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The War We Fight | ||||||
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Category: Post-OotP Characters:Albus Dumbledore, Dumbledore, Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, Ron Weasley Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, Fluff Warnings: Violence Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 175 Summary: This is the story of a war. A war between good and evil, light and dark. This is the war Harry will fight, where he will learn the meanings of life and death, love and friendship, sorrow and betrayal, honor and hardship. This is the war where he will fulfill his destiny. H/G with some R/H sixth year fic. Hitcount: Story Total: 95166; Chapter Total: 4275 |
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Chapter Ten: Back to Grimmauld Place. Harry made a disgusted face, while forcing his reluctant throat to swallow. Once he managed this, he turned to the nurse and asked, in an incredulous voice: “Are you quite sure you chose the most dreadful potions you had, madam Pomfrey?” “What are you talking about Harry?” She asked distractedly, while making notes in her chart. “Well, seeing as since I arrived here I didn't drink a single pleasant tasting potion, I've come to the conclusion that you're punishing me for spoiling your vacations.” He continued, grinning. “And I'm pretty sure that the other times I had a replenishing potion it didn't taste quite so bad.” Harry chuckled when he saw the look in his doctor's face. “Well, Potter, if that was my intention, I'm sure I could find something more fitting. I've got some skele-gro in my office, if you want a taste.” Harry's grin faded somewhat at her statement, and at the slightly evil glint in the nurse's eyes. He was discovering a whole new aspect of the quiet medi-witch. “I'm quite all right, thanks.” Harry shuddered internally as he remembered his previous experience with that particular potion. “That thing shouldn't even be called medicine! Vile stuff, I tell you.” “Humph! It works, doesn't it? That's all I care about.” Harry pretended to be hurt at her words: “So your patients well being means nothing to you, Madam? As long as they walk out of here alive, is it?” He gave a bark of laughter, as he continued. “This casts a completely new light upon your cares.” She harrumphed indignantly before saying: “I'll let you know, Mister Potter, that my cares are some of the best wizard medicine have to offer, as you should very well know by now.” Her tone was playfully upset, and he laughed, while sipping the last remains of a glass of water. Suddenly serious, he said. “Yes, I do know that. And I don't think I've ever thanked you for taking care of me all those years. I'd probably never have survived this long if it weren't for you.” She blinked suspiciously, before saying in a rather strangled voice: “You're more than welcome, dear, it really was my pleasure.” She helped him settle down on the bed, before continuing. “The Headmaster will be here sometime today. I think he'll be the one to take you to headquarters, Harry, so you should be ready to leave.” “This soon…” His voice had a faraway quality to it. “I'll go back today…” “Yes, dear. I brought you some new clothes, as the ones you had were beyond repair. I got your size from Molly, so they'll probably fit you just fine.” “Thank you, Madam Pomfrey. I'll be ready.” Ginny was in one of the many drawing-rooms at Grimmauld Place. The whole Weasley clan had moved to the Order headquarters', in order to give Harry some type of moral support. She didn't know what exactly had been in Dumbledore's head when he had made the abysmally stupid decision to bring Harry to this place. But that wasn't the predominant thought in her mind as she paced the empty room. She was still reeling from the meeting in the infirmary. As much as she had prepared herself for the encounter, going over countless scenarios in her mind, it had still been a difficult experience. Her heart constricted as she remembered his pale face, the dark circles under his eyes. The thing that had amazed her the most was the look in his eyes. She had expected to find him in pieces, totally overrun by the whole experience. Instead, he had retained that quiet aura of calm and power that made all those around him feel safe and comforted. It was an air she had only seen in a few, very powerful people: Professor Dumbledore, for starters, and, although she was loath to admit it, Tom Riddle. She could still remember how awe-inspiring his presence had been. Not calming, as with Harry, but overwhelming and frightening. Anything seemed possible when she was around those people… What obstacle could be too big that a power like that couldn't surpass? None, apparently, if Voldemort was any example to go by. Not even death was enough to claim him. She shuddered, visibly this time, a cold feeling of dread seeping through her soul. She had been so focused in her own thoughts that when she heard a loud crash followed by low swearing right behind her, she couldn't help the startled gasp that left her. Turning around quickly, she grinned at the poor sight that Tonks made, sprawled on the floor a heavy, probably antique chair pinning her down. She helped the other woman up: “You're not one to make a discreet entrance, are you Tonks?” The other was happy to simply send a murderous glare at her, after her comment. “And I came here simply to do you a favour! You've got funny ways to show your gratitude Ginny,” the auror said, while waving her wand and putting the furniture in its right place. “It was a perfectly innocent comment, stating something that is undeniably the truth, so you can't blame me.” Ginny laughed, and sat down in a couch, waiting for whatever news Tonks had brought. “Ginny.” Tonks voice had lost all humour, and the younger girl looked up, worried at the change of tone. “He'll be here in a few moments. You should prepare yourself. His portkey is set to arrive in the hall. It might be a good idea if you were there to great him. He isn't very happy with everyone else at the moment.” She took a look at her watch and continued. “Go on, move, Ginny, or there'll be no one there to greet him.” Ginny didn't need to be told twice. She got up, and hurried down the stairs, a million thoughts running rampant in her mind. How would he react to the house? How would he deal with Ron and Hermione? Would he talk to her, or be cold and distant? She had a little over a week to get them back on good terms, to try to salvage their relationship before they were thrown into the crazy world of classes and homework that was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She heard a faint pop, and ran the last flight of stairs, stopping only when Harry appeared before her. Her heart constricted when she saw his face, and the way he was looking at the house around him. As if searching for the one thing he knew he wouldn't find in it anymore. She saw that his hands had started to tremble, the portkey he was holding dropped with a loud clank to the floor, and the air suddenly shimmered, albeit almost imperceptibly. Magic was tuned to emotions, she had read, and Harry's was apparently very responsive. She took the last few steps that separated her from him, and reached up, hugging him tightly. “Ginny,” he said, holding her almost convulsively, “I've missed you so much.” He hadn't been prepared for the rush of emotions that had come crashing down on him the moment he had landed in his Godfathers' old house, the moment he became aware of his surroundings. Unwanted, painful memories of Sirius and of all the happy moments he had spent in this house. It was all too much, he thought, the sorrow, the guilt, the longing, too much for a single person. He felt like turning round and running, never looking back. But he felt trapped: the exact same things that made him want to run, forced him to stay. He had a job that needed to be done, no matter how repulsing it may seem. And he knew, without ever having run, that he would never be free while he didn't, once and for all, fulfil his destiny. Ginny's smaller body pressed to his gave him comfort he had never expected to gain from such a small gesture. Her hug had grounded him, reminded him of who he was, what he owed to the people around him, and to none more, or more deeply than to Ginny. She was a lifesaver, his lifesaver. The debt he owed this small girl was one he knew he would spend the rest of his life - however long that might be - repaying, and still never get even close to even. The simple, friendly, gesture brought more comfort than he expected, and he allowed himself to relish it a bit longer than might be considered proper, or merely friendly. It was only when a new set of footsteps was heard in the stairs, and Tonks cleared her throat loudly, that he let her go, reluctantly. He whispered, as he did so, in her ear, “Thank you Ginny, for everything.” And more loudly, “Hello, Tonks.” “Wotcher, Harry. As sorry as I am to leave you two lovebirds alone, I have an Order meeting to attend in the kitchen, where, I expect, some important things regarding you children should be decided,” the young woman said flippantly. “Ron and Hermione are upstairs, you should let them know you arrived safely.” After Tonks had left the room, Ginny noticed a significant change in the atmosphere of the room. The air became stifling, and the slight shimmering increased tenfold. Ginny saw the anger in Harry's eyes, and the tensing in his shoulders, and although she was loath to admit it, it scared her. She hugged him a little tighter, and asked quietly what was wrong. “They never learn, Ginny. Don't they understand that it's always worse to leave us in the dark? That we have a right to make our own choices regarding our own lives? That if we don't have a clear picture of what is going on, we are bound to make stupid choices? I thought Dumbledore understood, I thought that I had proved time and time again that I was capable of handling the truth…” His eyes were by now more silver than green, but he seemed to be enough in control of his feelings to handle the magic pulling at him. “I know Harry. That's what Remus has been telling Dumbledore since you came back safely. We are already by far too much involved, by far too high targets to even pretend to have a normal life while the war is still going on.” Harry smiled at her words, and she felt a little of the pressure easing, “He has? I had no idea. I'll have to thank him then… And no one listens?” he inquired. She sighed before answering: “It's really mum's fault, Harry. She can be very eloquent when her mind is set on something, and she doesn't want any of us in the Order, or even aware of what is going on. Call it super-protection, or maternal instinct, or whatever you want, but the fact is that if Lupin is alone, he can't win this fight. And his oath to the Order stops him from telling us himself.” “What about Dumbledore?” he asked, again with a hint of anger in his voice. “I think, Harry, that Dumbledore likes to decide by himself what exactly we know. This way he can control our actions a lot better… A kind of censorship if you will.” Ginny stopped talking when the feeling of barely contained power reached her again, and looking at Harry, she noticed the faint glow that enveloped him, the same silvery glow that was now constantly in his eyes. “The bastard. After all he told me, last year. He should know better. He knows he can't win this alone!” The glow was increasing, and Ginny felt the air cracking all around her. Concerned, Ginny reached a hand, and touched his arm. He startled and the silver glow disappeared. “Thanks Gin, I was about to lose it there…” He smiled at her. “Yeah, I noticed that.” She gave him a sly grin, noticing that this was the first real smile she had seen in Harry's face since he arrived. But it faded quickly, replaced by something she knew well: guilt. He took her hand in his, and holding it tightly, said in a small voice: “Gin, I… I should apologise to you. And I don't think you should forgive me; god knows I don't. I'm sorry I put you in danger because of my letters.” He paused and the next words clearly cost him a lot. “I'll understand if you don't want to be close to me anymore, and if you chose not to be my friend, you've suffered more than enough, more than you deserve.” Ginny couldn't believe what she was hearing. He couldn't seriously blame himself for what had happened. “Harry, are you stupid or something?” He looked at her, surprise written all over his face. “This is not, and I mean none of this at all, is your fault. I was the one who wrote the letters, and sent them with Hedwig, even though everybody told me not to. Tom already knew I existed, he was the one who invaded my mind, and I was the one who wrote in the diary. So you can hate Voldemort, I can accept that after all he made us suffer, but you are forbidden to blame yourself. You should know better, Harry, you are too important for that, you must concentrate on the more crucial things.” He didn't answer, but he listened. And after a few moments, he suddenly hugged her tightly once more, whispering over and over: “Thank you, thank you…” She let go of a breath she didn't realize she had been holding, and said: “Come Harry, you don't have to thank me. We should go meet the prat and Hermione. They're upstairs. I must warn you, though, he is totally mad at us, for some unfathomable reason that he is the only one who can understand. He says that you put me in danger, and that I kept you from him, robbed him of his friends and things like that. Stupid git. How I would like to send a Bat Bogey at him. Hermione, on the other hand, is very, very sorry for her behaviour in the infirmary. She's been in a right state, wanting to apologise to you. Come, you'll see.” “Ron's still mad at you?” He asked, as they made their way upstairs. “Yes…” she sighed. “Ron isn't at a very good place right now. He didn't do too well on his OWLs and mum got a bit mad and Mione wasn't very kind either, so when he saw your results… in addition to that, he feels like he is losing his best friend…” “He isn't losing his best friend!” Harry cried indignantly. “I only needed some time…” He paused, and hesitated before asking: “Then why did he go visit me?” “Mum made him go, Harry. Said you needed his support, that he had no right to be mad at you. All of which are true, but it only made him more bitter.” She stopped, as they were climbing the stairs and looked at him seriously. “Harry, you must be kind with him. Don't let your temper get the better of you. He is miserable enough with me not talking with him, you must show him that he is not alone.” “What am I, his therapist? I shouldn't have to deal with Ron's little identity crisis!” “But… you're his friend Harry!” She was surprised at his reaction; that is, until she heard his laughter, and the mischievous glitter in his eyes. Hitting him playfully in the arm, she continued her climb up the stairs. “Okay, Gin, I'll be nice to our most stubborn redhead, but you must promise to try to make up with him.” She sighed dramatically, but accepted, thinking to herself that as long as he stopped being a prat, there was no problem with keeping that promise. Harry opened the door to Ron's room. They could her the soft buzz of conversation going on inside the room, so they knew that Ron as well as Hermione were inside. As soon as he appeared in the doorstep, all sound ceased and Hermione suddenly launched herself at him, engulfing him in a hug. He was being crushed in her hug, and drowning in bushy brown hair. Smiling, he savoured the moment, the love and friendship he felt. This was his best friend, his sister, and he had to admit he enjoyed being hugged by her. It felt right, and he was glad that she hadn't been too hurt by his grades. “Oh Harry! It's so good to have you back! I'm so sorry about the other day. I acted like an immature teenager, I'm sorry. I was jealous, and it's petty and ridiculous and below me, so please, please forgive me! I was so stupid! I acted awfully, I should…” “Hermione.” Harry interrupted. “I mean, I'm so ashamed of myself. I still can't believe I wasn't happy for you…” “Hermione,” he said a little more forcefully. She stopped talking, and looked at him, her eyes, he noticed, where almost overflowing with tears, and she seemed genuinely miserable. “You're rambling, Mione. Of course I forgive you. I know how important school is for you, and I don't care what your reaction was. If you put up with my mood swings last year, how can I be mad at you for that? And I should thank you for making me work so hard. I wouldn't have done nearly as well without your help.” He reached out to her, and hugged her once more, watching as relief became apparent on her features. “Thanks, Harry, and you're welcome. I'm glad I could help. Have you chosen your classes yet?” she asked excitedly. “I chose to take seven classes, even though McGonagall said it would be a tight schedule. I'm taking Transfiguration, obviously, as well as Charms, Potions, DADA, Arithmancy, Duelling and Care of Magical Creatures. How about you?” “Uh…” Harry was at a loss about what to answer. Truth be told, school had been far from his mind, and no one had questioned him on his choices since giving him his results. “I'm not very sure Hermione. How did you guys choose your classes?” “Well, we received a form to fill in with our results, of course. You haven't applied for anything Harry? You haven't bought your material yet? How will you get your books?” Hermione was starting to sound a little frantic, so Ginny, thinking that the subject of classes had gone on quite enough, decided to cut in at this point. “Don't worry, Mione, Dumbledore will probably have things sorted out once we get to Hogwarts.” Throughout the whole conversation, Ron had been silent. Even now, as Hermione entered the room again and took her place beside him on the bed, he refused to even meet Harry's eyes. Hermione, noticing the underlying tension in the room now that she had stopped talking, looked at Ron expectantly. There was an awkward silence, as every occupant of the room waited for Ron to do something, or to even acknowledge his sister and his best friend's presence in the room. To no avail. He kept his eyes fixed resolutely on the floor. “Hello Ron,” said Harry quietly, as he took a step forward, and entered the room. Only silence greeted him. He was standing near the door, with Ginny just behind, waiting to see what Ron's reaction was going to be. It unnerved him no end that he no longer knew what to expect from his best friend, the one person he had always known he could count on to watch his back. Tentatively Hermione asked: “Ron… are - are you going to say something?” She reached a hand and touched him lightly on the shoulder, afraid of what he might do. All eyes were fixed on the redhead, and the silence seemed to stretch on and on, even as Ron's ears became redder and redder. Finally, Ginny snapped. She grabbed the back of Harry's shirt and pulled him with her towards the corridor, half yelling at her brother as she left: “Fine, Ron, keep being a selfish prat. Harry doesn't deserve the way you are treating him. Just think about all that he went through, and compare his attitude to yours.” She grabbed the door, as if to snap it shut, but appeared to have a few more things to say. “You talk about Percy, Ron,” she hissed, “but you're just as bad as he is. I expect an apology, and soon, otherwise Mom will hear about this.” The door slammed with a resounding crash, and Ginny stormed down the hall, pulling Harry with her. She finally stopped, just before a closed door, and took a few deep, calming breaths, trying to get a rein on her ragging emotions. She didn't want to say anything to Harry that she might later regret. “This is your room, Harry. Dumbledore helped the renovations along a bit, so that you could have a nice place to stay once you got here. I suppose you could call it your temporary home, since you won't be going back to the Dursleys anytime soon.” She motioned for him to follow her inside. Harry thought for a fleeting moment that it was thoughtful of Dumbledore to prepare him a room. Didn't make up for everything he had messed up this far, but Harry was grateful nonetheless. The room was simple, but decorated by someone who knew about his tastes. The walls were done in pastel colours, which made the furniture stand out. A few overstuffed armchairs were positioned around a fireplace, and a large desk and a bookshelf, filled with his books, stood near the window. He was glad the latter was quite large, and faced an empty, open space. London rooftops were visible as far as the eye could reach. The other side of the room was filled with a comfortable four-poster bed, reminding him of Gryffindor tower, and making him long to be back at Hogwarts. But he would not dwell on those thoughts. There was much to be done before he could think about school again. Turning towards Ginny, he asked: “The books in the shelf seem to be mine, do you know if anyone got my stuff from the Dursleys? There were a few papers in my desk back there that were quite important.” “Bill and Charlie were the ones who got your stuff, Harry. Mum put them away, your trunk is near the bed, your clothes in the wardrobe, and your papers, I assume, are in the desk. However, for your wand and your cloak, I think you'll have to see Dumbledore.” Harry looked up, surprised, from his rummaging at the desk. “You mean the Death Eaters didn't take them? I was already thinking about how to get myself a new wand… That's lucky, I guess. One less thing to worry about… I'll have to ask Dumbledore for them soon, I feel helpless without a wand. Naked and exposed.” Ginny noticed that he shivered visibly when he said that, even though the room was warm and welcoming. He found all his letters stacked neatly in one of the drawers, and sighed in relief. He wondered for a moment if anyone had opened them, and if Dumbledore already knew that Sirius had emancipated him. He left his godfather's letter untouched. He was in no fit state to open that yet. Plopping down on a chair., he saw that Ginny was still lurking near the door, as if afraid to invade his personal space. He didn't want to be alone right now, though. He needed someone to talk to, and Ginny seemed to be the only person he could stand for long periods of time those days. “Come in Gin, sit down. If you've got nothing better to do, we could… I don't know, chat for a bit, and keep ourselves company. I don't really fancy being alone right now.” His tone was light and playful, Ginny noticed, but there was a slight pleading in his eyes. There was no way she could say no to him when he was looking at her that way. He smiled when she came forward and sat down on one of the other armchairs, asking: “So what do you think of the room? I helped choosing the furniture.” “Really? I love it Gin. The whole house, actually, seems fit for human habitation now. Your mum must have worked a lot here.” She nodded, and waited a moment before changing the subject. “You know Harry, if any of my brothers called me Gin, they would not see the end of the day.” She glared playfully at him, and continued. “I'm opening an exception for you, because I like the way you say it. Be aware that it's a great honour.” She blushed slightly, realizing he might take what she had said the wrong way, but was relieved when he simply laughed and looked at her appraisingly. “I'll keep that in mind, Gin. I've heard that your Bat-Bogeys are quite the nasty experience.” “Damn right. No one can escape from my Bat-Bogey. Not even the mighty Harry Potter.” He seemed to swallow painfully when she said this, and she was about to apologise, when he smiled. “I'm not sure mighty is the correct adjective to use there, Ginny. You should try, maybe, magnificent, fantastic, awe-inspiring; they're much more striking.” “You're one to talk, Potter. But don't worry, I'll use the correct vocabulary next time I have to describe you.” They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, each mulling their own thoughts and worries, Harry planning his next actions. Finally, he broke the silence. “Ginny, do you think things will ever be the same again?” He laughed bitterly. “When I think about everything that's happening, Voldemort, Ron, Dumbledore, I can't help but wonder if it isn't a huge nightmare, and if I won't wake up soon.” “I wish…” He looked at her, really looked at her for the first time and realized how worn out she was. She was pale, and her eyes weren't sparkling with life as he remembered. Concerned, he asked: “How have you been, Gin? I got your letters, when I was in the infirmary, but Madam Pomfrey didn't want me to write… This whole thing must have been hard for you too.” She smiled, and blinked back tears that were threatening to fall unbidden. “I should be the one asking you this, Harry. You're the one who's been gone for two weeks.” She noticed how he tensed at the single mention of what had happened. It was the only sign that he was not comfortable with the subject, and Ginny asked herself how she was going to broach the subject with him, and when would be the proper time. “Maybe you're right, Gin,” he said, “but I don't want to talk about that. At least not right now. However, I do want to know how you've been, and what's been going on in your life. It's much harder to talk then to write, but I think we should continue what we started during the summer.” “Okay. I agree with that. But it must work both ways for this to work, I talk, you talk, we have a conversation. But I don't mind starting.” “Then we have a deal, Gin. A personal and always willing ear to listen.” “And a mouth to talk and give advice. As well as a shoulder to cry on, and a wand to help. You shouldn't forget that we'll always be there, Harry. Not just me; Hermione and Ron too, as soon as he gets a hold on his feelings.” Harry's eyes were glowing, Ginny noticed. Whatever she had said had affected him. She didn't say anything on that, however, and choose to start to recount how the end of the summer had gone for her, she told him everything she had held back when she visited him in the hospital. The order, Ron's tantrums, and the constant fear. He listened, only nodding now and then, and smiling when she hit particular spots. When she talked about Voldemort, and how he simply imposed his presence inside her mind, the tears she had been keeping at bay finally took over, and rolled down her cheeks. She hated to cry in front of him. Hated to show that kind of weakness. But he didn't seem to care. She was glad that there was no reproach from him in his eyes. There was no pity either, and she was pleased. She didn't want nor need his pity. All she could see was deep compassion, and comprehension, from someone who had been there, felt what she was feeling, dealt with what she was dealing. For her that was enough, and the greatest support anyone could give her. Harry, once he saw the silent tears running down her face, made his way to her armchair, and slipped in beside her. With a gentle hand, he dried a few of her tears, but that simply made her cry a little harder. He had never been very talented when it came to consoling crying people, and physical contact was foreign country as far as he was concerned. With the slight girl in front of him, however, he simply acted by instinct. Gently he drew her to him, and she buried her face in his shoulder, wetting his shirt. He gently stroked her back; bringing what measure of comfort and reassurance he could. Once her sobs subsided, he didn't let go of her, and she made no move to leave, either. This was the second time he had hugged Ginny in a single day, Harry thought, and he would gladly stay in her arms forever. It was certainly a comfortable place to be. A/N: A huge thank you to my new beta Andy: you're the best! |
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