SIYE Time:20:14 on 17th April 2024 SIYE Login: no | | |
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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: 95152; Chapter Total: 4508
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‘Human beings are perhaps never more frightening than when they are convinced beyond doubt that they are right.’
Laurens Van der Post
Chapter two: The helper and her charge.
“Mom? I’m going for a walk; I’ll be by the pond!”
“Be back by lunchtime, Ginny!” replied a voice through the kitchen window.
“I will be!” yelled back a softer, younger voice.
The young woman who had just taken part in this conversation walked out of the Burrow, at a leisurely pace, lost in her own world. The fields surrounding her home were always Ginny’s favourite hiding place, her haven. They were always so calm and empty, no noise to interrupt her thoughts. Family life was sometimes so oppressive, that she could do nothing but run away for awhile, to be alone with herself.
Her auburn hair, punctuated by golden and chestnut locks, was tied loosely in the top of her head, allowing a few tendrils to frame her face. She was wearing a comfortable burnt-orange t-shirt (anything to make her hair more copper than ginger), a printed-cotton skirt and sandals.
Walking down the hillside, she closed her eyes and turned her face up to the sun. She felt a sense of peace here, of retreat, that she never found at home. Living with six boisterous and noisy older brothers made that to you, no matter how much you loved them.
Sitting on the roots of an old oak, with a delightful view of the sun gleaming as it hit the surface of the water she smiled happily. Her face was slightly tanned from the summer sun, hiding even the light dusting of freckles on the bridge of her nose.
She considered her clear skin a blessing from the gods of genetics, after all, who had ever heard of a Weasley with almost no freckles? Even her hair was a shade darker than most of her brothers... A pity her nose wasn’t a bit more patrician, but it would have to do, as would the hand me downs, and the house that was only standing by magic.
Sighing deeply and gathering all of her Gryffindor courage, she reached inside her pocket, drew a worn piece of parchment and read it, although she obviously already knew what it said. It was Harry’s last letter, and Ginny didn’t know what to make of it.
Never in her wildest dreams had she expected such a response from Harry as the one she had gotten after her first letter. Truth be told, she had only written because Ron had yet again - with a disregard for Harry’s feelings that still astounded her - written another letter that said that much was going on, but he couldn’t talk about it.
She could still remember the shouts of the night she got a reply. Ron had been furious, livid. His temper could be worse than that of all his brothers put together, and that night it was totally unleashed on her face. She hadn’t been expecting such a strong reaction. A reaction certainly, Ron was too possessive to enjoy having anyone in his turf, but not the screaming match that had ensued. If she had known, she didn’t think she would have told everyone that she had written, and, certainly not, the worst offence in Ron’s eyes, that he had responded.
...
They had all been seated in the kitchen table, her Mom had been serving dinner and she had just received Harry’s letter, she had been so excited that she had simply wanted to tell someone, anyone that Harry was responding to someone. And that was why she had unexpectedly blurted out, in the middle of the table:
“Harry wrote today.” If the whole situation hadn’t been so tragic, she might have found the unusual silence that descended upon the table highly amusing. Every conversation had come to an abrupt stop, her mother had stopped steering a pot, that was currently in the process of burning and all the Weasley family had their gazes locked incredulously in its younger member.
“I wrote him a letter a few days ago, and he answered. Hedwig was here this afternoon.” She continued happily. As if on cue, every occupant of the room started talking at once, her mother insistently asking after his well being, her older brothers either rejoicing or (in the twins case) teasing her on the exact nature of her relationship with Harry...
Only Ron hadn’t smiled, or been grateful that Harry had reacted at all. Over the noise of the table he had suddenly yelled, furiously:
“That’s nonsense, he isn’t writing to anyone!”
“I’m anyone then, Ron?” she had answered, hoping against hope this wasn’t going where she thought this was going.
“He hasn’t written me or Mione in weeks. He couldn’t possibly have written you!” he continued, ignoring her completely.
“Well, Ron, he wrote, and he was very nice, thanked me for taking the time to write, and being concerned with him and everything.”
“What did you tell him?” he asked suspiciously “we can’t tell him anything that’s going on, of course, you wouldn’t care for safety, if it meant getting a letter from Harry, would you?” he spat, angrily. Now the whole table was looking at her questioningly, her mother struggling between happiness at the letter, and the wish to scold her for her supposed irresponsibility. However, her temper had risen with Ron’s last outburst.
“Actually, Ronald” she glared defiantly “I didn’t talk at all about the war with him! Not a single mention of Voldemort in my letter, or in his answer!” but her logic didn’t seem to phase Ron one bit, and he continued his assault.
“Then what could you have written? It’s not as if you have anything else important to say, you don’t even know him!”
If Ron had been in his right state of mind, he would have realized immediately that this wasn’t the right thing to say, if not by the furious flash that suddenly lit Ginny’s eyes, then by the silence in the room when he finished talking.
“If this is what you think, Ron, than why don’t you make an educated guess as for the reason he actually answered my letter, the single letter I sent, and he didn’t bother to answer a single one of yours? Tell me, do you think it was because I didn’t have anything to say that was worth knowing?”
Her answer stunned him into silence, but it didn’t last. She might wish he would just drop the matter, it didn’t mean it would happen.
“Let us see the letter, Ginny.” he said suddenly.
“What!?” she was too stunned and horrified at his request to even formulate a response.
“I want to see what he wrote to you; after all, it’s the first contact he made with anyone in weeks. It could be important.” he said smugly.
“There isn’t a chance in hell I’m showing you that letter!” she snapped loudly.
“I want to know why he wrote to you and not to any of his friends, Ginny.” he continued, unflinchingly.
“Maybe, unlike you, he considers me a friend.” she replied, tiring already of this squabble.
“You aren’t his friend! And I want to know what you did to drive him away from his true friends!” He yelled.
What Ginny didn’t understand was why no one in the table was doing anything to stop Ron’s verbal assault on her. She hoped this last ridiculous accusation would cause some kind of reaction, so she looked pleadingly at her mother, who was apparently too stunned to do anything. Her brothers seemed happy enough to let her fend for herself. What a great show of familiar support, she thought sarcastically.
“Where did you get that idea from!? I did no such thing! I wrote to a friend who seemed like he needed help!” she replied angrily.
“So you are saying you had no ulterior motives? No wish to take advantage of him?”
Now, Ginny thought, Ron had gone too far. Way too far. And the collective intake of breath from the other occupants of the room showed that they noticed it too. Her eyes narrowed dangerously, and in a low voice, much scarier, somehow, than the previous yells, she whispered.
“What are you implying, Ronald?”
“That you are taking advantage of the fact he’s not himself to become his friend, or maybe even more, and to drive him away from us!” He yelled back, temper in full swing.
For a moment Ginny didn’t know what to say. Ron couldn’t honestly believe that, he just couldn’t. Taking advantage of her silence he added.
“I don’t want you to write to Harry any more.” he said somewhat more quietly.
She raised her eyes to him so fast that her neck hurt. Who did he think he was?
“I forbid you” he continued.
Enough was enough, she decided. Her mother had finally decided to intervene, but now she didn’t want help any longer, she could deal with Ron by herself.
“It’s just too bad then, Ron, that I don’t take orders from egotistical bastards like you.” she said, while leaving the room, silence on her wake.
...
And now, even though more than a week had passed since “the event” Ron was still in a high rage, especially since she kept receiving mail from Hedwig, while Harry hadn’t spared Ron and Hermione a single note. She should remind him to do that sometime... they were his friends, no matter how insensitive.
But that didn’t change the fact that Ron’s newest pastime was to throw mindless accusations at her, preferably before the whole family, forcing her to continually have to justify what she did. It wasn’t true that she was driving Harry away from his friends. She was his friend too, and right now, she was actually being a better friend than Ron and Hermione had been. She understood him better than they did, she knew what he needed, because she had been there before, had faced the overflowing guilt as well as the anguish and depression.
However, Ron was way too self centred, she thought bitterly, to look past his own needs and his own feelings and look at what was under his nose. She knew he meant well, for the most part, but he desperately needed to grow up a bit. She bade a silent encouragement to Hermione, who would have to deal with this particular human being.
Staring at the piece of parchment in her hands, she willed it to give her some answers, or at least a clue as to how to deal with the problem at hand. Her correspondence with Harry had gotten much deeper than Ginny had intended or expected. When Harry’s letter had come back, finally showing some fleck of emotion, she had answered in kind, and both of them had finally opened up, spilling the pain and the guilt they shared, the taint left by Tom Riddles touch, and that she felt would someday come back to haunt them both.
She reread the letter that she felt she would end up knowing by heart. She had to write something back, otherwise her post would be late, and who knew what that would do to Harry in the state he was in. She had noticed that the fact that she was reliable, that she would write every two days no matter what, had been an important factor to gain his trust, and she wasn’t about to lose that now.
Dear Ginny,
I don’t really know why I decided to write... Sometimes I just feel this urge to write everything that happens to me down, and recently you have been the only person to whom I could send anything. I used to do this with Sirius, when I could owl him, but now... I got used to writing to you when I have so much in my mind that I can’t focus in anything, and when I feel that any more and I’ll go nuts. So that’s what I’m doing, but sometimes it’s just so hard to put feelings down on paper! I always feel like I’m rambling and spouting out a whole bunch of nonsense that you probably don’t want to hear.
It’s in times like this that I miss Sirius the most; he was always there for me, the perfect person to talk to, to get advice from. No matter what Hermione might say, I’m sure everything he said and did was for my own benefit. It’s one of the only things I’m absolutely certain about in my life.
You know what’s funny, Gin? I think this was the first time I actually managed to write about Sirius in the past tense. Shows just how much you helped me these past weeks, to accept life as it is, to grieve but not to be drowned by sorrow. Lots of little lessons, you helped me learn. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you in full measure for the favours this summer. And now I’m about to, yet again, burden you with my problems. I know that it isn’t really fair, but somehow I feel you won’t mind too much, and that as always you’ll help me move past everything or just deal with what’s thrown at me. I think this was something you wrote in one of your letters, you are really rubbing of on me, and for once I think it’s a very good thing!
I just got a letter from Gringotts, Gin, informing me of many things I should have already known. I probably shouldn’t go into any details, as I guess it’s not safe. I’ll tell you everything when I see you; hopefully very soon as I don’t know how much longer I can last in this bloody prison Dumbledore wants me to call home.
Have you ever felt betrayed by the one person you trust the most? Sorry this was a silly question, of course you, of all persons, already have. It just made me so mad, Gin, to know that he knew all that concerning me and my family, and he never bothered to tell me. I feel as if any person who grew up in the wizarding world knows more about the Potters than I do.
Sometimes it seems so unfair! That because of the decision of one person, I should be totally cut out of everything that rightfully belongs to me? That because one person decided, against the expressed wishes of my parents, I should be exiled for my entire childhood from the world I belong to? Doesn’t seem very fair, nor very free. I had no choice at all in the matter, and in the end, I was the only one concerned by the decision.
He totally disrupted my life, and my relatives life too, come to think of it (they never wanted me here, they had no choice in the matter either) because HE thought it was best. Right about now I feel as if I live in under the iron fist of dictatorship and the tyrant is Dumbledore. After all (I learned this in the muggle world, I feel they understand this kind of thing much better than we do) there is no liberty where there is no choice.
Wow! I don’t know where all that came from! Sorry about the rant. But I can’t help but wish that he didn’t use me as a chess piece. A secret weapon he can take out of his closet any time he wants. He wants me to fight a war. To take control of my destiny. But how can I fight a war, how can any of us fight a war, when we don’t know how to fight? How are we supposed to survive, if we can’t protect ourselves?
I’m the best defence student at Hogwarts (I’m not bragging or anything, I just had a lot more practice), Gin, and I don’t think I can last in a full-fledged duel against a Death Eater. I can trick and be lucky, but if we ever come wand to wand, I could never survive.
This should say something about our ability to fight this war. I might be wrong, but I think we shouldn’t be sitting on our butts doing nothing. We should be practising, training, and learning everything we can. Voldemort and his Death Eaters have age and experience in their favour, and right now, apart from sheer dumb luck, we have no advantage whatsoever.
Anyway. this letter from Gringotts made me realize a number of things, the first being that I can’t, in fact, we can’t rely on Dumbledore and the Order to win this war. That’s why I’ll be continuing the DA next year, as an official club, if Dumbledore authorises, underground if I must. It will no longer be called Dumbledore’s Army. We shouldn’t be fighting for Dumbledore, and I certainly am not, but for something we believe on. It may be the destruction of Voldemort, the supremacy of the light, or just plainly, for survival, but we should fight for ourselves, for our ideals, not because of someone. That’s why I will be continuing with the Defence Association, and will be taking the training up a notch.
I’ve had some time to think everything through, and I think I’m making the right decisions here. I have a destiny to fulfil, and as much as I hate having a destiny, there seems to be greater forces at work here, and I guess I’ll just go along with the flow, doing the best I can. Training those that will be by my side in battle, giving them as much chance as possible to survive, seems a noble goal to me. I realized last year, with the Department of Mysteries that there will always be someone by my side, and that I won’t be able to save them all. The best I can do is try to give those persons a fighting chance, and that’s what I’ll do.
I wrote this to you, Ginny, because I value your opinion. If you think I’m wrong, tell me plainly and openly. And now, I think I should just send you this monstrosity, as it’s getting late.
Much love,
Harry
Harry had changed this summer, Ginny could see it, and she didn’t quite know how to deal with him now. He had grown so much, emotionally speaking, that she sometimes didn’t follow. What she saw in this letter was that he wanted to take control, not only of his life, but of this war. She couldn’t blame him, but it was a huge step for a sixteen year old to make. He was still in school, for Merlin’s sake!
The truth, Ginny admitted to herself, was that she was afraid to write a reply to his letter and she was procrastinating. But not for long, she vowed, she just had to come to grips with all that information. She wondered what exactly had been kept from him for so long, that had elicited such a response. Dumbledore was losing his touch, she thought. His pawns where leaving his iron grip, and she didn’t blame them one bit.
It was certainly something that had touched him deeply, but somehow also made him come to terms with everything going on in his life. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what had changed since his last letter... A sense of certainty and confidence, assurance that wasn’t there before. As if he had no doubts left, closure. She wondered what had caused this sudden growth, this new-found trust in his own abilities, his own capabilities. Whatever it was, it had done wonders, and she was glad. As for Dumbledore, she had a feeling their next meeting was going to be heated.
She stood and walked slowly back to the house, she had about an hour before lunch, and she must send her answer before then. Hedwig was waiting for her. That Owl was really amazing, she thought, she always knew when she was needed, and she never left without a letter, as if knowing instinctively that they were important to her master, and that there was no other way for her to send them to him.
Dear Harry,
You have no idea how much I enjoying receiving a letter from you. It had been awhile since your last, and, truth be told I was starting to get worried.
I know exactly what you mean, it’s a horrible feeling, to be betrayed by the one person you trust the most. In fact, there is nothing I can write or say that will ever make that feeling pass. Trust is something that is gained, not given, and once it’s lost... let’s just say a lot of work has to be done, by both parties, for it to ever be achieved again.
I don’t know what happened between you and professor Dumbledore, Harry, I don’t know what he did to lose your trust, what I do know, is that you are right to make your own decisions, take control of your life. I’m not saying that you should do everything by yourself, because you can’t. You need our professors, and you need the headmaster, but that doesn’t mean you have to abide by all his decisions, especially if they have a bearing in your own life.
You are right that we need training. You saw the disaster that was the Department of Mysteries, and we had the best Hogwarts has to offer with us. I think that continuing with the DA is a terrific idea; in fact, it will be great to build trust and inter-house loyalty. People have to realize that in a war there is no such thing as rivalry. There are friends and allies, and there are enemies. So I think that you certainly have to continue what you started, and even open it to the rest of the school.
Here at home things are pretty much the same. I’m beginning to think that you wouldn’t be so happy here after all. You have no idea how Ron has been, I didn’t think your brother could be so mean! He has to learn that he can’t control other people’s lives, just to bend them to his desires. But truth be told, he’s really starting to get on my nerves. Mum’s too, I think, but she doesn’t show it, most of the time.
I can’t wait to see you Harry, writing is grand, but I really wish I could see you face. This seems like it’s going to be a loooong summer!
Love,
Ginny
Ginny finished her letter, sealed it and was in the process of tying it to Hedwig’s leg when Ron’s voice startled her from behind.
“Is that to Harry?”
She whirled around, clutching her heart that was suddenly beating a mile a minute.
“Merlin, Ron! You startled me!”
This didn’t elicit any reaction from her brother. He was still watching her, stony-faced. Quickly gaining her composure, Ginny finished tying the parchment and Hedwig flew out the window, to Ron’s obvious displeasure.
“Well, was that to Harry?” he snapped at her, angrily.
Deciding that she was tired of Ron’s petulant attitude, she replied exasperatedly:
“Do you know anyone else who owns a Snowy Owl? Because I don’t.”
“So you kept writing to him, even though I told you to stop.” voice cold as ice.
“Look, Ron” said Ginny tiredly “I don’t see why you don’t want me to write to Harry. It did both of us loads of good to talk, and you know it. I had hopped you would understand that” but looking at his expression she saw clearly that it was no use, Ron was too stubborn for his own good. “However, if you don’t, it doesn’t matter. I’m not about to stop writing to Harry just to fulfil a ridiculous whim of yours. It would be best if you learned to deal with the fact that Harry does indeed have other friends, and that I‘m one of them.” the end of her tirade was almost shouted at his face, and still didn’t move him one bit.
“You are driving him away from his friends when he needs us the most, Ginevra. And you are putting yourself at risk in the process.” for once, Ron’s voice wasn’t raised, but his feelings were clearly visible in his face.
“I’m not driving him away; I don’t care about the risk. He’s my friend. He needed me, I helped him, and he accepted my help. If you paid a little more attention in what was going on around you, Ron, you would have noticed what Harry was feeling, and then, maybe, he would have talked to you and not to me. But you didn’t and that’s not my fault. Obviously there was something in my letters that wasn’t in yours or in Hermione’s, otherwise he wouldn’t have bothered to write to little old me.” she huffed exasperatedly and left the room, heading down to lunch.
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