Everything in this story, even most of the plot since it's just a different viewpoint, belongs to JK Rowling. I merely tried to look at it through different eyes, specifically Ginny's. Thanks a tone to my fantastic beta, Yemeron who made lots of comments that helped me fix lots of errors.
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Chasing Away the Dark | ||||
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Category: Post-OotP Characters:All, All Genres: Drama, General Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: PG Reviews: 3 Summary: This is essentially a rewrite of parts of Chapters 22 and 23 of OotP from Ginny's PoV. It starts from when McGonagall brings her and the twins to Dumbledore's office and ends when she convinces Harry that Voldemort's not possessing him. Recognizable dialogue and plot from pages 473-501 of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, US edition. Hitcount: Story Total: 3415 Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work. Author's Notes: |
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I was just getting to the best part of a rather enjoyable dream involving a broom cupboard and a certain green-eyed boy, when I was rudely shaken awake. “I was having a good dream…” I mumbled crossly, and tried to turn over, but the hand gripping my shoulder shook it firmly again, and I sat up grudgingly. “Wh-wha-a-t is it?” I asked through the huge yawn that forced its way out of my mouth. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and blearily stared up at the person who had woken me. “Come, Miss Weasley, you’re required in the headmaster’s office,” said a brisk female voice. It sounded like Professor McGonagall. I slung my feet to the floor and yelped. It was icy cold! I hunted around for my slippers, which had, once again, ended up under my bed, and slipped them on my feet. As I struggled into the dressing gown I had inherited from Ron last year, I watched Professor McGonagall out of the corner of my eyes. She didn’t look like herself. In fact, she almost looked…worried, and that made me worry, too. If Professor McGonagall, who I’d rarely even seen ruffled, was upset, something terrible must have happened. As soon as I’d gotten my arms in the sleeves of my gown, she took me by my right elbow and hurried me downstairs. I blinked in surprise as I saw Fred and George waiting for us in the common room, looking just as sleepy and disheveled as me. One of them yawned, I wasn’t sure which since I was still a bit muddled from sleep, and the other stepped forward as McGonagall and I entered the room. “Oy, Professor, what’s this about? We actually haven’t done anything this time.” A fleeting smile crossed McGonagall’s face, but disappeared almost the moment it appeared. She motioned for them to come closer to us, and glanced around the empty common room, as if to be sure no one was listening. “Mr. Potter’s just had a vision of some sort involving your father. It appears he’s been badly injured,” she said in a low voice. Both twins turned white. I’m sure my face was just as pale as theirs. It certainly felt as though all the blood had drained from it. “Wha-what do we do then?” Fred asked, looking lost. Professor McGonagall nodded to the portrait hole. “I’m to take you to the headmaster’s office as quickly as possible. This way.” She led us through the dark, drafty corridors. I was too cold and worried to pay attention to where we were headed, though now and then I recognized suits of armor or tapestries out of the corners of my eyes. Eventually we stopped in front of a stone gargoyle. Fred wasn’t watching where he was going and trod on my foot as we stopped, but I barely noticed. I peeked around Professor McGonagall to see if there was anything behind the gargoyle, but there was nothing but a blank wall behind it. “Fizzing Whizbee,” she said to it, confusing me. Was she asking if it liked sweets? A second later I gave a small gasp as the gargoyle sprang out of the way and the wall behind it split apart to reveal a moving stone staircase. We all stepped onto it and were carried up until we reached the door to Dumbledore’s office. Professor McGonagall opened it and ushered the three of us in. Dumbledore was there, looking strangely old and tired, and so was Ron, white-faced like the rest of us. Harry was there, too, and looked, if possible, worse than Ron. He had dark shadows under his eyes, and his scar stood out lividly from his forehead, as if it had recently been burned into his skin. I hurried over to him. “Harry – what’s going on?” I asked, frightened. “Professor McGonagall says you saw Dad hurt–” “Your father has been injured in the course of his work for the Order of the Phoenix,” Dumbledore said calmly before Harry could answer my question. “He has been taken to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. I am sending you back to Sirius’s house, which is much more convenient for the hospital than the Burrow. You will meet your mother there.” “How’re we going?” asked Fred, looking shaken. “Floo powder?” I had been wondering that, too. I didn’t think Umbridge would like it very much if the five of us disappeared from Hogwarts in the middle of the night. “No,” said Dumbledore. “Floo powder is not safe at the moment, the Network is being watched. You will be taking a Portkey.” He indicated a battered kettle lying innocently on his desk. “We are just waiting for Phineas Nigellus to report back… I wish to be sure that the coast is clear before sending you –” There was a flash of flame in the very middle of the office. I jumped, startled, as a single golden feather floated gently to the floor. “It is Fawkes’s warning,” said Dumbledore, catching the feather as it fell. “She must know you’re out of your beds… Minerva, go and head her off – tell her any story –” McGonagall nodded briskly and disappeared through the door. “He says he’ll be delighted,” said a bored voice behind Dumbledore. I craned my neck to see a clever-looking wizard with a pointed beard and Slytherin robes walk into an empty portrait. This must be the Phineas Nigellus Dumbledore had mentioned a few minutes ago. I caught Harry’s eye and raised my eyebrows questioningly. He grimaced and nodded in confirmation. “My great-great-grandson has always had odd taste in houseguests…” Phineas continued. His great-great-grandson? I pulled my attention back to Dumbledore, who was saying something. “…And quickly, before anyone else joins us…” Harry and my brothers were gathering around the old kettle, and I hurried to join them. “You have all used a Portkey before?” Dumbledore asked, and we all nodded and reached for the kettle. The last time I had used a Portkey was the summer before last, at the World Cup. I hadn’t particularly enjoyed the feeling, but at least I wouldn’t be surprised by it. “Good. On the count of three then…” He began to count. I sneaked a glance at Harry, who was watching Dumbledore, and right before Dumbledore said three, the strangest expression crossed Harry’s face. His eyes suddenly seemed to burn, and he grimaced in what appeared to be pain…but at the same time a vicious hatred twisted his features and he looked like he was about to attack the headmaster. I opened my mouth in shock, but before I could say anything, before Harry could do anything, Dumbledore said, “…three,” and I felt the familiar but unpleasant jerk behind my navel as we sped through the air in a rush of color and sound. A moment later we had landed hard in the gloomy basement kitchen of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. I could hear that horrible house-elf, Kreacher, mumbling something nearby. “Back again, the blood traitor brats, is it true their father’s dying…?” My blood froze, and I heard Sirius’s furious shouts at him from what seemed like far away. Dying? Dad might be dying? I heard footsteps hurrying over to us, and looked up to see Sirius enter the room. He looked as if he hadn’t slept for days. He offered me a hand as soon as he got to us, and as I was still a bit shaky, I let him help me up. “What’s going on?” he asked as he pulled me off the floor. “Phineas Nigellus said Arthur’s been badly injured –” “Ask Harry,” said Fred. “Yeah, I want to hear this for myself,” added George. I swiveled my head to stare at Harry with my brothers. What had he seen? He swallowed hard before speaking. “It was –” he began, looking nervous and slightly sick. “I had a – a kind of – vision…” And he told us everything he had seen, about watching the huge snake attack our father as he stood guard over a door at the Ministry. Ron gave him a funny look when he started telling the story, but didn’t say anything, so I didn’t think anything of it. After Harry had finished, I was so shocked and appalled at what had happened that I just stared at him. Fred and George did, too, and Harry practically started squirming. He looked almost…guilty, strangely. I didn’t know why; it wasn’t as if he’d done anything wrong. Maybe he thought he should have stepped out of his dream or something and stopped the snake. I knew exactly how horrible it must’ve been to watch something like that and not be able to do anything to stop it. It was like that at the end with Tom, except it was me…I shivered. Fred turned to Sirius. “Is Mum here?” “She probably doesn’t even know what’s happened yet,” Sirius replied. “The important thing was to get you away before Umbridge could interfere. I expect Dumbledore’s letting Molly know now.” Mum didn’t even know? Dad was all alone at St. Mungo’s and Mum didn’t even know? I had to say something. “We’ve got to get to St. Mungo’s,” I urged. I looked around at my brothers and then down at myself. We were all still in pajamas; there was no way we could show up like this. “Sirius, can you lend us cloaks or anything –?” “Hang on, you can’t go tearing off to St. Mungo’s!” he said, looking taken aback. “’Course we can go to St. Mungo’s if we want,” said Fred stubbornly. “He’s our dad!” “And how are you going to explain how you knew Arthur was attacked before the hospital even let his wife know?” Sirius snapped. “What does that matter?” George retorted. “It matters because we don’t want to draw attention to the fact that Harry is having visions of things that are happening hundreds of miles away!” Sirius yelled. “Have you any idea what the Ministry would make of that information?” I racked my brains and looked wildly around me, trying to think of a reason, any reason, why we might know our father had been hurt before our mother had even been contacted. “Somebody else could have told us…” I began desperately. “We could have heard it somewhere other than Harry…” “Like who?” asked Sirius impatiently. “Listen, your dad’s been hurt while on duty for the Order and the circumstances are fishy enough without his children knowing about it seconds after it happened, you could seriously damage the Order’s –” At that precise instant the twins started arguing with him at the top of their lungs. I started in surprise and took a step back, though I don’t see why I didn’t see it coming. It was Fred and George, after all. “We don’t care about the dumb Order!” shouted Fred. “It’s our dad dying we’re talking about!” roared George. “Your father knew what he was getting into, and he won’t thank you for messing things up for the Order!” said Sirius angrily in his turn. “This is how it is – this is why you’re not in the Order – you don’t understand – there are things worth dying for!” “Easy for you to say, stuck here!” bellowed Fred. “I don’t see you risking your neck!” I knew immediately that Fred had gone too far. Sirius’s face drained of color, and I thought for a moment that he would actually hit my brother, but he didn’t. He took a deep breath, and when he spoke again it was in a surprisingly calm voice, though I could tell it was forced. “I know it’s hard, but we’ve all got to act as though we don’t know anything yet. We’ve got to stay put, at least until we hear from your mother, all right?” The twins still looked mutinous, but I didn’t care at this point. Sirius wouldn’t help us, and how were we going to get to St. Mungo’s without him? I took a couple of steps to the nearest chair and sank into it. My legs collapsed under me, as if they had been about to give out the whole time and had just waited to make sure I didn’t need them any more. The others all sat too, and Sirius summoned butterbeer for us from the kitchen. After that was a long period of waiting. None of us really spoke. Now and then someone would make a feeble attempt at conversation, but it always died after a few words. I kept my eyes on Harry, who wouldn’t meet anyone’s gaze and still wore a faintly guilty expression on his face. I frowned and was tempted to ask him about it, but decided to wait until he was alone, since he obviously didn’t want to say anything with everyone around. As I watched, he took another drink from his bottle, and some of it spilled out of the corner of his mouth. He licked his lips and wiped the rest off with the back of his hand. The next bit shows how hung up on him I still am. That little gesture shouldn’t have meant anything, but for some reason my rebellious mind fixated on it and decided it was going to imagine what it would be like if he’d licked his lips like that and then kissed me. I closed my eyes and took a sip of my own drink, tasting the butterbeer, knowing that was what his lips and tongue tasted like, and imagined it was his mouth pressing against mine instead of the hard glass of the butterbeer bottle. Just goes to show that I couldn’t get him out of my thoughts, even when other things should have been occupying them. Harry put down his bottle, rather hard, I thought, and some of the drink sloshed out onto the table, startling me out of my guilty little daydream. He seemed to be awfully prone to spilling things tonight. I pretended not to notice and tried to get the image of him kissing me out of my head. A second later a burst of fire appeared in midair and illuminated the whole room. Nearly everyone yelled or jumped in shock, including myself, as a scroll of parchment fell onto the table. It was accompanied by a single golden feather, much like the one that had appeared in Dumbledore’s office. “Fawkes!” cried Sirius, snatching up the parchment. “That’s not Dumbledore’s writing – it must be a message from your mother – here –” He shoved the letter into George’s hand, who ripped it open and read aloud, “Dad is still alive. I am setting out for St. Mungo’s now. Stay where you are. I will send news as soon as I can. Mum.” My insides suddenly turned to stone, and I sank back into my chair as horrible thoughts started running through my head. George echoed them a moment later. “Still alive…” he said slowly as he looked around the table. “But that makes it sound…” Ron and Harry just stared at him as Fred pulled the parchment away from him and read it for himself, as if there were some hidden message in it, some code that George didn’t catch. We sat silently around the kitchen table for the rest of the night. It felt like we were holding some kind of vigil, like maybe if we stayed awake, we could help Dad stay alive. Sometime during the night Sirius suggested we all go to bed, but we all just looked at him, before going back to sipping our butterbeers and watching the candle melt in the center of the table. Every time it flickered, my heart leapt into my throat, as if the candle were Dad’s life. It suddenly became very important that the candle stay lit, that it not go out, though, of course, that was absurd. In the early hours of the morning, Fred fell into a light doze, his head sagging sideways onto his shoulder. My brothers all possessed the envious ability to sleep anywhere and in any position. I, however, did not have that talent, and instead curled up in my chair in an attempt to get comfortable. It failed miserably. Besides, why should I be comfortable while my father might be dying? Then, at ten past five in the morning, the kitchen door swung open and Mum entered the kitchen. I looked up at her as Fred, Ron, and Harry half-rose from their chairs to greet her. She looked awfully pale, but gave a wan smile when she saw us. “He’s going to be all right,” she said in a thin, tired voice. “He’s sleeping. We can all go and see him later. Bill’s sitting with him now, he’s going to take the morning off work.” My legs suddenly wanted to work again, and I jumped out of my chair and ran over to Mum. I threw my arms around her and hugged her tightly. George did the same, and managed to envelop both of us in his enthusiasm. I peeked through a gap in George’s arms and saw that Fred had fallen back in his chair, his hands over his face. Ron gave a shaky laugh, and Sirius called loudly, joyfully, “Breakfast!” The next couple of hours were a jumble of activity, with Sirius and Harry trying to fix breakfast for all of us. We ate it, though the eggs were a bit runny and the bacon tasted like cardboard. After breakfast I tried to find Harry, but he’d disappeared, and Mum cornered me and bullied me into bed. I fell asleep after that, and slept the whole morning. When I woke up I felt light, and boisterously happy. I couldn’t remember why at first. As I tried to reconstruct the night, my stomach dropped sickeningly when I remembered Dad had been attacked, but then it swooped joyously back up again when I remembered Mum coming in that morning and telling us he’d recover. I grinned and hurried to pull on my Muggle sweatshirt and jeans for the trip into London to St. Mungo’s. The rest of the morning passed in a blur, and before I knew it, we’d made it past the receptionist at St. Mungo’s and followed Mum up to the ward where Dad was. Mad-Eye and Tonks, who’d come with us, waited outside when we went in to see Dad. Harry seemed to want to wait outside too; Mum had to practically drag him through the door. He’d been acting awfully strange… It was almost as if he thought Dad’s injury was his fault. Although, knowing Harry, that probably was what he was thinking. He seemed to have this notion that if he couldn’t save someone, it was his fault they got hurt or killed. I kind of understood, but at the same time I thought it was foolish of him to blame himself for something he couldn’t have prevented. I made a mental note to tell him so the next time I caught him on his own. I looked away from Harry and saw Dad, propped up on pillows and smiling happily. His excitement at having visitors was infectious, and my relief at seeing him alive and relatively well plastered a huge grin on my face as I walked over to his bed. “Hello!” he called, throwing the copy of The Prophet he held aside. “Bill just left, Molly, had to get back to work, but he says he’ll drop in on you later…” “How are you, Arthur?” asked Mum, bending down to kiss his cheek and looking anxiously into his face. “You’re still looking a bit peaky…” Mum would say you were looking peaky even if you were in the best of health. I grinned as Dad held out his good arm to hug me and everyone started asking him questions about what happened. Fred and George would keep trying to find out about what he’d been guarding, and Mum was just as determined that they wouldn’t succeed. The back and forth between them went on the entire time we were there, until Mum finally shooed us out so that she and the other adults could talk about Order business. I trudged out with the others. Fred and George, especially, weren’t happy we were being excluded, but, as usual, they had a solution. “Fine,” Fred said coolly after they shut the door in our faces. “Be like that. Don’t tell us anything.” “Looking for these?” asked George, holding out what looked like a tangle of flesh-colored string. “You read my mind,” said Fred, grinning. “Let’s see if St. Mungo’s puts Imperturbable Charms on its ward doors, shall we?” They gave each of us a string, but, like he’d been doing since last night, Harry hung back and practically had to be forced to take an Extendable Ear by my brothers. “Go on, Harry, take it! You saved Dad’s life, if anyone’s got the right to eavesdrop on him it’s you…” I didn’t catch which of my brothers had been the one to say it, but it seemed to cheer Harry up. He even smiled for the first time that morning as he took the end of the string and stuck it in his ear. “Okay, go!” Fred whispered. The Extendable Ears slipped under the door, and we crowded closer to hear. I couldn’t hear anything for a few seconds, but then I heard Tonks’s unmistakable voice whispering as though she was standing next to me. “…they searched the whole area but they couldn’t find the snake anywhere, it just seems to have vanished after it attacked you, Arthur. …But You-Know-Who can’t have expected a snake to get in, can he?” “I reckon he sent it as a lookout,” growled Moody, “’cause he’s not had any luck so far, has he? No, I reckon he’s trying to get a clearer picture of what he’s facing, and if Arthur hadn’t been there the beast would’ve had much more time to look around. So Potter says he saw it all happen?” “Yes,” said Mum. She sounded rather uneasy. Maybe she suspected something we didn’t? Something worse than what had actually happened? I moved closer to the door, closer to Harry, incidentally, in the vain hopes of hearing better as she continued. “You know, Dumbledore seems almost to have been waiting for Harry to see something like this…” “Yeah, well,” said Moody, “there’s something funny about the Potter kid, we all know that.” I frowned. He made it sound like Harry was some kind of freak! If he hadn’t seen what had happened, Dad would’ve died! And here Mad-Eye was making it sound as if Harry had done something wrong. I glanced over at Harry. He seemed to be thinking along the same lines, if the expression on his face was anything to go by. “Dumbledore seemed worried about Harry when I spoke to him this morning,” whispered Mum. “’Course he’s worried,” growled Moody. “The boy’s seeing things from inside You-Know-Who’s snake… Obviously, Potter doesn’t realize what that means, but if You-Know-Who’s possessing him –” My eyes widened and my heart started hammering. Possessing him…those words, the thought of Tom possessing someone else, anyone, not just Harry, made me shudder. I knew what a horror that was. I looked over at Harry as he jerked the Extendable Ear out of his own. He backed away from the door and stared at the rest of us, his breathing harsh and fast, his face flushed. I stared back at him, wide-eyed. I was afraid, for a moment, and also, strangely hopeful. If it was true, if Tom was possessing him…I would have someone who had experienced the same thing I had in my first year. I would have an ally, and a shared experience with Harry that might make us closer. And maybe… I shook my head. I didn’t want to wish that on Harry! But at least I could help him get through it, if it was happening to him. I frowned, thinking of his behavior over the past few weeks. I couldn’t remember him disappearing for long stretches of time, or claiming not to remember doing something. We were all quiet on the journey back from St. Mungo’s. I was, unfortunately, reliving what had happened to me down in the Chamber of Secrets. I hadn’t looked at those dark memories in a long while, but I wanted to be able to describe what it felt like to be possessed when Harry asked me, as I was sure he would. I kept glancing over at him. I was worried about him; he looked awful, almost as bad as he had last night in Dumbledore’s office. Mum even noticed it when we were on the Muggle underground. “Are you all right, Harry, dear?” she asked him on the train in a whisper. She had to lean across me to do it, which was acutely uncomfortable, as the train had just swung around a curve and Mum’s ample body squished me against the wall. “Mum!” I wheezed, and she leaned back. “You don’t look very well,” she continued. “Are you feeling sick?” I tried to catch my breath as I looked at Harry, who shook his head violently and stared vacantly out the window. He didn’t fool anyone. Mum kept asking him if he was all right the whole trip back. Honestly, her worrying would make a perfectly healthy person start to feel ill. She tried one more time when we reached Grimmauld Place. “Harry, dear, are you sure you’re all right?” she asked, the worry more pronounced in her voice. “You look ever so pale… Are you sure you slept this morning? You go upstairs to bed right now, and you can have a couple of hours’ sleep before dinner, all right?” He nodded and I frowned. Mum had just given him the perfect excuse to avoid the rest of us and not talk about what we’d just heard. He needed to; bottling something like that inside never comes to any good. Hell, repressing any strong emotion never comes to any good! Especially something like guilt or despair. I know from experience. I opened my mouth to tell him that, but he darted through the front door and upstairs before I could get anything out. I crossed my arms and glowered at his retreating back, then sighed and started making my way upstairs to my own room. I’d get him to talk about it at some point, though hopefully it’d be sooner rather than later. I paused as I passed his door. I could hear him moving in there; it sounded as if he were pacing. I snorted softly. So much for him sleeping, then. Sounded more like he was worrying to me. I slowly reached for his door handle, but hesitated right before my fingers touched it. Should I go ahead and try to talk to him? With the state he was in, he’d probably chuck me out the room before I got a chance to open my mouth. Maybe it was better to let him mull things over. Who knew, he might even come to his senses and start thinking rationally, though knowing Harry, that wouldn’t happen. He’d probably try something he thought was noble, like running away to keep himself away from us. Actually… I frowned and pressed my ear to his door. It sounded like…he was packing! At least, he was moving around an awful lot for someone who’d just been pacing a moment ago, and it sounded like he was throwing things. “Running away, are we?” I jumped back from the door, startled to hear that lazy voice. How on earth had someone managed to get into Harry’s room? I pulled out my wand and was about to barge through the door when I heard Harry’s answer. “Not running away, no,” he said shortly, and I stopped, frowning. He wouldn’t be talking like that to someone he didn’t know. If someone had broken into his room, he’d have yelled, at the very least. “I thought,” drawled the other voice, “that to belong to Gryffindor House you were supposed to be brave? It looks to me as though you would have been better off in my own house. We Slytherins are brave, yes, but not stupid. For instance, given the choice, we will always choose to save our own necks.” I scowled even as I tried to place that voice. It sounded vaguely familiar…in fact, I’d heard it recently…maybe at St. Mungo’s? I was trying so hard to remember that voice that I managed to block out the rest of the conversation, and started when the doorknob rattled and started to turn. I backed up hurriedly and dashed to my own room, though I left the door ajar to hear where Harry went. But his door never opened. The rest of the evening I spent fretting about Harry. He didn’t come down to dinner, and though Ron said he was asleep when he went in their room, I didn’t believe him. I tried to stay near Harry’s room the next morning in case he left it, but Mum kept finding things for me to do, so it was a bit difficult. Luckily, Hermione showed up that night around six, waking Mrs. Black’s portrait in the process. I hurried over to her to tell her what had happened, but Ron beat me there and was already filling her in. “–And I think he’s afraid we’re scared of him or something, Hermione, he won’t talk to me!” “And he keeps hiding upstairs and won’t look at any of us,” I interjected as Ron stooped and slung Hermione’s bag over his shoulder before leading her to my room. He dropped it as soon as we got there, and she hugged his shoulders absently. “Thanks, Ron,” she said, and he flushed slightly as she continued. “Why don’t we go in your room to talk with Harry? Your mum told me she was going to bring up some sandwiches.” Ron and I nodded as we followed her down the hall to the room he and Harry shared. Mum had indeed brought up a sandwich tray, and lit a fire in the grate too. I sat on Ron’s bed, but he didn’t move. He was staring at Hermione, or rather, her hair. “You’ve got snow in your hair, Hermione,” he said as he started trying to brush some of it off. “Looks like terrible dandruff.” “Thanks, Ron,” she said, smiling wryly, “You really know how to compliment a girl.” He flushed again as he joined me on the bed. I smiled to myself before returning to the issue at hand. “So, what d’you suggest we do?” I asked Hermione, who shrugged. “I’ll go get Harry and then we can all talk to him,” she said matter-of-factly. Ron frowned. “Hermione, he hasn’t listened to any of us. What makes you think he’ll listen to you?” She rolled her eyes and walked out of the room without replying. “Girls!” Ron huffed after she left. “Think they can do what nobody else can!” I followed Hermione’s example and rolled my eyes, but didn’t reply as I heard footsteps approaching the door. It sounded like two pairs… A second later Hermione pushed open the door, followed by Harry, who seemed surprised to see me and Ron there. “I came on the Knight Bus,” Hermione was saying airily as she pulled off her jacket, apparently continuing a conversation she’d already started with Harry. “Dumbledore told me what had happened first thing this morning, but I had to wait for term to end officially before setting off. Umbridge is already livid that you lot disappeared right under her nose, even though Dumbledore told her Mr. Weasley was in St. Mungo’s, and he’d given you all permission to visit. So…” She sat down next to me, and all three of us looked up at Harry. “How’re you feeling?” Hermione asked him gently. “Fine,” he replied stiffly. “Oh, don’t lie, Harry,” she snapped at him, and he blinked in surprise. “Ron and Ginny say you’ve been hiding from everyone since you got back from St. Mungo’s.” He scowled and glared at us. “They do, do they?” he snarled. Ron looked at his feet, but I kept looking at him unabashedly. “Well, you have!” I said. “And you won’t look at any of us!” “It’s you lot who won’t look at me!” he said angrily, and I frowned, starting to feel cross myself. “Maybe you’re taking it in turns to look and keep missing each other,” Hermione broke in, her mouth twitching. “Very funny,” Harry retorted, turning towards the door. “Oh, stop feeling all misunderstood,” Hermione said sharply, and I felt my own mouth twitch. “Look, the others have told me what you overheard last night on the Extendable Ears –” “Yeah?” he growled back, stuffing his hands in his pockets and staring out the window. “All been talking about me, have you? Well, I’m getting used to it…” “We wanted to talk to you, Harry,” I said, getting frustrated with him. Honestly, he could be so thick sometimes. “But as you’ve been hiding ever since we got back –” “I didn’t want anyone to talk to me,” he countered his voice rising, and I’d had it. “Well, that was a bit stupid of you,” I snapped, “seeing as you don’t know anyone but me who’s been possessed by You-Know-Who, and I can tell you how it feels.” He stilled as my words hit him, and silence fell on the room. I glared at his back, then found myself staring into his eyes as he wheeled around to face me. “I forgot,” he said. “Lucky you,” I said coolly. He forgot! I’d only been possessed by the wizard who’d been trying to kill him for the past fifteen years and set a basilisk on the school! “I’m sorry,” he said, and his eyes told me he meant it as he went on. “So…so do you think I’m being possessed, then?” “Well, can you remember everything you’ve been doing?” I asked. “Are there big blank periods where you don’t know what you’ve been up to?” He frowned and looked at the floor, apparently trying to remember, but then shook his head. “No.” “Then You-Know-Who hasn’t ever possessed you,” I said simply. “When he did it to me, I couldn’t remember what I’d been doing for hours at a time. I’d find myself somewhere and not know how I got there.” He looked at me, hope dawning in his face, though his eyes still looked worried. “That dream I had about your dad and the snake, though –” “Harry, you’ve had those dreams before,” Hermoine broke in. “You had flashes of what Voldemort was up to last year.” He shook his head stubbornly. “This was different. I was inside that snake. It was like I was the snake…What if Voldemort somehow transported me to London –?” I stopped myself from rolling my eyes as Hermione interrupted him again, this time sounding thoroughly exasperated. “One day you’ll read Hogwarts, A History, and perhaps that will remind you that you can’t Apparate or Disapparate inside Hogwarts. Even Voldemort couldn’t just make you fly out of your dormitory, Harry.” At that point my dear brother decided to contribute to the conversation. “You didn’t leave your bed, mate,” Ron said. “I saw you thrashing around in your sleep about a minute before we could wake you up…” Harry started pacing up and down, apparently trying to work everything out. He reached out absently and stuffed one of the sandwiches into his mouth as I watched him, still a little worried. He was acting like he believed us, like he wanted it to be true, but I still wasn’t sure…but then his face lit up, and I grinned. We’d finally chased the darkness away from him, at least for a time. Maybe we’d manage to have a happy Christmas after all. And maybe I could convince Sirius to hang some mistletoe… |
| Reviews 3 |
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