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Fighting Harry | ||||||
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Category: Post-OotP, Post-HBP Characters:All, All Genres: Drama Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: PG Reviews: 112 Summary: When Harry decides the time is ripe to search for the remaining Horcruxes, Ginny demands to accompany him. Harry refuses, and leaves with Ron and Hermione the day after his seventeenth birthday. But Ginny's not the sort of girl to wait at home. She'll do anything to prove that she can survive without Harry...even join Voldemort. When Harry's turned away, what will save her from the Dark? And what will Harry do, when he realizes his mistake? Hitcount: Story Total: 59848; Chapter Total: 4917 Author's Notes: This is my first fanfiction, so please review honestly. I'm not particularly vain, nor undecidely serious, so I appreciate all comments. All I ask for is a chance and your opinion!
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot, and even my claims to that are shaky. J. K. Rowling owns all! |
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Chapter One: The Decision “You’re not being fair,” Ginny accused. “I’m every bit as able as you, Ron, or Hermione.” “I want you to be safe,” Harry said. “I’ve got things to do, things that you can’t understand.” “Only because you won’t let me!” she cried, anger fizzling over. She understood a lot more than he could possibly imagine. “You’ve been avoiding me, and you haven’t given me a chance to argue my side of it. Has it occurred to you that I don’t want to be safe?” “But I want you to be,” he insisted. “That’s my choice to make, Potter! You can’t control my life.” Harry looked grim. “But I can protect you from mine. I want you to live, Gin. You won’t get that with me.” “So I’ll be living when I’m sitting around worrying about you lot?” she challenged. “I want to be with you, Harry.” He didn’t answer. “I could help you,” she said at last, and it was true. But to say so cost her more than words could express. It was her secret; it had always been her secret, and to confess the deepest desire of her heart as well as the fact that she had spent the last five years educating herself for this day. The Ginny Weasley standing there before him was a lot different from the Ginny Weasley who had fallen under the spell of Tom Riddle. There were many things she had done and learned to do, that Harry knew nothing of–probably because he had never bothered to ask. Harry took a deep shuddering breath. If she was less upset she might have seen how hard this was for him. As it was, she only saw him looking uncomfortable. “Look, Ginny, I’m sorry. But this is something I have to do on my own.” “‘On your own’ with Ron and Hermione,” she snarled, finally losing her temper. “Just like always, leaving me behind. You’ve always been the perfect trio, and you never think to include anyone else. Even last year at the ministry, you had to be forced to let me come, and I came through it without spending weeks in the hospital wing, as Ron and Hermione did. If you’re not going to trust me, you could at least give me a chance to prove myself.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Gin. But Dumbledore–” “Bully for him,” she snapped, and whirled away. “He wasn’t perfect, Harry, and he wasn’t the only powerful wizard of the age.” “I trusted him,” the young man told her. “I still do.” Ginny closed her eyes. “All right,” she said at last. “But if you’re going to save the world, you need to open your eyes. And when you do, don’t look for me. I won’t be waiting. I won’t even be here.” * * * * “It was an empty threat, Harry,” Ron said for the thousandth time. “She’ll calm down, don’t worry. She loves you, she’ll wait. Besides, I mean, what else can she do?” Harry only paced. Hermione looked worried. “I don’t know about this, Harry. She has a point, that we exclude her.” “Of course we do!” Ron roared. “D’ya think I want my baby sister tangled up in all of this?” “It’s her choice to make,” Hermione reminded him, but Harry cut in. “It doesn’t matter. I promised Dumbledore I wouldn’t tell anyone else.” “I know.” Now Hermione looked miserable. “But, doesn’t it seem, wrong somehow? I mean, she was the one most heavily affected by a Horcrux. I think she deserves to be in on the hunt for the rest, and she could provide valuable insight to how Voldemort’s mind works, having been in it herself.” “That’s something we’ll just have to do without,” Harry said curtly. “I’ve been in Voldemort’s mind, too, and it’s not a pretty place. I’m not dragging her back into this.” His friend mumbled something. “What was that, Hermione?” Ron asked. “I said, maybe if we hadn’t been so wrapped up in ourselves second year and had given a lonely first year time of day, then she wouldn’t have needed to confide in a diary about her innermost feelings and emotions!” Harry’s stomach gave a guilty lurch, but Ron looked angry. “Come off it! Are you saying all that Chamber business was our fault?” “No. But I’m saying that, maybe if we had been a little less exclusive, we could have prevented it,” Hermione told him. “I don’t want to make the same mistake now. Ginny’s capable of more than you give her credit for.” “Like what?” Ron snorted. Hermione looked at him sharply. “If she hasn’t told you, then I’m not going to. But she’s going to give Harry a run for his money in a few years–maybe even sooner.” “What can she do?” Harry asked, quietly. The bushy-haired girl stared at him, hard. “If she hasn’t told you, then she doesn’t want you to know. But I think you’re making a mistake in leaving her at home, and I think it’s going to come back and bite you in the arse. Both of you underestimate her.” “Look, I know she’s got an insane Bat-Bogey, but apart from that, she’s just, well, Ginny,” Ron said. “And that,” Hermione said, as she walked away, “is where you go wrong.” * * * * Ginny thought about the last few years. After her encounter with the younger Voldemort, she had been wild to do something, anything so that she would be more prepared next time she met him. She knew she would do so, because Harry would, and she planned on being right there to help him. What she hadn’t counted on was him denying her that right. But still, years ago, she had wanted to learn anything that might help. So, in her second year, she had started doing some research. About what had happened to her, and how she could have prevented it. The first thing she did was look up memories, and how they could be preserved. What she found puzzled her. People could go back in time, and they could have an imprint of themselves in a portrait, but only after they had died. And Tom Riddle was too young, when he met Ginny, to have gone back in time. It made no sense. She had always prided herself on thinking beyond the natural limits. So–if Tom wasn’t exactly a memory, then what was he? The diary had been more than his mind, it had held the potential for the heart that he never had. After a year’s toil, she realized she needed help. Who to call? Not Harry, for certain, or Ron. They were so busy with their own affairs, and Hermione. Hermione was the logical choice, but she was so busy that year with her full schedule and the Time-Turner Ginny had caught sight of her using once or twice. Professor McGonagall would not have wanted her to understand about Voldemort. This Ginny could already tell. Her professor wanted her to move on, and to heal, not to discuss the workings of Tom Riddle’s mind. Most of her other teachers felt the same way. Except Professor Snape. She knew that her brothers disliked him, but he was excellent at what he did. Ginny liked potions. It was exact, and you could count on it, provided you cleared your mind and focused. But she’d always kept her head down in his class, not talking to the people around her. He had hidden surprise when she approached him, but he wanted to hear her thoughts. When she mentioned that the diary had seemed more a living part of Voldemort than a memory, his eyes had gone wide. He had urged her to elaborate. She did so, explaining that it had contained his emotions and darkest desires with much too solidity to be an echo. And memories couldn’t draw strength from the present, either. Snape had bidden her to keep her ideas from her friends and other teachers; and in exchange, from then on, she spent Monday and Thursday evenings in his room, researching what she came to know as Horcruxes, from the Dark books that Snape had. From third year on, he began teaching her Occlumency, and then halfway through fourth, Legilimency, in case she ever needed to defend what she knew or get information. She had an aptitude for both. Harry and Dumbledore had never told them about the Horcruxes; yet both she and Snape had worked it out. Therefore, they were united: two people, who had suffered more for the cause than anyone besides Harry himself, and they were excluded from the workings of it. In her fifth year, in addition to Mondays and Thursdays, Snape added Wednesdays, to teach her complicated Dark potions that could turn the tides of the war if dumped in a drink or water source; and also powerful Healing concoctions that could fight curses. Then he did something she knew hurt his pride. He suggested she go to McGonagall and Sirius and learn to be an Animagus. Furthermore, he wanted her to spend as much of her time as possible corresponding with her brother Bill, and learning the art of Curse-Breaking. When Bill moved back to England, she began studying with him in secret. All of this left her with virtually no free time, and what little she had was spent on Quidditch, studying for O.W.L.s, and then, for a few blinding, sunstruck months, Harry. But she had begun using a Time-Turner at the beginning of her fourth year. Her excuse had been Animagus lessons with McGonagall, and taking Ancient Runes as well as Muggle Studies and Care of Magical Creatures. Hermione had been right to be overwhelmed by it. But she wasn’t Hermione. Ginny was strong, in character and in magic, and while Hermione was a perfectionist, Ginny knew how to let the little things go, and concentrate on the big picture. Rejuvenating potions helped. But more helpful still was the fierce fire of determination that Tom’s attack had left her with. If Hermione had been so determined, she would have gotten more than her eleven O.W.L.s. Ginny spent almost two years learning to be an Animagus. With the benefit of McGonagall’s, and for a year, Sirius’s, experience, she managed it without too much struggle. It was her Animagus form that came to be a shock. It was a serpent. McGonagall had been downright alarmed, and had gone to Dumbledore. The headmaster had looked at the girl with something like suspicion, but he had been too exhausted by chasing down the Horcruxes to take immediate action. Ginny suspected that he had excluded her from Harry’s circle of trust on purpose: he was trying to protect her. But Snape had nodded when she showed him, and there was something like pity in his face. He had reacted to the news of her dating Harry as though he had predicted it, though he had looked on her with pity then too. Ginny wondered, later, how he could have known that Harry would turn her away. When Dumbledore had been killed, she hadn’t been surprised. She had always known that Snape’s loyalties were as confused as his subject was precise. But whatever he did, he did thoroughly. And he had certainly protected Harry. It made her angry with Harry, to see the risks Snape had taken, and the things he had done to try to keep the idiot safe over the years. She could call him ‘the idiot’ now, when hurt and raw pain bubbled up inside her, because he didn’t trust her, and he didn’t want her beside him. She had liked Dumbledore, but she had always felt that he, like everyone else, overlooked her. Now more than ever, when Dumbledore was gone and Hogwarts was closed. She was more than a little girl, more than the little sister in need of protection. Why couldn’t Harry see that? * * * * “You’re leaving in the morning?” Ginny asked Hermione, later that day. If she was proud of anything, it was her ability to conceal the hurt and anger that burned in her soul. Her vision was blurry with her pain, but her mind and her expression were as clear as ever. Hermione glanced over at her. “Harry told you?” Ginny nodded. “That was about all he told me.” She had confided to Hermione about her taking private lessons from Snape since second year, needing help covering it up from her brothers and Harry. However, Hermione was unaware that she knew about the Horcruxes; she only knew that Ginny knew both Occlumency and Legilimency, and was an Animagus who studied the Dark Arts to better understand them. “I’m sorry,” Hermione said, and there was a desperate note in her voice. “I tried to talk to him, but he wouldn’t listen.” “It’s all right,” Ginny said, but it wasn’t. There was a gaping, bleeding hole in her heart, covered by the desperate urge to prove herself worthy. “You’re not going to sit around and wait,” her friend said, and it was a statement rather than a question. Ginny shook her head. “Would you expect me to?” “Just don’t–don’t,” Hermione said, and faltered. She looked at Ginny apprehensively, as though her worst fears had been confirmed. “Don’t what?” the girl asked, pinning her red hair expertly behind her ears. “Never mind,” the bushy-haired girl sighed, and yelped as a phoenix appeared in a burst of smoke. “Fawkes,” Ginny smiled, but even in her mask of indifference it was a broken smile. She took the parchment away from him as the firebird laid his head on her shoulder. Hermione shook her head. “Do I want to know who that’s from?” “No,” the younger girl said, and tucked the letter away for later. The other girl tried a different tactic. “Does Harry know that Fawkes came to you after–after Dumbledore died?” It had been almost a month, and still it was difficult for anyone to speak of the headmaster. Ginny shook her head. “No. He would know, if he’d come to talk to me properly, instead of waiting for me to pull him aside at his seventeenth birthday party and accuse him of running off to defeat Voldemort.” Her voice was bitter and biting. “He’s a bit moronic about things like that,” Hermione admitted. The youngest Weasley only nodded. It cut far deeper than she could say, that Harry was excluding her from his life. “I’m sorry,” her friend said again, after a brief pause. “For Harry and Ron being idiots, and for me not being there for you in your first year.” “It’s all right,” Ginny replied mechanically. “I’ll be all right; it’s not your fault. You were busy being Petrified when I was ready to talk, and anyway, I had hardly even met you then; you weren’t my brother, and you didn’t live with me over the summer. I’m not sure I’ve ever really gotten over the boys doing that. But one day they’ll look back and regret not having me on their side.” “What are you planning?” Hermione asked, half-afraid. “Please, Ginny, don’t be rash. Just because they’re morons doesn’t mean all of our side is. Voldemort kills people, and if we’re not united against him then we’re lost already.” “Tell that to my brother and his idiot friend,” she said blazingly. “When they learn, I will.” Hermione gave her a long look. “I suppose I’ll have to be content with that,” she said at last. “But please, Ginny, whatever you do, be careful.” Ginny gave her a half smile, secretive and pain-stricken. “I always am.” * * * * The next morning, at half-past one, Ginny rolled out of bed. In a couple of hours, Harry, Hermione, and Ron would be leaving. She meant to be gone before then. Hermione had insisted that they leave Mrs. Weasley a letter explaining what they were about, and at her urging, Ron had written such a note. It said, very frankly and very primitively: Mum, We’re going to help Harry in his quest for Voldemort. Don’t worry about us; we’ll take care of each other, and Harry. Sorry that we’re leaving like this, but it’s something that has to be done, and you’d never approve. All my love, Ron Ginny had smiled to see it. Her idiot brother had never specified ‘we.’ If she was gone about the same time, her mother would assume that she had left with the trio, and so would the Order and Voldemort. All the better. Pulling out a quill, she produced a fragment of parchment, and paused, before jotting down a few words. Hermione would understand. She handed the note to Fawkes, and hesitated. Did she really want to do this? “Wait until lunchtime, to deliver it,” she whispered to the phoenix. He only looked at her, sorrowfully, and she saw the gleam of tears in his beady eyes. I wish your tears could heal me. Her bag was packed neatly at the foot of her bed. She grabbed it now. Technically, she was a year underage and couldn’t use magic outside of school, so she would be leaving in a muggle way, until she could find a wand not registered to her to use. After walking a few miles, she pulled a small bottle out of her bag, pulled the cork out, and drained the pinkish liquid inside. It was a powerful potion, that she had concocted a year ago with the help of Snape. It would change her appearance for the few hours it would take for her to travel to her destination. Immediately, her hair shortened, and became dark. Her skin became a rich tan color, and her nose tilted upward. Suddenly the earth rushed away from her as she grew taller and broader. Just another sullen, heavyset girl traveling to visit her auntie. Ginny flagged down the bus that passed her as the sun climbed the horizon. “Yeah?” the bus driver asked bluntly, tired by a long night of driving. She pulled a couple of muggle notes out of her pocket. Thank goodness for muggle studies. “Can you give me a ride?” He eyed the money approvingly. “Hop on, girl. Where was you wantin’ t’go?” * * * * Harry crept down the staircase as quietly as he could, Ron and Hermione right behind him. “Ow!” Ron exclaimed, as he stubbed his toe. Hermione scolded him. “Shh, Ron, you’ll wake your mother, or worse, Ginny,” she added, as they neared Ginny’s room. “We don’t want that,” Ron muttered. “She’d be a nightmare, crying and carrying on.” “I don’t think so,” Harry said, twisting so that Ron passed him. He paused by Ginny’s door. “Definitely not,” Hermione affirmed. “She’s not ten years old anymore, Ron, she’s sixteen. I doubt she’d even talk to you now, you’ve been such a prat to her lately.” “What?” The tall redhead was insulted. “C’mon, don’t tell me you thought she and Dean were a good match. They were snogging all over the place.” Harry’s stomach dropped, but Hermione was hissing back. “It’s not your place to judge her, and you’ll be lucky if she doesn’t go running back to Dean now!” “She wouldn’t do that, would she?” Ron asked, glancing at Harry in what he clearly thought was a furtive way. “I mean, she knows that you’re crazy about her, doesn’t she, Harry? She understands.” Hermione gave him an exasperated look as they entered the kitchen, and Ron gently placed the note on the table. But when her gaze turned to Harry her expression became sad. “If it makes you feel better to believe that, then go ahead. But no, I don’t think she’ll go running to Dean.” Harry looked back up at the staircase, fighting the urge to run up it and fling open Ginny’s door and explain everything, before shaking his head. “I’ll make it up to her, when all this is over,” he promised. He didn’t see Hermione shake her head. * * * * A slender black snake stole through the shadows of Spinner’s End. It had a destination in mind, and it was clearly skilled at avoiding notice. It came to a small house on the outskirts of the village, and settled in the shadows beneath a low window. It was a magical house, and one that things could be said freely at, for its owner worked hard on the wards. It was a clever little snake, slithering silently in the dark spaces away from people. Slithering up to the door, it slipped beneath it, making itself impossibly small and flat. The door was ill-fit, and rough hewn. Once inside, the slender snake transformed into an equally slender hooded girl. The dark-haired man at the table said nothing, but nodded. She lowered her hood. “You knew,” she accused him. He sneered. “Lily said the same thing, over seventeen years ago. Your Potter is so like his father–it was inevitable.” She locked her hands behind her back. “He’s not mine, not anymore.” The words were an axe slicing open her heart. His expression was impossible to read. “What are you here for?” Ginny looked at him grimly. “I want to join the Death Eaters.” * * * * The trio had just settled into the muggle hotel room for lunch when the phoenix appeared, in a flash of smoke. “Fawkes!” Harry said, rising at once. But Fawkes turned his head away, and fluttered out of reach. “What’s the matter, Fawkes? Don’t you remember me?” Harry asked, wounded. “Blimey, he’s crying!” Ron said, in wonder. “D’ya think he’s been mourning Dumbledore all this time?” The phoenix’s eyes were indeed swimming with unshed tears, and he produced a piece of parchment from under his wing. Harry moved to take it, but Fawkes only stared at him, accusingly, and so he stopped. Hermione held out her hand, and the phoenix fluttered over to land on her arm, after dropping the letter into her outstretched hand. She could feel her heart beating hard in her chest. “He’s got a letter!” Harry said, his eyes brightening momentarily. They'd been uncommonly dim since the day before. When he'd talked to Ginny. “Who’s it from, Hermione?” She glanced over it. It contained only two short words. I’m sorry. “What is it?” Ron asked at once. “Good Lord–you’re shaking!” He tried to take the paper away from her, but she shook her head vehemently, blinking back tears. So Ginny had done it. She’d run off, to do who knew what. Join Voldemort, perhaps… Hermione muttered a charm, and the paper disappeared in a flash of flame. Fawkes squawked in disapproval. “Hey! Whaddya do that for? Who was it from?” Ron asked indignantly. “It was from Ginny,” Hermione told him softly. Harry raised an eyebrow. “How’d she get a hold of Fawkes?” “He’s been with her since Dumbledore died,” Hermione snapped. “You would know, if you’d gone to talk to her or even spent more than five minutes in her presence.” “Fawkes came to Ginny?” Ron asked incredulously. “But–why?” Hermione stroked the firebird soothingly, but his feathers remained ruffled and worried. “He’s been worried about her. I’ve been worried, too.” Harry didn’t respond to that, but it was obvious that he was bothered by this information. “What did the note say?” he asked instead. Hermione thought about it. However angry she might be with Harry right now, his intentions were good. He couldn’t save the world if he was worried about Ginny getting hurt, and that was why he hadn’t wanted her along. It wouldn’t help him to know that she wasn’t safe now, away from him in who-knows-where. So she shook her head. “Nothing it would help either of you to know. Just forget it.” Ron would have pursued the issue, but Harry looked as if he wanted it quite over. “She’s angry with me, isn’t she?” The light in his eyes had quite faded. Hermione forced out a smile. “She’ll be all right.” It was a lie. But it was a lie for the good of the world. |
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