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Harry Potter and the Serpent's Coven | ||||||
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Category: Post-HBP Characters:All Genres: Action/Adventure, Fluff, General, Romance Warnings: Death, Sexual Situations, Violence Rating: R Reviews: 90 Summary: *** The author has been reminded via the e-mail address on file that this story is listed as incomplete and has not been updated in over 2 years *** Harry Potter realises that returning to Hogwarts for his final year is the only way he will succeed in his quest to destroy Lord Voldemort. It is a year of darkness, horror and new discoveries. Ginny Weasley is not only the witch who possesses Harry's heart, but also the true source of his strength as a wizard. Together, they will find new powers within themselves and each other, and find that there are some things that even the darkest magic cannot break. Hitcount: Story Total: 170744; Chapter Total: 4058 |
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It was a congregation of heavy hearts, as well as a few heavy consciences, who mourned the passing of the wand maker. The attendants from the wizarding community were gathered in a windy field within sight of the village of Hogsmeade on a late November morning. Had Mr Ollivander’s tragic death occurred some three years before, the field would have most likely been populated with every witch or wizard who had ever entered his shop in Diagon Alley, but fear had now left its mark. Fellow shopkeepers, staff and pupils of Hogwarts, and various members of their families stood in silence near the large oak coffin that held the late craftsman. The manner in which the poison had hideously damaged his features had made it necessary for the casket to remain sealed, much to the distress of his surviving relatives. Ministry representatives were gathered on the opposite side, and were very aware of the frosty glances being levelled at them, particularly from a mother who stood with her husband and six children huddled closely around her. Mrs Weasley and her family were taking this time not only to remember Ollivander, but to grieve for the death of her third son, Percy, which the Ministry had described simply as ‘a regrettable incident’ in their modest letter of condolence. Respecting the sentiment of a family in mourning, Harry, Hermione and Fleur stood apart from the group and watched various witches and wizards lay decorative tributes on the coffin. A cousin of Ollivander was addressing the crowd, speaking of the wand maker in terms to which few of them could relate, but Harry knew that the dead man’s legacy resided within the robe pockets of practically every one of them. When the last word had been said, they all stood in silence, looking solemnly downwards. Rufus Scrimgeour was the first to move, walking slowly away from the gathering and followed by his aids and fellow officials. As many followed suit, Harry distinctly heard the words “You know, this could look very bad for the ministry…” as Scrimgeour passed by him, and he felt a sudden anger boiling up inside him that anyone’s greatest concern on a day like this was bad publicity. His wand was even halfway out of his pocket when a hand shot out from behind and grabbed his arm. “Leave it alone, boy,” came the gruff whisper of Mad-Eye Moody, “Believe me, I’m just as sorely tempted as you, but this is neither the time nor the place to be hexing the high and mighty.” Harry’s shoulders sunk in resignation, and he turned regretfully to join his fellow pupils as they walked back in the direction of the village. Mrs Weasley stopped him as he went to catch up with Ron and Hermione. She looked at him in silence for a moment as her eyes wandered around his forehead, which today appeared to look much like anyone else’s. “Harry, you do realise that transfiguration spells like that are what witches use to conceal unsightly blemishes,” she remarked, though no trace of a smile was visible. “Well, that was the idea,” Harry shrugged, “A day like today is bad enough without everyone gawping at that stupid scar. It’s a funeral, not a freak show.” Mrs Weasley sighed and shook her head. “You really don’t understand, do you? People used to stare at your scar because you were The Boy Who Lived. Now they stare because the sight of it gives them hope. The fact that you’re even still alive is a comfort to all of us. What I see before me is NOT the wizard of my daughter’s dreams.” Harry couldn’t rightly argue with this. He slouched glumly, then drew his wand and pointed it at his forehead. A fine, deep red line emerged from under his fringe and snaked into the shape of the lightning bolt-shaped scar he had worn since he was a baby. “Much better,” she said, smiling at last. The main topic of conversation in the Gryffindor common room that night was the impending results of the OWL exams. Although Harry was hardly in the mood for socialising, he could understand why everyone needed a distraction. As Ginny had sloped off to bed early, he decided to do the same, much to the disappointment of the Larkin twins, who delighted in gazing at him from across the room and giggling whenever he looked over in their direction. To his surprise, he found Ron in the dormitory already. “Bit of an early night for you, isn’t it?” he remarked as Ron looked up. “I’m just not feeling too good at the moment,” Ron casually replied, giving the first honest emotion Harry had seen all evening. “Look, Ron, I’m really sorry about what happened to Percy and everything. It must be horrible for you.” Ron looked back at him with mild surprise. “It’s not your fault, mate, you’ve got nothing to apologise for,” he said firmly, “Did my mum give you a hard time about it?” “No, but I’d understand if she did. She’s upset, just like all of us,” replied Harry. His friend gave an exasperated roll of his eyes and sighed. “Harry, I know you’ve been through a lot and I know there’s plenty more to face, but when are you going to realise that the weight of the entire world does not rest on your shoulders?” Harry gave him an appreciative smile. As frustrating as Ron could be at times, Harry had always been glad to have him as a friend. In the quiet that followed, they heard the sound of breathy sleep from Dale’s bed. “Strange little bloke, that one,” whispered Ron, nodding towards Dale. “Someone else who’s been through a lot too,” said Harry thoughtfully, noting for the first time that Dale had barely unpacked any of what few possessions he had. After a short while, Harry spoke again. “Listen, do you mind if I get some sleep? I just don’t want to have to think about anything more today.” “Know how you feel, mate,” agreed Ron quickly. As Harry climbed into his bed, he couldn’t help dreading the prospect of what his dreams had in store for him. He simply wanted blankness from the moment he closed his eyes, and was desperately focusing his mind as he did in his Occlumency lessons. Today had been a bad day, he told himself. The last thing he needed was a bad night as well. The slumber of the Gryffindor dormitories was broken by a series of piercing screams in the early hours of the morning. Harry suddenly awoke and instinctively reached for his wand. Wherever the commotion was coming from, it was not in this room. But near. Very near. When he emerged from his bed, Ron, Seamus and Neville had all risen from theirs as well, and were equally determined to find the cause of the disturbance. As they reached the common room, they were greeted by the Larkin twins, both hysterical and clinging to one another in fright. As Seamus attempted to calm them down, Harry and Ron looked all around, trying to understand what could have possibly frightened them so much. “What the hell’s going on?!” shouted Ron over the loud whimpering of the twins. Katrina Larkin, still petrified and inarticulate, extended a shaky arm and simply pointed to the stairs that led to the girls’ dormitory. Harry thought it best to restore some order. “Neville, go and find McGonagall, Seamus, look after these two. Ron, come with me.” “Why do I get stuck being the babysitter?” Seamus protested. “It’s not babysitting, it’s defence,” replied Harry, “Imagine what could have scared them like this. We can’t just leave them alone.” “I didn’t hear you volunteering,” muttered Seamus bitterly. But Harry was already storming towards the stairs. “Don’t worry,” called back Ron with a smile, “Just give them a warm blanket and read them a story. I’m sure you’ll be their friend for life.” As the two of them ascended the staircase, they came across several third and fourth year girls with wands at the ready, though only marginally less frightened than the twins. Further on was Luna Lovegood, who joined Harry and Ron on their way up. “What’s happened?” Ron whispered to her, over the sound of a desperate scurrying from just above them. Just as she opened her mouth to answer, they heard what was unmistakeably Hermione’s voice, although for the first time it was a shriek that sent a searing chill down their spines. “CROOKSHANKS!” Harry wasted no more time, and ran up the last few stairs with Ron and Luna close behind. For a moment, he couldn’t believe the scene that met his eyes as he burst in through the door. Hermione was wailing helplessly over her cat that lay on the floor in an injured state. A large patch of his fur was hanging off exposing badly torn flesh that bled relentlessly into a puddle on the floor, and all he could manage was wheezy, panic-stricken breaths. Although Hermione barely noticed Harry standing in the doorway, their heads turned in unison to the opposite corner of the room, at which point Harry’s eyes opened even wider in shock. Ginny was sitting in the corner, shaking uncontrollably. Her eyes stared straight ahead in sheer terror and her hair was positively wild. A stream of crimson blood seeped from between her lips, coating her jaw and heavily staining her nightdress. Harry shook his head quickly, thinking this may possibly have been a terrible nightmare. “YOU!” screamed Hermione, rising to her feet, “HOW COULD YOU!? LOOK AT WHAT YOU’VE DONE, YOU VICIOUS, EVIL LITTLE…!” “HERMIONE!” shouted Harry, finding his voice at last as Ron and Luna physically restrained her from launching across the room, “Look at me! Look…at…me! I know how upsetting this must be for you, but I need you to listen to me. Take Crookshanks along to Hagrid as fast as you can.” “But…!” she began. “Hermione, listen!” he snapped back at her, “I know how you must feel, but you have to realise that your cat doesn’t have time for that! Ron, go with her.” “What about Ginny?” replied Ron, his eyes darting from one side of the room to the other. “I’ll stay with her, and McGonagall should be here soon. Just get them to Hagrid, now!” With one last stare of burning hatred at Ginny, Hermione pulled on a sweater and slippers, gathered Crookshanks carefully up in her arms and followed Ron down the stairs. Taking a brief look around the room, Harry noticed that there were still some other girls present, either taking cover behind their beds or desperately pretending they were still asleep. Ginny was oblivious to everything around her, and seemed as though she might explode with the slightest provocation. He was, therefore, approaching her with extreme caution. “Ginny?” he said quietly, “It’s me…Harry.” There was no response and not a single flicker of recognition. “Ginny, I need you to tell me what happened.” The next voice he heard was not Ginny’s, but that of the Headmistress behind him. “I believe it would be for the best if you were to go to my study and wait for me there, Potter.” The furious argument she expected never arrived. Instead, Harry calmly turned around and addressed her with a deep sadness in his voice. “What’s happened to her?” “That is something I can only find out when I have spoken to Miss Weasley alone. I don’t mean to imply that you have no right to know, but we can’t risk your emotional involvement clouding the issue. It is because of your feelings that I’m asking you just to step back for the moment.” Harry simply looked from Ginny to the Professor. He was even surprising himself at the mature attitude he was taking. “You will let me know when I can see her, won’t you?” “Of course,” she smiled. Sitting in the Headmistress’s study, Harry gazed around the room for anything that might distract his thoughts. His eyes wandered over the late headmasters who slept peacefully in their portrait frames, getting the distinct impression that there would be one of them at least who was wide awake. This time, he didn’t even turn around when his suspicions were confirmed. “You look troubled, Harry,” remarked Professor Dumbledore from a frame high up on the wall. “That’s funny, I’d been wondering that myself,” Harry muttered without looking up, “It might just be stress from my hectic daily timetable. Maybe I’m coming down with something, because after all, there does seem to be a nasty chill in the air.” The ghostly image of the old man was already smiling and shaking his head. “Then again,” he continued in a confiding voice, his head lifting to meet the eyes of the Professor, “There’s a chance that it has something to do with the fact that, on top of everything else, the man who made my wand is dead and I’ve fallen in love with a girl who appears to have taken to butchering cats. Tell me, is this just something every young wizard goes through when they come of age?” “Your life has been unique,” Dumbledore replied, adopting a more serious demeanour, “and will continue to be so. Indeed, you are not simply struggling with the normal trials of life. Ollivander was certainly a terrible loss to our world, but surely this should only serve to strengthen your resolve. As for Miss Weasley, she is a young lady with many troubles, but if you would prefer to walk away from her rather than understand, then I can only say that you are not half the wizard I believed you to be.” Harry still felt a little strange being shocked and offended by the tone of a dead person. “You know I wouldn’t do something like that,” he responded. “Yes, Harry, I know,” The more Harry thought about it, the stranger and emptier Hogwarts felt without the physical presence of Albus Dumbledore. That one wizard had managed to make so many others feel safe was testament enough of how sorely he was missed. If the Daily Prophet was to be believed, this was going to be Harry’s responsibility, and to say the least, he didn’t quite feel up to it. Right now, there was only one thing he wanted. “Professor, I was wondering if you could do something for me…” he ventured. “That depends on whether it involves any heavy lifting,” smiled Dumbledore. Harry paused sadly, looking down at the floor as he finally spoke. “Can you find out if Ginny’s alright? I’m sorry, but I can’t go one more minute without knowing, not after what I saw.” There was a silence, during which he contemplated in horror what may have happened to the poor girl, and wondered why Dumbledore was taking so long to answer his request. By the time he looked up, the old headmaster had disappeared from his frame. Harry was just on the point of calling out to him, when the man himself returned. “I am pleased to be able to tell you that Miss Weasley is in the very capable hands of Madam Pomfrey, under the observation of Professor McGonagall. There has always been a conveniently placed vacant portrait frame in the hospital wing that you may well have overlooked during your numerous visits there.” He continued just as Harry had opened his mouth to speak. “And might I imagine that your next question would pertain to any conversation I may have overheard? Sorry to disappoint you, but I believe your involvement should be left to the discretion of your Headmistress, for the moment at least.” Harry could only nod in silent resignation, but the professor was quite taken aback. “What, no anger or passionate outrage? Could this be the Harry Potter I once knew?” “That’s a fair enough comment,” Harry smiled weakly, “but I’ve come to realise that there are a lot of things that I just have to accept, and a lot of things that are more important. For instance, all that matters at this moment is that she’s safe.” A solemn moment of silence followed, as Dumbledore looked proudly down upon the young wizard. “That, Harry, is a lesson that even some of the oldest and wisest folk of our world have yet to learn. I believe you have now quite surpassed the reputation you were given, and I can’t tell how dearly I wish I was alive to see it. I believe your prophecy is something you should cherish, not fear.” The old man’s eyes twinkled with pride, and Harry felt a few of his doubts disappear. To be told this by the greatest of all wizards was something that no number of galleons could buy. “Now,” Dumbledore continued, “at the risk of being interrupted, I have the feeling that my successor will be returning shortly.” “How do you know?” replied Harry in suddenly hushed tones, looking cautiously behind him. “Ah, the subtle whisperings between the portraits that line the halls and corridors can be most informative,” the old man grinned, before giving Harry a wink and closing his eyes once again. Professor McGonagall’s footsteps could indeed be heard outside, and Harry turned his chair around to meet her just as the door swung open. She acknowledged him with a polite nod and made her way slowly across the room. There was something distracted about her manner that led him to believe that all was not well. “Professor?” said Harry at last; prompting the Headmistress’s more focused attention, “Is she alright?” “She will be eventually,” she replied after a pause, “That’s all I can say for certain. Potter, please believe that I’m not trying to hide anything from you. Just like you, Miss Weasley has certain trials that she must face on her own, and it’s something you must both come to terms with.” As much as he wanted to appreciate this, Harry knew he couldn’t rest until he heard the truth from Ginny. “But when can I see her?” he demanded fervently. “She’s getting some much needed sleep at the moment, which is precisely what I would recommend for you,” replied McGonagall, sitting wearily down behind her desk, “Ask Madame Pomfrey in the morning.” Although he knew that getting a satisfactory answer would be just about impossible, he took one last stab at it before leaving the study. It was a question that both of them knew he wouldn’t ignore, and somewhere inside, both of them knew the answer with which he would have to content himself. “Professor, what’s wrong with her?” The old witch smiled kindly at him, wishing dearly that she could be of more help. “That is something that only she can tell you, if and when she is ready,” she replied, “For now, you must let her face her decisions in her own time. It may not be what you want to hear, but it’s not something she chose to go through either.” Harry’s spirits felt well and truly crushed, and he couldn’t help agreeing with the Headmistress that at the moment, sleep, or at least his best attempt at it, was the only solution. Upon stepping through the portrait hole, his first encounter was with Ron, who looked as though this particular night had caused him more trouble than he could stand. He addressed Harry in lowered tones he could well have used when venting his frustration to a brick wall. “Not a word! Unbelievable!” he began, leaving Harry’s mind sprinting to catch up with a conversation that seemed to be halfway through already, “From the moment we left Hagrid’s…not a bloody word! I try to comfort her and what do I get? A cold shoulder and eyes like daggers, that’s what! I know she’s upset and everything, but what the hell did I do?” He motioned towards Hermione who was standing near the fireplace with her back to them. “Now I think she’s pretending I’m not here,” he continued, lowering his voice further, “Can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.” Harry smiled to himself. This wasn’t the first time he had needed to make the peace between the two of them, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. “Tell you what mate, why don’t you head on upstairs and I’ll do what I can,” he offered. “You’re a good friend, Harry,” Ron replied, thinking that anything allowing him to escape Hermione’s wrath simply had to be a splendid idea, “Any time you fancy another bottle of firewhiskey, just let me know.” So saying, he edged across the room and scampered up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory, leaving Harry and Hermione alone in the common room. There was every possibility that she had her wand at the ready to any and all who entered her personal space, so Harry approached with great caution. Better begin outside the reach of her arm, just to be safe, he thought. “How’s Crookshanks?” he offered, watching her flinch slightly at the question. “He was badly mauled, but Hagrid said he should be alright eventually. It’s just going to take time,” she replied, her voice trembling slightly before she turned on Harry with venomous, ice-cold sarcasm, “How’s your girlfriend?” “I haven’t seen her yet; she’s still in the hospital wing,” he said, doing his best to ignore her tone. “Well, considering what I would do to her if she was here right now, you can tell her she’d be better off staying there!” Harry tried his best to keep a straight face and resisted the temptation to mention that Ginny could most likely best Hermione in combat wearing a blindfold and one hand tied behind her back. “Look, from what I can tell, nobody knows how it happened and you can’t tell me that’s Ginny’s normal behaviour,” he reasoned, “I mean, do you know exactly what happened?” “Of course I don’t!” she snapped back at him, “It was dark. I got woken up by some loud thudding on the floor, then Crookshanks started howling. Just as I got up, there was a big crashing noise and screams from the other end of the room, then by the time the lamps were lit, most of them were either running out or hiding. I was trying to find out what was going on from one of the second year girls who was crouching behind her bed but she couldn’t give me a straight answer, and that’s when I saw Crookshanks lying on the floor. But no, Harry, I don’t know exactly how it happened.” Harry nodded in silence, completely unable to make sense of it all, when Hermione suddenly continued. “But I’ve got a pretty good idea why it happened.” “Oh?” said Harry, looking up. “And I wouldn’t be surprised if the same thought has crossed your mind as well. Ron may not have said anything, but I’m sure he’d know just what I was talking about.” Harry could only stare questioningly at her. “Stop acting so innocent, Harry!” she hissed, “That family have a lot more pride in their heritage than they let on. It just so happens that Ginny was the one to act on it. I just didn’t know her teeth were that sharp.” Piecing together the point she was trying to make, Harry’s eyes widened in a cynical fashion and fixed on Hermione as if she had gone mad. “Oh, I don’t believe I’m hearing this!” he responded, “I never thought I’d hear something like that from you!” “Believe it, Harry! The ideas were probably there for years. Remember in our fourth year, the looks that Molly was giving me, just because she believed that I was making eyes at you? Ginny just wanted to take it a step further when she saw that me being with Ron was a threat to their precious bloodline! I know just what she was thinking! Let’s put the mudblood in her place and hit her where it hurts! Let’s show her exactly what we really think of her! Well, that showed me, didn’t it!” Hermione was now stomping around in circles, shaking with anger. Harry simply stood there with an impatient look on his face, thinking that his friend had finally lost her marbles. “And only being ‘half-blood’, you could have easily been in the same boat!” she ranted, “You should be thankful for two things; firstly, that you saved the lives of three Weasleys, and secondly, that you’re ‘The Boy Who Lived’, because otherwise, Hedwig would probably be ‘The Owl Who Died’!” That, Harry decided, was the last straw. He drew his wand and pointed it at her with calm conviction. “Hermione, sit down and be quiet before I force you to do both against your will.” With a stunned expression, Hermione turned round and regarded him in shock for a few moments before moving slowly towards the nearest chair and lowering herself into it. Harry, meanwhile, stood there a wizard in control. When he addressed her, he spoke in kindly tones that she could not help but listen to. “As you know, we’ve been friends a long time. I remember the first day I met you, and I won’t deny that the things you already knew about magic were enough to make my head spin. You’ve always been there to help me out, and after living with my aunt and uncle for eleven years, you were someone who showed me that genuinely nice people really do exist. I can honestly say that you are like the sister I never had.” As hard as she fought it, Hermione’s stony face melted into a smile on hearing this. Harry then surprised her by swooping down on her until they were almost nose to nose. “But if I thought for a second that you seriously believed that crap you were just telling me, then I wouldn’t hesitate to have you carted off to St Mungo’s to have your head examined.” The shock returned to Hermione’s countenance so fast that she may as well have been struck by lightning. Harry took a deep breath and continued. “Just take a moment to think about the things that family have done for us, even when they’ve hardly been the wealthiest of wizarding homes. With the possible exception of Percy, they’ve never been anything but the best of friends to us, and how you can think that they disapprove of you and Ron being together is beyond me. Ginny was waiting for it to happen for a long time, and she was over the moon when it finally did. And in case you’ve forgotten, Molly even talked about the two of you getting married!” Hermione’s posture was weakening with every sentence, but Harry was quite determined to maintain his momentum. “Let’s go back and examine what happened tonight. When you saw Ginny sitting against the wall with all that blood on her, did you even notice how petrified she looked? That girl sitting in a wretched state against the wall, was that the Ginny you’ve always known? One of the first things I learned from you what that things aren’t always what they seem, and whatever happened to her wasn’t something she wanted. You might as well say she spent her first year at Hogwarts as a willing servant of Voldemort!” The witch who sat there was now hanging her head. No longer the confident, upright Hermione that Harry knew, and he could now tell that underneath a curtain of curls she was silently weeping. Harry’s face softened as he went on. “Look, I know you’re very upset,” he said, sitting down and putting an arm around her, “I wouldn’t want to know anyone in your shoes who wasn’t, but the worst thing we can do right now is turn on each other.” She nodded plentifully at what he was saying and knocked her head softly against his shoulder. “I know you’re right,” she sobbed, “I know I…I just want to hurt someone, I just want to…blame someone, because it’s so bloody unfair!” “Hermione, we’re living in an unfair world right now,” replied Harry, nodding consolingly, “which is all the more reason to stick together. Neither Crookshanks nor Ginny are looking their best at the moment, but I really don’t think we can point fingers at anyone. And I’m not just saying that because she’s my girlfriend. You know she would never do something like that on purpose.” “Yes, I know,” she said dejectedly, wiping her eyes on her sleeve, “and I do know Ron was only trying to help. What can I do, Harry?” Harry took a moment’s consideration of the matter before smiling back at her. “Crookshanks is in safe hands, so try not to worry. What you should do now is get yourself up those stairs,” he said, motioning towards the boys’ dormitory and giving her a suspicious grin, “- and don’t try telling me you haven’t been up there before! You’ll find the rest of the firewhiskey in my trunk. I suggest you and Ron spend a few hours following Professor Trelawney’s example.” “But…” Harry silenced her. “Go.” She gave him a grateful smile and hurried away. Spending four hours pacing around the common room was hardly Harry’s idea of constructive activity, but he felt as though he had no choice. He was tired but could not even sit still for two minutes at a time, and a touch of his old stubbornness returned to him as he began kicking himself for not insisting that he stay in the hospital wing and watch over Ginny. He’d be ready for anything, he told himself, but there was always a part of him that couldn’t handle how Ginny had changed. From the young girl who came tripping down the stairs at the Burrow, only to flee like a startled rabbit at the sight of him, to the witch who now lay in a hospital bed with cat’s blood dried into her nightdress. He watched the clock until it nearly drove him out of his mind. Instead, he stared outside, waiting for the sky to turn a suitable colour. Summoning the concentration required to practice the advanced magic he had learned was out of the question. By the time the clock struck eight, he was ready to tear his hair out and throw himself head-first through the portrait hole without opening it. Finally, he could bear it no longer, and sprinted out of the common room, surprising both the Fat Lady and Lupin who called after him in vain. It was a breathless Harry Potter who eventually confronted Madame Pomfrey just outside the hospital wing. “Mr Potter, please calm yourself!” she said sternly, attempting to separate articulate speech from his hyperventilating, “You’ll end up as my next patient if you’re not careful! When your pulse has settled a little, you can go in and see her, but I would be most grateful if you wouldn’t wake her up if she’s still asleep. The poor girl’s taken quite a jolt to her system.” Harry nodded and sat down to catch his breath. He wondered in these few moments what he would actually say when he walked through those doors. When he stopped to think about it, he was worried about what he would see as well. Stepping resolutely into the long ward, he spotted Ginny immediately. Instead of lying in a deep sleep or shaking feverishly, she was sitting on one of the beds with her back to him, staring out of the window. He stopped for a moment to once again decide what best to say, when all of a sudden, she spoke. Little of the warmth and kindness remained in her voice, in fact the sound he heard was both cold and morose. “You keeping your distance now?” she enquired without looking round, “I really wouldn’t blame you.” As he walked on towards her, she slid herself off the bed and turned to face him. “Ginny, I don’t want to keep my distance, I — “ She shook her head with a pained expression and put her hand up to show that she didn’t wish him to come any closer. “I just want to know what’s going on,” he finished, respecting her wishes. Ginny’s face displayed all too clearly the conflict that raged within her. She wanted to lunge forward, grab a tight hold of him and never let him go, but a voice inside her was warning that right now, he just needed to be kept safe. Right now, she couldn’t guarantee this if she let him near. “That’s what I want too, Harry,” she said, blinking back tears from her tired eyes, “and if I knew, I would tell you.” Thinking back over the events of the past six months, Harry felt mentally and emotionally exhausted, and all he wanted was a straight answer. “Would I be right in thinking that all this began before we came back to Hogwarts?” he asked. She nodded slowly. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Harry sighed weakly, “I just want to help.” It was then that Ginny decided to twist the knife in the wound. She knew what she had to say, but was a little uncertain of the best way to say it. “Something has happened to me, and I can only understand bits and pieces of it. There is so much I need to know, so much I need to learn…and I need to do it alone. I can’t be around you…or anyone.” Harry was sure it wouldn’t be long before he had a severe breakdown. It was all too much to bear, and he began to consider what would happen if he broke under the strain. “Why are you doing this?” he asked helplessly. “Please Harry, don’t make this more difficult than it already is!” wailed Ginny, supporting her weak frame against the bed, “You know what it’s like! How many times have you asked people to trust you and your instincts when you knew you had to do something dangerous on your own? All I’m asking is that you trust me…” He knew she was right, but it didn’t stop the questions from barging their way to the front of his mind. “Well why do you think you can only do this on your own? You know I’d do anything for you.” Ginny paused and straightened herself up, before looking him directly in the eye. “Last night, it was Hermione’s cat. What if it was Hermione next time? What if it was you? There are things I must do before I can protect you, Harry, and you just need to trust me that I’m right about this.” There was an eerie silence, during which Harry felt the overwhelming sensation that his heart was being gripped inside a clenched fist. “For how long?” he asked quietly. “I really don’t know…but when the time is right, I will find you,” she replied. As he opened his mouth to protest, she silenced him with a look of deep sadness that reflected exactly how he felt inside. She spoke her final words to him as gently as she could manage. “If you really care about me, and if you want to live through this, then turn around and leave me…” Accompanied with a powerful urge to be sick, angry tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, and a refusal to believe that any curse from a dark wizard could feel worse than this, Harry Potter did something that he promised both Albus Dumbledore and himself he would never do. He walked away. |
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