Thanks to Moshpit, Jonathan Avery, and Regdc for their extensive help with this chapter.
WARNING: The rating of this story has been changed to R, and a violence warning has been added. This chapter is the reason.
|
Meaning of One, Part One: Stone and Fire | ||||||
|
Category: Alternate Universe Characters:Albus Dumbledore, Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Minerva McGonagall, Ron Weasley Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, General, Humor Warnings: Violence Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 1026 Summary: If two people are deliberately created to be together, how will the challenges in a world of magic and Dark Lords be dealt with? What would it mean for two people to truly become one? A re-imagination of first year. Hitcount: Story Total: 548267; Chapter Total: 29113 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: |
Previous Next |
|
||||
|
For the remainder of September and the whole of October, Harry and Ginny’s life at Hogwarts settled into a tentative routine. They went to class, did homework, and practiced Quidditch. When they had free time, they played games or talked with their small group of friends. Ron and Hermione were invaluable in keeping their secret. Ron coughed whenever Ginny made too much noise, and once he distracted Dean Thomas when the other boy asked why Harry kept his curtains closed so much. Ron was still not entirely comfortable with their sharing a bed, but he protected their secret faithfully. Hermione reminded them of things they would never have noticed on their own. At meals, she nudged Ginny’s foot when she saw them eating too similarly, and she covered for them when they became lost in conversation with each other and failed to notice someone else trying to get their attention. She carefully read all of their essays and helped her friends make them sound distinctive, but she refused to change the information itself. In the girls’ dorm, she kept Lavender and Parvati from bothering Ginny by simply telling them that their youngest roommate was shy around the older girls. The two girls had both received the training bras they had written to their mothers to request, and they were very proud to wear them. Their condescending smiles when they saw Ginny only confirmed that they believed she was intimidated by their maturity. Ginny did not care for that characterization, but she agreed with Hermione that it was the simplest and most effective solution. As much help as Ron and Hermione were to Harry and Ginny, they were still quite cool towards each other. Hermione told Ginny that she would tolerate Ron when the four students were together, but she seldom addressed him directly. Occasionally, when the red-haired boy said something that irritated Hermione, she would simply leave for a while and return when the topic of conversation had shifted or Ron had gone elsewhere. When Ron was not around, she relaxed and talked freely with Ginny and Harry. Ron seemed oblivious to the reason for Hermione’s behavior, but he often commented to Harry that Hermione was even more boring than Percy. “Besides,” he said during one of their chess games, “she never talks about anything but schoolwork. She’s completely mental. Every time I mention Quidditch she ups and leaves.” Harry remained silent. Ginny had several ideas about how to respond to her brother, but none of them contained things Harry was willing to say aloud. Neville hovered around the quartet at meals and after classes. Although he did not talk much, he listened with an eager expression, and he laughed or frowned or nodded whenever the conversation called for such things. Occasionally, Ginny would deliberately ask him something about Herbology, and Neville would spend a while blissfully discussing his favorite subject. Ginny and Harry were not particularly interested in what he had to say when he started detailed discussions of various flora, but she insisted that Neville should feel like their friend, which he was, instead of a tolerated observer. Harry and Ginny saw very little of the twins. At Quidditch practice, they were friendly to Harry and teased Ginny about watching the team and waiting for her turn to fly. Aside from that, they could normally be found huddled in a corner with Angelina, Alicia, and Lee Jordan. Ginny’s experience led her to notice that these whispered sessions were often followed by mysterious events at the school, such as the disappearance of all the quills in Snape’s office or the third-floor paintings’ inclination to sing bawdy songs at all hours of the day and night. Percy avoided them except for his nightly checks to ensure that they went to bed ‘at a proper hour and with proper decorum.’ After a week or so, Harry and Ginny had stopped posing themselves for her brother, but by that time he seemed to have adjusted enough to the situation that he did not comment on Ginny’s position curled up against Harry’s side. Bun-bun proved useful in an unexpected way — Ginny was certain that her brother was reassured by the sight of her sleeping with a pink bunny in her arms. After their flying lesson, Ginny wrote to her mother to tell her about the Remembrall, the race, and Harry’s joining the Quidditch team. Mrs. Weasley had responded promptly, taking advantage of the opportunity to warn her daughter over and over again about proper behavior. To help her mother see that they were not doing anything wrong, Ginny wrote regularly about their lives at Hogwarts. She described their classes and professors, and she told her mother about some of the odd experiences they shared. Molly seemed to accept hearing about odd flavor combinations at meals or the confusion of reading the same material at different speeds, but Harry and Ginny were careful never to mention anything that might lead to questions about showering or sleeping. Nevertheless, Mrs. Weasley’s replies always contained thinly veiled warnings and advice about ‘proper decorum.’ Ginny also wrote about her brothers and what they seemed to be doing. Molly was openly grateful for that information. Of all her brothers, Percy was the only one who wrote to her mum from school, and his letters were apparently filled with detailed accounts of his prefect duties, interspersed with question-by-question analyses of his test scores. To offset this, Ginny wrote that Percy was spending a lot of time with a pretty Ravenclaw prefect, that the twins seemed to be getting fewer detentions than Ginny had heard about from the previous year, and that Ron was doing well enough in classes and spending lots of time reading Quidditch magazines. She knew that these were the sorts of things her mother wanted to hear about. When she found an excuse, Ginny shared simple stories from Harry’s childhood. She avoided the worst of the Dursleys’ behaviour, but she tried to let her mother know how little affection Harry had been shown. Many of her stories ended up revolving around Dudley’s decadent lifestyle, and Ginny hoped that the unspoken comparison to Harry’s upbringing was clear. Ginny always signed her letters “Love from Ginny and Harry,” but Mrs. Weasley persisted in addressing her responses to Ginny only. As time went on, however, Mrs. Weasley would occasionally ask a question about Harry, even if it was just whether or not he was eating well at Hogwarts. Ginny thought that was a good sign, but Harry was not as sure. He understood that Mrs. Weasley would have a hard time accepting him with open arms considering everything going on, but he had also seen Ginny’s fond memories of her mother. They both knew that their recent experiences with the woman did not match those memories at all. Ginny knew that her mother was trying to avoid dealing with her relationship to Harry, and Harry was irritated that Mrs. Weasley was needlessly distressing Ginny with her deliberate avoidance. Harry could also feel Ginny’s sadness that her beloved mother refused to become his mother, too. With each letter Ginny received, they became more dismayed and more resigned to Mrs. Weasley’s rejection. It’s okay, Ginny, he told her. I can’t really miss it if I’ve never had it, can I? Twice, Ginny and Harry received letters from Mr. Weasley, and Ginny treasured them. Her father wrote to both of them, and he never shied away from addressing questions to Harry. In fact, he seemed to delight in asking Harry about Muggle life even though Ginny knew the answers to his questions. Unlike his wife, Mr. Weasley never said anything about their behaviour or warned them about getting caught. He simply told stories from his busy work life and asked an endless stream of questions. Once, in a postscript, he did say that Mrs. Weasley seemed pleased that Harry and Ginny got to fly regularly, as it reminded her of her own days as a Chaser for the Gryffindor team. Harry was grateful to Ginny’s father for his outward acceptance of the situation. They were sure that Mr. Weasley did not like the things that were happening, but he treated Ginny and Harry normally anyway. Harry felt Ginny’s adoration for her father, and he knew the man had earned her affections, but he was starting to believe that he could like and respect Mr. Weasley for his own reasons. Harry’s appointment to the Gryffindor team only increased the amount of attention he got in the halls. Before that, whispers and pointed fingers had followed both Harry and Ginny as they moved around the school, but the unwanted attention had faded somewhat as the events of the Sorting Feast became old news. Now, however, the rumours and whispers were back in full force. Harry was inclined to be frustrated by the attention, but Ginny shrugged it off and helped Harry to accept it, even though they were both sure that they would never like it. She usually managed to keep Harry from dwelling on the attention, and if she was unable to, then their classes often did. As October progressed, the material became more difficult, but at the same time much more interesting. On October thirty-first, during their last class of the day, Professor Flitwick began teaching his first year classes the levitation charm. He divided the students into pairs. Ginny’s new wand worked much better than her old one, but she still borrowed Harry’s wand for new or difficult spells. Knowing this, the jovial professor always assigned them to work as a pair. Today, their partnership had the unfortunate side effect of leaving Hermione and Ron to learn the Wingardium Leviosa spell together. Harry and Ginny made some progress on the levitation charm, but they were distracted by their friends working nearby. Hermione repeated “win-GAR-di-um lev-i-O-sa” every minute or two in an effort to teach Ron the spell. He tried repeatedly, but his feather never moved at all. Finally, in frustration, Hermione levitated the feather herself. It bounced lightly over their heads, following the point of her wand. “Well done, Miss Granger, well done!” Flitwick applauded. “Five points to Gryffindor.” As the students filed out of the Charms classroom, Ron caught up with Harry and Ginny. “Had to show off, didn’t she? Had to make sure everyone knows how bloody smart she is, the swot. Why do you put up with her, anyway? Does she help you that much with your homework?” Ginny’s temper flared. She turned towards Ron to tell him off, but she was interrupted when Hermione herself pushed past Harry and Ron and hurried down the corridor. Harry saw tears already forming in Hermione’s eyes as she fled. Ginny settled for glaring at her brother before she set off down the hall after her roommate. By the time she reached the corner, though, Hermione was nowhere in sight. Enraged, the tiny redhead stormed back up the corridor. “You insensitive prat!” she yelled at Ron. “She wasn’t showing off, she was doing the spell we’d been assigned! Harry and I like her because she’s nice. She doesn’t go around saying stupid things that make other people think she’s a complete git!” Ron opened his mouth to say something, but Ginny raised her right hand above her own eye level to point her finger at his face. “You think she’s boring because she never talks about anything but homework. Do you realize that she actually knows a lot about Quidditch? You wouldn’t because she doesn’t talk about it around you. She knows that you would look at her like she has no business knowing about your precious sport.” “Don’t you get it, Ron? She doesn’t talk to you or around you because you’ve never treated her like anything more than a walking textbook. Most of the school treats her that way, and she doesn’t want to put up with it from you too. So, good show, Ron. You’ve proven what a prat you really are.” Ginny turned away from her brother as he tried to protest. “Hey, I’m not . . .” She spun back towards him. “Oh yes you are!” She shoved him roughly with her palm. To everyone’s surprise, Ron stumbled backwards several steps and sprawled onto his back. He stared wide-eyed at her from the floor. He, Ginny, and Harry were the only ones who knew that her hand had never actually touched him. When everyone started whispering, Harry and Ginny realized that the air had warmed around them. Harry was irritated, but he had not achieved the towering rage that Ginny had. Ginny, we have to get out of here, Harry pressed. He knew that her anger would soon make him angry, too, and their combined temper would be up for hours if they did not calm down. Fine! Anything to get away from my idiotic brother. Let’s go for a fly, he suggested. I’ll meet you on the pitch with the broom, okay? Ginny nodded and stormed down the hall towards the staircase. Ron picked himself up and looked up at Harry, bewildered. “You pissed Ginny off, Ron. That’s almost as stupid as what you said about Hermione,” he said. Leaving Ron and the other students behind, he ran up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower and retrieved his Nimbus Two Thousand. A few minutes later, he found Ginny on the Quidditch pitch and wordlessly handed her the broom. Ginny leaned back and shot straight up into the air, spiraling tightly as she climbed. High above the Quidditch Pitch, she leveled off and soared in a large, fast circle over the grounds. Harry felt his friend sigh as the sensations of flying flowed over them. Ron is stupid. Yes, Harry agreed. And he’s insensitive. Yes. He’s such a . . . he’s such a boy. Err, yes. I’m well aware that you’re a boy too, Harry, but you’re not like Ron! At least never when I’m around, and as I’m always around, there’s no problem. Thanks. He’s a complete and utter prat! Yes he is. Ginny paused in her litany, and her voice became softer. I could have hurt him. But you didn’t. He’s my brother, and I almost hurt him! You didn’t mean to, Gin, Harry assured her. I felt what you felt, and I know what you were thinking. You had no idea that you could hurt him. You were just angry with him. If he’d hit his head or broken his arm it wouldn’t matter what I meant to do. Harry felt as though he were answering Ginny in her own voice. What he was saying did not come naturally for him, but he knew it was what she needed to hear. He didn’t hit his head or break his arm, he reminded her. And you can’t change what happened. All you can do is try not to repeat it. How? How do I do that? She demanded. The same way we did today, he said confidently. I’ll keep an eye on you, and you’ll keep an eye on me. When one of us gets angry, we’ll come out here until we calm down. Ginny dived to the ground and landed gently in front of him. Setting the broom on the ground, she turned to face Harry and looked into his green eyes pleadingly. What if we both get mad at the same time? He grinned, sensing that her mood was shifting. Then we’ll ask Dumbledore to put the castle back together for us. The corners of her mouth rose slightly, and she stepped forward to embrace him. Thanks, Harry. I’m pretty sure that you did all the mental work. I don’t think so, but it doesn’t matter, she assured him. They spent the rest of the afternoon taking turns on the Nimbus and reveling in the sheer joy of flying. The first years had only had one flying lesson before the Thursday afternoon period became an optional flying practice time, so Charms was now their last class of the day on Thursdays. Half an hour before the Halloween feast, they went back to Gryffindor Tower. Harry went upstairs to put away his broom, and Ginny approached the sofa where Ron was sitting and gingerly perched on its arm. “Ron, are you okay?” she asked. Her brother’s casual answer was rather forced. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Lost my balance, that’s all.” “Alright,” she replied. They both knew he was lying, but they silently agreed to pretend. Harry joined them on the sofa and avoided looking at Ron. “It’s okay, Harry. He apologized,” Ginny assured him. “What? No he didn’t, he just . . .” he trailed off as she interrupted him. It was an apology, Harry. Trust me. “Okay, then. No worries, Ron,” Harry said. “It’s a bit scary when you do that. You know that, right?” his friend asked. Ginny’s memory flashed a scene into their consciousness, and Harry grinned. “Not as scary as that time Ginny got you to wear your mum’s makeup.” “Ginny! You promised you’d never tell anyone about that!” Ron protested. “She didn’t say a word, did she?” Harry retorted. “It’s unfair, you know,” the other boy pointed out. “Harry comes up with all this stuff about me, but I don’t know anything to use against him.” Ginny had been smiling at the banter between her brother and her best friend, but as she thought about Ron’s words her face fell into a sad frown, and she spoke quietly. “I’ve seen some of the things Harry did when he was little, Ron. When I find something that’s even a little bit funny, I’ll pass it on.” “Oh. Right,” Ron muttered. He glanced at the floor for a moment and toyed with a loose thread on his shirt. Then he looked up and smiled with false brightness. “About time for the feast, isn’t it?” “Yeah, let’s go,” Harry said before Ginny could chastise her brother. He did not want to discuss his childhood with Ron, even in general terms. Ginny, feeling his distress, allowed him to pull her up from the couch, and the three students left the Tower. Along the way, they passed Lavender and Parvati and overheard the blonde girl say that Hermione had locked herself in one of the lavatories and refused to come out. Ginny shot her brother an annoyed glance and sighed. “I’ll go and find her. Save us seats at the feast, okay?” Do you want me to come along? Harry asked her. They said she’s in a girls’ loo, Harry, Ginny smirked. You’re not supposed to go into those. Oh, right. I forgot. She set off down the corridor, and Ron and Harry entered the Great Hall and claimed enough space for the four of them to sit. Ginny reached the first floor lavatory and found it empty. She won’t be on the second floor - nobody ever goes to the girls’ room there. She ran the wrong way from the Charms classroom to go to the one on the third floor, so she must be in the dungeons. Just as the food appeared on the long house tables, Professor Quirrell burst into the great hall. He ran jerkily towards the high table and stopped almost exactly where the Sorting Hat had been two months earlier. “Troll!” he screamed. “Troll in the dungeons!” Then he fainted and fell to the floor. Pandemonium erupted in the crowded hall. Dumbledore quickly took charge of the situation and directed the prefects to lead the other students back to their common rooms. As he joined the line behind Percy, Harry realized that Ginny had not stopped walking towards the stairs to the dungeons. I have to tell Hermione, and then we’ll be there, she promised as she broke into a run. Well . . . he did not want her anywhere near a troll, but he knew that she would never abandon her friend, and he was sure that he would have gone after Hermione if he were in Ginny’s shoes. Be careful, Ginny. The troll’s down there somewhere. He leaned over to Ron and whispered, “Ginny’s getting Hermione, and they’ll meet us back in the Tower.” Ron paled. He had clearly forgotten that the girls were not in the Great Hall. Ginny burst into the girls’ lavatory in the dungeon. Only one of the stalls was locked, and she heard sniffling coming from inside. “Hermione, come on!” she exclaimed. “There’s a troll loose in the dungeons, and we’ve got to get back to the tower.” “Do you seriously expect me to believe that?” Hermione asked. “Just leave me alone. That’s probably what you want to do anyway.” “Listen to me, Hermione!” Ginny commanded. “I don’t care whether you believe me or not, but it’s still true. You don’t have to talk to us or Ron ever again, but please come out of there and go back to the tower!” The stall door unlocked and slowly swung open to reveal Hermione’s tear-streaked face. “You really think there’s a troll in Hogwarts?” she asked skeptically. “Yes! Quirrell shouted it to the whole school just a minute ago,” Ginny assured her. Hermione relented, apparently assured that the troll was real because a professor had announced its presence. “Fine, but I’m not talking to your stupid brother any more.” “Yes, I know, he’s a complete and utter moron. I already told him that. Come on!” Ginny grabbed Hermione’s arm and tugged her towards the door. As the bushy-haired girl finally started moving, the door slammed open and was held against the wall by a very large club. A troll entered the lavatory head first, sniffing the air constantly with its bulbous nose. As it forced its body through the door and straightened, the two girls gasped. The troll was grayish-green and nearly twelve feet tall. Its torso was massively overdeveloped, and its arms reached to its knees. Deep-set yellow eyes focused on them, and it turned to face them, swinging its club in slow, menacing arcs. On the fourth floor, Harry grabbed Ron’s arm and pulled him out of the line of Gryffindors and into a nearby alcove. “The troll’s got Ginny and Hermione trapped in the girls’ lav in the dungeons. Come as fast as you can!” Without waiting for Ron to respond, Harry transported himself into the lavatory. Both girls backed up against the lavatory wall, as far from the troll as they could. Hermione screamed once and then flattened herself against the wall with wide, panicked eyes. As Harry arrived behind the troll, hoping to distract it, Ginny drew her wand and pointed it at the massive creature’s head. “Vespertilius mucilagus!” she shouted. A jet of yellow light shot from her wand and hit the troll, and large, grey bats fell out of its nose and began flapping around its head and attacking its face. Unfortunately, even the oversized bats were too small to do more than enrage the troll. Bellowing, it swung out blindly with its club and demolished several stalls as its other hand bashed two bats into the wall. The girls and Harry ducked and covered their heads with their arms to avoid the ragged sections of wood flying across the room. “Stay here! It can only go after one of us,” Ginny cried, darting down the corner of the wall furthest from Hermione. Spotting her motion, the troll focused on her and turned partially away from Hermione. “Run, Hermione!” she ordered, but Hermione only shook her head and tried to back further into the corner. On the other side of the lavatory, Harry struggled to think of something he could do. Apart from the hex that Ginny had already attempted, Harry did not know any spells to use against something that big, but he knew that he absolutely had to keep it from hurting Ginny. She was his first and best friend, and the only person he thought could ever really understand him. When the troll heard Ginny yell and turned towards her, Harry’s mind went blank, and he bellowed and charged at the troll’s back. Harry, no! A few steps away, he leapt impossibly high into the air and turned his shoulder towards the troll. The impact of his body between the monster’s shoulder blades caused it to stumble a half-step. Harry, however, fell heavily to the ground, hitting his head sharply on the floor. In the corner, Ginny winced and reached up to rub the side of her head, but Harry forced himself back to his feet in spite of his sudden disorientation. The troll turned to face him, peering down from nearly three times the boy’s height. It growled and raised its club. Harry tried to back away, but dizziness overcame him and he fell down again. “Leave him alone!” Ginny screamed. She darted out from her corner and wrapped her small body around the troll’s right leg. It did not seem to notice the extra weight and continued to focus on Harry, so she sank her teeth into the raised tendon at the back of its huge knee. Somehow, Ginny’s teeth had found a soft spot on the troll’s thick hide. It howled, forgetting Harry completely, and reached around its legs with its huge left hand to grasp the back of Ginny’s robes. She clung to its calf as hard as she could with her arms, legs, and teeth, but she was no match for its strength. It lifted her into the air in front of its face and examined her, as though attempting to determine what she was. Ginny, in a moment of desperation, shoved her wand forward and into one of the troll’s massive, dripping nostrils. Half the length of the short wand disappeared, and it was wrenched out of her hand as the troll twisted its head away from her. Roaring in pain, the troll dropped Ginny back into the corner in its haste to paw at its nose. Although Ginny managed to avoid hitting her head when she landed, she was battered by the impact, and pain screamed at her from almost every part of her body. Unable to separate his focus, Harry yelled in pain with her as she slid to the floor. Unable to quickly get away, she put her back to the corner and stared wide-eyed at the troll looming above her. For the moment, the troll was occupied by the wand in its nose. It batted at the slender rod, screaming in pain and annoyance every time it brushed the embedded stick with its hands. Flailing its arms in frustration, the troll stomped through the lavatory, shaking its head. Harry managed to get onto his hands and knees and scramble out of the troll’s way, but his own dizziness coupled with Ginny’s violent and painful movements kept him from standing. Ginny was trapped between two walls and the troll itself. Enraged, the troll spun around towards her, recognizing the cause of its pain. It took one long step towards her and swung its massive club sideways. “Ginny!” Harry shouted aloud and mentally. He pulled at her desperately with his mind, and just before the club hit her, she disappeared and fell to the floor behind Harry, several yards from the confused troll. She crawled to the far wall and turned back to find Harry still in the middle of the room, too disoriented to move. He had lost his glasses somewhere in the rubble, which did not help him at all. Harry refused to stop trying. He could not see clearly, but he felt a section of pipe under his left hand. He grabbed it and sat up to his knees to find himself looking at the back of the troll’s knee. Bracing himself as well as he could, he swung the pipe with all of his strength at the knee Ginny had bitten. The metal pipe bounced off of the huge joint, jarring Harry, but its impact drew the troll’s attention. The troll spun ponderously in place and looked for the new threat. Harry was close enough and short enough that it did not spot him immediately, and he took advantage of the opportunity to smash his pipe down on the foot he could make out on the floor in front of him. He thought he heard one of the gnarled toes break, but he was not sure. The troll howled again and reached down to wrench the pipe away from Harry, who had raised it over his head for another blow. The troll hurled the pipe across the room, and a mirror shattered as the metal tube ricocheted off the wall. Forgetting its club, the troll swung its fist down at Harry, who was looking around blearily for another weapon. Its first swipe barely missed Harry’s head. “Harry, move!” Come to me! Ginny ordered frantically. Don’t worry about what you see. Close your eyes and look through mine! He was glad to squeeze his eyes shut, and as soon as he did he could see himself from Ginny’s point of view as the troll’s fist approached his head again. She turned to look at the empty space next to her, and they willed him to be there. He collapsed onto his back next to her in a boneless, disoriented heap. Ginny ignored the pain and her body’s protests as she draped herself diagonally across his chest, her loose hair falling across his face and chest in a tangled shroud. She put one arm around his head protectively and pulled his wand out of his robe pocket with the other, though she had no idea what spell she could cast to help. Hermione took advantage of the troll’s distraction to finally try to get out of her corner, but her path was littered with debris from the damaged stalls. As she climbed over some of the twisted wood, one of the buried support poles snapped. Hermione screamed as the troll turned back towards her and lifted its club to crush her. Sprinting down the last set of steps, Ron rushed down the hallway to the dungeon lavatory, his lungs on fire and his legs burning from running. The door was jammed open and Ron skidded into the frame, his mind freezing as his sister screamed out Harry’s name. A loud snap and clatter of debris suddenly drew Ron’s attention to the other side of the lavatory. Hermione was crawling across the wreckage of a stall, her hair in disarray and her face streaked. When she screamed, Ron acted on instinct alone, whipping his wand out and casting the first spell that came into his head. “Wingardium Leviosa!” The club was pulled from the troll’s hand and hovered in midair. The troll stumbled, stopped, and looked up at the weapon hanging above its head with a confused expression. The opportunity was perfect for Ron. He flicked the tip of his wand sharply downwards, and the club followed its motion to impact heavily against the troll’s upturned forehead. The monster staggered and fell to its knees, still staring upwards. Ron raised his wand and swung it down again, hitting the top of the troll’s head. This time, the troll slowly toppled forward onto its face, but the red-haired boy did not relent. Over and over, he raised and lowered his wand, bashing the huge club into the troll’s head as it fell. When the creature lay still on the tile, he lifted his wand again. Ginny watched, shocked, as the troll fell under blows from its own club. When it stopped moving, Hermione scurried out from her corner and ran to Ron’s side. “Stop, Ron! It’s enough. The troll’s unconscious. It’s enough!” she implored him. Ron lifted his gaze from the felled troll to look at her. He was breathing raggedly through his nose, and the tendons in his neck stood out as he clenched his jaw. He blinked, and something returned to his eyes that had been missing. He looked down at his wand as if it were strange to him, then opened his white-knuckled fist and let the slender rod fall to the floor. The club dropped from mid-air to land heavily on the ground next to the troll. Hermione looked into Ron’s eyes and watched him realize what he had done as well as what he had been about to do. She put her hand on his forearm and said, “That was a good spell, Ron.” The red-haired boy nodded mutely, still staring at his wand on the floor. Hermione turned to Harry and Ginny with wide eyes, and Ginny saw that she was breathing in short gasps. “Are you two . . . alright?” she asked. “I’ll be okay, I think, but Harry’s having trouble seeing. Can you find his glasses?” she asked. Hermione nodded and stepped towards the middle of the room, but her foot caught on a bit of wood and she stumbled to her hands and knees. Looking shaken but determined, she crawled forward and found Harry’s glasses. One of the earpieces was twisted oddly, and one of the lenses was cracked. She pulled out her wand and muttered “Reparo,” returning them to their original condition. Hermione tucked Harry’s glasses safely into her pocket and approached the troll slowly. When it did not move, she reached down and yanked Ginny’s wand out of its nose. It still did not stir, so she wiped the wand off on the troll’s ragged tunic. Then she crawled back across the room to Harry and Ginny and returned his glasses and her wand. Ginny pocketed both of their wands and pushed Harry’s glasses gently onto his face. He opened his eyes cautiously, but his vision swam in front of him, so he closed them again. He wrapped his arms around Ginny’s back and clung to her as tightly as he could without hurting her. As the adrenaline faded from their systems, the pain and horror of the last few minutes rushed in on them, and they realized how close they had come to losing half or all of themselves. Neither of them was willing to let go any time soon. Ginny cried quietly as she shifted to wrap her arms tightly around Harry’s neck. As Hermione stood up and looked at her three friends in concern, Professor McGonagall swept into the destroyed lavatory with Professor Snape and Professor Quirrell close behind her. “What on earth is going on here? Mr. Potter, are you alright?” she demanded. Snape bent to inspect the troll, and Quirrell backed slowly towards the door with wide eyes. Ginny ignored her pain as much as she could and focused on Harry’s body for a moment. “He hit his head, Professor, but I think he’s just dizzy and bruised,” she said carefully, not wanting the other professors to find her assessment odd. “What did you think you were doing?” McGonagall fumed. “You could all have been killed! Why aren’t you in your dormitory?” Ginny began to reply, but Hermione was faster. “They came after me, Professor,” she stated. “I read all about trolls, and I thought I knew a spell to put them to sleep. Ginny tried to stop me, but the troll trapped us in here and my spell didn’t work. Harry and Ron heard me screaming, and they came to help. Harry and Ginny . . .” she trailed off and glanced at her friends in a sort of awe, “. . . well, they fought it for a minute until Ron knocked it out with its own club. If they had not arrived right when they did, it probably would have killed both Ginny and me.” Ron looked confused, but Ginny nodded solemnly at McGonagall. Come on, Ron, don’t say anything. She’s trying to help us. For a moment, Ginny wished that Ron could hear her as easily as Harry did. “A spell to put a troll to sleep? That hardly seems likely,” Snape drawled. “Perhaps it would be best to inspect Miss Granger’s wand, and those of the others, to determine what happened here.” “These are my students, Severus,” McGonagall snapped, “and I will investigate their actions in due time and as I see fit.” “Your actions today were very irresponsible,” she continued more calmly, addressing the four students. “Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for your foolishness. If you are unharmed, you may return to your dormitory.” Hermione nodded. She bent and picked up Ron’s wand from the ground at his feet and put it in his hand. “You dropped this, Ron,” she said softly, and then she left the room. She glanced worriedly at Ginny as she passed. “Mr. Weasley, Miss Weasley, are either of you hurt?” McGonagall asked. They shook their heads, but Harry spoke up wearily. “Ginny got thrown around as much as I did.” “I see,” the stern professor replied. “Mr. Weasley, please help me escort your friends to the hospital wing. Mr. Potter, can you walk?” “I think so,” he replied. Ron shook himself out of his slight stupor and helped Harry and Ginny get up from the floor. He reached out to put an arm around each of their shoulders, but Ginny ducked out from under his hand and moved to Harry’s other side. She lifted his right arm and draped it across her own shoulders, leaving Ron to support Harry’s left side. With great care, the three students walked out of the lavatory and towards the stairs. Professor McGonagall followed them, watching the two smaller students closely for signs of injury. As the procession reached the staircase to the first floor, Professor Dumbledore approached them from the other direction. McGonagall spoke before the Headmaster could question them. “Professors Snape and Quirrell are in the lavatory behind us with the troll. They can answer your questions. When you have finished, I hope you will join us in the Hospital Wing.” Recognizing his colleague’s priorities, Dumbledore nodded and walked towards the lavatory. Harry clung to Ron to stay upright, and the taller boy supported him without complaining. Ginny helped Harry to keep his balance, but mostly she made sure that she was touching him and tried to minimize her own pain as they walked. They had not released each other since fighting the troll. Their Head of House spoke quietly as she followed them. “Five points each to Gryffindor for your decisive actions, gentlemen. Five points to you, Miss Weasley, for attempting to curb Miss Granger’s enthusiasm. We will all accept that version of events.” *** Albus Dumbledore stepped into the lavatory and found it demolished. The troll lay face down in the middle of the room surrounded by large and small bits of wood and porcelain from the shattered fixtures. A small pool of red was spreading slowly from its head. The pipes in the room were coated in condensation that dripped steadily to the floor, and the room itself was noticeably warmer than the hallway. The mirrors that had previously lined one wall were all destroyed. “What happened here, Severus?” he asked the Potions Master. Grudgingly, Snape relayed the story told by the four Gryffindors. The state of the room around them told both men that they did not have all of the details. “The troll?” Dumbledore asked simply. “Dead, Headmaster,” Snape replied gravely. “Its skull is broken in several places.” Dumbledore sighed heavily and looked much older than he usually did. “If anyone asks, it was unconscious. We made arrangements to have it transported to Lichtenstein. Do you understand?” Snape and Quirrell nodded as Dumbledore studied the corpse for a few minutes, noting its position and injuries. Then he waved his wand, and the troll’s body vanished. With another sigh, Dumbledore turned and left the room to see to his students. *** Harry and Ginny staggered into the Hospital Wing with Ron supporting as much of Harry’s weight as he could. He led them directly to the nearest bed and let them collapse onto it as McGonagall followed them into the ward. They lay on their sides, facing each other, with their eyes closed and their hands clasped between them. McGonagall quietly, but firmly, sent Ron back to Gryffindor Tower after cautioning him not to talk about the evening’s events. Madam Pomfrey walked briskly out of her office and saw the two smaller children, battered and filthy, lying on one of her pristine beds. “Good heavens! What’s happened?” Without waiting for an answer, she crossed to the bed and began to lift Ginny off of it and onto the next bed. Ginny struggled weakly and moaned in pain as the matron rolled her onto her back. Harry’s vision still swam and his body felt unwilling to cooperate, but he knew that someone was trying to move Ginny and hurting her in the process. “No!” he protested, clinging to her hand. When he spoke, Madam Pomfrey was shoved away from the bed by an unseen force. She staggered and kept herself from falling, but she eyed the children warily. “Madam Pomfrey,” McGonagall interjected quickly, “please allow these two children to remain on one bed for the moment. I will explain later, but first they must be tended to. I believe Mr. Potter said he was dizzy.” “I can’t tend to them very well if I can’t examine them,” Pomfrey objected. McGonagall’s expression softened slightly. “I must insist that you do your best without separating them. Please, Poppy.” At the other woman’s nod, the professor addressed Harry and Ginny. “Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley. Please allow Madam Pomfrey to examine you both. She will not attempt to separate you.” After the matron released her, Ginny rolled back onto her side, facing Harry. When Pomfrey cautiously returned, Ginny reached out and gently pushed Harry onto his back without releasing his hand. “He’s got lots of bruises, and he hit his head. He’s having trouble seeing,” she told the mediwitch through the hair that had fallen across her face. “Thank you, child. Be quiet, now, so I can help him,” Pomfrey instructed, looking at her oddly. She ran her wand over Harry’s body from his toes to his forehead. “Lots of bruises, indeed. Did you run afoul of a seventh year, Mr. Potter?” “It was a troll,” Ginny answered for him. Pomfrey glanced up at McGonagall, who nodded silently. The nurse shook her head and returned her attention to Harry. She flicked her wand over his legs, arms, and torso, and Ginny and Harry could feel the pain from his bruises recede. Then, with her wand pointing directly down at him, Madam Pomfrey outlined his body. As she did, tiny bits of wood and glass separated from his clothes and skin and hovered at the tip of her wand. When she completed her circuit around him, she moved her wand over a waste bin and allowed the fragments to fall. Finally, she tapped each of his limbs with the tip of her wand. “You have a slight concussion, Mr. Potter, which is why you’re having difficulty with your vision. I’ll give you a potion to fix that in no time at all,” she promised. “Help Ginny first. The troll dumped her into a wall,” Harry urged. “Into a wall? Then she’s very lucky, indeed. That sort of thing might well have killed her.” Pomfrey rolled Ginny gently onto her back again, causing her hair to fall away. “What in the world is all over your mouth, Miss Weasley?” she asked, nonplussed. Ginny finally realized what she had done and what tasted so horrible. She tumbled off the side of the bed and staggered to a basin mounted on the wall nearby. Clutching its edge with both hands, she wretched violently. Harry felt what was happening, and he dragged himself off the bed as she bent over the basin. He had almost reached her when he felt the first spasm wrack her body, and his own muscles clenched in sympathetic response. He recovered as she coughed, and he stumbled over to stand behind her. He gathered her long hair in his left hand and held it behind her collar while he put his right arm carefully around her waist to keep her from falling over. She vomited several more times and sobbed into the sink. At last, Harry turned his unfocused gaze towards Pomfrey. “She needs water,” he announced hoarsely, unconsciously compensating for the rawness of Ginny’s throat. The matron picked up an unused potion goblet from a nearby shelf and rounded the bed. She filled it with water from the sink and put it in Ginny’s hands. Seeing her tremble, the older woman helped her lift the cup to her lips and drink from it. Rather than swallowing, the girl swished the liquid in her mouth and the spat it out into the sink. Over and over she rinsed out her mouth, until the cup was empty. Pomfrey refilled it, and this time Ginny drank deeply. When she finished the water, Ginny scrubbed her face roughly with a wet towel. When she felt cleaner, Harry closed his eyes and focused on her undamaged vision as he helped her back to the bed. She lay down gratefully, and he dropped onto the bed next to her. Madam Pomfrey followed them and pointed her wand at Ginny’s open mouth. “Dentiscourgis,” she muttered. “Thank you,” Ginny whispered. “Do not attempt that charm yourself, Miss Weasley,” the matron warned. She treated Ginny as she had Harry, running her wand across the length of Ginny’s body. “Heavens, child, I should have tended to you first,” she whispered sadly. Madam Pomfrey healed the various bruises, scrapes, and cuts on Ginny’s body, but the process took much longer than it had for Harry. Harry and Ginny sighed together as her pain finally faded, leaving only the lingering ache of abused muscles. The matron went into her office and returned with a small vial of a purple potion. “Drink this, Mr. Potter.” Harry did as he was told, and his head cleared almost instantly. “Is your vision back to normal, Mr. Potter?” Pomfrey asked. “Yes, thank you,” he replied gratefully. “Very well.” The matron turned to McGonagall. “They need showers and a good night’s sleep. Given those, they will be as good as new in the morning. Now what exactly is going on here?” “A perfectly reasonable question, Poppy,” Dumbledore said from the doorway. “Miss Weasley, Mr. Potter. Would you like us to answer it?” he asked. I think we should, Harry, Ginny said. She’ll have a hard time helping us if she doesn’t know, and we’re going to need her sooner or later. Harry was still uncertain about the matron, due mostly to her attempt to separate the two of them, but he realized that she would not have done that if she had known about them ahead of time. Seeing their hesitation, Dumbledore added, “I trust Madam Pomfrey completely.” Ginny turned to her Head of House. “Do you, Professor McGonagall?” The stern professor had helped them so much already, and Ginny was coming to value the professor’s opinion. McGonagall looked straight into her eyes and said, “Yes, I do.” Ginny smiled and said, “Okay, Headmaster. Madam Pomfrey should know.” “Thank you, Miss Weasley. Poppy, will you please allow Minerva to accompany you to your office and explain the situation to you?” he asked. The matron nodded, and the two women went into the office and closed the door. Dumbledore sat in a chair near the bed Harry and Ginny shared. “What you did this evening was very brave,” he said. Then he looked directly into Harry’s eyes. “I must caution you, however, to be more careful with your own lives. You are both very important to those who care about you and strive to keep you safe.” “Hermione needed us,” Harry insisted. “We couldn’t let her get hurt.” The Headmaster sighed slightly. “I would expect nothing less of either of you. Or both of you, as the case may be.” “Professor McGonagall has already seen to the disposition of house points, has she not?” he asked. When they nodded, he smiled. “Excellent. Aside from that, I award ten points to Miss Weasley for a most ingenious method of attacking a fully grown mountain troll.” Ginny blushed and reached up to wipe her mouth. All traces of the troll’s blood and flesh were gone, but she imagined that she could still feel it on her lips. “I leave it to you to inform others of this event,” Dumbledore continued. “I trust that you will practice discretion, as you have done thus far with other matters.” Does he think we’re going to brag about it? Harry wondered. I’d rather try to forget about it, she said. You were great, Ginny. Crazy, but great. You probably saved my life. You saved mine once or twice, too. Let’s hope we don’t have to keep count, okay? Okay, he agreed. The two relaxed on the soft bed for several minutes, quietly holding hands as Dumbledore kept his twinkling gaze on them. Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey emerged from the matron’s office. The matron walked directly to Harry and Ginny’s bed. “Sit up, please. Side by side, facing me. Be still,” she ordered tersely. Pomfrey ran her wand up and down Ginny’s body more slowly than she had before. She then repeated the process with Harry. Apparently satisfied, she turned to Harry. “Mr. Potter, where is Miss Weasley experiencing pain or discomfort?” “Err . . . all of her muscles are sore, but her neck and jaw are the worst,” he answered. “Her left shoulder aches, her scalp itches, and she still thinks she needs to wash her mouth out.” “And Mr. Potter?” the matron asked Ginny. “He’s sore, too, but it’s mostly up and down his right side. He has a headache, and his left palm stings a bit.” Madam Pomfrey picked up Harry’s hand and examined his palm closely. Then she sniffed and tapped her wand gently on his skin. The slight pain faded as she healed a tiny cut. “Your soreness will fade with rest,” she told them. “Normally, I would keep both of you here overnight, but I understand that that would be problematic. Please go to sleep as soon as possible. If you do not rest properly, you will be stiff for several days.” The aging witch looked back and forth between them and then sighed. “I expect I’ll be seeing quite a lot of the both of you over the next several years.” Harry and Ginny heard a discreet noise, and the entire group turned to find Hermione and Ron standing in the doorway. Hermione looked nervous and determined, while Ron seemed worried. “Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley. Did I not tell you to return to your dormitories?” McGonagall demanded. “Yes, Professor, and we did,” Hermione answered timidly. “But we wanted to find out if Harry and Ginny are going to be alright.” “I believe we can forgive them this time, Minerva,” Dumbledore commented. “Come in, both of you. Mr. Potter and Miss Weasley are fine.” Ron stepped in front of his sister. “Alright, Ginny?” he asked. She smiled and nodded, and he reached out to hug her gently. He released her and looked over at Harry. “You okay, Harry?” “I’m okay, Ron.” Hermione took Ron’s place and hugged both Harry and Ginny with surprising strength. Her eyes were suspiciously moist. She’s almost as bad as your mum, Harry said. Please, Harry, whatever you do, don’t ever say that to either one of them, Ginny implored him. “If you would be so kind, please escort Mr. Potter and Miss Weasley back to Gryffindor Tower,” the Headmaster instructed Ron and Hermione. “They can eat there with the rest of the students, but ensure that they are able to go to bed as soon as reasonably possible. Mr. Weasley, I hope that you will watch to make sure that they are not disturbed by your roommates.” Ron nodded, but Hermione glanced apprehensively at Madam Pomfrey. “Poppy has been informed of the situation, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore assured her. Relieved, Hermione nodded. “What do we tell the others?” she asked. Ginny considered for a moment. “I needed to go to the loo, and Harry walked along with me. We thought we saw the troll, so we tried to get away. It took us all this time to get back to the common room from where we finally ended up.” Hermione gaped at her friend, and Dumbledore chuckled. “A masterfully crafted statement, Miss Weasley. That will do.” “It won’t work if you two look like that,” Hermione observed. She pulled out her wand and cast scourgify on their clothes. They did not look quite normal, but they were clean enough to pass a casual inspection. Ginny pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail and held it there with an elastic from her pocket. “Off you go, then,” Dumbledore said. On the way back to the common room, Hermione pulled them all into an empty classroom. “Are you two really alright?” she asked. “We’re okay, honest,” Ginny replied. “Just tired and sore. How about you?” “I’m . . . okay, I suppose. All I did was cower in the corner,” she admitted bitterly. “You covered for us when it mattered,” Ginny argued. She glanced at her brother and said, “None of us were in any condition to talk to the professors when they came in. I don’t want to think about what would have happened if you hadn’t given McGonagall a story she could believe.” “Still, I should have done something,” Hermione insisted. “The levitation charm was perfect.” Ginny turned to Ron. “What about you, Ron? You alright?” “Yeah, I reckon,” he answered, not meeting her eyes. “You saved us, Ron. Don’t feel bad about what you did,” she advised. “Well, it was going to hurt all of you, so I had to do something, didn’t I? I did what you and Harry did, really. I just . . . got a bit . . . carried away.” He finally lifted his gaze and grinned slightly at his sister. “Least I didn’t bite the bloody thing.” “Language, please, Ron,” Hermione chided, but then she smiled. “It wasn’t bloody until after she got her teeth into it.” Harry joined the new game happily. “Howled like a kicked puppy, didn’t it?” “I don’t blame it,” Ron said sagely. “She bit me once, and it hurt like hell. I almost feel bad for the poor thing.” “It worked, didn’t it?” Ginny demanded, feigning irritation. “Yeah, Gin,” her brother nodded. “You were brilliant.” Hermione’s face became serious as she met Ron’s gaze. “Thank you again, Ron.” The red-haired boy shuffled his feet awkwardly. “No problem. And . . . you know, thanks. For, err, giving my wand back.” The bushy-haired girl nodded. “You’re welcome, Ron.” Ginny was sure that Ron knew he owed Hermione for a lot more than picking up his wand, but her brother would never admit it. Hermione seemed to understand what he was unable to say, and that was good enough. An hour later, Ginny and Harry settled into his bed. They had showered and eaten a little, but neither had much of an appetite. Ron was sitting quietly on his own bed, pretending to read but really making sure that they were not disturbed. After a minute of silence, Ginny verbalized what had been running through their heads ever since they left the lavatory. We could have died, Harry. Either of us. Both of us. I know. I was terrified. I only wanted to keep you from getting hurt, Ginny said, but you felt everything that happened to me, didn’t you? Yes, and I know it hurt you when I hit my head on the floor. We have to be more careful. If we’d thought about it, maybe we’d have done what Ron did, but we were just too . . . Too worried about each other, he finished for her. Yeah, she agreed. She knew there was something else they should realize about the situation, but she was too tired and too overwhelmed by events to track down the elusive thought. After a moment, Harry said, Ron was great, wasn’t he? I hope he’s okay. He was still a little quiet in the common room. I think he’ll be alright. He just surprised himself. If Hermione hadn’t been there, though . . . she shuddered slightly. Yeah. I don’t think he’ll be calling her any names for a while. I wouldn’t bet on that, but if he does, I’ll hex him until he can’t find his feet, Ginny promised. Try to sleep, Gin. He paused, searching for words. Be careful, okay? If you’d been hurt or . . . I know, Harry. You, too. I don’t know what would happen if one of us died, and I don’t ever want to find out. They slowly drifted off to a fitful sleep, finally putting a long and stressful day behind them. |
| Reviews 1026 |
Previous Next
|
