See now - I didn't abandon this one in favour of the fabulousness we have all enjoyed in the last couple weeks :D .
Now, a word of warning - I am about to start the fourth year of my degree. I am going to finish the story but there are a lot of demands on my time so I don't know if it will affect the story but I suspect it will and that updates will be slower. Hang in there!
And now enjoy some fluff, some Arthur and Harry interaction and a bit of absolutely brilliant Luna!
All hail goingbacktosquareone the beta, light of my life. :D
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Rebuilding Life | ||||||
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Category: Post-DH/AB Characters:All Genres: General, Humor, Romance Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 1776 Summary: Harry has defeated Voldemort but is going back to his life going to be easy? What will he go back to, the life he once had is meaningless now. It's time to build a new one and to create a new post-Voldemort world. Ginny is there waiting for him, what do they need to do to rebuild their lives? Hitcount: Story Total: 580281; Chapter Total: 13073 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: |
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Molly stirred in her chair as the door to the hospital wing creaked open. Harry winced and stopped short, afraid to wake her. He had not been expecting to find Ginny’s mother still by her side at close to five in the morning and he wasn’t quite sure what to do about it. His plan had been to steal in quietly and sit and wait for Ginny to wake up, but now he simply didn’t know what to do. “Harry? Are you all right, son?” The voice from the shadows behind him was low, almost a whisper, but unmistakably Arthur. “Yeah — I …” Harry stopped, completely at a loss. He’d prepared a whole speech for Ginny, apologising for leaving so suddenly and awkwardly, explaining his anxieties. He had absolutely nothing in mind to tell Arthur. “I couldn’t find you,” Arthur said. Harry looked up, finally, to see concern etched on the features of the older man. “I’ve been looking all night.” “I’m sorry,” Harry said. “I — I — just … I’ve been thinking.” He didn’t know what to tell Arthur, whether to tell him more about the room they’d found and his conversation with Glenda, or if he should explain his still jumbled thoughts. “Me too,” confessed Arthur, stepping closer to Harry. “You know what hurts the most? I couldn’t protect my little girl. That’s been my job since she was born and I … I sent her here and …” “It wasn’t your fault,” Harry said, grimacing at the irony. “You had to.” “I know,” Arthur said, with a faint half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I have to remember that I sent her here as prepared as I could. You can only tell your children so much, teach them only so much before you have to send them out into the world and just … trust them.” “It still hurts that you weren’t here for her,” Harry said softly, staring at his shoes. “Harry,” Arthur began, he paused. Harry knew Arthur was waiting for Harry to look at him. Harry slowly looked up. Arthur’s eyes were full of sorrow and any trace of a smile was gone. “I wish I’d had that time with you.” Harry didn’t know what Arthur meant and just blinked at the other man. Arthur was watching him carefully in the dim light of the corridor. “I don’t think … you didn’t get enough time,” Arthur said, clearly struggling to find the words he wanted to convey his meaning. He took a deep breath and continued. “When Ron was small we’d go out and degnome the garden together. He told me all the times Fred and George had tricked him. We talked about ways to deal with them. I’m not sure he ever managed to remember it in the heat of the moment, but …” “I used to do the weeding,” Harry said dully. “Uncle Vernon would make me do it when he had to talk to Dudley.” “Let’s take a walk,” Arthur said suddenly. Harry looked at him in surprise. Arthur stepped out of the shadows, his face was pale and shadows were smudged under his eyes. “Come on, walk with me.” Harry fell into step with Arthur, not sure where they were going. He glanced back at the hospital wing doors as they swung shut and then padded quietly down the corridor. “You’ve been thinking?” Arthur asked idly as they passed a tapestry of a wizard stirring a cauldron. “Yeah,” Harry answered cautiously. “I went to the Astronomy Tower,” Arthur said conversationally. “I didn’t expect to find you there, not really. I was just being thorough. I got, ah, a bit lost though. Castle’s not actually as big as I thought it was. Place seemed so big when I was younger. I must have gone right past it because I found myself at Ravenclaw Tower and had to turn around and go back. Then I managed to get on a staircase just as it moved.” “Where did you end up?” Harry asked, intrigued. “Well, I found myself hiding behind a tapestry on the sixth floor while some young buck I don’t recognise led his rather giggly girlfriend into a nearby alcove,” Arthur whispered, glancing around as if the walls had ears. “It was rather mortifying … he was very good at whatever it was he was doing.” Harry stifled a snigger. The two of them strolled in companionable silence for a few steps before Harry ventured a question. “Mr Weasley, what do you think courage is?” “I think it’s not reverting to ‘Mr Weasley’ every time you think you’ve disappointed me,” Arthur said quietly. Harry stopped suddenly. Arthur eyed him evenly. “I do that?” Harry asked. The other man nodded. Harry stared absently at the portrait above Arthur’s head. It was of a rather wobbly ballerina who’d fallen asleep standing up and was threatening to fall over at any moment. “When Bill was about four,” Arthur began, “he was playing Merlin in the Tower — he made that game up. Merlin’s tower was on the very top landing where Ron’s room is now; we didn’t use it back then. Anyway, Bill managed to push Charlie down the stairs — right from the very top. There was blood everywhere and poor Molly was feeding Percy and it took her a while to get there.By the time she found them she was in a right state. Shouted at poor Bill something dreadful, she did. When I got home she’d patched young Charlie up and he was playing happily with a stuffed dragon but Molly was a mess.” “Why?” Harry asked, intrigued. He could see the little scene at The Burrow: a sorrowful Bill, a bandaged Charlie and a serious-faced, infant Percy, chewing solemnly on a tiny plastic cauldron. “Well, she’d shouted that Bill was a terrible brother and it was his fault that Charlie was hurt,” Arthur answered. He didn’t look at Harry as he said it and Harry was glad. “By the time she’d cleaned up Charlie, Bill had gone and she couldn’t find him anywhere. When I got home she was ready to call a search party.” “You found him though?” “Oh yes,” Arthur smiled. “He’d run away as far as the front gate. I’d Apparated right past him. But it was spelled not to let the children out. He couldn’t go anywhere so we found him curled up under a hedge with his little rucksack as a pillow. “He woke up when I carried him inside. He told us that we shouldn’t bring him in because he was a terrible big brother who shouldn’t be allowed in the house. Molly felt dreadful. We gave him warm milk and a piece of chocolate cake and tucked him into bed. D’you know what he said to me as I did that?” Harry shook his head. Arthur smiled fondly. “He said ‘Daddy can I have chocolate cake every time it’s my fault?’ I made him promise me never to run away again if it’s his fault, because usually it wouldn’t matter. Even it was his fault we didn’t ever, ever want him to leave. “I found out later he told that to Charlie the time a toy dragon singed Fred’s eyebrows and set George’s hair on fire. And they both told Percy when he dropped a heavy book on baby Ginny’s fingers. Apparently the three of them stopped Fred and George running away after they scared Ron so badly with a rubber spider that their mother chased them outside with a frying pan. I’m not sure, but I think it was Ginny who told Ron we didn’t ever want him to leave — after the time he accidentally turned Percy green when he was almost seven.” “Who told her?” “I did,” Arthur said, smiling. Harry was startled to find they’d wandered down to the kitchens and he watched Arthur reach out to tickle the pear. Harry clambered through the portrait as Arthur continued the story. “She was about four and had just been a flower girl at Cousin Phillip’s wedding — married a dreadfully short Muggle girl, he did, Ginny was the only female around not taller than her as I recall. I’m still not positive the woman didn’t have goblin blood … Anyway, Ginny had been playing ‘wedding’ for weeks afterwards and she would parade around the house with a piece of old lace curtain on her head, clutching a bunch of straggly flowers from the garden.” Arthur gestured to one of the chairs in front of the kitchens’ hearth. Harry noticed the house-elves were busily preparing breakfast and his stomach growled hungrily. Arthur chuckled and beckoned to a nearby house-elf. Harry gazed into the fire and pictured a tiny Ginny in his mind, a bunch of wilted flowers clutched in a chubby fist and a grubby white train dragging on the floor behind little, stubby legs. Harry looked up in surprise as a plate of chocolate cake a glass of warm milk appeared in front of him. “I know, maybe you’re too old for warm milk,” Arthur said as he smiled. “But … it’s tradition. Molly would always put it on the table whenever one of the children ran away so that when they came back …” “Did they always come back right away?” “Oh yes,” Arthur said with a firm nod of the head. “Now I was telling you about Ginny. When Bill teased Ginny for her little game and asked her who she was planning to marry, she told him she was going to marry Harry Potter. He laughed at her. I fear he rather hurt her feelings and she might have accidentally sent a few … items flying at the poor boy’s head. She broke a rather … interesting vase that Aunt Muriel gave us for a wedding present. Molly saw the whole thing from the first floor landing. Fred and George told Ginny she’d broken The Most Precious Pot of Penelope the Perfect and now everyone in the house would be less than perfect. “Well, Ginny ran out of there as fast as her little legs could carry her and the last thing Bill said before the kitchen door banged shut behind her was ‘I’ll make sure there’s milk and chocolate cake!’ But I don’t think she understood what it meant. Molly scolded the boys of course, for frightening their sister, and she made Bill make the chocolate cake this time, but they still hadn’t found her by the time I came home from work.” “Where was she?” Harry asked, making a face at the warm milk he’d sipped absently. Arthur laughed and handed him a cake fork. “I found her tucked under that same hedge Bill was under, by the front gate,” said the older man wistfully. “All curled up in a little ball. The hedge had grown and she was so small … she was still wearing her lace curtain on her head and she looked up at me and said ‘Daddy, I can’t ever, ever come home. It’s all my fault that nobody’s ever going to be perfect!’ I nearly laughed at her, poor little thing. So I took her inside and gave her warm milk and chocolate cake and I told her …” Arthur paused and looked up. He swallowed heavily and gazed at Harry intently. “I told her,” he said, “sometimes accidents happen. Sometimes we make a bad choice and sometimes bad things happen, but nothing is so bad that you can’t come home. Nothing is so bad that we don’t want you there. You can’t do anything so terrible we don’t want you. And even if it is your fault, we don’t ever, ever want you to leave.” “I don’t ever want to leave,” Harry said quietly. “But I’m afraid. One day … it’s going to be so bad …” “It can’t ever get that bad,” Arthur said. “It never gets that bad.” The two of them sat in companionable silence for a while. Harry ate his chocolate cake slowly, thinking. “D’you think,” Harry said, when he’d finished and scraped every last morsel of cake from the plate, “d’you think it takes a lot of courage to keep going? I mean … now that Voldemort’s gone?” “Yes,” Arthur replied quietly. He didn’t elaborate and Harry sensed the other man was waiting for him to continue. “How can you tell that something’s not your fault?” “It probably just takes practice.” “Why is it so hard to …” “Accept?” “Yeah, maybe,” Harry said. “It’s easier to keep being who I used to be, but everything’s changed now, hasn’t it?” “I think people have,” Arthur said. “Harry, losing Fred has been perhaps the hardest thing Molly and I have ever had to live through. It takes a real kind if courage to just … keep going. Ginny made us realise that hovering, worrying over the rest of you, it’s not going to bring him back. It’s not living.” “There’s a portrait,” Harry said slowly. “In that room — the one where we found Ginny — and she made me realise what I’m afraid of.” Arthur gazed at Harry steadily. Harry stared silently at the busy house-elves. “Losing everything you have,” Arthur said after a while. “You’ve worked so hard for it and you’ve realised how fragile it all is.” Harry nodded. “Did you know it was so easy for fear to just … take over?” Harry asked. “I didn’t even realise it was happening.” He sighed heavily. “You’ve been blaming yourself too, haven’t you?” Arthur added. Harry nodded. Arthur laid a hand on Harry’s arm. “You shouldn’t. You got blamed for a lot as a child, didn’t you?” Somehow, looking into Arthur Weasley’s kind eyes made it easy for Harry to admit it. He nodded slowly. “It’s not your fault,” Arthur said. “We don’t blame you. Not for everything that’s happened the past eight years, not for Fred’s death, not for Ginny getting hurt, not for any of it. Harry, it’s been an absolute joy to have you in our lives. You have … I don’t know, something special. You bring out the best in Ron, something none of his other brothers can do. You inspired things in Fred and George that I never thought possible. Ginny … you make her happier than she has ever been. The only thing better is how happy she makes you.” “I think I know it’s not my fault,” Harry said slowly. “It’s just; I keep expecting it to end. Nothing good ever lasts.” “Harry, there will always be chocolate cake waiting for you,” Arthur said. “Always.” Harry blinked back the tears as he nodded. It was just like Ginny said. Without everything that happened he wouldn’t be who he was today. He wouldn’t have what he had right now. As Arthur took their empty plates back to a waiting house-elf Harry remembered how George had looked as he’d seen Harry half buried under the rubble of the plinth. His eyes had blazed with fury and revenge like Ron’s had when Fred had been killed. For the first time Harry actually felt like the Weasley brother everyone kept saying he was. ******************* “Harry?” The voice called out to him but Harry just grunted and rolled over, he wasn’t ready to get up yet. Unfortunately, he was not in bed but on a rather uncomfortable chair and turning over merely made him roll onto the floor of the hospital wing with a very painful thud. Harry let out a groan and lay there for a moment, trying to figure out who had called to him. “Harry!” That was Hermione. “Mate, are you all right?” Sounded like Ron. “D’you think he’s concussed himself?” Probably Neville. “He might have … or it could be wrackspurts.” Definitely Luna. Harry mumbled something that was unintelligible, even to his own ears and sat up slowly, waiting until his head stopped spinning before he opened his eyes. There were four set of eyes looking right back at him — all of them concerned, none of them the particular shade of brown he was looking for. “Where’s Ginny?” he croaked, blinking and trying to clear his head. “Loo,” Ron said succinctly. Harry nodded and groaned as it made his head spin. He closed his eyes willing the dizziness to stop. “What did you say to her last night?” Hermione asked. “She was in a right state when we got here.” “It’s lucky we did,” Neville added. “One second later and …” He shook his head ominously. “And it’s definitely a good thing you taught us that shield charm last week, Harry,” Luna added. “Who knows how big the bats would have been.” Ron shuddered. “Even coming from your own wand …” “What?” Harry asked, opening his eyes and gazing at his friends. “How on earth did you manage to put your foot in it?” Hermione said shaking her head and handing Harry back his wand. He pocketed it automatically. “What did you say?” Neville asked. “I mean she was still furious in the morning so it must have been something awful!” Harry struggled to his feet, running his hands through his hair. He winced when he found the lump on the back of his head. “I may have … erm, that is to say I kinda …” “Walked out,” said a flat voice from the end of the hospital wing. Ron moved in front of Harry subtly. “You idiot,” Neville muttered to Harry, moving closer and pulling his wand out. “I had stuff to think about,” Harry said wearily. “You had stuff to think about?” Ginny asked, stalking towards him, clad in a pair of hospital wing pyjamas that Harry knew to be stiff and scratchy. “Yeah, I did,” Harry said. “Look-” “Nothing you can say is going to even come close-” “Oh, I’m supposed to feel nothing after you get attacked by strangers who shouldn’t even be in the castle?” Harry said forcefully, very aggrieved. “Then I find out just exactly what went on here last year and I’m supposed to say nothing about the fact that you didn’t even tell me exactly what sort of danger that you were in every single day? I’m not to feel bad about the fact that I couldn’t do anything about it? That I was the bloody cause of it?” “Are you still on about this?” Ginny growled. “It’s not all about you!” “Your dad said-” “Dad was here?” Ron asked. Hermione elbowed him in the ribs. “He never blamed you!” Ginny scowled. “I know that,” Harry said. “But I wasn’t here for you, and that hurts.” “Don’t worry about it,” Ginny said harshly. “Neville was here, I’m fine. If you want to go off and be all sorry for yourself, that’s fine too. Do what you like.” “Don’t bring me into this,” Neville said, alarmed. Ginny started pulling open the drawers on her nightstand. There was nothing in them and she slammed them shut again viciously, holding herself stiffly. “I spoke to your dad,” Harry said quietly. Ginny scowled at him. “We went and had chocolate cake.” “Damn, I forgot I lost my wand,” Ginny said brusquely, but her posture seemed to sag a little as she sank onto the bed. “I was thinking about what you said,” Harry said as Ginny stared at the floor. “What you said about who we are, and … how what we go through makes us who we are.” There was a long silence during which nobody spoke. Ginny remained unmoving except for the way her fingers picked restlessly at her rumpled bedcovers and Neville shifted uneasily. Suddenly Luna spoke, her soft voice carrying easily in the stillness. “I think sometimes we don’t see what we have because we’re looking for something else, thinking it will be better.” “I think you’re right, Luna,” Harry said. He glanced at her; she had a serene smile on her face. “Just like sometimes we’re blinded by what we don’t have. I’ve spent so long looking for family that … I didn’t — I didn’t see the one I have.” “Yeah, but it can’t ever be the same,” Ron said apologetically. “I know,” Harry shrugged. “But once Voldemort decided he was going to … well, I was never going to grow up the same as that baby who had his parents. We’re … like two different people. Where would I be if my parents were still here? I’d probably be some sort of … spoiled rich kid in some Ministry job after graduating from Hogwarts.” “So … you’d be Malfoy?” Ron asked with a smirk. Harry shrugged. “Well, you’d still be Harry,” Luna said in a singsong voice. “Yeah, I would,” Harry smiled. “And I’d still love Quidditch and I’d still love treacle tart and I’d still be pants at Divination, but would I be here? “I’ve just been so … afraid, because — because, I might not have the same family I was born with but I still have one. After yesterday I was worried … that you’d … that I wouldn’t have anyone. I mean the Dursley’s never wanted me and everything was my fault one way or another. I ran away once and the only person who came after me was the Minister of Magic.” “Mum was frantic when she heard you’d run away,” Ron said. “Arrived back in England and the first thing she heard was you’d been alone in Diagon Alley — Dad had to hold her back from going down to tear strips off Fudge!” “I was all right,” Harry shrugged. “But it’s always felt like it’s a matter of time before everyone realises how much trouble I cause-” “You’re daft,” Ron grumbled. “Yeah … well … old habits,” Harry shrugged by way of explanation. Ron grinned at him and Hermione shook her head, a smile on her face. “I’ve been so afraid of losing everyone that … I just ran away, I guess.” “Did Dad … did he give you warm milk as well?” Ginny asked, looking up at Harry at last. Harry nodded. Ginny and Ron shared a brief, knowing look. “Warm milk tastes horrible,” Neville said, shuddering. “Keeps Warfligers away though,” Luna said dreamily. “I was thinking most of the night and we had a bit of a talk before I came back here just before dawn,” Harry said quietly. “You mum and dad left then.” “He went to look for you,” Ginny said quietly. “I was furious.” “At me or your dad?” “Both of you,” Ginny shrugged. “I’m really sorry,” Harry said, taking a step towards her. “I just felt so guilty and I felt terrible because I wasn’t here for you; and it’s supposed to be over and you got attacked again.” “I still don’t know how you figured that was your fault, mate,” Ron said. “They said as much — when they attacked George and me on the stairs,” Harry said. “They said I was their … quarry. They thought it was great sport that they wouldn’t need to use Ginny as bait anymore.” “I don’t think they actually knew we had any sort of relationship,” Ginny said slowly, her brow wrinkled in thought. “I remember one of them saying something about me wearing a Gryffindor uniform. I think they may have grabbed any random Gryffindor they came across.” She looked up at the others. “If they were out to … lure Harry, they might think a Gryffindor was a sure-fire thing, rather than a member of another House,” Neville said thoughtfully. “They don’t know Harry very well then, do they,” Ron snorted. “They could have grabbed some nameless Slytherin firstie and he’d have gone to get ‘em back.” “I think I was just … opportune,” Ginny said. “I was out there — alone … they just … acted.” She shrugged. “But who were they?” Hermione asked, sitting next to Ginny on the narrow bed. “I don’t know,” Ginny shrugged. “They didn’t say much. I was just walking across the grounds and I wasn’t really looking around me, I was thinking about The Harpies and then they sort of just took me by surprise. I threw a couple of hexes but one of them disarmed me so I … kicked them and ran.” “How’d you get into that room?” Neville asked. “I don’t know,” Ginny shrugged. “After they disarmed me I couldn’t shield myself and they got me with a couple curses, one sliced my leg open and they cornered me near the greenhouses. I couldn’t run anymore because of my leg and then I sort of backed into the castle wall and fell in there.” “And you couldn’t get out?” Hermione asked, a frown on her face. “No,” Ginny said. “I mean at first I didn’t want to, and then I tried getting out at a different spot, hoping I’d be inside the castle, but I was just … stuck. The door to the duelling room opened for me when I tried it, so I went in there so I could use the blankets and tried to bandage myself up.” “I don’t remember there being any blankets in there before,” Ron said, scratching his head. “Are you wearing that amulet?” Harry asked, ignoring Ron. “I was wearing it for luck during the game,” Ginny said, nodding. “I think that’s how you got in,” Harry mused, trying to remember all that Glenda’s portrait had told him the night before. “The portrait — I was talking to her and she said something … she talks in a lot of riddles. I’m not sure I understood everything, she said but Dumbledore had that amulet at one point. He’d been in there.” The other five stared at him. “We need to find out more about that amulet,” Hermione said. “We could check in Hildeguard Hoffenstetter’s Gargantuan Guide to Gold and Gemstones,” Luna said dreamily. “She’s very knowledgeable.” “I’ve not … seen that book before,” Hermione said stiffly. “Oh, I’ll show you,” Luna said. “You have Restricted Section permission, I presume?” Hermione merely raised an eyebrow at Luna who shrugged. “It’s a Gryffindor … well, relic, I guess,” Neville said. “I wonder if there’s any books or … something about Gryffindor?” “You don’t know about Gryffindor?” asked Luna, wide eyed. “Well, we know a little,” Hermione said, affronted. “Just not about this — no one can know everything.” “Why can’t this Glenda just tell us what we need to know?” Ron asked, scowling. “I think she believes she has,” Harry said with a shrug. “She told me I knew everything I needed to know and went back to sleep.” “Well, I think it’s time we went to the library,” Hermione said briskly, standing up. “Aw, Hermione,” Ron whined. “It’s absolutely bucketing down out there, Ron,” she replied. “We may as well make good use of our time inside.” “You lot go on ahead,” Harry said. “Ginny and I will catch up to you.” Hermione nodded briskly and dragged Ron from the hospital wing. Neville followed, snickering at Ron’s grumbling and Luna drifted dreamily behind them. “I really am sorry,” Harry said as soon as he and Ginny were alone. “I was going to hex you,” Ginny said, staring at the floor. “I deserved that,” Harry said. “I shouldn’t hex you while you’re asleep,” Ginny mumbled. “Well …” Harry shrugged, feeling as though the conversation was far too stilted. “I didn’t want to tell you all of that,” Ginny whispered then. “I didn’t want you to know.” “Know what?” Harry asked gently. “Know that things were really bad for you here last year? I knew that, Ginny.” “Yeah, but-” “I’m glad you told us,” Harry said, taking a step towards her. “The whole thing’s just so … hard,” Ginny said, sighing. “Do you ever … is it ever like you think you’ve finished with a feeling, an emotion… and put it all behind you and then … it comes up again when you least expect it?” “All the time,” Harry nodded fervently. “I’m sorry I nearly hexed you,” Ginny said, twisting the sleeve ends of her pyjamas in her fingers. “I’m sorry I gave you reason to,” Harry said, reaching out and enclosing her hands in his. “I had a lot of time to think last night and then I talked to your dad. I — I don’t know if I’ll get used to it straight away, but I realised that courage isn’t what I thought it was.” “It’s not?” “No, it’s … not just being brave enough to do ... stupid things,” Harry began. “Or actual, truly heroic things,” Ginny said dryly. Harry rolled his eyes at her. He sat down next to her, still holding her hands in his and she turned on the bed to look at him. “I mean, I guess all that takes courage,” Harry said, trying to explain. “But what about when you’ve finished all that? What happens after you’ve faced the bad guys and won? What happens after you’ve battled to the death and come out alive?” Ginny studied him for a moment while Harry cursed his inability to explain himself. It had all seemed so clear a few hours ago when he’d sat in contemplation in the little duelling room. It had been so clear then that what he’d needed was the courage to keep going, that this was what defined the truly courageous from the heroic. “Courage, true courage,” Harry said, “isn’t really about having the … balls to face the enemy. It’s about having the guts to face everyone else after you’ve done that. Its how you keep going, I guess ...” Harry trailed off; frustrated at his inability to voice his thoughts when they were so clear in his head. “What made you decide all this?” Ginny asked quietly. “It’s what I’ve been trying to say all along.” “I was talking to Glenda,” Harry admitted. “She knows a bit about courage.” “Well, she should, being the last of Gryffindor’s descendants,” Ginny said. There was a trace of annoyance on her face, as if Ginny was frustrated with him. “It’s true what I was saying about fear,” Harry said, ignoring Ginny’s expression. “I’ve been so damn afraid that everything I worked for was going to just … vanish that my courage really has been pretty thin on the ground. Do you know what it’s like to have your greatest desire and your darkest fear collide?” “Yes,” Ginny said quietly, looking away. Harry studied her for a moment, overcome with an intense desire to know what her greatest desire was. “Tell me?” he whispered, reaching out to stroke her cheek, turning her face him. Ginny looked at him for a moment before staring, unseeing, out of the nearby window. “It’s always you,” she said her voice so low Harry had to strain to hear her. Harry felt a dull ache start somewhere in his chest because, as usual, he was the cause of pain. Ginny pulled her hands from his grasp and her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. She looked down at the bed for a moment before looking up and directly at Harry. “I’m sorry-” “Don’t,” Ginny said fiercely. Harry fell silent. Ginny tilted her head to the side. “When I was ten, my older brother went to Hogwarts and life changed forever.” She wrinkled her nose a little as she spoke and Harry smiled because she was telling him the story as if he didn’t know it — as if he wasn’t part of it. “Did you feel left behind?” Harry asked her suddenly, remembering the little girl who ran after the train. “A little,” Ginny nodded. “The best part was that I got Mum to myself for a whole year. I never had that before, there was always someone else who needed her to grow back eyebrows or stop something burning or … kill a spider or something.” “What did you do that year?” Harry asked, suddenly realising he really had no idea what Ginny was like before Hogwarts beyond the fact that she’d always been slightly obsessed with the idea of Harry Potter — because that’s all anyone ever talked about. “Well, Ron had to leave his broom behind, so I flew a lot,” Ginny said with a glint in her eye. “I had to keep up with my lessons as well and Mum taught me to cook a bit, but mostly we just talked; about girl stuff.” Ginny shrugged. “Girl stuff?” Harry asked sceptically. “Yeah, you know — the changes in your body and that sort of thing,” Ginny laughed at Harry’s grimace. “You spent a year having a sex talk?” “No, silly,” Ginny rolled her eyes affectionately, “emotions and relationships.” “Oh, girl’s stuff,” Harry smirked. Ginny shoved at his shoulder. “Ron wrote about you a lot,” Ginny said after a short silence. “I didn’t believe him at first. I mean, what were the odds — my brother made friends with the one person who fascinated me endlessly? I wanted so badly to be your friend.” She trailed off, staring out of the window again, the attempt at lightening the conversation dying. “Was that your greatest desire?” Harry asked after a moment and Ginny nodded. “And your greatest fear?” “Talking to you,” Ginny admitted. “It wasn’t like a separate fear though. It was like one was tied up in the other. I don’t know how to explain it. It was like the absolute best thing in the world that could happen was for you to see me, for me to see you and yet it was also the worst thing that could happen. The only thing, and the last thing, I wanted was to talk to you.” “I know what you mean,” Harry said softly. “It’s like knowing you want to kiss Ginny and being absolutely petrified that Ron will find out about it.” Ginny laughed. “Is that what you were talking about?” she asked him suddenly. “About your desires and fears colliding — that they are so tangled up in each other they are part of the same thing?” “Yeah, I reckon it is.” “In first year …” Ginny seemed unable to keep talking and hugged her legs even tighter. She took a deep breath. “It wasn’t so much that I was lonely, not at first, but the — the diary wanted to hear me talk about you and nobody else did. Well ... that’s not true. Fred and George did — but only to take the mickey. Ron just wanted to warn me off. He kept telling me you were his friend and to lay off.” “And then it collided in the diary,” Harry said, beginning to see what Ginny meant. “You wanted us to be friends and Riddle wanted to …” “Hurt you,” Ginny said bluntly. “It took courage to get through that,” Harry said. “But it took you more to … keep going. You know … afterwards. You made that look so easy.” “It wasn’t,” Ginny said. She shrugged, letting her hair fall across her face like a curtain as she stared down at the floor. “I’m a good actress. Some days it was really, really hard. At first it was just such a relief — you know, not to have a secret anymore. But once I got home and Mum started fussing … I was glad to go to Egypt actually. It distracted people from staring at me like some sort of exhibit. “There was one day I wanted to just run, run away and not look back. I got into a fight with Ron over flying in the orchard. He didn’t want me to go with him and he said something like he wasn’t going to risk his neck for me again if I ended up hurt. It would have been so easy to just leave. It took everything I had to turn around and come home in time for tea. Ron made me a chocolate cake.” “Just yesterday I wouldn’t know what you meant by that,” Harry said, smiling. “Finally had time for us to initiate you,” Ginny said with a smirk. “It’d be so easy for me to give up now,” Harry said, reaching out and tugging Ginny’s hand from around her knees. “Now that I’ve done what I thought was the hard part. There’s a part of me that just wants to go and … curl up in a ball somewhere and let the world go by — because I’ve done enough, you know? But that’s like letting him win. Real courage is listening to you and being there for you and being … part of a family.” “You’ve been a part of our family since you were eleven,” Ginny said, puzzled. “I never let myself be,” Harry said. “And I don’t think I really knew what it meant.” Ginny let her legs drop, sitting cross-legged on the bed. She gazed at Harry for a moment and he smiled at her. He didn’t think he could explain it anymore; there weren’t really any words for how he felt so Harry just leaned forward and kissed her softly. “Miss Weasley, you are free to go.” Madam Pomfrey’s voice broke the kiss off before Harry deepened it. The matron was gone with a swish of her robes before Harry had even opened his eyes. “We should go help Hermione,” Ginny said. “And rescue Ron,” Harry added. He squeezed her hand gently. “I really am sorry. I’ll try and stop blaming myself and … remember I have a family.” “I’ll make sure Mum gives me her chocolate cake recipe,” Ginny said. “We may need it a lot.” Harry laughed. “We might.” *********************** Th e rest of February passed in a haze of studying, research and Quidditch practice. The next game for Gryffindor wasn’t for a couple of months, but Ginny’s trial at the Harpies was in April, over the Easter break, and Harry kept practices just as rigorous as if they had a game the next week. Her injuries had healed relatively quickly and her aim was now so accurate that she actually scared Kyle Thorpe and Harry had to give the second year more than a few pep talks to get him back in the air after Ginny had finished with him. Kingsley sent word that the two men they’d captured inside Hogwarts refused to talk about what they had been doing there and why they wanted Harry. The suspicion was that they were under some kind of enchantment preventing them from revealing any information. Harry scowled at the news. “How can we find out what they want if they can’t tell us anything?” He fumed to Hermione as they sat in the Defence classroom watching Ginny and Neville patiently teach the Slytherin students how to cast a Patronus. “Well it protects whoever sent them,” Hermione pointed out. “We still don’t know who it is that wants to get to you.” “And why,” Harry said. “George has gotten all protective when I drop by the shop now. He insisted on escorting me to The Burrow last week. I was only going through the Floo!” “Well, at least we know they’re in Azkaban now,” Hermione said with a shrug. The idea that anyone could be after Harry seemed so far fetched as the weather cleared and spring was so apparently just around the corner and it was easy to forget that there was something going on outside the walls of Hogwarts. Harry spent long, blissful afternoons lazing with Ginny in front of the fire playing chess, doing homework or just reading. Hermione was relentless in pursuit of knowledge about the amulet well after Harry and Ginny had given up ever finding anything. Ginny tried to enter the room while wearing the amulet but it steadfastly refused to let her in. The result was the same for Ron and Hermione. They even tried Luna but no one was surprised when nothing happened. Hermione didn’t find any reference to Gryffindor’s amulet in any of the books Luna suggested, including Jeremy Jollyfig’s Jewellery Jaunts, P.A. Dunbar’s So You Think You Have a Rare Artefact? or How to Spot an Ancient Relic in Ten Easy Steps by Amelia Finke. They’d combed the Restricted Section and thoroughly investigated the shelf on Magical History, risking their lives in the cloud of dust they stirred up. Still nothing of relevance came up although Ron swore loudly when he found no less than six references to Ravenclaw’s diadem. “It was here the whole time,” he grumbled. “And it still took us forever to find it.” “Well, we didn’t exactly research jewellery before, Ron,” Hermione said primly. “I know that,” Ron said, “but I do remember reading this book three times when looking for information on Nicholas Flamel.” “He had a Philosopher’s Stone,” Luna said idly, turning a page in Most Glorious and Powerful Runes and Objects of the Welsh Country. “We know,” Ron said shortly. “He doesn’t have one anymore,” Luna commented dreamily, turning a page. “Daddy says the wrackspurts got him.” “Yes, I’m sure that’s what it was,” Hermione muttered, picking up a large tome titled Magical Gemstones and Where to Find Them and setting it down in front of her with rather more force than was necessary. Ron refused to spend the Saturday after his birthday in the library so he and Hermione went into Hogsmeade instead. Harry spent the morning in front of the Quidditch hoops trying to block Ginny’s shots. “D’you suppose if we went back to the room and tried waking her up …?” Ginny asked thoughtfully as the pair made their way back to the castle for lunch. “I’ve already tried to wake her up a couple of times,” Harry said with a shrug. “She never stirs.” “I just wish she’d tell us what we really need to know,” Ginny said, kicking at a rock on the path in frustration. “She said she had,” Harry sighed. “Dumbledore had it, he left it behind the last time, Fawkes came to get him out. So … he needed it to get in and out.” “But I had it, and I still couldn’t get out,” Ginny said, brow furrowed in thought. “I still have it and I can’t back in again. See it doesn’t make any sense.” “Well only if it works the same way for you as it did for Dumbledore,” Harry said. “Maybe it works differently for you? No one can use it unless they have great courage — she did say that … and sanctuary, it gives sanctuary.” “It gives sanctuary to the courageous,” Ginny mused. “I can get in that room because of sacrifice,” Harry said. “So can Neville.” “It has to be tied to the Sword,” Ginny said, turning around and walking backwards to the castle. “She said … Dumbledore made a sacrifice but that wasn’t what opened the room to him,” Harry said, rubbing his forehead. “She said he sacrificed love but his courage opened up the room to him. My sacrifice opened the room to me but I don’t have enough courage.” “She talks in riddles,” Ginny grumbled. “None of that means anything.” “I know,” Harry sighed, reaching to take Ginny’s hand. “Hermione’s made me tell her six times what she said to me and she still hasn’t figured out anything beyond the fact that Neville and I coming along, both having summoned the Sword have made the room available again.” “So, there’s nothing behind the panels?” “Dunno,” Harry shrugged, “but we’ve stopped looking. We spend all our time in the library now, don’t we?” “Let’s not think about it anymore,” Ginny said impulsively. She tugged on Harry’s hand. “Let’s go and do something fun!” “I said I’d go see Teddy this afternoon,” Harry said regretfully. He winced as Ginny’s face fell. Harry pulled her to him and folded his arms around her. “I wish I could take you with me but you know how McGonagall gets when Hermione and I both leave the grounds.” “That’s okay,” Ginny said, leaning her cheek against his chest. “I’ll just … study or … something …” “I’ll come back early,” Harry promised. “Will you come back bearing gifts?” Ginny turned her brown eyes up to his beseechingly. “Absolutely,” Harry said, leaning down to kiss her. “What sort of gifts would you like?” “Chocolate frogs,” Ginny said promptly. “Really?” Harry wrinkled his nose. “I have a bet going with Neville,” Ginny explained. “I bet him that I would find a Neville Longbottom card before he finds a Harry Potter card.” Harry shook his head ruefully and kissed her on the nose. “Come on then,” he said, “let’s go have lunch so you can get in some quality study time before you get distracted by the chocolate frogs.” “You never know,” Ginny mused as they entered the castle. “I might even get an Agrippa …” ***************** It was a bleak Wednesday in mid-March before they had any sort of break through in researching the amulet. Professor McGonagall had been unable to recall any specific legends about Gryffindor or his descendants and had never heard about any significant jewellery, but that morning had handed Harry several scrolls and a book. “They are from Professor Dumbledore’s private library,” the Headmistress said. “He had a number of volumes regarding the founders. These seem as though they might be helpful.” It was in the book that Ginny found the first mention of the amulet. “Godric Gryffindor had it made for his wife,” Ginny read, “out of Welsh gold.” “Welsh gold?” Neville asked. “Is that different to normal gold?” “It’s very rare,” Hermione said. “Does it tell you if it’s magical?” “Well obviously it’s magical, Hermione,” Harry said irritably. “Why else would we be researching the thing?” “It just says he gave it to his wife and said ‘True love to me, my token keeps thee safe from harm and protects thee til I come’,” Ginny said, turning the page and scanning it. “Then it just talks about rubies …” Ginny trailed off and Harry threw down his quill with a sigh. “Does it even matter?” he asked. “It’s been a month now and nothing else has happened. Maybe it was just one of those things the castle does from time to time.” “Of course it matters,” Hermione said with a huff. “Don’t you want to know?” “Not particularly, Hermione,” Harry said. “Who cares where some old piece of metal and rubies came from?” “What if it has an enchantment on it?” Hermione shot back. “Bill checked it,” Harry said. “I had him do it when I was at Gringotts the other day.” “I didn’t know you were at Gringotts,” Ginny said idly, turning another page in the book from Dumbledore’s library. “I thought there might be some books in the vault,” Harry shrugged. “You know — something that could help. There were just a lot of old text books and a couple of really dodgy looking romance novels. I found a trunk I couldn’t get open and I … well I brought the chest of photographs back with me.” “Romance novels?” Hermione asked him. “Since when do wizards have romance novels?” “Oh Mum’s got heaps,” Ginny said, looking up from the book. “Roberto Valentine writes them. Name’s bloody obvious, but it’s just a bunch of writers making up impossible love stories. I read one once where this wizard actually grew his hair out so that he could cut it off and his lover could use it to embroider something … some sort of token or talisman or something. So when he didn’t come home on a long hunting trip or wherever it was he went, she could use the embroidery to call him or something. Then he’d know she missed him, you see, and hurry home. Pathetic.” “Oh, I don’t know,” Hermione said, sighing. “That sort of thing could be useful.” Ginny pulled a face. “Or what about the one where the wizard gave his true love an enchanted necklace,” Luna added. “My mother was reading that one when she died. I couldn’t leave the poor book unread, so I finished it.” “Oh what happened?” Hermione asked eagerly. Ginny rolled her eyes and went back to Dumbledore’s book as Luna continued. “He put his birthstone in it,” Luna said, “and he said that if she was ever in danger, as long as she was wearing that the castle would open up to her and keep her safe until he came for her.” “What castle?” Neville asked. “Hogwarts of course,” Luna said as she flipped open one of the scrolls and began to read it. “Don’t be ridiculous, Luna,” Ginny said. “None of those stories are set in Hogwarts! They are full of heaving bosoms and tight breeches and the covers have scantily-clad witches on them. Can you imagine the uproar if the publishing company set any of them in Hogwarts?” “There weren’t any heaving bosoms in this one,” Luna said quite seriously. “It was in a plain leather cover. I think it must have been a very old book and I don’t know who wrote it, it was only signed gee-gee.” “Wait!” Hermione held up a hand. “Luna, do you still have this book?” “Oh yes,” Luna replied. “I kept it safe because it was very special to my mother. She told me it had once belonged to someone very important.” “I think it’s the story of the amulet,” Hermione said urgently. “Don’t you see? Gee-gee is Godric Gryffindor. The necklace is the amulet.” “Well, I suppose it’s possible,” Luna said airily. “Would you like me to have father send the book when he gets a moment?” “Yes please,” Hermione said fervently. She began scribbling on the parchment in front of her. Harry shook his head and went back to reading the scroll in front of him. “Godric Gryffindor was born in July,” Ginny muttered absently. “Did you know that? Legend has it that true Gryffindors are born in July … rubies are the birthstone for July … they hold magical powers longer than any other gemstone … what’s a true Gryffindor anyway? Does it make you less of a Gryffindor to be born somewhen else in the year? What a load of baloney …” “Maybe it’s not,” Harry said slowly. He turned to look at Neville. “Dumbledore said I was a true Gryffindor. Only true Gryffindors can pull the Sword out of the Hat.” “But … Ron used the Sword,” Hermione said. “Yes, but he didn’t pull it out of the Hat,” Harry said. “What if that’s why it’s Neville and me? We’re both born in July; we both pulled the Sword out of the Hat. The room recognises the existence of more than one true Gryffindor and it … opens.” “I thought Dumbledore only said that thing about true Gryffindor because he was reassuring you that you weren’t secretly supposed to be a Slytherin,” Hermione argued. “I’m just saying,” Harry said, “that it’s one way of looking at it. I think anyone can be a true Gryffindor but what if … what if there’s something to this July thing?” “That’s why Dumbledore could use the amulet,” Ginny said slowly. “He was born in July too.” “If it’s the same as this necklace in Luna’s book …” Neville said slowly. “It opened the room for Ginny because Harry gave it to her,” Hermione said. “And she couldn’t get out again because it was keeping her safe until he came for her.” “Of course,” Luna said, looking up at them. “She’s his true love so it would work for her.” |
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