aged couple was with him. Ron and Hermione, who had left earlier to go to the Great Hall for a quick dinner, had rejoined Ginny after the last of her well-wishers had left. Hermione now shook Ginny awake again. She greeted the Headmaster with a weary smile.
“Miss Weasley, I have someone who wishes to make your acquaintance.”
“Hello, Professor,” she said stifling a yawn.
“This is Mr. and Mrs. Ambrosius Flume, owners of Honeydukes Sweet Shop.”
“Oh,” Ginny gasped, completely surprised and a little discomfited to be meeting them. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said, scrambling to her feet.
Mr. and Mrs. Flume stepped forward. “We want to thank you for saving our business. Because of you, we’re much better off than many others in Hogsmeade. We appreciate what you did,” Mr. Flume told her.
Embarrassed, Ginny protested, “I really didn’t do anything.”
“You certainly did, young lady,” Mrs. Flume said. “You saved our merchandise and kept our shop from burning down. Most of the buildings in the village are in ashes this evening and thanks to you we have a home to go to.”
“But I had to steal from you. I’m really sorry about that.”
“Tosh! What you took is replaceable and you put it to good use helping your fellow students. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”
Ginny wasn’t convinced. She still felt guilty about having to break into the Flume’s home, something her parents had taught her was wrong and her detentions with Professor Snape had reinforced. “I appreciate your saying that. Somehow, I’ll replace what I took.”
Professor Dumbledore stepped in. “Miss Weasley, you will do no such thing.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Miss Weasley,” Mr. Flume said holding out an envelope. “My wife and I want you to accept this certificate as a token of our appreciation.”
At this, Ron leaned over and nudged his sister as she took the envelope. “Lucky,” he teased as Ginny opened it.
“Fifty Galleons? This is too much!” she gasped. “I didn’t do fifty Galleons’ worth of...”
Beside her, Ron muttered, “Wicked! When’s the party?” Ginny elbowed him in the ribs to silence him as Hermione scowled her disapproval.
Mrs. Flume smiled. “Yes, you did, my dear. That theft-alert charm you placed on the merchandise in the show room is worth that alone. It took almost an hour to find the counter spell to cancel it. Where did you learn the charm?”
Ginny grinned and glanced at Ron who had the grace to look slightly sheepish. “My mum,” she said. “I have six older brothers who are notorious for stealing from the biscuit jar or cooling racks she places on the counter when she’s baking. She had to do something to alert her to thievery or they’d eat her out of house and home.”
“She’s a very clever woman, your mum. Please thank her for us.”
“I don’t think she knows I learned that spell from her. It’s come in handy a few times.”
The door to the infirmary had opened while Ginny was speaking and Professor Dumbledore walked over to converse with Madam Pomfrey. As Ginny exchanged hugs with Mrs. Flume, the headmaster cleared his throat.
“Miss Weasley, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, Madam Pomfrey has just informed me that Harry is ready for visitors. Do you wish to go to see him for a while?”
Hermione answered for the three students. “Yes, of course. Thank you, Professor.”
Mr. Flume shook Ginny’s hand. “We hope to see you again soon young lady. If not, please come round on your first Hogsmeade weekend next term.”
“I will. Good night and thank you,” she said her mind already with Harry. She paused at the door to wave at the merchants before she followed Ron and Hermione over to where Harry lay.
Madam Pomfrey had placed the familiar curtains around Harry’s bed. His eyes were closed and he seemed to be resting.
“Welcome to my private room,” he joked as Ginny bent to place a quick kiss on his forehead. The large bruise around his scar looked worse than it had earlier despite Madam Pomfrey’s ministrations; it had taken on an angry purple-black hue since she had last seen him and he winced when she accidentally touched it. Alarmed, she apologized immediately. Harry frowned and shook his head, sending her the thought, It’s nothing...I’ll be fine, to which Ginny scowled.
Ron conjured three chairs. “Thanks, mate. But you might want to do something about the noise,” he teased.
Hermione pulled out her wand and cast a non-verbal spell. The whisperings, rustlings, and general hubbub of the ward muted substantially. “How’s that?” she asked.
Harry smiled. “Silence is golden,” he told them. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“We are, too, Harry. Is there anything we can do?”
“Stay with me?” Ginny raised an eyebrow at this request. “I’m...I’m feeling rather...vulnerable at the moment.”
Ginny sat in the chair Ron had placed behind her. She took Harry’s hand in her own and gave it a gentle squeeze, knowing how much his admission had just cost him. “Sure, Harry. Sleep now. We’ll be right here.”
Ron and Hermione sat down next to Ginny and began conversing in whispers. Harry grew silent, but didn’t close his eyes.
When Mr. and Mrs. Weasley showed up around half-past eleven, Ginny’s mother stood at the foot of Harry’s bed looking perplexedly from one teen to another. Ron took one look at his mother’s face and burst out laughing. Harry, Hermione and Ginny stared at him.
“This is too funny,” Ron chortled. “I’ve only seen Mum like this one other time...she’s trying to decide who to hug first!”
Mrs. Weasley shook her head and added her laughter to Ron’s as she swept him into a bone-crushing hug. “You’re nearest, so you’re first,” she said. She moved to Hermione and finally Ginny who she held the longest before standing next to Harry’s bed. Just as her daughter had done earlier, she caressed the top of his head, carefully avoiding the bruise.
“I’d hug you, Harry, but I don’t want to undo what Madam Pomfrey has so expertly done,” she told him.
“That’s all right, Mrs. Weasley,” he murmured. “It’s good just knowing you’re here. I’ve got…my family...with me now.” He closed his eyes, smiling tiredly. Ginny was sure he didn’t see the tears that leaked silently down her mother’s cheeks at his words. She’d have to remember to tell him when they had a moment of privacy.
Madam Pomfrey came around the curtains carrying a goblet filled to the brim with a purple potion. “One last potion, Harry,” she said, gently waking him.
“What is it?”
“Dreamless Sleep. Yes, I know I made you swallow about a dozen other potions, but you need your rest, young man, and this will help.” She put the goblet down on the bedside table.
“May I administer the potion?” Ginny dared to ask.
Madam Pomfrey looked first at Mrs. Weasley who smiled indulgently, then at Ginny. “We need to first help Harry sit up…like this,” the matron said showing Ginny. Then she handed her the goblet.
“You need to drink all of it for the potion to be completely effective,” she said to Harry.
Harry nodded as Ginny held the goblet to his lips. He gulped down the potion and Ginny felt him sag against her as it took effect. She lowered Harry onto the bed as Madam Pomfrey said quietly, “That’s all for now, Ginny. You’ve done a commendable job playing Florence Nightingale today.”
At this reference, Ginny looked quizzically at Hermione and mouthed, “Florence Nightingale?” to which Hermione hissed, “Muggle nurse…later.”
The girls turned their attention back to Madam Pomfrey who was saying, “I appreciate all you did for your fellow students. The anecdotal notes you provided made my job easier and I’m grateful to you.”
Ginny suddenly felt too tired to respond with anything more than a smile. She longed for her four-poster upstairs in the tower, but couldn’t bring herself to make the long trek back to her dormitory. Mrs. Weasley sensed her daughter’s fatigue and suggested that she have a lie-down.
Ginny refused to leave, but accepted a pillow to use later, saying that she wanted just to sit beside Harry as he slept. Hermione and Ron also expressed the desire to stay as well. Mrs. Weasley and Mr. Weasley exchanged knowing glances and left the ward, saying they would be back in the morning.
The lights began to dim around the ward and Ginny felt her body relax for the first time in hours. Her mind wandered from one incident to the next, reviewing the people she’d met and how they, in turn, had kept her from going nutters as she worried about her friends.
Her last coherent thought before she placed the pillow on the back of her chair was, I kept my promise, Harry.
A smile played about her lips as Ginny finally slept.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
The sun was streaming in through the hospital wing windows when Hermione shook Ginny awake the next morning. Ginny had lost the pillow she had used to cushion her head from the hard wooden back of her chair, so her neck was exceptionally stiff. It didn’t help that she had the general feeling of being completely dirty, having not had a shower the night before.
“I brought you a change of clothes, Ginny” Hermione said handing the younger witch a bag of clothing and toiletries. “Madam Pomfrey said we could use the lavatory here instead of going back to the tower. I wanted different clothes so I went upstairs anyway. I thought you’d like something clean, too.”
With a grateful smile, Ginny took the bag and made her way into the loo. The water felt good; she washed her hair and stayed in the shower as long as she dared. It was nice to put on clean clothes afterwards as well. As she opened the door to the loo, she saw that Madam Pomfrey was shooing Hermione and Ron out the door, presumably toward the Great Hall for breakfast.
Harry was finally in a deep, potion-induced sleep. He’d had a bad night, one filled with such pain that even the Dreamless Sleep potion couldn’t keep him asleep for very long; the Hogwarts matron had finally resorted to a more powerful painkiller which relaxed him enough to allow him to sleep. I hope Madam Pomfrey lets him rest. He needs it so badly, Ginny thought as she paused at his bed to tell him where she was going. She caressed his cheek. I’ll be back soon, Harry. She hated to leave him, but her stomach rumbled in such an un-lady-like fashion that she gave up the idea of sitting back down and waiting for him to wake. Still, she hesitated. Finally, she removed Harry’s necklace from the pocket she had stowed it in the day before–she was surprised he hadn’t been panicked about its absence as he had his wand–and gently wrapped the chain around his right wrist, securing the phoenix underneath the chain. She magically shrunk the chain just enough for it to stay in place, then stepped back, her hand lingering on his arm. Harry sighed and burrowed further under the blankets, a faint smile teasing his lips as she fingered her angel.
Her decision made, she put her bag under her chair and looked around for her walking stick. It was nowhere to be seen, so she assumed that it had not been part of the trip back to Hogwarts last night. Resigning herself to the inevitable, Ginny slowly made her way out of the ward and down to the Great Hall using whatever statue or suit of armour was handiest when she needed support.
The huge room was completely packed with people when Ginny finally reached the bottom of the marble staircase and paused momentarily in the doorway of the Great Hall to take in the scene. At each house table sat a mixture of adults and students all seeming to be talking at once. The top table had been enlarged by five or six chairs on each side to accommodate extra visitors, their occupants adding to the general rise and fall of so many voices.
All at once, a high-pitched voice squealed, “Look! There’s Ginny Weasley!”
Heads all over the Great Hall snapped around as Ginny looked about for the speaker. A moment later, almost everyone (including a great many Slytherins, to Ginny’s surprise) was on their feet applauding her as she limped across the room to the Gryffindor table to shouts of “Bravo!” and “Well done, Ginny”.
“They’re doing this to everyone!” Neville shouted happily at her when she sat down across the table from him at the place Ron and Hermione had saved for her.
“Everyone?”
“Just about. They clapped for Ron and Hermione and gave Luna and me a standing ovation!” Neville beamed. “I just feel sorry for the first and second years...they don’t know who half the people are that they’re clapping for.”
Ginny smiled. “That’s great, Neville. Where’s Luna? I don’t think I thanked her yesterday.”
“She’s over at the Ravenclaw table. Her dad came up to do a piece on the battle for next month’s Quibbler.” Neville informed her while reaching for a platter of sausages and bacon. As he loaded his plate he asked, “How’s Harry?”
Ginny sighed and stared at her bowl of porridge. “I don’t know. He was asleep when I left. He had a bad night, though...lots of pain from that wound on his shoulder.”
“Didn’t Madam Pomfrey mend it?”
“No. She just looked at it and rewrapped it. I think it had something to do with not knowing exactly what spell was used. A Healer from St. Mungo’s is supposed to come by today and examine Harry.”
Neville shook his head. “He never gets a break, does he?”
Just then, a flurry of owls descended upon the tables; the morning mail had arrived. While most of the birds were able to find the recipients of their letters and packages, quite a few circled the enchanted ceiling, and then zoomed through the double doors into the Entrance Hall, presumably heading toward the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey was not going to like that at all.
“I thought the post office burned down and the owls escaped,” Ron commented from Ginny’s left.
“It looks like they’re back in business,” Hermione observed. “Most of the owls took refuge in the Hogwarts Owlery from what I’ve heard.”
Further conversation came to a halt as Hedwig flew in a tight circle about Ginny’s head, a long thin package tied to her legs. “What have you got there, girl?” she asked. “Ron, hold out your arm. Maybe she’ll hold still long enough for me to untie this package if she has something to stand on.”
The grateful owl settled regally onto Ron’s outstretched arm and allowed Ginny to retrieve the package. She then fluttered down onto the table and waited until Ginny held out her goblet of pumpkin juice and offered a piece of sausage. Ron ran a gentle finger down the owl’s back causing her to twitter softly.
“I think she likes that,” he said, thanking Hedwig, who took her leave and flew off in the direction of the Owlery.
“It’s my walking stick!” Ginny exclaimed, emerging from a cloud of wrapping paper holding her stick in one hand and a stiff paper card in the other. “Mr. and Mrs. Flume say that someone sent Hedwig to inquire after it. They found my stick near the back door last night and are glad they could send it back to me.” She eyed Ron and Hermione. “Which one of you sent Hedwig?”
Ron grinned. “I did, Gin. Tonks’ Portkey took you out of the shop so quickly I didn’t think you’d remembered it.”
“Thanks, Ron. I missed it this morning.”
“You almost done? I’d like to get back to Harry.”
Ginny took one last swallow of her pumpkin juice and wiped her mouth. “All set. Neville, are you coming up with us?”
Neville shook his head. “Not right now, Ginny. I’ll be up later after I’ve seen Luna. She said something about her dad wanting interviews with you, Ron and Hermione.”
“I’d rather talk to Mr. Lovegood than someone from the Daily Prophet,” Ginny told him smiling. “See you later, then.” Hermione, Ron and Ginny stood up and left the Great Hall as another round of applause filled the room, this time for some Hufflepuff seventh years.
“Do you think Madam Pomfrey will have let Harry sleep while we’re gone?” Hermione asked as they climbed the marble staircase.
“I hope so. She was up with him as much as we were last night,” Ron commented. He didn’t even try to stifle a huge yawn. “What I’d give for my four-poster right now...”
“Ron! How could you even think a thing like that right now?” Hermione looked scandalized at Ron.
“Easily. You try to sleep all night sitting up without a pillow.”
“I did.”
Ron grinned wickedly. “No, you were leaning on me so you had a pillow.”
Hermione just looked daggers at Ron as Ginny opened the door to the ward. The three quickly passed through and walked quietly toward Harry’s bed, Ron and Hermione all the while continuing their disagreement in hushed whispers.
Madam Pomfrey and several other adults, including Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, were grouped around Harry’s bed. The matron detached herself from the group and approached the young people.
“We’re just about ready to examine Harry. If you’d just wait outside...” she suggested.
“I’d like to stay and see what they do,” Ginny stated firmly. “I promise not to get in the way.”
“I know you were very beneficial to Harry yesterday, Ginny,” Madam Pomfrey said. “But I’m afraid what the St. Mungo’s Healers need to do to Harry isn’t going to be very pleasant.”
“All the more reason for me to be with him,” Ginny insisted.
Mrs. Weasley walked over. “They’ve finished mending Harry’s arm,” she told Madam Pomfrey. To Ginny and the others she said, “Please wait outside, you lot. We’ll be done in about an hour.”
“No, Mum. I’m staying with Harry,” Ginny hissed. When Mrs. Weasley glared at her daughter, Ginny tried a different tactic. “Harry stayed with me the day I took Neville’s potion and then several times when Healer Rodkey worked on me after that. I’m going to be there for him today.” With that, she turned and walked to the head of Harry’s bed.
Mrs. Weasley gave an exasperated sigh and followed her daughter. “Ginevra Weasley…You will not!”
“Mother, I promised Harry…” Ginny stepped over to the windows. “I’m staying.”
Mrs. Weasley’s response was swallowed by the vastness of the vaulted ceiling, but the set of her shoulders told everyone present that she was not happy with Ginny’s insistence upon staying.
Ginny looked rather smug as she joined Ron and Hermione who had moved to stand behind Harry’s head. She took Harry’s hand and whispered to him, “I’m right here. Mum’s decided I can stay.”
Harry smiled wanly at her as Ron said, “We’re here for you, mate” and stepped back out of the way.
Ron, Ginny and Hermione were now introduced to the St. Mungo’s team of Healers: Healer Dulac, Healer Rodkey and Healer Westwood-Greenhowe, the Head of the Spell Damage Ward at the hospital. Ginny recognized Healer Rodkey right away, but didn’t say anything as Madam Pomfrey had begun to speak. Ginny glanced back at Hermione and mouthed, “She’s using our notes.” Hermione nodded and both witches turned their attention back to the adults.
Healer Westwood-Greenhowe started to work on Harry. He unbound his shoulder and began examining the wound. Harry winced and inhaled sharply a few times as the Healer applied pressure here, a diagnostic spell there. Finally, he looked up at Madam Pomfrey. “Who treated this young man in the field?” he asked.
“Miss Weasley and Miss Granger,” the Hogwarts nurse replied.
“These young ladies?”
“Yes, sir. Miss Weasley had set up a basic first aid station for students during the battle.”
“I’m impressed,” he said looking at the two girls. “You did the right thing for this young man. By stabilizing his shoulder you minimized the amount of damage brought about by the hex.” He consulted Hermione’s notes. “It states here that one of two curses, either Conseco Viscus or Secare Artus, was used. Did either of you see the spell being cast?”
Hermione stepped forward. “I did. Ron and I were duelling with the Death Eaters beside Harry, who was engaged with someone. Harry was trying to get to his feet after being hit with the Cruciatus Curse when two Stunning Spells were released at the same time as the Severing Hex.”
“I see. So…you didn’t hear the exact spell as it was cast?”
“No, sir, there was too much noise,” Hermione replied. “But I was close enough to the Death Eater who cast the spell to see his wand–Harry and our instructors have been admonishing us to be aware of what’s going on around us when we’re engaged with someone–so it was only a matter of remembering the colour of the energy, observing the spell’s trajectory and later looking at the results that helped me decided on the possible spells used.” She stepped back and Ginny saw Ron put his arm around her friend.
“And the colour of the spell was...”
“Magenta, sir.”
Healer Westwood smiled. “Excellent observation and reasoning young lady. I sometimes wish my interns were as perceptive as you. You are, in fact, correct that the spell used was a very powerful Secare Artus.” Hermione beamed at these words.
As Healer Westwood enlarged and magically held open the tear in Harry’s shoulder, he instructed, “Step forward, all three of you. As long as you are here, you might as well learn something.” When Ginny, Hermione and Ron were close enough to see he said, “First of all, I commend you for stabilizing Harry’s broken arm instead of trying to heal it yourselves. You were very wise to leave it for a more experienced Healer.
“Now then…the spell that did this damage was originally created for surgical use and was adapted as a fighting hex back in Grindelwald’s time. Very nasty business, that. The spell used on Mr. Potter here was not aimed well, it didn’t have to be to cause major damage; the energy which healers usually use to slice into the ligaments and tendons was mostly expended on ripping the skin and the deltoid and pectoralis major muscles–here and here.” A pointer appeared at the end of Healer Westwood’s wand. “The rest of the spell’s power was absorbed by the clavicle and the acromion process of the scapula causing the fractures we find here and here.” He pointed to the places where the spell had expended itself. The damage was extensive; the first fracture began close to Harry’s shoulder joint and spread along the clavicle toward his neck, the second was actually a shattered area that had left a hole in the tissue above the round ball attached to the arm bone. Splinters of bone were plainly visible in the bloody mess that was Harry’s shoulder. One spell caused all that? Ginny shuddered. No wonder he was in so much pain last night!
Ginny felt Ron step backwards a little and expel a deep breath. What they were seeing was not a pretty sight and she knew he didn’t have much of a stomach for gory things like this. Hang in there, Ron, she thought as her brother took his place beside her again. This isn’t as bad as it was yesterday.
Hermione spoke up again. “Sir, I’m having trouble understanding what I’m seeing. Is there a way to show us what a healthy shoulder joint really looks like?”
The St. Mungo’s Healer smiled at the three students, and then addressed Harry. “Mr. Potter, would you consent to be something of a guinea pig for your friends?” he asked.
Harry murmured his consent and with a flick of his wand, Healer Westwood caused the skin and muscles of Harry’s right shoulder to become transparent. Ginny’s head swivelled back and forth as she compared the structure of Harry’s healthy side to his injured one, her curiosity peaking as she worked through what she was looking at. Beside her, Hermione extended a cautious hand and pointed toward the area above the ball joint.
“Sir, is this the acromion process you’re going to have to rebuild? And how badly broken is the clavicle?” she asked as the transparency spell terminated.
“Correct. The diagnostics I performed earlier revealed there is no damage to the clavicle other than what we see here. Our biggest concern right now is the splintered acromion process which will take some sorting out. One last thing to point out: you can see here (he pointed again) that the ligaments, muscles and rotator cuff were torn by the spell, thus weakening the joint.”
“So, you’re telling us that what dislocated Harry’s shoulder was his falling on it and not the original spell?” Hermione inquired.
“Correct again. The spell severed only enough of the soft tissue infrastructure to weaken the joint. It also cracked the clavicle and destroyed the acromion at the impact point, what we call the acromioclavicular joint. The collision with the ground pushed the arm out of its socket.”
Hermione looked appraisingly at Healer Westwood-Greenhowe. “Sir, did the spell do any damage to the medial nerves? And what about loss in range of motion?”
Ginny smiled to herself as she marvelled at Hermione’s level of preparation. Her friend must have spent a considerable amount of time in the Healing section of the library this morning, she speculated. She glanced over at her parents who stood at the foot of Harry’s bed. Her mum looked at a loss for words; most likely Hermione was asking the questions she herself wanted to ask about Harry’s condition. It must be rather disconcerting to be upstaged by a seventeen-year-old, she thought in amusement.
“I do not believe so. Mr. Potter has not reported any loss of feeling in his hand or arm,” the Healer said looking pointedly at Harry. “If all goes as expected, Harry should have a complete recovery–once we’ve rebuilt the acromion process–with no noticeable loss of sensation or movement once the arm is released from its restraints.”
Harry looked alarmed. “Restraints, sir?”
Healer Dulac explained, “You will be required to wear a sling after treatment for several days to give your body the extra time it needs to complete the healing process. In other words, a high-powered dose of Skelo-Grow is required to instantly reconstruct the impact point and it needs extra time to fully solidify the new bone.”
Harry made a face and nodded resolutely. “I reckon I can live with that,” he said grimly.
It won’t be that bad, Harry, Ginny thought, a little bit annoyed. It’s just a sling, for goodness sakes!
That’s not it, Ginny, Harry whined. “Skelo-Grow is pure agony!”
I know. But what’s a little pain if the healers can put you right almost instantly? Ginny asked soothingly. Would you rather they rebuilt your shoulder surgically like the Muggles do?
No! Not that! Harry exclaimed.
Well, Skelo-Grow is the fastest way to do it, then!
That’s easy for you to say, Harry whined again.
Fine. Ginny shot back. Is there anything else you’re going to complain about?
Yes. The sling. I don’t see why they have to make me wear it.
Ginny felt her patience wearing thin. Harry, you need the support if you’re going to heal properly. Please be sensible. It sounds to me like a physical reminder to you not to overtax your shoulder until you’re completely healed. I don’t think you’d like it much if you have to come back here and have Madam Pomfrey put you in a body casket!
Absolutely not! Harry exclaimed. And it’s cast, not casket.
Listen, Harry, Madam Pomfrey made me promise to wear sturdy shoes for a few days after she mended my broken ankle last year. Just go along with what the healers want you to do. I don’t think you want to end up in here again after you’ve been discharged.
Harry was silent for a moment before he told her, What you’re saying makes sense. But I still don’t like the idea of having to go through a dose of Skelo-Grow. That stuff hurts! He caught her eye, giving her a pained smile. Thanks for the reassurance, though, Ginny. I–I reckon I’m a little scared.
Ginny reached over and ran a reassuring hand through Harry’s hair. Mum and Dad and Ron and Hermione and I are right here, Harry. It’s all right to be scared. I think we are, too, but we also want you to get better.
Me, too, Ginny, me too.
Healer Westwood-Greenhowe now began explaining what exactly he was going to do. Ginny and the others stepped back to let him and Healer Dulac have the room they needed to work. Hermione buried her head in Ron’s shoulder, not wanting to look. Ginny wondered absently why her friend could be so academically involved with Harry’s diagnosis and then not bear to see the actual completion of the procedure. She took another step backward and found her brother’s arm snaking protectively around her shoulders as well. She glanced up at her parents to see her mother holding tightly to her father’s hand; all of Harry’s supporters steeled themselves for what was about to happen to their friend.
When Harry was ready, Healer Westwood repaired the broken bones, taking a long time to extract the fragments embedded in Harry’s muscles. He then nodded to Healer Dulac who administered a high-powered dose of Instant Skelo-Grow. They waited a few minutes for the potion to take effect; Harry bore the pain silently, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes as his bones re-grew themselves. Finally, the two healers took hold of him and, with an audible “POP!” accompanied by a mighty yelp of pain from their patient, repositioned Harry’s arm in its proper place in his shoulder. Several minutes later, the soft tissue had been repaired and the wound closed. Healer Rodkey stepped in and began casting therapy spells. As she worked, Harry’s haggard face began to relax.
“How are you feeling?” Healer Rodkey asked Harry when she had finished her spells and bound up his shoulder to support it.
“Fine,” was Harry’s patent answer.
Both Ginny and Hermione scowled at him. He glared back defiantly.
“Oh, all right. I still hurt all over!” he confessed finally to Healer Rodkey. “Satisfied?” he shot at the girls.
Healer Rodkey helped him sit up. “Ginny, could you help me? There’s a cup of the same pain potion you’ve been taking on Harry’s bedside table. Please bring it here.”
Smiling, Ginny walked over to the table, selected the correct potion and came back to the bed. Harry took the cup, but his hand shook so much that he nearly spilled the contents. “Let me help you,” she said gently taking his hand and guiding it and the cup toward his lips. Harry drank.
“Is that better now?” Healer Rodkey inquired, easing Harry back onto his pillows.
“Yeah, but I still feel like I’ve been trampled by a herd of rampaging hippogriffs,” he told her.
The remark caused Ron to chuckle. “I think some of your Divination predictions from fourth year are finally coming true. Well, come to think of it, wasn’t the hippogriff supposed to come after me?”
“Shut it, Ron!” Harry shot back weakly. He turned to Healer Rodkey. “How come Healer Westwood-Greenhowe used Muggle medical techniques to put me back together?”
“Well, Harry, sometimes the Muggles have the best way,” she told him producing a Muggle-style sling and fitting it to him. “Their hands-on technique in this situation allowed Healer Westwood to physically feel what he was doing. Sometimes the detachedness of wand work doesn’t always bring about the best results.”
“That makes sense,” he said glancing down at the brightly coloured rectangle of material which held his repaired arm against his body. “How long until I get this thing off?”
“Ask Madam Pomfrey that question. I doubt it will be more than a few days, though.”
Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione continued talking with Healer Rodkey until she was needed to help another student. As she left, Harry wriggled further into his pillows and closed his eyes.
“Sorry,” he sighed. “I just can’t keep my eyes open any longer. I’m completely knackered.”
“Get some sleep, Harry,” Hermione said giving Ron a small push toward the door. “We’ll come back after lunch.”
Ginny watched them depart, lost in thought. Finally, she stooped to gather up the bag of clothes Hermione had brought to her earlier and turned to leave herself. “Ginny,” she heard Harry ask, “Will you stay a little longer with me?”
“Sure, Harry.” As tired as she was of sitting in the wooden chair, Ginny resumed her seat and took hold of Harry’s right hand. She stayed with him until he fell asleep.
End of Part Sixteen
A/N: In the last section, I’m sure you noticed that I am using a hyphenated surname interchangeably with a non-hyphenated, shortened version of the same name for my character, Healer Westwood-Greenhowe. This is a practice I noticed in use in PD James’ novel, The Lighthouse. Since the healer’s name is quite the mouthful and because Mrs James seems to make the distinction between the formal and informal by employing her character’s full surname and the abbreviated one in various contexts, I decided to do the same. I hope I didn’t cause much confusion by using this method of identification.
As always, thank you very much Aggiebell for your comments, corrections and suggestions that make my chapters the best they can be.
Chapter 17: Chapter 17
Part SeventeenProfessor Dumbledore was standing next to Harry’s bed, silently watching him, when Ginny, Ron and Hermione returned after lunch two hours later. Harry was still asleep and completely oblivious to the headmaster’s presence. Ginny took one look at Dumbledore’s face and stuck out her walking stick to keep her brother and Hermione from advancing further into the ward.
“Wait,” she whispered. “Look at Dumbledore.”
They looked. Hermione gasped softly, a hand flying to her lips.
Ron’s reaction was similar. “Blimey,” he breathed.
I had no idea, Ginny thought in awe. The unguarded expression on Dumbledore’s face could only be described as love. Looking closer, she took in the headmaster’s body language and knew instantly that Harry’s lingering mistrust of him, despite all the time the two had spent together this last term, was taking its toll: his entire frame seemed to sag and he looked older than Ginny had ever seen him. Her headmaster obviously held Harry in high esteem, and because the boy had made it plain last year that his treatment wasn’t acceptable, the rift this caused between the two seemed to have hurt the older man greatly. As she watched, Dumbledore murmured something and took hold of Harry’s right hand, an action which brought a Quaffle-sized lump to Ginny’s throat.
She glanced at Ron and Hermione, feeling very much as though they were about to intrude on a very private moment.
“Let’s go,” Ron suggested, turning around. “Give him some private time with Harry.”
Hermione and Ginny followed Ron toward the entrance to the ward. As they reached the door, Terry Boot hailed them from his bed near Madam Pomfrey’s office. The former DA member had been one of the last students Ginny had tended before Harry had been brought to Honeydukes.
“What was that all about?” he inquired as the others strode up to his bed.
Ron glanced over his shoulder as he replied, “Dumbledore’s with Harry. We thought they would appreciate some time together.”
This seemed to satisfy Terry. He and the three Gryffindors talked until Madam Pomfrey came to tell them Professor Dumbledore was waiting for them.
They turned to leave and Terry caught Ginny’s elbow. “Hold on, Ginny,” he requested. “I need to thank you for patching me up yesterday. Madam Pomfrey told me that what you did really helped. I know you helped me because I felt better after a few of your Cancelling Spells.” He looked slightly embarrassed as he finished, “I–I appreciate your helping me.”
Ginny felt her ears warming as she looked at the boy in the bed. “I was glad to help. I hope you’ll be up and about for the Leaving Feast on Friday.”
A smile spread over Terry’s face as he said, “You bet I’ll be there. I wouldn’t miss it for all the sweets in Honeydukes!”
The headmaster greeted them warmly when the three approached Harry’s bed a few minutes later.
“I’d like to speak with the four of you in a little while,” he said softly, glancing back at Harry. “I need to speak with Madam Pomfrey first and think it best if I paid attention to the other patients as well. I would be grateful if you’d wait for me.”
“No problem, Professor,” they agreed and resumed their seats from earlier, talking amongst themselves as Professor Dumbledore headed over to where Madam Pomfrey was working with another student at the opposite end of the ward. Ginny watched him as he worked his way back toward them, speaking with every patient, family member and friend. From what she could tell, he knew exactly who had been involved in what part of the battle, which left the impression that he was somehow omnipotent. Ginny smiled as she heard Ron whisper to Hermione, “He’s really done his homework!”
“No, Ron,” Hermione corrected gently, “the Order has very good intelligence.”
“Right you are,” was Ron’s rejoinder.
Further conversation was curtailed by the headmaster’s reappearance on the other side of Harry’s bed.
“Thank you for waiting,” he commented appreciatively.
Ginny smiled at him and glanced at Ron and Hermione who seemed to be waiting for further instructions.
“Miss Granger,” the professor began. “I hear you are capable of casting extraordinary muting and silencing charms. Would you be so kind as to cast one of each to give us a modicum of privacy? What I have to discuss with you is of a very sensitive nature.”
Hermione obligingly withdrew her wand and quickly cast the spells. The noise level around Harry’s bed reduced considerably as she finished the second charm.
“Shall I get you a chair, sir?” Ron inquired.
“Allow me, Mr. Weasley.” The headmaster conjured an oversized upholstered bar stool, complete with padded back and arms, which enabled Harry’s friends to see him over the top of the bed. “That’s better,” he said, sliding it close to Harry’s pillow. “Now I have a good view of you all,” he smiled, taking his seat.
Dumbledore’s gaze travelled down to Harry’s serenely relaxed face and Ginny thought she saw regret flicker across his wizened features. She felt a twinge of regret herself as she wished Harry could look this peaceful when he was awake. Not for the first time did she want life to have been much different for him–for everyone she loved, but especially for Harry. Would life have been so very different if his parents had remained alive? she mused for what seemed the thousandth time. What would Harry be like if he hadn’t had to spend his early life in that cupboard? Would he find it easier to trust people? Would his personality be different? Would he have been more easy-going, more like Ron or Charlie? She really didn’t think so because she knew people were born with specific character traits and Harry had inherited certain aspects from both his parents: unfortunately, the circumstances of Harry’s life had had to hone some characteristics differently than they might have been if Lily and James Potter had lived. Deep down, though, Harry would have been the same strong, stoic Gryffindor who took on what he considered his responsibilities with a seriousness that belonged to wizards twice his age. I just wish it didn’t have to be Harry, Ginny sighed quietly to herself, a watermelon-sized lump forming in her throat for the second time that day. All these thoughts really didn’t matter, though, because what mattered to her right now was right here, grouped around a Hogwarts sickbed. She closed her eyes, momentarily overwhelmed by the love she felt for the three young people she was with.
Ginny came back to herself when Professor Dumbledore moved. She watched as the headmaster laid a gentle hand on the tousled head resting on the pillow. Harry stirred and slowly opened his eyes.
“I’m sorry to have to wake you, Harry,” Dumbledore apologized gently. “However, I thought it best to apprize you of the results of yesterday’s battle.”
At this, Ginny’s eyebrows shot up and she exchanged startled glances with her brother and Hermione. We’re being included in this discussion! she marvelled, missing Harry’s response.
“Professor,” Hermione began. Her hand made an inclusive arc as she inquired, “We, all four of us, have a good idea of what happened in Hogsmeade. Ron and I took a walk around the grounds this morning, but Harry and Ginny were in here and know nothing. What exactly was damaged? Were any Death Eaters arrested?”
The venerable professor held up a hand. “All in good time, my dear,” he smiled.
Hermione blushed and studied her shoes. She clearly was embarrassed.
Professor Dumbledore turned to Harry. “Do you feel up to a lengthy discussion?” he inquired.
“Let’s just get this over with,” Harry agreed quietly. His features, much to Ginny’s chagrin, were now schooled into an oddly stoic expression; Ginny could almost feel the tension that held his jaw in position.
A look of concern crossed Dumbledore’s face. His gaze included Ron and Hermione as he said, “I know this may be unpleasant for you, Harry. However, even though you know I always prefer to get everything out in the open rather than postpone painful discussions, we need to examine several other items which are just as important to you and your friends. Also, your friends have a right to know what went on here at the school since they were involved only in Hogsmeade.”
“I take it Voldemort’s still at large,” Ginny stated to satisfy her own curiosity and have everyone’s question answered immediately.
“Yes, he is,” the headmaster told her. “Voldemort was here briefly and was seen Apparating away as a group of Aurors closed in on him late in the battle. Even though he and his followers inflicted a substantial amount of damage on the school grounds and the village of Hogsmeade, he was unable to gain access to his main objective.”
“And that would be?”
“The castle and me,” Professor Dumbledore said matter-of-factly.
“Why?” Ginny managed to croak as Hermione gasped softly. Ron’s “Blimey” was loudest of all, but Harry’s silence told Ginny more than she really wanted to know: that Harry already knew and he had kept the knowledge to himself.
Harry answered for Dumbledore, all the while gazing at the headmaster as if making a confession. “Voldemort has eliminated every one of the people who even resemble a parental figure to me. By getting rid of Professor Dumbledore, he takes away the one person I have left who knows more about dark wizards than anyone I know, save Professor Snape. I need his knowledge and what he can teach me, but I also need him because he knew my parents. He and Remus Lupin are my only sources of knowledge of them. They’re the only ones who spent the most time with Mum and Dad. If they die I have no one...” He looked away, his eyes bright. “And it will be my fault they’re gone...” he added in a choked whisper as Professor Dumbledore gently laid a hand on the top of Harry’s head again.
Harry looked up at the headmaster, swallowing hard, and Ginny knew she was the only one besides Professor Dumbledore who caught what he whispered next. “I need you because you care about me.”
Ginny turned to look at her brother. Ron looked indignant. “You’ll have us, Harry!”
“That’s not the same, Ron!” Hermione exclaimed. “We don’t know the stories and facts they do. We can look up the information in books, but it’s not the same as knowing Harry’s parents–or Voldemort, for that matter.”
Ron looked ready to continue arguing his point as he retorted, “What about Mad-eye Moody and Tonks and Neville’s Gran and my parents? They all know stories about Harry’s parents.”
Hermione looked triumphant. “There you have it, Ron! Their stories will be about Harry’s parents, not intimate knowledge of them. Honestly!”
Looking between Harry and Hermione and Ron, Ginny could tell by the look on Harry’s face that he was close to embarrassing himself in front of his friends, but was too polite and too emotionally involved to stop the argument. Glancing at Professor Dumbledore and receiving his nod of approval, she stood from her chair and stepped between the two combatants. “Ron, Hermione,” she said quietly, “I don’t think this is the time or place to decide who is more important to Harry. We all are in our own way, so could you find it in your hearts to put this discussion on hold for a little while?”
Her tone, more than her words, must have caught their attention. They both apologized. Then, Hermione asked, “Why were Voldemort and the Death Eaters going after the castle?”
Again, Harry answered. “Two reasons, Hermione. One, Voldemort is very attached to this castle–it holds significance to him like it does me, and two, breaking down the wards protecting the school is a challenge Voldemort sees as worthy of taking on because of things he was denied within these walls.”
“So in conquering the castle and Professor Dumbledore Voldemort proves to himself and everyone else what a powerful wizard he is,” she said deep in thought. Everyone looked at her as she added, “He’s not. He’s nothing but a big bully picking on innocent people! There’s got to be a way to stop him...”
“There is, Miss Granger, and in time Harry will learn exactly what he needs to do to put a stop to Tom Riddle and his followers,” the headmaster said, looking around the little group.
“Would there have been more casualties if the Aurors had managed to corner You-Know-Who yesterday?” Ron inquired, bringing the conversation back to its original topic.
“Most definitely,” Dumbledore replied. “Tom Riddle, when I knew him, would most likely have relished the opportunity to inflict as much pain on our side as possible if an attempt had been made to apprehend him. The same would have happened yesterday.”
“So until Harry has the chance to fight Voldemort and bring him down he’ll just keep trying to wear us down?” Ginny asked guardedly, although she already knew what the answer would be. When Dumbledore nodded she sighed and squeezed Harry’s hand. The others remained quiet as the reality of it all sank in for the second time that year.
Harry was the first to break the silence. “Hermione said the school was damaged. I heard something fall, but was too busy to really look. Is everyone all right?”
“All the students and faculty remaining in the castle during the battle are perfectly safe. I wish I could say the same for those who defended the school gates, grounds and the village of Hogsmeade.” Dumbledore shot Harry a pointed look. “The defences held as they were meant to if you discount the reparable damage done to the greenhouses and the Quidditch pitch by the pixie swarms.”
Ron groaned audibly upon hearing this. Hermione elbowed him in the ribs to quieten him.
“I am sorry to report that the North Tower is no longer standing. It seems the Death Eaters were using Professor Trelawney’s rooms as target practice to see how far into the inner wards their Battering Ram spells would penetrate–they seem to have found a weakness in a certain spot near the tower which has now been repaired. Therefore, she will be holding lessons elsewhere until end of term.”
Ginny caught Ron’s eye and mouthed, “Thank goodness! No more endless treks up the stairs and through that trap door!”
Her brother rolled his eyes as Harry asked, “Sir Cadegon’s painting … what became of it?”
“The canvas is somewhere in the rubble. We may be able to restore it if it is found, but I doubt that will be the case. As for Sir Cadogan, our brave knight is unharmed,” Dumbledore reported with a smile. “He was one of the first portraits to alert the staff to the first signs of danger and had the wisdom to remain elsewhere in the castle. Until we get the North Tower rebuilt this summer we will have to rely on the paintings in the East, West, Astronomy, and South Towers for early warnings.”
“What damage was done to the main gates? Tonks said yesterday that they were one of the main focal points of the grounds battle,” Ginny inquired, her curiosity to see firsthand for herself was beginning to pique.
“She was entirely correct. The gates are undamaged. They held fast as did the layers of spells surrounding the perimeter of the grounds. There is no need to bother you with more details than these,” the headmaster stated gravely. With a more cheerful tone he added, “I am certain that if you ask her, Miss Granger will be more than happy to lend you her copy of Hogwarts: a History so that you may read up on the castle’s known defences. They acted as they have done during previous attempts to penetrate the gates in earlier altercations, rebuffing all unwanted intruders except the pixies.”
Hermione was positively beaming as she nudged Ginny and whispered, “I’ll show you when we get back to the common room.”
Ron rolled his eyes again as Professor Dumbledore changed the subject.
“Miss Weasley, I want to commend you once again on a fine display of selfless courage. Harry told me you unwillingly stayed behind when the fighting started,” he said when Ginny stared at him in disbelief.
“Courage, sir?”
“Yes, Miss Weasley. It took a great deal of courage to remain in a building exposed to wandfire while providing a safe environment for the younger students. Many of the third and fourth years I spoke with today are grateful for what you did. I hope you have come to realize that.”
Ginny glanced at Harry to find him grinning hugely at Dumbledore’s praise. “Yes Professor, I have,” she murmured as Hermione reached over and patted her knee.
Dumbledore smiled. “And you, Miss Granger, made a most significant contribution to the fighting as well. Professors McGonagall and Flitwick are especially pleased that your reconnaissance dragons and temporary crystal balls were especially helpful in spotting the weaknesses in Voldemort’s lines. They tell me the transfiguration spells you used exceed N.E.W.T level and the Visualization Charm you cast on the dragons is rarely taught any more. Well done!” Hermione blushed for the second time in ten minutes. Beside her, Ron and Harry exchanged contented glances.
“I hoped they were helpful, especially when some of the other sixth and seventh years were able to create and manipulate them,” she observed.
“The information you garnered helped to turn the battle in our favour, Miss Granger. Your dragons showed us where to place the Aurors and where the weak spots were in our own side.”
“I was glad to do it, Professor.”
Dumbledore turned at last to Ron. “Mr. Weasley, please do not look so crestfallen. I realize that you must think your role in yesterday’s conflict was insignificant in light of the praise I have just given your sister and Miss Granger.”
Ron nodded silently and stared at the leg of Harry’s bed. Ginny recognized the expression of unhappy resignation which graced her brother’s face: she had seen it many times during his association with Harry and Hermione, as if Ron truly believed that he would forever be overshadowed by his friends. Dumbledore continued, a sincere expression in his twinkling blue eyes. “Your support of Harry, Miss Granger and Miss Weasley has not gone unnoticed. Do you so underestimate yourself as to not realize that without your contribution to their support and safety neither one of your friends would be sitting here today?”
This declaration brought Ron’s head up in utter surprise. “I–I–was just doing what--what I thought needed to be done,” he stammered.
Dumbledore was thoughtful for a moment. “Mr. Weasley, what you did yesterday was heroic. Do you remember what a certain mirror showed you during your first year?”
“Y-y-yeah,” Ron remembered aloud. “It showed me–as I look now–well, an older me. It showed me as head boy and Quidditch captain. But,” he frowned at Dumbledore, “not as a hero.”
“As I recall, you were eleven years old at the time, Mr. Weasley, and greatly feeling pressure to be like your brothers. You were not at all confident that you could measure up.”
“I don’t think I have yet, sir,” Ron mumbled.
Dumbledore settled back in his chair and steepled his fingers, fixing Ron with appraising eyes over their tips. “I’m certain that if you looked in that mirror today, Mr. Weasley, you would see someone entirely different. You have matured many times over in the last six years; your desires have changed as well. I think that you aspired to be more than an equal to your brothers and you most certainly have achieved that goal. Taking on a supporting role in the lives of your friends is nothing to frown upon. It takes great courage to be a follower because the recognition is often given to others.”
“But that’s just it,” Ron protested. “How can I be a hero if I play second fiddle to somebody else all the time?”
“Your actions are always viewed by others, Mr. Weasley. Think about this…if I had not had the confidence I do in your leadership, I would not have chosen you as a Gryffindor Prefect.” (Ginny caught Harry’s sharp head turn and angry scowl at this bit of news and heard Hermione’s small gasp of realization. Their reaction puzzled her, making her wonder what the other two knew that she didn’t.)
Ron contemplated the corner of Harry’s bed again. At length, he uttered a quiet, “Oh!” His head came up, a confident grin lighting up his face. He looked at the others gathered around Harry’s bed. “I don’t feel so insignificant now,” he said slowly. “A hero doesn’t have to be like Harry. Oh, don’t look like that, Harry. I know you don’t want all that attention and to tell the truth, neither do I. I just want to do what’s expected of me; to do what I think is right, even if it’s not the easiest thing to do.”
Dumbledore looked pleased. “There you have it. That’s why you were so valuable yesterday. Your friends knew they could count on you.”
Harry levelled his gaze on Ron. “I needed you yesterday and I’ll need you again next time, mate. I won’t duel anywhere without you and Neville.”
“Neville?”
“Yes, Neville. You know he did a lot yesterday, and he stuck with me last year even when he was hurt.”
Ron’s hopeful expression slipped somewhat as he remembered. “Yeah, he did, didn’t he…”
Hermione took Ron’s hand, forcing him to look at her. “I think what Harry’s saying is that we all have our roles to play and that they all play an important part in achieving the end, whatever the goal may be,” she explained looking to Harry for confirmation. When he nodded, she blushed prettily as she murmured, “You helped me immensely yesterday, Ron. I was scared hexless when the pixies showed up; I couldn’t remember a single spell, and you blasted a pixie out of the air, said something funny and made me realize that I had a job to do. You helped me face the fears I had after what Dolohov did to me last year.”
Ron had closed his eyes during Hermione’s speech. He now opened them as he drew her into the circle of his arms and Ginny saw that his eyes were unusually bright through Hermione’s cloud of hair.
Professor Dumbledore allowed the pair a few moments’ privacy during which Ginny stood up and tried to stretch, turning her back to Harry; the ache was back in her hips from sitting for so long and she desperately wished for this little conference to be over quickly. Without warning, a flood of soothing warmth suffused her lower back accompanied by a pain relief spell. A contented sigh escaped her lips as she turned back towards Harry.
“Wandless?” She smiled as he let his hand dangle over the edge of the bed.
“I thought I’d try,” he told her innocently.
“I feel much better,” she noted. “Thanks.” The spells, she knew, would last about two hours, hopefully just long enough for her to sneak into the P-T Room for a proper soak in one of the whirlpool baths. She decided that she would evaluate whether or not to go to dinner when the time came.
“There are several more items I’d like to cover before we conclude this meeting,” Dumbledore stated bringing the four students back to the topic at hand.
“Harry, I’d like you to tell me what went on in your head during the battle. Was Voldemort able to make any sort of connection with you at all?” He queried.
Harry grinned as he said, “No, sir. I had my Occlumency shield up and didn’t get any false visions from Voldemort until something major happened late in the afternoon. He must have known the battle was going badly for his side to actually Apparate here.” He considered a moment, then said, “Voldemort was in such a towering rage I blacked out.”
“Is that what happened?” Ron asked curiously. “I wondered what would have made you lose your concentration and allow Lucius Malfoy to slip a hex past your shield.”
Harry sighed as he looked at his friend. “I hate to admit it, but my concentration had been slipping for well over an hour. The pain in my arm was too distracting. Ginny’s energy drink and spell helped a little but not enough to let me fight the way I did before I broke my arm. Voldemort’s rage wouldn’t have bothered me so much if I’d been healthy.”
Hermione harrumphed quietly and looked significantly at Ron. “I told you he wouldn’t give up until Voldemort incapacitated him.”
“Do you always have to be right?” Ron retorted.
Ginny wasn’t in the mood for more arguments. “Professor,” she said a little louder than necessary. Ron and Hermione stopped arguing. “Sir, what happened after Harry collapsed?”
Dumbledore’s eyes sparkled as he said, “Many things, Miss Weasley, for there were many separate battles going on at the same time, each one as desperate as the next. Voldemort gave instructions not to leave until the last Hogsmeade-goer was killed and victory had been secured at the school. He wanted the Wizarding world to understand he meant business. Let us begin with Hogsmeade.
“From all the reports I’ve heard, the duels on the high street stopped when Harry was cursed and didn’t resume until Mr Weasley, Mr Longbottom and Miss Granger had Apparated him away. The fighting then continued, resulting in many of the injured you see here in this room. The Death Eaters pressed their advantage and began deliberately setting fire to anything that wasn’t already burning. No shop or business, save Honeydukes, went undamaged and many of the homes surrounding the village were levelled as well. I’m sure you’ve seen the post office and the Three Broomsticks.”
“I heard about the pub from Neville and Luna. Neville was determined to go in and bring back anyone he could find. He brought back two or three, but the rest were too deeply buried,” Ginny said, her concern darkening her voice. “What happened to the owls after the roof of the post office collapsed? I saw the birds escape and hoped they made it to safety with all those pixies flying around.”
“The pixies didn’t bother the owls, Miss Weasley, and the postmaster assures me that all of his owls have been accounted for. However, until a temporary roost can be built the mails will be interrupted for perhaps a day or so.”
“I’m glad to hear the mails will be resuming,” Hermione said. “Several of our first years were scared they couldn’t contact their parents because they thought every owl had disappeared into the Forbidden Forest.”
“Quite the contrary, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore said. “The postmaster found all of the missing post owls in our Owlery and has told the birds that if they wish to deliver mail for the students of Hogwarts, they can.”
“That’s very generous of him,” Ron commented.
“It sounds like good business if you ask me,” Harry observed. “All those worried students and parents are getting a good deal if they don’t have to pay postage. I reckon the postmaster might be hoping they will remember which post office their children posted from and bring him some repeat business.”
“Who knows,” Ron said, shrugging.
“I still don’t understand,” Ginny said, still struggling with the placement of various events. “If the battle outside both the village and the school ended soon after Voldemort left, why was there fighting for so many hours afterward?”
“Alas, many individuals tried to evade capture on foot. Several stole wands from the injured and continued to fight in the surrounding countryside. Eventually, with the help of Miss Granger’s dragons, the Aurors apprehended all those who didn’t Disapparate. Altogether, Azkaban has approximately one hundred new inmates.
“Were there any students fighting on Voldemort’s side?” Ginny inquired. Ideally, none of the Slytherins she knew would have taken his side, but with many of their parents who they were, some of the upper classmen would inevitably have chosen the dark side.
Dumbledore inclined his head as he answered, “Yes, several sixth and seventh years.”
“I didn’t see anyone I knew from school fighting in the high street. They must have been elsewhere in the village,” Ron commented. “What really surprised me was hearing from Neville that Nott and Zabini were defending the Three Broomsticks.”
“That’s not all that strange, Ron,” Hermione chided. “I heard they were trying to keep the Floo open for anyone who wanted to escape during the early minutes of the attack. They weren’t very successful, but from what Ernie Macmillan told me they gave as good as they got. Slytherin House is, after all, the house of the ambitious, not the house of the dark wizards.” She looked to Ginny as she asked, “Were either Theodore or Blaise hurt in the fighting?”
“Theodore came into Honeydukes twice yesterday,” Ginny said.
“Why? I thought only our side was coming into Honeydukes, right?” Ron asked. “I’m having a hard time wrapping my brain around the idea that a Slytherin would take a side other than that of the Death Eaters’.”
Ginny chose to ignore his comment and continued her story. “The first time Theodore Nott came in was to have a deep cut on his wrist healed. I think he may have been on the receiving end of a cutting hex.” At this, Harry grimaced. “He made a comment about how strange it was to be openly displaying his loyalties.”
“And the second...” Hermione prompted.
“Pansy Parkinson floated him to the back door and dumped him there,” Ginny told her, scowling. “The sentries said she kicked and spat on him as she left. He’d been hit in the stomach with some spells I had no idea how to reverse. I could only try to take away his pain. I hope Madam Pomfrey was more successful.” Almost off-hand, she added, “It felt strange, but I actually felt sorry for him.”
“Theo’s a good bloke. Not like Malfoy at all,” Harry said quietly.
“How do you know?” Ron demanded, fixing his friend with a frown.
Harry looked rather uncomfortable under Ron’s scrutiny as he said evasively, “Erm, we’ve talked.”
“Oh,” Ron said craning his neck to looking around the room. “Is he here? I don’t see him.”
“What about Blaise?” Hermione asked. She tugged on Ron’s arm, hissing, “Sit down, Ron!”
Ginny shook her head. “He came in only once” she reported. “He’d heard there was water being passed out and accepted several glasses before leaving. I heard he later was trapped in the pub when the roof caved in.” She looked at Professor Dumbledore. “Sir, did he survive?”
Dumbledore nodded. “Yes, he did, I am glad to report. He was found, badly hurt, under one of the support beams. Someone from Ravenclaw found him after you and Harry Portkeyed here, I understand.”
“Why did he go back into a burning building?” Ron asked.
“He didn’t, Ron. He was trying to rescue people after the fire was put out,” Hermione said, sounding annoyed. “I heard he went into the kitchen looking for employees who might have been trapped. The back wall caved in while he and his partner were searching.”
Ron just shook his head, murmuring, “Mental.”
It irked Ginny no end that Ron was being this narrow-minded. She glanced over at Hermione and found her friend scowling at her brother.
“Miss Weasley, Madam Pomfrey wanted me to convey her thanks for what you did for Mr. Nott,” the headmaster said quietly. “Your pain reduction spells made his waiting bearable, which actually cut down on the amount of damage the original spells did. Also, you’ll be glad to know that both boys have been sent to recuperate in safety since they were in no condition to face their dorm mates when I saw them last night.”
“I’m glad they’re safe,” Ginny murmured as a lump formed in her throat. As strange as it seemed, she really did feel sorry for Nott and Zabini, not that they would have wanted her sympathy. Still, they seemed to have displayed a type of courage most Slytherins didn’t possess and she hoped they would recuperate completely. She startled when Hermione patted her knee.
“Ginny, you did right by Nott. You tried to bridge the gap between the houses and with him I think you were successful,” Hermione whispered.
Ginny could only nod her thanks.
“Theo and Blaise are going to have a difficult time of it next year,” Harry commented. “Malfoy and the other Slytherins will see to it that they know their defection to our side is unacceptable to everyone who was Sorted into Slytherin House.” He looked at the headmaster, an approving expression on his face. “I’m also glad Theo and Blaise are safe for the moment. Will they stay where they are until September or will they be released to their families as soon as they are well enough?”
Dumbledore shook his head. “I cannot answer that fully, Harry. There are many mitigating factors which must be taken into consideration, not the least of which is how much harm will come to their families once the Death Eaters get wind of which side the boys fought on. I admit to being rather worried Mr Nott and Mr Zabini will be harmed over the summer if they are reunited with their families.”
“Isn’t there a place where they can be hidden safely? Somewhere away from anyone who would wish them harm?” Ginny asked.
“Yes, there is a place. One which has been Unplottable for quite some time even though ownership has changed hands within the last year,” Professor Dumbledore said, looking pointedly at Harry. “However, the new owner would have to agree to offer the two sanctuary, and even if he agrees, Mr. Nott and Mr. Zabini would have to consent to staying within the confines of the dwelling.”
Harry seemed to understand as he said, “If they agree, arrangements can be made.”
Ginny glanced at Ron and Hermione to see them nodding their approval. They too, seemed to understand that it was Grimmauld Place Harry and Dumbledore were alluding to.
The group lapsed into silence until Harry asked curiously, “Were any of the Death Eaters captured after I collapsed?”
“Yes, Harry, we recaptured Lucius Malfoy, thanks to Mr. Weasley here. And Crabbe Sr., Goyle Sr. and Rodolphus Lestrange have been taken to Azkaban to await trial along with the rest of last summer’s escapees. I’m sorry to report that two of our seventh year Slytherins were among those who were arrested for the first time. I had hoped that they would make the decision to choose a different side than they did. What will happen to them still remains to be seen.”
“And what of Bellatrix Lestrange? She didn’t get away, did she?” Ginny asked.
“Once again, she has eluded capture,” Professor Dumbledore told her. “It’s going to take some rather astute planning to manoeuvre that witch into a trap of any sort. In the meantime, she’s certain to remain close to Voldemort’s side.”
Ron made a face. “Urgh! I could do without that to think about!”
“All the more reason for us to stick close to Harry as much as possible,” Hermione murmured.
Harry looked hopeful as he asked, “So Voldemort is much less powerful now than he was before the battle?”
“Personally, no, Harry. However, with so many of his followers indisposed, it will be some time before he can carry out any more large offensives like the one yesterday.”
“Should I be relieved or still cautious?” Harry asked warily.
“What does Mad-eye Moody always tell you, Harry?” Ron inquired.
Harry made a face. “I know...constant vigilance!”
“It’s very good advice, you know.” Dumbledore laid a hand on Harry’s head causing him to look up. “Harry, I’d like to talk further with you about this subject in a more private setting. I’ll arrange several short meetings with you after Madam Pomfrey releases you. Does that sound reasonable to you?”
Harry smiled. “It does, sir. Thank you.”
“Not at all, Harry.”
“Sir, will the Hogwarts Express be taking us home as scheduled at the end of the week?” Hermione asked.
“Yes, even if the work rebuilding the station house isn’t finished. Work-wizards are repairing the tracks as we speak and I anticipate its completion by the end of tomorrow.”
“But will going home by train be safe? I mean, there are so many Death Eaters still at large!” she exclaimed.
Dumbledore grew serious. “The safety of my students has been paramount in my mind for a long time, Miss Granger, and you would be going home via special Floo connection if I didn’t think the train was safe. Yes, a great many Death Eaters descended upon the school and village yesterday, but their leaders were captured, thus minimizing their threat and making the trip back to King’s Cross safer than I had hoped.”
“I’m glad,” Ginny murmured, more to herself than anyone else. The uncertainty of travel over the Christmas holiday had led to the cancellation of the trip from Hogwarts to London prior to the holiday and she remembered how relieved she’d been when the owl had brought her parents the letter instructing them to take her, Harry, Ron and Hermione to the station for the traditional ride back to school after New Years.
“Now...before we go our separate ways,” Dumbledore said, bringing Ginny back to the meeting. “Let us consider what was revealed to Voldemort yesterday. He now knows that you, Harry, have become a more powerful wizard because you have at least two friends who were openly supporting you in battle. He also knows that your duelling ability has advanced to a very high level since the battle at the Ministry of Magic last June.”
“Does that put my friends in more danger?” Harry asked quietly.
Dumbledore shook his head. “They have been in danger for a long time, Harry, not because of their association with you, but because of who their parents are. Please do not worry yourself over this. The Weasleys, Mrs Longbottom and Mr Lovegood have always protected their families and will continue to do so until this war ends.”
“What about Hermione’s parents? They don’t know half of what she’s involved in which makes it doubly dangerous for her family!” Harry exclaimed, greatly agitated.
Ron’s arm snaked around Hermione’s shoulders as he said fiercely, “She’s as good as family and she and her parents are welcome at The Burrow any time they need shelter.”
Hermione murmured, “Oh, Ron!” as Harry sighed, looking rather chagrined. He said nothing until he realized Ron wasn’t going to let go of Hermione. Finally, he asked, “When I’m well enough will my training resume?”
“Yes, Harry. It must, and that of your friends as well. I am in the midst of arranging secure facilities where you can regain your high level of performance. Miss Weasley knows just how hard such a recovery is and the two of you need to support each other as much as possible now.”
Ginny reached up and captured Harry’s hand. “You can count on my help, Harry,” she told him fervently, thinking of all the hours they had spent together during the difficult days of her early recovery when she had needed him so much. He smiled at her and Ginny noticed how tired he was beginning to look.
Ron and Hermione seemed to have latched onto the concept of their continued training and were gently bombarding Professor Dumbledore with questions.
“Will there be research facilities?”
“Which of our instructors have agreed to continue on over the holidays?”
“Can we stick to our schedule from this past term?”
Harry’s next comment silenced them. “I don’t want to be alone every day,” he said, looking unhappy. “Can someone keep me company while I’m at the Dursleys’?” he asked, unsuccessfully stifling a yawn.
Professor Dumbledore looked thoughtful as he stated, “You will all learn the answers to your questions before you leave for home. But please know this, Harry: I will not be abandoning you in Privet Drive this entire holiday. There is important work to be done this summer and since you will be coming of age in July you need to spend very little time there for your Aunt’s protection to be renewed.”
“Thank goodness!” Harry’s face lit up with happy relief.
Dumbledore consulted his pocket watch. “I must go,” he announced. “I feel we’ve covered much this afternoon and I promise to contact you all as various arrangements fall into place. In the meantime, enjoy the rest of the week. You earned some free hours to relax through your actions yesterday.” He stood and his chair disappeared with a small pop. “Good day to you all.” As he strode out the door, Hermione and Ron bade Harry good-bye, promising to come back after dinner and leaving Ginny alone with her boyfriend.
Torn between wanting to stay and needing to rest as much as she knew Harry needed to, she told him, “As much as I’d like to stay, I need a good soak in the P-T Room. Will you be all right without me?”
Harry yawned again. “Go take care of yourself, Ginny. I’ll be just fine while you’re gone,” he told her, pulling his blankets closer to his chin. He winced as he moved his shoulder and quietly murmured a word Ginny knew he shouldn’t.
She picked up her walking stick. “I’ll see you later then,” she said, dropping a quick kiss on his forehead. She, too, headed for the door, stopping to alert Madam Pomfrey that Harry was probably due for some more pain potion.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Later that night, Ginny sat on Harry’s bed, leaning against the headboard. Harry’s head was cradled in her lap and he made little noises of pleasure as she slowly combed her fingers through his hair and occasionally caressed the dark stubble that had formed along his jaw line. To anyone observing the pair for the first time, they seemed blissfully oblivious of their surroundings. However, anyone who knew what to look for could tell the two were deep in silent conversation.
Can I ask you something, Ginny? Harry asked, suddenly serious.
Sure, Harry.
Yesterday, during the battle, did your angel vibrate?
Ginny’s hand stopped mid-stroke. You know, I don’t remember if it did or not, she told him thoughtfully.
How’s that?
Well, I was so busy helping everyone who came to Honeydukes that I didn’t really think about it. Why?
Right. Harry raised his right hand to capture Ginny’s. I was scared out there, Ginny. Some of the curses the Death Eaters were throwing at me were amazingly powerful. He squeezed her hand as he continued, I was glad that Ron and Hermione were with me, but they were working together as a team and…and… His voice trailed off as though he were grappling with a thought. He struggled to sit up.
Ginny slid off the bed and stood beside it offering him assistance while still maintaining contact with his hand. Underneath her robes her angle quivered ever so slightly. She watched him silently, waiting patiently.
Well, they were supporting each other more than they were me, he finally said.
Professor Dumbledore thought that might happen. Wasn’t that why he wanted all of us to train together? Ginny asked.
It was. But he didn’t say anything about how alone I’d feel at first, Harry admitted. He shut his eyes and Ginny waited, fascinated as fleeting images from the battle came across their connection to her. Finally, Harry exhaled strongly. And then something strange happened. My phoenix grew warm and I felt comforted, like I wasn’t alone…I…I knew you were there with me, he finished in an awed voice.
Harry, that’s exactly what should have happened, Ginny told him with a smile.
But can you explain why I suddenly felt a surge in my own magic?
Ginny tried to remember what she had read about the magic she had transferred to the pendant. The only thing that came to mind was the third spell she had cast on it. Oppignero me amor semper, she murmured more to herself than to Harry.
What’s that? he asked startling her from her introspection.
The third spell… she breathed. It was more of a promise than a real incantation…
And… he prompted, fixing her with the intense green eyes she loved so much.
It means ‘I pledge my love forever’. Her eyes widened as she understood the full meaning of the words. Harry, it was the binding spell that prepared your phoenix to utilize the magic I’d given it. The only way the phoenix could provide you with my magic and thus a surge in yours, is if there was evidence that we were bound to each other through love.
Harry squeezed her hand. I suspected you’d given me your love somehow. It was there when I needed to draw on it…just like your magic, he smiled. Thanks. He pulled Ginny toward him. Their lips met several times in the briefest of sweet kisses.
Mmmm. I think I like you scruffy, she teased, running her hand over his stubbly cheek. It feels so manly!
It itches! Harry grumbled cheerfully.
Ginny giggled softly and ran her nails gently over his jaw as they continued to kiss. Oh, that feels good! He sighed happily.
Out of the corner of her eye, Ginny saw Madam Pomfrey wending her way down the aisle toward them and chose to ignore the warning signals going off inside her head. She leaned in to kiss Harry again, a deeply intimate kiss this time, one hand playing with the hair behind his ear at the nape of his neck, his resting lightly against her breast as she supported him with her other.
“Mr Potter!” the Hogwarts’ healer barked, causing the two teens to bump noses and spring apart, giggling guiltily. “There will be no such conduct in this hospital! Now lay down or Miss Weasley will be made to leave!”
Harry and Ginny grinned at each other as they said in unison, “Busted!”
End of Part Seventeen
A/N: I need to thank Heliona and her friend Loriel Eris for their help with choosing the correct British terms for my Americanisms.
Chapter 18: Chapter 18
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.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
The 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.”
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Madam 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.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Ginny 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.
Chapter 19: Chapter 19
New Year, New HopePart Nineteen: Epilogue
The Hogwarts Express chugged steadily southward under a cloudless blue sky, passing verdant green, rolling hills and quaint little villages basking lazily in the summer sunshine. Inside the train, the students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry visited each other's compartments, talking in hushed tones of their holiday plans and what they would say to their families about their part in the defence of the school or Hogsmeade when they arrived at Platform nine and three-quarters: the sense of apprehension for what the coming summer would hold had settled like a pall over everyone.
In the last compartment, Ginny Weasley stood staring out the window. The other occupants — Harry Potter, Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom — were all napping or reading, leaving Ginny feeling very much alone. It was rather a peaceful moment as she allowed her mind to wander over the events of the last few months and think how they had changed her life.
It seemed only yesterday that she and these same companions had sat here in this very compartment on that cold January day, going in the opposite direction. She remembered standing in this same position, her conscience weighted by the feeling of awe at having received Harry’s affections over the holidays. Then, as now, she had accepted the accompanying responsibility that becoming his girlfriend had placed on her. She had felt compelled to ease his burden, and she would never regret the feelings of security that had come over her when her actions had given him some much-needed relief.
She was still surprised by how easily he had reciprocated, many times over, when she had been in need of comfort and reassurance. Maybe that’s what true love is, she thought, contemplating Harry’s unwillingness to give up on her after the Quidditch accident. His generosity would forever be their little secret; her parents were too proud to let someone assist them financially as Harry had. Yet she was grateful for his desire to ease her family’s worries.
Is our love based only on material things? she inquired of the scenery passing by. Deep down, she thought not. There was more to it. She saw evidence of it everywhere she looked. She had seen the love in his eyes every time he was at a loss for words or seemed to only communicate his feelings for her in a bone-crushing hug or searing kiss. It had taken him a long time to accept that she would willingly alleviate his suffering by giving him a part of herself: it was as if he thought himself unworthy of her caring. Thanks to the Dursleys’ treatment of him, Harry’s emotions conveyed themselves in extremes or not at all.
That’s not what Snape would tell you, the little voice in her brain that sounded like Harry’s said. He’d say that I carry my heart on my sleeve!
Is there anything wrong with that? Ginny inquired, smiling at this thought.
He seems to think it shows my weakness.
Poppycock! Ginny retorted. Professor Snape sees what he wants to see and not the young wizard I know at all!
And what do you see the Snape doesn’t? Harry challenged.
Instead of replying, Ginny showed him images of her Harry. Her Harry was brave, selfless, and trusting; he respected his elders and treated her like a queen. Her Harry put others’ safety before his own when he stepped into harm’s way. And her Harry was generous to anyone he considered his friend.
She could feel his contentment as her Harry began to snore. She went on with her reflections...
He also had a lot of responsibility for someone so young. His meetings with Professor Dumbledore had proved that this week, and she felt very apprehensive about the future. The feeling of unease had started with their talk in her room and had only intensified when Harry had pulled her into an empty classroom on their way back to Gryffindor Tower after breakfast. She remembered their discussion quite clearly.
“Listen, Ginny,” Harry had begun. “I didn’t get a chance to finish what I wanted to say last night.”
She had giggled as she said, “How could you with Hermione banging on the door like that?” Realizing that he was completely serious, she said, “I apologize. Have your meetings with Professor Dumbledore gone well?”
“Yes, they have,” he said, beginning to pace. “In fact, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” He paused, running a hand through his hair. “I–we–we’ve talked about more than what I have to do...and, erm, I feel a lot different about him now than I did at the beginning of the year.”
“So you’ve forgiven him?” Ginny asked hopefully.
“Erm, yes.”
Ginny took a chance. “He loves you, you know.” Harry stood still, staring at her. “I saw how he looked at you in the hospital wing. He was so worried, even more than Mum and Dad were...”
“Wh... when did you see?”
“Sunday, after the healers put you back together. He was holding your hand when Ron and Hermione and I came back from lunch. You were sleeping and he just stood there beside you looking as if...I don’t know...as if your being hurt was his fault.”
“But it wasn’t,” Harry sputtered. “I chose to fight. I took the risks. I did it because...”
“Because you thought he expected you to fight?”
“Exactly.” Harry looked away, his eyes fixed unseeing on the window to Ginny’s right.
“I don’t think he wanted you to,” she ventured softly. “I think he wanted to protect you, just like you tried to protect me.”
“We didn’t listen very well, did we?” Harry commented, looking back at her.
“No, we didn’t, but I think we learned something anyway.”
“What’s that?”
“We made some difficult choices that day, the ones we hoped were right. It would have been so easy to escape back to school through the tunnel, but we chose to stay and help.”
“I know. Professor Dumbledore said almost the same thing,” Harry replied. “When he said that, he sounded like he was proud of me.”
Ginny rested her hand on Harry’s arm. “He is, Harry. I heard it in his voice that day in the hospital.” She looked into his eyes as she continued, “I also heard how much you respect and admire him.”
“When?”
“When you were telling us why Voldemort wants Dumbledore out of the way. He seemed to relax a little in his approach to you after that. It was as if he knew you weren’t mad at him any longer.”
“I think I’d all but forgiven him then, too. I know I had by the time he finished talking to you three. The way he spoke with Ron, made him realize that what he did was just as important as what Hermione and I did...I couldn’t be mad at him any longer.”
Ginny smiled as she told him, “I’m glad, Harry, really glad.”
Harry gently pulled away and walked over to the window. “Ginny, there’s something else,” he admitted quietly as he stared out at the scene below. “I hope you know I meant what I said about wishing I could tell you a lot more about what I’m learning from Dumbledore. But he’s right when he says that the fewer people who know, the less of a chance something will slip out.”
Ginny walked over and looked out the window, too. The tiny courtyard beneath them was in shadow; the sun had yet to rise high enough to provide more than a few fingers of sunlight and the plants looked as if they were still asleep. At length, she said, “I understand, Harry, and I’ll be there when you need me.”
“Good,” he said simply. He drew his phoenix from under his shirt and toyed with it, an expression of regret darkening his face. “Ginny...I won’t be able to wear the phoenix as much as I’d like to this summer. Maybe not at all until Voldemort is gone. I couldn’t stand it if he or the Death Eaters discovered it; they’d know right away I had a connection to you.”
“And you don’t want me harmed,” Ginny said softly, focusing her attention on the courtyard.
“I’m sorry, Ginny,” Harry said, turning away.
Ginny grabbed his arm turning him back to her. “Harry, there’s no need to apologize. Whatever happens, just remember it’s not your fault, that bad things happen because others want them to, and most likely it’s Voldemort causing them. I have only one request.”
“What’s that?”
“Make sure it’s you who lives and not Voldemort,” she said fiercely.
Harry tucked the phoenix back under his shirt and walked to the door. He turned, his hand on the knob, and said, “I’m going to try, Ginny. I’m going to try.”
After he left, Ginny gave into the tears. He’s distancing himself from me, she thought miserably. Preparing for the battle ahead. It was a long time before she followed him back upstairs.
A particularly loud snore from Harry brought Ginny’s thoughts back to the present. She wrenched her gaze from the passing scenery to let it rest on the boy who meant so much to her. At the moment, he looked rather peaceful, his head resting on the back of the seat. Ginny sat down next to him and pulled the latest copy of the Quibbler from her bag before gently guiding his head onto her shoulder. Harry opened his eyes long enough to ask, “Lap?” as he turned and stretched out on the seat to make himself comfortable. He sighed contentedly as the cushions took the pressure off his left shoulder. At Hermione’s suggestion he had worn his sling more as a reminder to himself not to strain the arm rather than because he really needed the protection. Ginny smiled and began running the fingers of her unoccupied hand through his hair. As Harry resumed his nap her thoughts drifted to the celebrations of the previous evening.
The residents of Gryffindor Tower had extended their celebrations long into the night–so long, in fact, that Professor McGonagall had come in to finally put an end to the festivities. Even with everyone abed the tower had buzzed with quiet conversations until the sun made its appearance over the Forbidden Forest.
For their part, Neville, Ginny, Harry, Ron and Hermione had secluded themselves in a quiet corner and watched the rest of their housemates enjoying themselves. Their conversation was minimal and had swiftly degenerated into variations of ‘thank you’ when their fellow Gryffindors sought them out with well wishes and heart-felt gratitude. When the five did speak among themselves it was with sombre tones and grave expressions; for even though they were proud of their awards, the enormity of Harry’s responsibility and their part in helping him weighed heavily on their collective conscience. The fact remained that Voldemort still needed vanquishing.
“How long will you be at the Dursleys'?” Neville suddenly asked Harry, bringing Ginny from her reminiscences.
Harry lifted his head from Ginny’s lap to look at his friend. “Not long. Professor Dumbledore promised to come to get me as soon as it was possible.”
“Will he take you to the Burrow?”
Harry shook his head and settled back on Ginny’s lap. “No, not for a while,” Harry admitted. “I really don’t know what his plans are for me except that I’ll be coming back to Hogwarts for a few weeks.” Ginny raised an eyebrow at this because she remembered the headmaster’s promise to Harry to be more forthcoming with his honesty. They had all received the promised owls detailing the arrangements which had been made for their continued training. “There are other places he said I needed to visit before I went to Ginny’s house.” Ginny felt a warm glow well up inside her; Harry had never deliberately left Ron out of the equation before.
“Well, when you get there, send me an owl,” Neville implored. “It was nice corresponding with you last summer.”
Harry smiled. “Likewise, mate.” He was silent for a time, so long that Ginny thought he’d gone back to sleep and resumed playing with Harry’s hair. “Erm, Neville?”
“Yeah?”
“Will you be anywhere near Hogwarts this summer?”
Neville grinned. “I’m coming back next week to continue my research and finish editing my article for the Healers Journal. We learned so much from Ginny’s recovery that we’re adding an anecdotal record of her recuperation. Mr. Weasley sent word only this morning that the family was giving permission for us to include it.”
Is this the Neville we know and love? Ginny sent quickly to Harry. He’s amazingly formal whenever he talks about what he did for me, like he’s found his life’s work or something.
You know something, Ginny, I think he has. He began to be more formal about how he talked about Herbology and his research after that meeting we had with Dumbledore, you know, the one that started our training schedule. Harry replied. After his first week with Professor Sprout and Madam Pomfrey, Seamus remarked that Neville had stopped slouching.
I think everyone noticed it to some degree but none of us really put two and two together. Ginny said thoughtfully. I just can’t get over how old he sounds when he talks that way!
Harry chuckled quietly under Neville’s description of his anecdotal record. I think Neville’s formal scientist voice is here to stay. It’ll take a little getting used to, but I like it. Let’s see if I can shake him out of it, though. I have an idea. He turned seriously to Neville and said aloud, “Neville, I have a proposal for you.”
Startled, Neville stopped talking, looking with interest at Harry.
“Neville, if I survive my final encounter with Voldemort and you and your research team are still looking for backers, I’d like very much to be one of your investors,” Harry stated, shifting into the same formal tone as Neville’s. “One of the things I’ve talked about with Professor Dumbledore is what I should do with the money I’ve inherited. He’s had me draw up a will and one of the recipients I’ve stipulated should benefit from my inheritance is you and your research projects. I sincerely hope that more good will come from them.”
Neville’s jaw had dropped to the floor as he listened. He now slowly closed his mouth in order to sputter, “B-b-but Harry, I don’t want you to die! I couldn’t accept your endowment knowing that you didn’t survive V-V-V-Voldemort! I won’t let you give up!”
Harry smiled reassuringly at Neville. “I don’t want to die, either.” He dropped back into his own familiar speech pattern. “But there’s always that possibility and Dumbledore has helped me see the importance of specifying who gets what; do you really want all that money to go to Bellatrix Lestrange or Narcissa Malfoy? I didn’t think so and neither do I. And I can’t think of a better cause than yours, Neville.”
Neville sat back against his cushions with a long shuddering sigh. “Why do you want to wait to give us the money until after you fight Voldemort?”
Harry drew a long breath. “I’m selfish. I want to see you succeed,” he stated. “What I’m trying to say is this: I’m willing to invest in your research and I want you to have the money whether I’m alive to see what you do with it or not. You have a very big heart, Neville, and I want others to reap what Ginny has from your work. It’s as simple as that. But I also know that it’s going to take until Voldemort’s gone for you to really get established. You still have another year of school to complete and you’ll also need the time to line up other investors as well.”
“You have a very well-developed perspective on all this, Harry,” Luna commented bluntly over the top of her upside-down Quibbler. “Your offer is very generous, indeed, and Neville would be a fool not to accept it.”
“I-I-I never said I wouldn’t take his money!” Neville sputtered. “I was just wondering why I couldn’t have it now!”
Harry shifted in Ginny’s lap as he said, “I’m good with that, you two. Just get that article published and see what happens after it comes out.”
“I will, Harry,” Neville said resolutely. “Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t have encouraged me to write it if she didn’t think my research was worth investing in.”
“I agree,” Ginny said quietly as all eyes swivelled in her direction. “Just as Harry has invested in more laughter through my brothers, I want you to help more people recover from injuries like mine. It took Fred and George more than a year to invent all the products for their joke shop and find the right location, so I think a year is a reasonable amount of time for you. Don’t you see it?”
“Yes, I do,” Neville replied. “I reckon I’m just impatient to get started, is all.”
“Then I’ll see you around the castle this summer,” Harry said grinning. “I’d like to find out more about what you’re doing and Dumbledore said I’d have some free time while I’m ‘baching’ it between our outings. It’ll be nice to spend some time learning about what I’m investing in.”
“I look forward to it,” Neville said, sinking once again into his researcher’s persona.
The door to the compartment opened admitting a tired-looking Hermione and Ron. Ron threw himself into the seat next to Neville asking, “What’s so serious in here? You’d think there’s a war on or something.”
“Investment banking,” Luna and Ginny said at once and immediately burst into identical fits of giggles.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
The train slowed to a stop at Kings Cross Station and Ginny and the others stood to collect their baggage. Harry reached up to retrieve his trunk from the rack and grimaced with the effort of lifting his left arm over his head. He swore loudly enough to make the girls present all exclaim, “Harry!”
“Sorry,” he mumbled, not looking sorry at all. He rubbed his shoulder and tried again with the same result.
“Here, Harry, let me get that,” Neville said, easily lifting Harry’s trunk from its place on the luggage rack. He set it on its end and reached up to retrieve Ginny’s and his own.
“Thanks, mate,” Harry murmured quietly, a resigned expression on his face. He stuck out his hand and Neville took it, pulling Harry into a loose, back-slapping hug.
“See you in a week or so,” Neville said, releasing Harry and grabbing his handles and Luna’s trunks. “Have a good holiday everyone.” He peered out the window and, turning to Luna, said, “I see your Dad and Gran. I bet they’ll be glad to see us.”
“Yes, but only after Daddy arranges to interview us about the awards we received last night,” Luna stated, putting her copy of The Quibbler in her bag. Neville snorted and the two departed the compartment with a final wave and disappeared down the corridor. A moment later, Ginny saw them greeting Mr Lovegood.
Ron and Hermione had watched the exchange in silence, enjoying their own semi-private good-bye from the corner furthest from the window. Hermione now disentangled herself from Ron’s arms and quickly engulfed Harry in a fierce hug.
“Take care of yourself, Harry,” she said, her voice cracking a little as she released him and turned to hug Ginny. Over Ginny’s shoulder she said, “Promise me you three will write to me! After the year we’ve had we need to keep in touch.”
Silent tears coursed down her cheeks as Ron folded her into his arms again murmuring, “We’ll see each other soon. You know that.”
“I know,” she said huskily, taking Ginny’s proffered handkerchief. “But we’ve gone through so much together this year I don’t want to say good-bye.”
“It’s only for a few weeks,” Harry said reassuringly. “And I’ll be with Professor Dumbledore most of the time. It’s not like I’ll be at the Dursleys' the entire summer.”
“Yeah, we’ll be together before you know it,” Ron said bracingly, reaching for Hermione’s trunk. “Let’s go see if your parents are here.” He winked at Harry as he paused at the door to make sure Hermione was following him. “Besides, I think Harry wants a few minutes alone with my sister,” he smirked as Harry’s ears turned pink and Ginny glared at her brother. Hermione giggled and followed him out the door.
When they were gone, Harry took Ginny in his arms and they held each other for several minutes. “Blimey, I’m going to miss you,” Harry said into her hair.
Ginny gulped at the sudden lump in her throat and hugged him tighter, trying to memorize the feel of him one last time. “I’m going to miss you, too,” she choked into his jumper, suddenly too overwhelmed to say more.
Harry pulled back and she looked up at him, her eyes questioning. Silently, he bent his head and captured her lips in a searing kiss that took her breath away. The way he was holding her felt as if he was trying to commit her to memory just as she had him a moment ago. She reached up and tangled her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck until the need for air forced them apart.
“Promise me you’ll be careful at the Dursleys' and with Dumbledore, please, Harry?” she implored.
He grinned lopsidedly as he told her, “I promise. I’ll even make Dudley carry my trunk.”
She smiled sadly. “You do that, Harry. And make sure you aunt and uncle don’t make you do anything Madam Pomfrey and the St. Mungo’s healers won’t approve of.”
“Only if you’ll do the same, Ginny. You’ve come too far to jeopardize all the progress you’ve made after your accident.”
“Mum and Dad will see to it that I behave properly,” Ginny grinned. “I know Mum’s in constant contact with Madam Pomfrey and Healer Rodkey, so I won’t get away with much of anything probably. Not even flying, come to think of it.”
“I don’t think that will stop you.”
Ginny chuckled. “Only if Mum confiscates all the brooms in the house and uses a new locking charm on the broom shed!”
“Oi, you two.” Ron stuck his head in the door, causing Harry and Ginny to jump apart. “Ginny, Mum and Dad want to leave. I’m to get your trunks. Hurry up.”
“Sure thing, Ron,” Harry said still gazing at Ginny. I love you, Ginny, and I don’t think I could have made it through this year without your help.
I love you, too, Harry. Hermione’s right; we’ve had an eventful year, but it’s time to slow down a little, I think. Promise me you’ll rest up while you’re at the Dursleys'?
I’ll try. Hey, Ron looks impatient. Let’s go before your mum sends Hermione after us, too. He offered her his arm. She slipped her fingers around his elbow and they led Ron out into the corridor. At the top of the steps they stood aside and let him and the trunks pass down onto the platform.
Ginny turned to Harry and hugged him briefly one last time. Will you send Hedwig with a note telling me you’ve gotten settled in, please? she asked. I’ll feel better knowing you’ve arrived safely at the Dursleys'.
Harry grinned. I don’t know about safe, but I’m sure Hedwig will welcome the journey. She didn’t get to carry many letters this year.
I’ll be looking for her, Ginny said, smiling back. She glanced out the door to see her mother hovering close by. Shall we?
Harry sighed and helped her down the steps where they were both engulfed in Mrs Weasley’s motherly embrace.
“Oh, it’s so good to see you two whole again!” she exclaimed. “Harry, dear, do you have Madam Pomfrey’s letter to your aunt and uncle? Do I need to send you any potions? Any food? Should I send Arthur round next week to peek in on you?”
Laughing, Harry extracted himself. “I’ll be all right, Mrs Weasley. I promise to send Hedwig if I need anything,” he told her. He sobered as he continued, “I need to thank you and Mr Weasley for all you did for me this week. Having you at my bedside last Sunday helped me bear all the pain while the healers were putting me back together.”
Mrs Weasley gave a strangled sob and threw her arms around him again, “Oh, Harry. You don’t need to thank us. You’re a part of our family and we would never let you go through something like that without being there for you.”
“It’s something families do for each other,” Mr Weasley said, coming to join them. He put his arm around Ginny’s shoulders. “You stayed with Ginny when she needed you and we were very happy to reciprocate, Harry, when you needed us.”
Harry gently extracted himself from Mrs Weasley’s arms and stuck out his hand. “Thank you, sir.”
“You’re welcome, Harry. We’ll see you later in the summer, then.”
Harry grinned, looking meaningfully at Ginny who returned his smile. “I look forward to coming to The Burrow,” he said, his eyes not leaving her face.
Ginny stepped toward him and stood on her toes to give him one last chaste kiss on the cheek. I love you, she said.
I love you, too, Ginny. I’ll send Hedwig as soon as I get to my room.
Good. Have a good holiday, Harry.
Harry turned away towards the trolley that held his trunk and Hedwig’s empty cage and awkwardly began pushing it towards the barrier. Mrs Weasley looked significantly at Ron who sprinted after Harry who relinquished it without protest. With one last wave he was gone.
Ginny waved back, her heart heavy. “Will he be all right?” she asked no one in particular.
Mr Weasley said sincerely, “I think he will, Ginny. We must have faith. If it makes you feel better I’ll arrange with Mrs Figg for you two to see each other at her house one day next week.”
Ginny beamed at her father. “Thanks, Dad. I’d like that.”
“Shall we go home, then?” her mother asked as Ron reappeared.
“Yes. Let’s,” Ginny said. And leading the way, she stepped through the barrier onto the walkway between platforms nine and ten.
The End
A/N: Well, folks, this is it. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed your comments and suggestions over the years and thank you for sticking with me for so long. I can’t believe I’ve finally finished the story after three years of writing on it and have actually made my goal of finishing before Deathly Hallows comes out. Through it all my betas Aggiebell and Lady Narcissa and my pre-beta GhostWriter have persevered, suggesting better ways for me to say what I want, cheering when I wrote Neville and taking out the multitude of commas I continually insist on putting in my original drafts. Thank you, Aggiebell, GhostWriter and Lady Narcissa, for your help, encouragement and friendship.
As for future plans, I started several other stories while I was writing this one. They are, for the most part, in various stages of completion and my goal is to get them finished and published before the new material in Deathly Hallows causes all of them to go AU! My biggest ambition is to finish Hands around Hogwarts, a story which has been a work in progress since 2004! I have parts for two more chapters written and am planning to bring the story into compliance with HBP. That means new ideas about Severus Snape, the character who has kept me from completing this story because I find him so hard to write. In addition to these other stories, I was recently talked into writing a sequel to New Year, New Hope by several of my readers. The title of the story is Summer Story and I hope to have the first chapter out before DH comes out. Please look for it within the next week or two. Until then, enjoy Movie 5!