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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: 59879; Chapter Total: 4641 Author's Notes: All right, so I've spent the day at the computer. Don't hold it against me. And if it's not very well thought out, it's because I didn't spend very much time thinking it out. |
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Chapter Four: A Brother's Reaction “Have you located anything worth finding?” Snape inquired, in his slippery voice. Ginny shuffled through her papers. “I need to check in to see how Hermione’s coming with Hufflepuff’s cup, but Ravenclaw had a broach and a crown. The broach was lost, but the crown’s on display in the Ministry of Magic, in the Department of Mysteries, because it was noted as having strange powers.” Snape had an odd expression on his face. “How extraordinary,” he suggested bitingly. “Perhaps you should investigate, sometime soon. What are your thoughts on Nagini?” “Obviously, we can’t kill the snake,” Ginny said impatiently. “The bit of soul would just flee. I think the best thing to do would be, after all the other Horcruxes have been taken care of, to have you hide me in Animagus form in a bag when Voldemort calls you. I can slither out, unseen, and when Nagini finds me, signal Fawkes to transport us both away to a touching deathbed sight, or some such love-sacrificing scene. At that point Harry can appear and duel it out before Voldemort’s had a chance to realize what’s happened.” “Bold,” was her Potions master’s only comment. “But workable, provided Potter has plenty of allies to watch his back.” “That way, we control the time,” Ginny said diplomatically, neatening up her papers with the wand Snape had found for her. It was unregistered with the Ministry, because he had commissioned its creation from a private wand maker who owed him a favor after the warning that Voldemort had taken notice of him. It was strangely powerful, made of willow wood and the seldom-used griffin feather. “We can have the entire Order on hand, and they should be enough to take out the Death Eaters,” she elaborated. He nodded. “Provided we don’t take too long in destroying the other Horcruxes.” Ginny sighed. “Provided.” It had been four days since her conversation with Hermione, and she had been occupied from dawn until dusk every day since then. Twice she’d gotten out to run errands, putting strengthening charms on muggle transportation headquarters and getting potions ingredients. One particular brew she had been working on was almost ready. It was something that she had come across years ago, in a Dark Arts book. It was a potion well beyond N.E.W.T. level, and the ingredients required were next to impossible to get a hold of. She never would have managed it if not for Snape, who, as both a studier of the Dark Arts and a Potions Master, was able to provide her with the materials she needed, as well as help along the way. The potion itself was extremely difficult, and it was lucky Snape was there to guide her. But aside from helping her with various helpful Potions, and providing her information on the Death Eater activities, Snape was rarely present. Ginny spent most of her time in the dingy, ill-lit house alone. Not that she minded, much. While she considered her former teacher to be both like a mentor and an uncle, she could never quite call him a friend. Their conversations were clever, brief, and information-rich. He understood her, and she tried to understand him, but aside from that one day where he had convinced her not to join Voldemort, he was impossible to know. No, it wasn’t Snape’s company that she craved. But she missed her friends, and some of her family. She particularly missed Luna, because Luna always told her things exactly as they were. She missed her friend Lisa, and Neville, because Lisa made her laugh, and she could always be herself around Neville. In her family, she missed Bill, because he had never treated her like a baby, but at the same time had always looked out for her, not because she was a girl and the youngest, but because she was inexperienced in the world and he had wisdom to share. She even missed Ron. He was a git and a prat, so blind when it came to people close to him that he needed thicker spectacles than Harry, but he was her brother, the brother closest to her age. They had been best friends before Hogwarts, where he had met Harry and Hermione. But she had reached a point where she could forgive him for that, and was glad to find a place where she could stand as herself. Hermione was close to the top of her list of people to miss. Brilliant but sensitive, Hermione always seemed to know what she went through with Harry, and was always willing to help. Moreover, the older girl was wildly in love with Ron, though perhaps her higher intelligence, so quick when it came to recognizing incorrect wand movements, hadn’t realized this yet. But love aside, Hermione had always been a friend to her for her own sake, and not just because she was Ron’s little sister. That was what she told herself. If her senses had been heightened in the trio’s kitchen, it was because she was afraid of being discovered, not because every particle of her being was aware of Harry asleep in the next room. If she kept wishing for soft breath to announce his presence over her shoulder, as it had so often those last months at Hogwarts when she was studying for her O.W.L.S., then she withheld the knowledge sternly from herself. Hoping for things to change wouldn’t make them change. But no matter how she denied it, and worked furiously to forget it, the truth was still there, as the truth was wont to be. More than anything, she missed Harry. * * * * Ron pulled the Invisibility Cloak more tightly around his shoulders as he strode through a tense, uncrowded Diagon Alley. It would not do for him to be seen here. It had been three weeks since Harry’s birthday, and the three of them had decided it was time to check in with the Order, and see what was going on. Harry had left Remus a note, explaining, more or less, that they were fulfilling Dumbledore’s wishes, and that he would be going into hiding, although every so often one of them would be in touch. They had decided that Ron would go, because he would attract the least attention. But he wouldn’t be going to Grimmauld Place, where the Order could jump down his throat about where Harry was and what he was doing. No. Ron was going to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Fred and George wouldn’t be upset with him for leaving. They would tell him the news, and tease him, but of all his brothers, and of all the Order, they would react the least strongly to his, Harry’s, and Hermione’s disappearing act. So it was to their shop Ron was headed, to hear news of the Order and ask for a few favors from his inventor brothers. The window display was paler and less objectionable than the last time Ron had stood in front of it. He frowned. You knew things were bad when Fred and George began to keep their heads down. He had chosen to wait until around closing time to come around, when the shop would be virtually empty. It had been a good choice. The last customer pushed the door open to leave after Ron had been waiting only ten minutes. He ducked inside before the door swung shut. Inside, there was only a tired-looking George at the register. Fred and the magenta-robed assistant Verity were nowhere in sight. Suddenly, George sat up straight, and gripped his wand. He looked at a display to the far left of Ron, and began muttering. “Ow!” George had changed his aim at the last second, so that the Stunner barely missed his younger brother, grazing the hair off his arm. Ron pulled off the cloak, feeling grumpy. “Way to greet your youngest brother.” The older Weasley raised an eyebrow. “If you creep invisible into my shop, little brother, you’re going to have to expect a hex or two.” “How did you know?” Ron asked, rubbing his arm. “Instinct. And your timing was a little off with the door,” George said conversationally. “Come upstairs. Fred’s up there; I was just closing up.” “What about Verity?” Ron wanted to know. George shrugged noncommittally. “She leaves after three.” Ron watched as his brother activated the shop wards, and changed the door sign to read ‘Closed.’ Then he followed him up the staircase that appeared from a trapdoor in the ceiling when George toyed with the wood paneling. “Look what I found,” George said to Fred, jerking his head towards his youngest brother as they entered the twin’s sitting room. “Skulking under an Invisibility Cloak.” Fred stood up, and threw open his arms wide. “Glory! Mind you,” he said sternly. “Where’d you get an Invisibility Cloak, and why didn’t you tell us?” “It’s not mine,” Ron grinned. “Although I admit I’ve borrowed it more than once.” George grinned back. “Spoken like a true Weasley.” “But don’t let’s sit around and chat,” Fred broke in mockingly. “What brings you here, little brother? Aren’t you supposed to be missing, or some such nonsense?” “Yeah, well, the papers exaggerate these things,” Ron said, pretending to scoff. “Except the papers haven’t reported it yet,” George told him. “Nice try though.” “Thanks.” Then Ron remembered the purpose for his visit, and he felt uncomfortable. “How’s Mum taking things? What’s going on with the Order?” Fred gave him a mock severe look. “Mum’s furious, of course. And so should she be. You children, running off–” “Saving the world without giving her a moment’s notice,” George finished. “But seriously, she’s pretty torn up about it.” “Well, we’re all seventeen,” Ron said, though his voice was uncertain. “We’re of age, and we can take care of ourselves.” Fred really did shoot him a smoldering look now. “Ginny’s not.” Before Ron could protest that Ginny had nothing to do with it, George burst in. “But what have you been doing? What, exactly, does saving the world as we know it consist of?” Ron shrugged. “This and that. It’s mostly Harry’s business, Hermione and I are just helping. I’d love to bore you with the particulars, but Harry absolutely refuses to tell anyone that Dumbledore didn’t personally okay.” Fred nodded. “Understandable. What with Pettigrew and all.” “Still, if you ever want a bit of help, you know where to come,” George finished. “Actually, I had a favor to ask,” Ron admitted. “Spill your soul, little brother, we’ve got a mop,” Fred told him cheerfully. “And a girl we pay to clean–” “–our mother, and we only pay her with our presence, so don’t spill too much,” George confided, and his twin nodded. “Right. Keep it small.” Ron grinned. “Well, it’s like this. We’ve been searching for something, and we’re running out of disguise options. And we could use anything that could be used to generally search for something. Could you put your genius to the job and start inventing stuff? Anything interesting that’s not available to the public would be good, actually. Harry would reimburse you.” Fred waved this away. “He’s our mystery benefactor, he doesn’t have to pay. We’ll get to work on it.” George, meanwhile, whistled. “Don’t ask for much, do you? But we’ll work on it. Call back in a week. And send Hermione. We want to talk to someone intelligent.” “Thanks,” Ron told them, ignoring the slight in his gratitude that they weren’t going to be difficult. “It’s more important than I can explain. But what’s going on with You-Know-Who, and the Order?” “A few attacks. Nothing big,” Fred replied. “That information Hermione gave Tonks really helped. We’ve been able to prevent a few big muggle catastrophes.” “Huh?” Ron asked. “But–none of us have been in touch with anyone.” George raised an eyebrow for the second time that evening. “That’s strange. Because I definitely recall Tonks saying Hermione had given her a paper with Death Eater activities noted on it. I saw it, and it was in her handwriting.” “Do you think it could have been someone taking Polyjuice?” Ron asked, frowning. “I dunno what they’re playing at, if they were,” Fred said. “The information was real, and all of it’s been proven true so far. Is it possible Hermy just isn’t sharing something with you?” Ron turned red, and started to say, no, that was impossible, before he remembered the necklace. Hermione still hadn’t told them where she had gotten it. “More than possible,” he said at last. “She’s been hiding some stuff.” George nodded, and Ron thought he detected a hint of sympathy in his expression. “If she’s associating with Death Eaters, then I don’t blame her, you know?” he said. “That’s the last thing Harry needs to worry about right now.” Ron was immediately filled with panic. “You don’t think she’s working with someone like Malfoy, do you?” Merlin, that was dangerous! He was going to kill the girl. How could she be so stupid? Fred snorted. “They’d be best mates if he didn’t keep calling her names. No, I’d suspect Ginny of managing that sort of thing before I’d suspect Hermione.” “Speaking of which, you’re really in for it with Mum when all this is over,” George said. “She understands, to a point, the three of you leaving. You’re of age, after all. But I don’t think she’s going to forgive you for taking Ginny any time soon.” Ron’s fear for Hermione vanished at once. “Whaddya mean? We didn’t take Ginny.” “You didn’t?” There was, for once, a serious expression on both of the twins’ faces. “But you had to’ve. She disappeared the morning you did, and your note said ‘we.’” “I’m telling you, we didn’t take her with us,” Ron said, getting angry. “She and Harry rowed about it and everything, because she wanted to come along, and he wouldn’t let her. Are you sure she’s not just moping in her room?” For perhaps the first time in his life, Fred looked worried. “Positive, little brother. We’re absolutely positive.” * * * * “Fred?” “Yes, George?” “Do you think our little sister is Hermione’s information source?” “I’m sure of it. Our Gin doesn’t do things halfway, does she?” “Not at all. Of all our siblings, she’s been of the most credit to us. Do you think Harry knows?” “No. She won’t tell him, ever, if he turned her away first. If he’s hurt her, as I’ve no doubt the clumsy oaf did, she’ll turn her back on him with a vengeance.” Fred chucked a toothpick at the fireplace, and the flames roared up, insulted. “True.” George watched the fire dance, thoughtfully. “But he’ll find out sooner or later, won’t he? He’s going to be devastated.” “Yeah, well, that’s his problem. He should have just taken her with him in the first place. I’m betting she wasn’t on Dumbledore’s List of Trustworthy People, either, after all of that Chamber of Secrets bull.” “She must have been amazingly frustrated,” George admitted, frowning. “Fred, you don’t think…?” “No,” his twin said again. “Even if she did join the Death Eaters, which I hope she hasn’t, then she wouldn’t have access to such detailed information as Hermione so thoughtfully provided us with.” “Joining Voldemort would have been both tactically brilliant and a great revenge,” George admitted. “I’m worried about her.” Fred dusted off his hands from the rubble of an Exploding Snap game he’d been developing. “Don’t be. We never hovered, like Percy, or blew up, like Ron, but we’ve taught her well. She’ll be fine. Ron and Harry underestimate her, both of them. Or didn’t you notice her playing with a Time-Turner at Hogwarts? I know Hermione did it for a year, but Ginny managed it for much longer. Her schedule wasn’t particularly full, so what gives? And I could’ve sworn I saw her going in and out of Snape’s classroom more than was healthy while we were there.” “I did see that,” his twin agreed. “You’re right; our little Gin’s always had tricks up her sleeve. She can take care of herself.” Fred chucked another toothpick into the fire, suddenly looking much older than nineteen. “I hope. At any rate, we can tell Hermione, when she comes in a week, to relay to Gin that if she needs any help, anything at all, that we’re here and we never tell Mum. She knows that anyway, but still. She’s only sixteen, after all. It’ll make me feel better.” “Yeah.” George felt slightly comforted. “Yeah, me too.” * * * * Hermione had just put her papers aside for the day when Ron came storming in. “Harry? Hermione?” She stood up. “Ron? What is it?” she asked, as he came storming into the room. Harry was out on business, investigating a muggle museum that contained an interesting display of medieval jewelry. “Did something happen?” She was deathly afraid that someone they knew had been attacked, or had died. “Ginny’s missing,” he said without preamble. Her stomach flopped. It hadn’t even been a week since she’d spoken to her. “Missing? What do you mean?” “I mean gone!” he yelled. “She ran away.” Hermione let out an inward sigh of relief. She hadn’t been captured by Death Eaters, then. “How long ago?” she asked. “The day we left,” Ron snarled. “She let Mum think that we took her with us.” Now Hermione frowned. The little minx! But it was a good plan, she had to admit. And it would keep Mrs. Weasley from a good deal of heartache. Still, Ginny had left Hermione in the assumption that she was working, or whatever it was she was doing, from home. But Hermione had known it wouldn’t last long in any case. “Well, that was considerate of her,” she suggested diplomatically. “So now your mother won’t worry as much.” “WHAT!?” he shouted. “My sister runs away, and it’s considerate of her?” Hermione put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at him. “It’s not completely unexpected, Ronald! What do you think we did? Take a walk through the park?” “This is different!” he yelled. “We’re helping Harry!” “How do you know she’s not helping to fight Voldemort, in her own way?” she asked. “She has as much right to as we do.” Ron gaped at her. “She can’t be,” he answered. “I mean, it’d be really stupid of her! She can’t fight.” “How do you know that? You know nothing about her!” Hermione yelled back. “I know that she’s my sister, and she needs looking after!” Ron retorted. “When Harry finds out…” “What do you mean, when Harry finds out?” she asked, now worried. He raised an eyebrow. “Well, obviously, he’s going to want to go look for her.” “Has it occurred to you that maybe she doesn’t want to be found?” Hermione asked, working hard to control her voice. “Maybe, for once in her life, she wants to be more than Harry Potter’s girlfriend, or the Weasley’s little sister.” “I don’t bloody care what she wants!” Ron yelled. “It’s really selfish of her to go off on her own and make us all worry like this!” Hermione was annoyed. "What else could she have done? She let your mum–and everyone else–think that she was safe with us. She let you and Harry think that she was safe at home. I mean, really, she was very clever about the whole thing. Admit it, Ron, you were wrong about her. She’s her own person, and this is her battle as much as it is ours. I think she deserves to fight it, and since Harry refuses to let her fight with us, she has to fight alone.” Ron’s ears turned purple. “What are you saying, Hermione? I should have known my sister was going to bloody run off as soon as we turned our backs?” “Well, I did warn you,” she shrugged. “Neither of you believed her when she said she wouldn’t wait at home. There are a lot of things about Ginny that you don’t know, Ron, you and Harry both!” “Why didn’t you tell me that she’d run off?” Ron demanded, now pacing. “I didn’t know for sure. All I knew was that she was going to do something desperate if we excluded her again. And I knew she had the means to.” “Then why didn’t you tell us!?” “I did,” Hermione said quietly. “But you wouldn’t listen. And I couldn’t explain to you why, that’s Ginny’s business, and her secrets to tell.” Ron didn’t answer, but muttered something about “When Harry finds out.” “Don’t tell him, Ron,” Hermione implored. “He’ll only worry, you know he will. And he’ll tire himself out looking for her when he needs to be focusing on Voldemort.” “Ginny should have thought of that before she ran away,” he replied, nastily. Hermione had her wand out in less than a second. “Don’t,” she said, in a hard voice. “She never intended for him to find out–or you, either, for that matter. Whatever she’s doing now, she doesn’t want you to know about. Wherever she’s at, she doesn’t want to be found. Honestly, if it had been you, would you have wanted to sit at home, alone, while everyone but you in your family went off to fight Voldemort? What if your girlfriend was off fighting too? And your friends?” Ron opened his mouth, and closed it, eying her wand apprehensively. “Harry would still want to know,” he said at last. “I know,” Hermione said, in a much softer voice. “But he doesn’t need to know. It would be terrible for him, and there’s nothing he could do. If Ginny doesn’t want to be found, then she won’t be. To be perfectly clear, I’m not positive she hasn’t run off to join the Death Eaters.” There was a tense silence, following her words. Ron sat down on the couch. “She wouldn’t do that, would she?” he whispered. Hermione regarded him. “I don’t know,” she said. “I honestly don’t know. I wish she had told me.” Guilt was overwhelming her. “But…I can promise you that she’s still working for our side, no matter how she’s doing it, if that’s any comfort,” Hermione added, a minute later. “Oh, it was so frustrating, at the Burrow! There was so much I could’ve told you and Harry to make you believe me. But I couldn’t, because I’d promised Ginny I wouldn’t tell a soul. And she refused to tell you herself, unless you–you asked.” Ron took his head out of his hands and looked at her. “You kept a promise that could’ve kept my sister from getting hurt?” he asked, and his voice was full of pain. “I didn’t know what she would do,” Hermione said miserably. “Trust is so important to her, after Tom, that breaking it would have been betrayal. And I thought–I think that she deserves a chance to prove herself. Even knowing, Harry still probably would’ve turned her away, and then it would’ve been worse.” The boy on the couch–a young man, really–didn’t answer. “Will you tell Harry?” she pressed. He looked at her, seeing all of her worry, both for Ginny and for Harry. “No,” he answered. “No, I won’t.” |
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