|
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: 548246; Chapter Total: 28799 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: Thanks, as always, to moshpit, Jonathan Avery, and regdc. Thanks also to Chreechree, who helped me with a final review of this chapter. |
Previous Next |
|
||||
|
On Christmas morning, Harry and Ginny woke up to the sound of Ron barreling down the stairs and yelling, “Get up, presents!” at each door as he passed. Because Ron’s room was on the top floor of the Burrow and Ginny’s room was missing its door, Harry and Ginny heard Ron’s message at full volume each time he shouted. Every year, he does the same thing, Ginny grumbled. Every year, I wonder if I’ll hex him. Ginny hated waking up early, but she was always excited about Christmas. Harry’s eagerness for his first Christmas matched her enthusiasm, and they sat up together and looked to the foot of the bed, where their stockings were hanging. Ginny’s green stocking and Harry’s plain red stocking were both bulging with modest items. Ginny crawled to the foot of the bed and returned with both stockings. Harry accepted his eagerly, already pleased by the shiny red apple filling the top of the stocking and the bright red quill sticking out of it at a jaunty angle. Ginny had the same sort of apple and a matching green quill. They’re Winesap apples. Mum buys them from a cider orchard each year, and we eat them all through the holidays. They dived into their stockings in unison. Pulling out the quills and apples, they discovered packs of exploding snap cards, biscuits wrapped in brown paper, small bags of nuts, and a selection of sweets. At the bottom of each stocking was a small wooden figurine. Ginny’s was a hippogriff, and Harry had a rather good likeness of a sphinx. By unspoken consent, they traded figurines and set them on the small tables on either side of Ginny’s bed. The stockings are Dad’s gift, really. Mum makes the biscuits, but Dad picks out the rest and puts it all together for us. I’ve always loved my stocking. They opened one of the packets of biscuits and ate one apiece as they climbed out of bed. I’ll go upstairs to change and meet you back here, Harry said. Oh, don’t bother, Harry, Ginny said, dragging him by the hand toward the stairs. We do Christmas in our pajamas. Come on! She led the way out of the room and down the stairs. In the living room, they found Ron sitting on the floor just out of arm’s reach of the pile of presents under the Christmas tree. He was staring at the staircase with his hands in his lap and the index finger of his right hand extended. When Ginny and Harry entered the room, Ron ignored them except to extend two more fingers. Ginny sat next to her brother on the floor and pulled Harry down on her other side. We’re not allowed to touch the presents until everyone’s here and ready, Ginny explained. Mum usually makes us wait for her to make a pot of tea and serve scones before she’ll sit down and let us pass out the presents. Ron and I usually do that, and you can help. Harry was certainly eager to open his presents, but he was happy to simply look at all the brightly wrapped packages. There were dozens of them, all of different shapes and sizes, and they were wrapped in red, green, or gold paper. He had reviewed almost everything Ginny could remember about past Christmases at the Burrow, but he was still enthralled by the actual sight of so many presents. He knew that at least one of them was for him because he and Ginny had brought it with them, and he thought he saw his name on another package whose gift tag was showing. Ginny studied the presents also, but she had a specific mission. She scrutinized each present individually and tried to determine what might be inside. Harry knew from her memory that she did this every year, and he was more than happy to help. First, you look for books, she instructed unnecessarily. They have a pretty distinctive shape, and they’re not usually on top of other things because they’re heavy. Sometimes you can see the shape of the spine in the wrapping paper, because it’s rounded instead of square. Harry and Ginny had brought books with them for other people in her family, and based on those packages he could guess which of the others might also be books. Then you can try to spot the clothes, Ginny continued. Most of the clothes will be in flat boxes that look like the books, but they’re bigger. Some clothes are wrapped without a box, like our gift for Ron, and then the paper is usually wrinkled because the clothes bend. That leaves the things that are really interesting. Some of the rest, like Mum’s present, are shaped just like what’s inside, so you can guess about them. See the lumpy one there? Mum’s made a fruitcake for Dad. She does it every year. What’s in that basket? Harry asked, looking at a large wicker basket on one side of the tree. Ginny’s memory gave him the answer as she spoke. The jumpers. Mum brought the basket in from their room last night, just before she went to bed. The jumpers are all wrapped separately, but the paper is all the same, and they’re not marked. Mum loves handing them out one by one, and she’s the only one who can tell which one is which. We’ve never figured out how she does it. One year, Fred and George snuck downstairs early and rearranged them in the basket, but Mum passed them out properly anyway. I’m not sure she even noticed that they’d been moved around. While they examined the presents, the rest of the family trickled into the room. Bill came downstairs and went directly to the kitchen. A moment later, he emerged with a steaming mug of coffee and sat in the chair Harry and Ginny had shared the previous day. Charlie stumbled down the stairs, yawning and rubbing his eyes, and dropped heavily onto one end of the sofa. Right behind him was Percy, who looked pristine as usual and who sat at the other end of the sofa. Thunderous footfalls on the stairs announced the arrival of the twins, who leapt over the back of the sofa and landed neatly in the gap between their two older brothers. Ron now held up eight fingers. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were the last to arrive, several minutes later. They came in from the kitchen directly, and to Ginny and then Harry’s relief, Mrs. Weasley already had her cup of tea. They sat down in their chairs, opposite Bill, and Mr. Weasley stretched slowly and theatrically as Mrs. Weasley sipped her tea. “Well, then,” Mr. Weasley announced at last. “I suppose we can . . .” “Arthur, wait!” his wife interrupted. “We’ve forgotten the scones.” “Oh, dear,” he answered with wide eyes. “We must have the scones.” They do this every year about something, Ginny complained, though she enjoyed the tradition in some ways. The scones are on a tray in the kitchen, just waiting for Mum to walk in there as slowly as she can and bring them back in here. So go get them yourself, Harry suggested with a grin. Ginny’s face lit up, and she was gone. The rest of the Weasleys started or gasped when she disappeared, but before they could ask any questions, she reappeared in the middle of the floor carrying the tray of scones. She placed it gingerly on the table in front of the couch and sat back down next to Harry, grinning from ear to ear. The entire operation took less than ten seconds. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley looked surprised at the sudden reversal of their game. Ron looked at Ginny reverently, while Bill and Charlie chuckled behind their hands. Percy only sniffed. The twins were far less reserved. “Good show, Ginny!” they chorused, giving her four thumbs up. Mr. Weasley recovered and smiled ruefully. “Well, I suppose we really can get started, then.” Ron leapt from his seated position like a bullet. He grabbed the nearest present, turned it over to examine the tag, and then trotted a few steps to hand it to Bill. He crossed back to the tree and picked up another present to repeat the process, moving faster than Harry had ever seen him move before. We’re supposed to help, Ginny commented, but I’ve never managed to do it half as fast as Ron does. Ginny reached under the tree for a package and then delivered it to her mother. Hesitantly, Harry picked out their present for Ron and added it to the small pile Ron had already created for himself in the middle of the floor. Next, Harry delivered their gift to Fred and George, which they had combined in one package. By mutual consent, Ginny chose packages from other people, and Harry only moved those that he and Ginny had brought with them. As Harry delivered their gift to Mr. Weasley, he paused in front of the older man’s chair. “Thank you for the stockings, Mr. Weasley.” The other Weasleys hurriedly chorused their thanks, and Mr. Weasley smiled at Harry. “You’re welcome, Harry.” As he returned to the Christmas tree, Harry realized that Ron and Ginny had already handed out all the other presents. He looked down at the small pile Ginny and Ron had made for him. He had four presents, including the one he and Ginny had picked out. Look, Ginny! I got four! He looked more closely at the labels. One of them is for both of us, from the twins. Glancing over at Ginny’s five presents, he realized that she had deliberately put the twins’ present in his pile. It doesn’t matter which of us opens it, does it? I like to watch everyone else with their presents, so I take forever with mine anyway. Harry wondered if he should be embarrassed, but he decided that he was too excited to bother. Even three presents was more than he had ever received. Eagerly, he tore into his present from Ron, and Ginny followed his lead with her own present. Inside, Harry found a package of licorice wands, and Ginny had a similar bundle of sugar quills. They looked over at Ron, and Ginny said, “Thanks a lot, Ron.” “Knew that you liked Sugar Quills, and I figured everybody likes licorice wands,” Ron answered, never moving his gaze from the present he was unwrapping. “Yeah, they’re great,” Ginny said. “You should try them together sometime.” At this, Ron actually paused. He looked up at Ginny and cocked his head in thought. “You know, that’s not a bad idea,” he said. Then he turned back to his gift and appeared to forget Harry and Ginny. Harry reached for his present from Ginny, and she glanced around the room at the rest of her family, looking for anyone who might have opened the gifts Ginny and Harry had chosen so carefully. Charlie was just opening his present, and he looked up at Ginny and smiled when he saw the tag. He opened the small box and pulled out what appeared to be a large ring. Harry had found it in a broom catalogue. The ring was a compass that could be mounted on the handle of a broomstick. It had three hands of different colors, and each hand could be set to point at a different location of the user’s choosing. Charlie read the brief instructions included with the compass and then grinned. He pulled out his wand and tapped one side of the round dial, then tipped the compass towards Ginny. She could see that the green hand was spinning slowly, indicating that Charlie had set it to point to the Burrow. “Thanks, Ginny,” Charlie smiled. “Harry picked it out,” she replied. “Thanks to Harry too, then.” Harry looked up at Charlie and nodded, then returned his attention to the box in his lap. He knew what was inside, but he had taken great pleasure in carefully unwrapping it anyway. He lifted the lid to find his new pair of white trainers, and he ran a finger across the smooth, bright leather. “Shoes, Harry?” Mr. Weasley asked. “Who got you a pair of shoes?” “I did,” Ginny said. “Or, really, we did. He’s never had trainers that fit him before.” Mrs. Weasley looked up and frowned, and Mr. Weasley blinked before smiling gently. “Well, that’s a good choice then, Ginny.” Thanks, Gin. Don’t be silly, Harry. But you’re welcome anyway. The twins had discovered Harry and Ginny’s single gift to them, and they looked up at Ginny in confusion when they picked it up and realized it was a book. Ginny grinned mischievously in return, and Harry watched as they opened the rectangular package. They had been very pleased with what they finally found for the twins. One of the catalogues they had found was for a bookshop which carried Muggle books as curiosities. Mixed in among children’s books and Muggle fiction, they found a set of books covering Muggle secondary school subjects. For the twins, they’d picked out beginners’ guides to chemistry and physics. Knowing that the twins would prefer to keep the source of their knowledge secret and not wanting to reveal their role in any pranks at Hogwarts, Harry and Ginny also ordered a pair of large joke books from the same shop. When all four books had arrived at Hogwarts, they had carefully exchanged the covers. George held up one of the books so that Ginny could see the cover, which boldly declared the book to be 1001 Knock-knock Jokes. George seemed pleased, but also slightly confused. Ginny rolled her eyes at him, and mouthed, “Open it.” George turned the book back around and opened the cover, and Ginny watched as his eyes lit up. He flipped to a page early in the book at random, and then he looked up at Harry and Ginny and smiled broadly in gratitude. She nodded and then brought her finger to her lips. George leaned over to Fred and whispered in his ear, and Fred looked up and waggled his eyebrows at Harry. Harry grinned and then turned his attention back to his presents. Taking the twins’ reaction as a cue, he pulled their gift from his pile. It was small and rectangular, and it rattled suspiciously. Harry pulled off the paper and opened the box and found two large buttons. One was green and said ‘Hinny Weasley’ in bright red letters. The other was red and said ‘Garry Potter’ in green letters. As he held them in his hands and Ginny looked over to watch, they each blinked and changed to ‘Hinny Potter’ and ‘Garry Weasley’. I bag the green one, Ginny said, laughing brightly. She took the ‘Hinny’ button from Harry and pinned it carefully to her pajamas as Harry did the same with his ‘Garry’ button. They looked at each other, laughed, and glanced up to find the twins grinning at them. Their laughter attracted the attention of the rest of the family, who stared at the buttons in a mixture of amusement, exasperation, and what looked like concern. “Give it a tap, Gin,” Fred instructed. Ginny reached up and tapped her button, which still read ‘Hinny Potter’. She did not notice any change herself, but they both watched through Harry’s eyes as Ginny’s long red hair turned jet black. Ginny was concerned for a moment, but she tapped her button again, and her hair went back to its normal colour. Laughing, she let the button make her hair black again. Harry gleefully touched his own button and watched with Ginny as his hair became a bright Weasley red. Giggling, Ginny faced him and studied herself through his eyes. The deep black hair contrasted sharply with her fair skin, and her brown eyes appeared much darker than usual. You look like one of those teenagers I used to see at the park in Little Whinging, Harry commented. I don’t think I look that bad, she said. Who would want to wear black lipstick, anyway? “There we are!” Fred announced, grinning at Harry. “Now we’ve got ourselves a spare Weasley.” “Fred, those are terrible,” Mrs. Weasley objected. “Where did you get them?” “They’re not permanent, Mum,” George said. “They’re just a bit of a gag. We got someone at school to help us charm them.” I bet they didn’t need any help at all, Ginny guessed. You’re probably right about that. Almost simultaneously, their hair returned to its natural colors. “See? It doesn’t last long, and the charm is only good for so many taps.” As Fred spoke, George looked at Harry and surreptitiously pointed at the box the buttons had come from. Harry looked down and found a short note on a scrap of parchment at the bottom of the box. G&H,He looked up at George and nodded as Ginny watched her family. Mrs. Weasley tutted in disapproval, but Mr. Weasley was hiding a small smile. Bill scowled slightly, and Charlie was chuckling. The twins, of course, were very pleased with themselves, while Ron just rolled his eyes and turned back to his presents. Percy ignored the entire scene. Leaving the buttons on their pajamas, still randomly switching between ‘Potter’ and ‘Weasley’, Harry and Ginny returned to their other gifts. They opened their presents from Percy at the same time and discovered matching second and third year Herbology textbooks. That’s Percy for you, Ginny said. I guess that excuse backfired on us. I can’t imagine what we’ll do with these before next year. That’s easy, Harry. We’ll let Neville borrow them. He’ll be thrilled. “Thanks for the books, Percy,” Harry said. Percy said nothing, but he nodded slightly. Harry had finished opening his small pile of presents, and he was very pleased. He had been looking forward to having new trainers, and the twins’ gift more than made up for Percy’s. He and Ginny would certainly enjoy the sweets from Ron, too. Ginny left her last three presents unopened for the moment, and the two of them watched the rest of her family. Bill was wearing the silver ring they had found for him. Inscribed on the outer surface were ancient runes that translated to ‘long life’ and ‘prosperity’. Bill caught Ginny’s eye as he looked up and nodded his thanks. Ron’s cry of “Thanks, Ginny and Harry!” from Ginny’s side caught their attention, and they turned to find him examining their gift to him. It was a bright orange Chudley Cannons scarf. A set of goalposts was embroidered at either end of the material, and three Chasers in Cannons uniforms zoomed back and forth all along its length. When they got to an end, they tried to score against a Cannons Keeper, who managed to block about half of the shots. Ron draped the scarf across his lap and watched for a minute. He cheered when the Keeper blocked a particularly good throw from one of the Chasers. “You’re very welcome, Ron,” Ginny smiled. Harry noticed Mr. Weasley unwrapping their gift, and Ginny looked over to watch with him. When her father removed the wrapping paper, he found a brightly coloured Muggle box. On it were pictures of toy people riding in oddly-textured propeller planes. “What’s this, then, Ginny? Harry?” “They’re called Lego, Mr. Weasley,” Harry explained. “Inside the box are a bunch of tiny pieces, and if you put them together using the instructions, you can build that airplane you see on the outside. The propeller will really turn, too.” “How wonderful! I’ve always wondered how they stay up.” “Well, it doesn’t fly, Mr. Weasley. Sorry,” Harry said. Then he added, “But it’s just as much fun to figure out what else you can build with the same pieces. We used to play with those at school.” Ginny had known that her father would enjoy the Muggle toy, but she was amazed at his joyful expression. Mr. Weasley looked like he had been given the keys to Gringotts bank. He pried open the cardboard box and pulled out the bag of pieces inside. He started to pull it open but stopped as Harry concluded his recollection. “Lego really are loads of fun — until you step on them. They always seem to wind up on the floor, and the pieces are just tiny.” Mr. Weasley cupped the package in his hands as though to prevent the tiny pieces from falling out of the sealed bag. Then he put the entire bag back in the box and set it on the table next to his chair. “Well, we’ll just have to look at that later, then,” he said. “Maybe you can help me with them, Harry?” Harry nodded, glad that the gift was so well received. “Open yours, Mum,” Ginny suggested. “It’s the round one.” Mrs. Weasley picked up the cylinder from next to her feet and placed it in her lap. Pulling the paper off, she found a large kitchen canister. Harry and Ginny had bought a plain white canister from a catalogue and had it sent to Hogwarts. There, Ginny had persuaded Harry to paint a picture onto the canister using a sketch she had made as a guide. All the way around the canister was a rather crude drawing of Hogwarts castle, including the Quidditch pitch, the greenhouses, the lake, and the Forbidden Forest. Standing on the front steps of the castle were stick figures representing Percy, Fred, George, Ron, Harry, and Ginny. Harry was recognizable by his black hair and glasses, and Ginny’s long hair and short stature were equally clear. The rest of the boys were shown wearing Weasley jumpers to distinguish them, and all six children were smiling. “This . . . this is wonderful,” Mrs. Weasley said, running her fingertips lightly over the painted surface. “Look, Arthur, there’s the pitch, and the lake, and that willow tree they planted after we graduated. And look at all the children lined up like that. What nice artwork, Ginny.” “Harry did the painting,” Ginny pointed out. “I drew the design on parchment and he painted it onto the canister. It’s for flour. You can use it with all the baking you do.” “Well, you did a good job, both of you,” Molly replied. Harry smiled at the compliment, even though he knew his stick figures were not very good. Ginny watched her mother, and she thought that Mrs. Weasley looked pleased, but also slightly regretful. I guess she’d rather I hadn’t drawn myself on there, Harry said. I don’t know, maybe. She seems to like it, though, aside from whatever she’s worried about. Percy had picked up his gift from Harry and Ginny and unwrapped it meticulously. Inside, he found a copy of Minister Unto Thee: A Young Professional’s Guide to Interviewing with the Magical Government. Percy looked up at Ginny and nodded graciously. “Thank you, Ginevra. This will be quite useful, I am sure.” For Percy, that’s practically a banquet in your honour, Harry said. At least we were right about what he’d actually like. Open our present for you, Gin. I want to see how big it really is. Ginny picked up a tiny package they had received in the owl post the day before. Unwrapping it, she found a small box, only a few inches in each dimension, with a hinged lid and a miniscule latch. With the box in hand, she rose and crossed to the open space on the floor in front of Mr. Weasley. She placed the box in the middle of the empty area and took a step back. She pulled her wand out of her pocket and cast Finite Incantatem on the tiny rectangle, which expanded to full size. It grew into a wooden school trunk made from dark mahogany and decorated with carved scrollwork. Ginny unlatched the lid and opened it, revealing an interior lined with a soft, dark blue cloth. Without a word, Ginny stepped carefully into the trunk and sat down facing Harry. See? she said. I told you this one was big enough that I could fit inside it. That one you wanted to get me was just ridiculous. I just wanted to make sure you had room for everything. This is perfect, Harry, she assured him, and then she grinned. If it were any bigger, you’d have an awfully hard time carrying it for me. “Ginny, what on earth . . .” Mrs. Weasley began. Ginny stood up and stepped out of the trunk, and then closed and latched the lid. “Harry wanted to get me a trunk for Christmas, and this is the one we picked out. Isn’t it great?” Ginny asked. “It looks very nice, dear, but wasn’t it awfully expensive?” Mrs. Weasley asked sternly. “Harry wouldn’t let me pick out anything else, Mum,” Ginny explained. “The one he wanted to get me was much bigger.” “And what about these other things?” her mother wondered. “You didn’t spend too much, did you?” Ginny shook her head. “No, Mum, we didn’t. The first ring we found for Bill was platinum, and Harry wanted to get it, but I found a silver one instead. Everything else was pretty inexpensive, except for Harry’s trainers, and I wouldn’t let him get himself cheap shoes.” Molly nodded reluctantly, and Ginny returned to the last of her presents. From Charlie, she got a small glass figurine of a dragon. “It’s a bit more grown up than the last dragon I got you,” he said fondly. “Thanks, Charlie. It’s really pretty,” she replied. Next, Ginny opened a tiny box from Bill. Inside, she found an oddly shaped blue pendant on a thin silver chain. “It’s beautiful, Bill. Is it a rune?” she asked. “It’s an ankh, Gin,” Bill said. “There’s some debate about what it stood for in ancient Egypt, but it’s basically the symbol for ‘life.’ That one in particular is actually a Muggle reproduction of one I dug up from a tomb. The Egyptians made it with tiny carved bits of lapis lazuli fitted together with wire, but yours is a solid piece with the wires wrapped around it. I’m not sure how the Muggles did that, but it looks just like the one I found. I think the original is in a museum somewhere.” “Thanks, Bill. It’s even better because you found the original one,” she smiled. Ginny unclasped the chain and held her hair away from her neck with her right hand. She held one end of the chain in her left hand, and Harry took the other end in his right hand. They brought the ends together behind her neck and clasped the chain together easily. “Look, it almost matches my pajamas,” Ginny noticed happily. Bill smiled at Ginny’s obvious delight, but Charlie furrowed his brow as he glanced at Harry. Charlie got up and walked behind the sofa to stand behind Bill and whisper in his ear. Bill nodded slowly and stood, and the two oldest brothers started climbing the stairs. “We’ll be right back,” Bill said. “Don’t finish without us.” Ginny and Harry watched and listened as the rest of the Weasleys finished opening their gifts. Compliments, gratitude, and smiles were exchanged over and over in the crowded room. Ron had finished opening his presents and was now sitting with his Cannons scarf curved around him on the floor, watching the players on the scarf and eating the chocolate frogs Fred had given him. Several minutes later, Bill and Charlie came back down the stairs. They each carried a package wrapped crudely in gold paper. Bill’s package fit easily in the palm of his hand, but Charlie’s bundle was almost as big as Harry’s shoebox. The two brothers sat on the floor in front of the sofa and held their packages out to Harry. “Here you are, Harry,” Charlie said. “We didn’t know you were going to be here, or we’d have brought something for you with us. We had a box of our old things upstairs, and we dug through it a bit. These aren’t much, but hopefully they won’t be too awful for you.” Ginny beamed at her brothers, and Harry could feel how much she appreciated their gesture. He smiled in response to them and to Ginny’s feelings as he picked up the smaller package. Pulling the paper apart, he found a miniature dragon’s fang hanging from a thin leather strap. The leather of the necklace was worn smooth with age, but it was in good condition. “I wore that before I got my ear pierced,” Bill explained. “I figured that . . . well, you two might as well match, right?” “Thanks, Bill,” Harry said. He dropped the strap over his head and let it fall against his chest. He picked up the fang in his hand and studied it, rubbing the smooth surface with his thumb. Ginny grinned and crawled over to Bill. She leaned up and whispered in his ear, “It’s his favourite present.” Harry blushed, but he could not deny what she had said. To cover his embarrassment, he reached for Charlie’s gift. The gold paper fell off as he picked it up, and a pair of worn leather gloves was revealed. They looked like the gloves from his Quidditch uniform, but these gloves were missing the fingers. “Seeker’s gloves,” Charlie explained. “The standard gloves make it harder to catch the Snitch, but these protect your hand while letting you use your fingers freely. The professionals all use these instead of the standard gloves. I got a new pair when I outgrew those, but I figured you would probably be able to wear them.” Harry pulled the gloves on. They were quite large around his palm, but the straps on the wrists kept them in place, and he could tell that his fingers would be more mobile than he was used to. “Thanks, Charlie. I’ll definitely wear these instead of the regular ones,” he said. “You’re welcome, Harry,” the older Seeker replied. “Someone should get some use out of those things.” Harry pulled the gloves off and set them next to his trainers. Because of the delay while Bill and Charlie went upstairs, Harry was the last one to finish opening his presents. When he looked around the room, he found Mrs. Weasley opening the wicker basket next to the Christmas tree. “Time for the important things, then,” she announced. She lifted three identical packages from the basket and gave them to Fred, Percy, and Mr. Weasley. The next three went to Ron, Bill, and Charlie. She reached into the basket a third time and brought out three more jumpers. Nine, Harry! That’s nine jumpers! Ginny exulted. Of course it’s nine. There are nine of you, right? He immediately realised his mistake. Oh, she never makes one for herself, does she? One of them must be for you! In all of his time imagining his first ‘real’ Christmas, Harry had never dared to hope that he might get a Weasley jumper. He looked up at Mrs. Weasley with wide, wonder-filled eyes and a slowly growing smile as she held out the last two parcels to him and Ginny. He wondered if he had been too critical of the woman. She was clearly accepting him into her family in spite of the unusual circumstances. Harry accepted the package reverently, unable to take his eyes off of the festive red paper. Next to him, Ginny took her own package, but she was immediately curious about an oddity in her mother’s standard gift. Why is it so heavy? Harry did not answer. He just stared at the gift now resting in his lap. Mrs. Weasley had been difficult and less than accepting of him, and the current situation was far from perfect. Still, he was starting to think that she was trying to understand, and that was why Ginny would forgive her mum for anything in the end. Ginny opened her present and found, as expected, an emerald-green jumper with a golden ‘G’ on the front. Unfolding the jumper, she discovered a book tucked inside. Lifting it out, she felt her stomach drop. The book was A Young Witch's Guide to Decorum and Propriety in the New Century by Christina Pasteur. The date at the bottom of the cover was 1905. She looked over at Harry’s gift and then up at her mother. “You didn’t,” she whispered in horror. “Please, tell me you didn’t do this.” Ginny dropped the book and yanked Harry’s gift out of his lap. She tore it open, ignoring his mental cry of protest. Both of them barely noticed the green jumper marked with an ‘H’ as she flung it open to find the book inside - Presentation and Deportment of the Well Heeled Wizard, by Sir Thomas Vander. Harry saw the title and crumpled, physically and emotionally. Hurt and embarrassed, he hung his head and began toying with the hem of his pajama shirt, trying to block out the room around him. “You did,” Ginny said softly, outrage creeping onto her face. Harry had caught up with Ginny’s thoughts, and her pain and anger pulsed alongside his own misery as she raised her eyes to her mother. “It will never be enough, will it?” she asked. Her words were quiet, but they seemed to echo in the silent living room. “These pajamas are bad enough, and now this? Don’t you trust me at all? That’s what the pajamas are about, right? Keeping me from doing what you assume I want to do? I am not some sort of tart who has to be forced to behave with decorum and propriety. But you think I am.” Mrs. Weasley leaned back in her chair, her face draining of colour. Mr. Weasley had placed his hands over his face, shaking his head slightly from side to side. “I’m not stupid, Mother. I know what you’re so worried about, and so does Harry. But you know what? We’re not the slightest bit interested. Even if we were, did it ever occur to you that we might know what we should and should not do?” Ginny’s voice rose as her anger finally overcame her sorrow. “And Harry. Do you have any idea what you just did to him? You knew how he would feel about that jumper. You knew he’d want it, and then . . . then you put this with it.” She picked up Harry’s book. “Is that your price, Mother? If he follows your rules about presentation and deportment, will you allow him to feel like part of a family?” “Now, Ginny . . .” Mrs. Weasley began, sweat forming on her brow as she rose from her chair. Ginny leapt to her feet and looked up at her mother furiously. “No! You let him think that he would finally be welcome in this house! Then you put a new price on it. I wear these pretty blue shackles you sent me. Percy has to approve before we can go to sleep every night at school. Here, we sleep without a bloody door. And now these?” She picked up her own book and held both of them towards her mother. “Are you telling me you don’t want to receive any more gifts, young lady?” Molly demanded in a loud voice. “These are not gifts.” Ginny fired back. “Gifts are given out of love to make someone happy. To show that you care and think about what they like. We spent hours looking for the perfect thing for you, Mother. Harry would have spent every galleon he has if that would make you all happy. But this? This is you trying to force us, to shame us into doing what makes you happy.” Ginny’s increasing anger pulled Harry out of the stupor he had fallen into after seeing the book Mrs. Weasley had given him. He realised that his life would continue and that Ginny would still be part of it no matter what. He could feel Ginny’s certainty of that vital fact. It was enough for him, he decided, and his own temper began to build as he understood how thoroughly Ginny’s mother was hurting her. Harry raised his head to look around the room. Mr. Weasley sat in his chair, his hands clenching the arms, and Harry thought that the man looked almost ashamed. Fred, George, and Ron wore identical expressions of shock. Percy looked offended by something, while Bill and Charlie were frowning at their sister. None of the Weasley males would meet Harry’s eyes, though he was sure that at least the twins knew he was looking at them. Harry watched as Mrs. Weasley’s face faded from red to white. “Now see here, Ginevra Molly Weasley! You will listen to me!” “No more, Mother,” Ginny whispered icily, taking two slow, menacing steps toward Mrs. Weasley, whose complexion was already reddening again. “You will obviously never let us just exist. So no more.” She threw the two books into the fireplace, where they caught and blazed brightly. “We’re done. If you won’t let us be part of your family, we can bloody well be our own.” Ginny scooped up Harry’s trainers and shook them at her mother. “At least he received one sincere gift today!” Ginny glanced at her father and spoke more softly. “I’m sorry, Daddy.” With that, Ginny vanished and reappeared in Harry’s bed at Hogwarts. After casting one last smouldering look around the room, Harry followed her. Ginny promptly threw open the curtains and flung Harry’s trainers to the floor of the deserted dormitory as fat tears slowly rolled down her face. As soon as Harry arrived, he jumped off of the bed and pulled Ginny with him. They knew Mrs. Weasley would not tolerate Ginny’s sudden departure. We have to find someplace to hide, he urged her. At least until we can figure out where to go or what to do next. Harry held Ginny’s hand and started down the stairs to the common room. We’ll go to the kitchens. They have no idea that we know how to get in there. We don’t remember the room well enough to transport, though, so we’ll have to run. Hurry! They raced across the common room and yanked open the portrait. As they crossed the hall to the stairs, they heard the Fat Lady call after them. “Hey now! Where are you going? How did you get in there? Come back here!” Ignoring the irate portrait, they descended towards the kitchens as quickly as they could, but the distance was enough that they knew it would take precious minutes to make their getaway. As they descended the last staircase to the Entrance Hall, they spotted Mrs. Weasley. She was carrying one of the Weasley’s brooms in one hand, and her face was completely red as she approached the bottom of the stairs. “Ginevra Molly Weasley!” she bellowed. “You get down here this instant and come back home where you belong!” “I won’t go!” Ginny shouted. “You can’t make me!” “Yes, I can,” Molly threatened, starting up the stairs towards Harry and Ginny. “You have no right to ruin Christmas for your family, and you will apologize.” Ginny backed up to the previous landing, and Harry stayed with her. “You have no right to ruin life for Harry and me! You should apologize for that!” “You can’t speak to me like that, young lady!” “I can, and I will if I have to,” Ginny retorted. Mrs. Weasley leaned her broom against one wall of the stairwell and whipped out her wand. “Accio Ginny!” she shouted. Against her will, Ginny was pulled down the stairs towards her mother. Harry tried to catch her, but the unknown spell was faster than he was. Ginny thought she was falling, but the spell kept her feet off the ground as she sailed through the air. Molly caught her, wrapped one arm around her waist, and tucked Ginny beneath her arm to hold her still. Ginny struggled, but with no leverage, she was unable to break free of her mother’s grasp. With her free hand, Mrs. Weasley stowed her wand and reclaimed her broom. Keeping Ginny pinned against her side, Mrs. Weasley mounted her broom and flew back down the stairs to the Entrance Hall without even a glance back at Harry. Harry chased them down the stairs and emerged into the entrance hall in time to see Mrs. Weasley sail out of the main doors of the castle. He burst out onto the front steps, but Ginny and her mother were already well on their way to the castle’s gates. Harry could hear through Ginny’s ears that Mrs. Weasley was lecturing her daughter at high volume. “After we apparate back to the Burrow,” her mother threatened, “you’ll be cleaning until you’re 50 if you don’t learn proper decorum!” Harry was desperate to help Ginny escape, but he had no idea how to do that without taking the chance of hurting her. Harry! Ginny called frantically. Remember what Hermione said at the Quidditch game? If we move me to just above the ground, right when I first start to fall, I won’t get hurt! Get ready . . . focus on the ground next to you. Harry struggled to calm himself enough to focus on moving Ginny, and he could only hope that it would be enough. As Mrs. Weasley gained altitude to fly over the main gates, Ginny planted her hands against the larger woman’s ribcage and shoved herself away with all of her strength. Surprised, her mother lost her grip, and Ginny began to fall towards the ground below. Fear fueled Harry’s focus, and he and Ginny willed her to be next to him in front of the main doors. Only a second after she began to fall, Ginny appeared a foot above the flagstones next to him. He reached out to break her fall, and they both collapsed onto the stones together. Picking himself up, Harry looked towards the gates and saw Mrs. Weasley mounting her broom on the far side, snow falling from her clothing. Apparently, Ginny’s manoeuvre had startled her enough that she had fallen off of her broom, but the woman seemed undeterred as she sped back towards the castle. Come on! Harry cried. Heedless of his destination, he took Ginny’s hand and ran across the castle grounds, hoping to get away. There was a whoosh of air behind them, and Ginny looked back in time to see her mother slow slightly and then throw herself bodily off of her broom and towards the children. They were too surprised to react, and Mrs. Weasley tackled them both to the ground. Harry rapped his jaw sharply on the frozen ground as he fell, and the weight of the adult on his back forced the air out of his lungs. Gasping for breath, he rolled out from under Mrs. Weasley and reached for Ginny reflexively, seeking to both offer and obtain aid. Molly scrambled to her feet before he could grasp Ginny’s hand. The taller, stronger woman grabbed Harry under his arms and threw him away from Ginny. Harry landed badly, and he and Ginny both cried out as his ankle twisted beneath his uncontrolled weight. He rolled onto his back and levered himself onto his feet. As he put his weight on his ankle, it crumpled under him, and he collapsed with a cry of pain. With tears in his eyes, he turned toward Ginny. He had no idea what else to do. Ignoring Harry and even her daughter’s distress, Mrs. Weasley grasped Ginny’s shoulders painfully and prepared to pick her up off the ground again. Enraged, Ginny whipped out her wand and aimed it at her mother’s face from only a few inches away. She had been manhandled, screamed at, and attacked in the space of a few moments. Worse, Harry had been injured twice and discarded like an inconsequential insect. Pushed beyond reason, she fought back in the only way she could. “Vespertilius Mucilagus!” she shouted, channeling all of her pain and outrage into the only spell she really knew how to use in a fight. Yellow light leapt out of her wand and crossed the space between them in the blink of an eye. It struck Mrs. Weasley squarely in her face, and the woman’s eyes widened in the split second before the spell took effect. Molly Weasley’s nose ruptured and blood sprayed out from her face as enormous bats burst out of her nostrils. They flew around her head, diving and clawing at her face and shoulders, but she ignored them as she screamed, let go of Ginny, and raised her hands towards her face. The lower half of her nose was a bloody mass of tattered flesh, and the cartilage showed clearly among the ruins of her nostrils. Blood gushed between her fingers as she fell to her knees in the dirty slush of melted snow. She pulled her hands away from her nose and looked down at the blood spreading down towards her elbows, the red-black liquid dripping onto her robes and shoes. She gasped, her face pale, and toppled over sideways in a dead faint. Horrified, but undaunted in her fury, Ginny ran to Harry and fell to her knees next to him. He sat up with her help and, looking past her, saw the Headmaster and Mr. Weasley running through the snow towards them. Mr. Weasley veered off and headed for his wife, but Dumbledore rushed towards them with his wand drawn. Ginny spun in place and aimed her wand at the Headmaster. “You can’t have him! ” she screamed, mentally and vocally. She barely acknowledged the identity of the Headmaster and had no idea what he intended, but she did not care. No one, no one, was coming near Harry again today. Dumbledore slowed and reached towards her with his empty hand. “Give me your wand, Miss Weasley.” “No!” Ginny shouted, aiming her wand at the Headmaster. “You can’t have him!” She would protect Harry. Dumbledore sighed and raised his wand. “Expelliarmus.” Red light shot towards Ginny, but she dropped Harry and dove to her right. The spell sailed harmlessly through the spot she and Harry had occupied moments before. Without rising from the ground, she pointed her wand again and shouted, “Vespertilius Mucilagus! ” Before she had finished the incantation, Dumbledore’s wand snapped towards her. “StupefyProtego.” A bolt of red light shot out from his wand, followed almost instantly by a shimmering barrier that appeared in front of him, and Ginny’s spell was absorbed with no effects. Unprepared, Ginny was not fast enough to dodge the red spell, and it struck her squarely in the chest. Harry screamed in anguish as all of Ginny’s senses immediately stopped functioning. She was still there, sharing his senses with him, but the near-constant background input from her body was gone. He tried to determine whether or not she had ever heard of the spell Dumbledore had used, but he discovered that he had no idea. He could remember almost everything she had already shown him of her life and all of the things they had experienced together, but all the rest of her memories were gone. He felt more alone than he had for months, even though her voice was still with him. The feeling was far, far worse than spending a cold night alone in the cupboard under the stairs at Privet Drive. Harry vaguely heard the Headmaster say, “Oh, my dear child,” but he was far beyond caring. Ginny had been hurt, and he had not been able to protect her. Now, even her presence in his mind felt like a shadow of her usual bright personality, painfully reminding him of his sudden loss. He felt as though his constant companion had been reduced to a hollow shell of herself, and he mentally clung to what was left of her. Ginny! She did not answer as Dumbledore bent over her with his wand pointed at her chest, and Harry reacted without thought. From beside and slightly behind the Headmaster, he lifted his wand. “Vespertilius Mucilagus! ” he shouted at top of his lungs. The older wizard spun towards Harry, but it was too late. The yellow spell hit him in the shoulder, and as he completed his turn, the spell began its work. Harry was even more frightened and angry than Ginny had been mere moments before, and his spell was correspondingly more powerful. He watched as the Headmaster’s entire nose exploded from the pressure of the gigantic bats trying to escape his nostrils, and a cone of flesh and blood flew out from his face in a grisly arc. Dumbledore was knocked instantly unconscious, and the momentum of his turn carried him into the mud pit around Harry and Ginny, which was in turn surrounded by a field of pristine snow. Ginny! he shouted desperately. Where are you? Now, he was fully aware of what he was missing. He no longer felt her capacity to love and to view the world as a happy person, and he did not want to consider the possibility of losing those things permanently. Ginny made everything better in some indefinable way that he knew he would never be able to explain. I’m . . . I’m here, Harry. I feel . . . empty. Suddenly releasing the breath he had not realised he was holding, Harry scrambled to his knees and scanned for another target. His eyes and his wand locked on Mr. Weasley, who was standing next to his wife and looking at the tableau of Harry, Ginny, and Dumbledore with an expression of pure horror. “Don’t move!” Harry screamed. Keeping his wand trained on Arthur, Harry half-crawled and half-slid through the mud to Ginny. Sitting next to her, he lowered his eyes long enough to pull her head and shoulders gently into his lap, and then he focused entirely on Mr. Weasley. Slowly and deliberately, Arthur put his wand in his pocket. Then he raised his open hands into the air on either side of his shoulders. “Harry, please,” he began. “No!” Harry shouted. “Why can’t you just leave us alone? Why can’t you understand?” He sobbed once, but his wand never wavered. “What have you done to Ginny?” “I’m sorry, Harry,” Mr. Weasley said. “I am so terribly, terribly sorry. We all want to help you, but we have a very hard time understanding this for . . . for a lot of reasons. You and Ginny are so young, Harry, and you’ve been pushed into very mature situations. You’re handling it wonderfully, but we . . .” Arthur paused and looked down for a moment before returning his gaze to Harry. “We’ve been set in our ways for far too long, Harry. This is so new. We can’t even imagine what you and Ginny must experience and feel every day, and it scares us. It scares us, Harry, because we don’t understand it, and we know that we may never understand it. But we truly are trying to help.” Arthur closed his eyes and seemed to take several deep breaths. “Ginny is okay, Harry. She’s my daughter, and I love her desperately. If she was hurt, I would do just the same thing you’re doing, but she’s okay. The Headmaster used a spell that puts her to sleep, that’s all.” Tears flowed down Harry’s face. “She’s not asleep! I know how it feels when she’s asleep. But now . . . she’s not there. The spell hit her, and now she’s gone.” Mr. Weasley’s eyes widened as Harry gasped in terror, the boy’s wand shaking and emitting a few sparks. “Harry, please. What do you mean it's not like when she's asleep?" Harry struggled for words. “When she’s asleep, I still feel something from her. Almost like dreaming, but less. Just . . . something. And I can remember everything she remembers even if she’s asleep. But that’s not working now! I don’t remember anything!” “Is she still talking to you?” Mr. Weasley's voice was laced with concern. “Yes,” Harry whispered, his voice shaking with fear. “But she’s so far away.” Mr. Weasley paled. "I know the spell that should wake her up. Please, Harry. She’s my daughter. Please let me cast that spell." “Show me the spell,” Harry ordered. “I’d be glad to, but it’s not a spell you should try without practicing it first. It can be very dangerous if you don’t do it properly. You don’t want to take a chance of hurting Ginny, do you?” Harry shook his head and pulled Ginny’s torso closer to his chest. Arthur began walking towards Harry, one careful step at a time. “Let me cast the spell, Harry,” Arthur pleaded. “Ginny will wake up, and then I can take care of Molly and Albus. I promise you that I will not hurt you or Ginny, and I won’t let anyone else hurt you. I won’t let anyone take Ginny away from you, and I won’t let anyone take you from her. I promise you. Just let me wake her up.” Harry shook his head slowly as Arthur paused. His emotions flew across his face as his wand shook even harder. “Get their wands?” Harry clearly intended it as a demand, but it became more of a question as Mr. Weasley’s calm voice and obvious honesty soothed his temper. Arthur nodded. “Okay, Harry.” He walked rapidly but carefully to Mrs. Weasley and Dumbledore, collecting their wands but never pointing them near Harry or Ginny. “Is it alright if I keep these in my pocket, or would you rather hold them?” Harry refused to relinquish his hold on Ginny, and he would not lower his wand. “Err . . . you keep them.” Mr. Weasley pushed the two wands into another pocket of his coat, and slowly pulled his own wand back out. “Can I wake her up now, Harry? I’d really like to hear Ginny tell me she’s okay.” I want to be me again, Harry, Ginny said faintly. Her voice was not quieter than usual, but it felt strange to him, as though it were a recording he was hearing over the wireless. Still maintaining his aim at Mr. Weasley, Harry nodded. “The spell is reenervate, Harry. It makes a pale orange light. Ready?” Harry nodded again. “Reenervate.” Ginny’s presence and senses flooded back into Harry’s mind, and they both gasped in relief as her eyes fluttered open. Are you okay? Harry asked as he frantically examined the sensations coming from her body, looking for injuries. His free hand kept running through her hair, alternately assuring them that she was still there and making sure that she was unharmed. I . . . I’m alright, I think. Nothing hurts. I just feel . . . strange. Ginny sat up slowly and wrapped her arms around Harry’s neck, burying her face in his shoulder as she sobbed. Oh, Harry, that was awful. Harry finally stopped aiming his wand at Mr. Weasley so that he could wrap both of his arms around her, but he kept his eyes open and watched Mr. Weasley in spite of his own tears. Ginny saw her father’s concerned look and responded in spite of Harry’s lingering distrust. “I’m okay, Daddy.” Mr. Weasley sighed and closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. “I’m so glad to hear that, Firefly. You heard what I told Harry?” She nodded against Harry’s chest. “I’m sorry, Ginny. I truly am.” Ginny nodded again and raised her head. Twisting around in Harry’s lap, she looked over at her father. “It shouldn’t have been like that. It was all so wrong,” she said through her tears. “I know that now, sweetheart.” Harry and Ginny looked past her father and spotted Mrs. Weasley and Dumbledore lying in the snow. Ginny’s mother lay on her side, motionless, with blood staining her arms and still flowing down her damaged face. The Headmaster lay face down with his head turned to one side, and his nose appeared to be missing. Where it had once been was only an indistinguishable mass of blood and tissue. Suddenly, Harry and Ginny realized the enormity of what they had done, and Ginny cried out briefly as she buried her face back into Harry’s shoulder. Harry, unwilling to see what lay before him in the mud, squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his face into his friend’s matted hair. “I didn’t mean to,” Ginny’s muffled voice repeated over and over as she cried into his shoulder. They’ll throw us in jail, Harry predicted. We’ll never get to go back to school. We’ll never get to see Hermione and Ron and Neville again. We’ll never . . . His litany was cut off by Mr. Weasley’s voice. “They’ll be alright. I promise you that, but I need to get them taken care of as soon as possible. Would the two of you like me to cast a calming charm on you? It might help you feel better.” Harry was very reluctant to have any more spells cast on him, much less on Ginny, but Ginny nodded. “Harry, the incantation I’m going to use is serenitus. This one doesn’t have any light. Here it comes.” Mr. Weasley cast the spell, and Harry and Ginny both felt her body relax. The tension in her muscles faded slightly, and her near-delirious panic subsided. She was still very distressed, but she felt more able to think despite her lingering sense of horror. Harry looked up at her father and steeled himself. “Me too, please.” Arthur repeated the spell, and Harry felt the same release of tension in his own body and mind. With more capacity to think clearly, he realized how carefully Mr. Weasley had treated him and how much he truly was concerned for Ginny’s well-being. Still avoiding looking at his surroundings, Harry muttered, “Please, help them . . . please.” Mr. Weasley nodded as soon as Harry spoke and rushed to his wife’s side. With a flick of his wand, he conjured two lengths of bandage material in long, thick rolls. He pressed one bandage, still rolled, onto Molly’s face, and he used the other to tie the first in place. Stepping over to Dumbledore, he repeated the process. “Can you two walk on your own?” Mr. Weasley asked quickly. “We’ll make it,” Ginny said. “Harry sprained his ankle when Mum threw him, but I can help him.” “Good,” her father nodded. “We need to get them and you to the Hospital Wing, and then we need to get you both cleaned up and warm.” Ginny looked down at herself and at Harry. Her once-pristine pajamas were splattered and caked with slushy mud and traces of her mother’s blood, and her hair was a filthy tangle. Her bare feet were completely covered in mud up to her ankles, and the mud on her skin was steaming slightly. Seeing her mother’s blood on her clothes was almost enough to make her panic again, but the calming charm kept her from losing control as she had before. Harry’s baggy pajamas were in even worse shape, and his entire front was layered in mud and soaked through with filthy slush. On both of their chests, the twins’ buttons flashed through the grime, still happily proclaiming their mixed names. Ginny could not believe that she had cheerfully pinned that button onto her clean pajamas less than half an hour ago. Neither of them had felt the cold since they left the castle, but suddenly they were aware of the frigid water soaking through their clothes. Ginny’s teeth began to chatter, and Harry shivered as he sat in the cooling mud. Mr. Weasley cast mobilicorpus on Mrs. Weasley and the Headmaster, and then used his wand to steer them both towards the castle doors. Ginny got to her feet and helped Harry to stand. His ankle would not support him, so Ginny slipped her shoulders under his right arm and held up his weight with her body. Moving slowly to avoid stressing Harry’s ankle, they shambled into the castle after Mr. Weasley. I’m glad the Hospital Wing is on the ground floor, Harry said. When Mr. Weasley was within a few yards of the door to the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey emerged from the next door down the hall. “Albus?” she said, spotting the Headmaster’s floating body. “Arthur Weasley, what on earth is going on here?” “There’s no time, Poppy. They’ve lost quite a bit of blood.” The matron’s attitude changed immediately. “Get them in here, then. Don’t dawdle.” She looked past Arthur and sighed as she spotted Harry and Ginny. “You two also. Sit down and stay out of the way.” When the two children hobbled into the ward, dripping filthy water with every step, they found that Mrs. Weasley and Dumbledore had already been placed on separate beds. They sat in a pair of chairs near the door, and Ginny leaned across the arms of the chairs to remain tucked into the circle of Harry’s arm. Madam Pomfrey approached Dumbledore first and carefully removed the makeshift bandage from his face. “Good heavens,” she gasped. “What did this to them? I must know if I am to treat them properly.” Mr. Weasley sighed. “Small objects grew rapidly into large, moving objects inside their noses.” “I’ve never heard of a curse like that,” Pomfrey muttered as she bent towards the Headmaster. In a flash of fire, Fawkes appeared at the foot of the Headmaster’s bed. He flew briefly to land on the rail above Dumbledore’s head, and he looked down into the old man’s bloodied face. Raising his head to the ceiling, the beautiful phoenix trilled mournfully. Singing a quiet dirge, the majestic bird bent over the Headmaster and released a few thick, pearly white, sparkling tears into the ruin of the wizard’s face. Harry and Ginny watched, horrified and fascinated, as Dumbledore’s nose, cheeks, and upper lip repaired themselves. Cartilage emerged from the ruin first, followed by muscle and raw, red skin. Next, a layer of normal, healthy skin grew from the edges of the wound towards the middle, until his face was whole again. Finally, even the old man’s beard grew back. When Fawkes ceased crying and raised his head, Dumbledore’s face looked no different than it had half an hour earlier, except that his neck and beard were caked with dried blood. “Thank you, Fawkes,” Madam Pomfrey whispered. She cast a series of brief cleansing charms on Dumbledore’s face and beard, and then she woke him with the Reenervate spell. The Headmaster sat up abruptly and looked around. When his eyes found Harry and Ginny, he sighed visibly. Then, he reached into his pocket, and his head flew up in surprise when he found it empty. “I have your wand, Albus,” Mr. Weasley said from where he stood next to Molly’s bed. “If you don’t mind, I’ll keep it for just a few more minutes.” Dumbledore nodded reluctantly. “Very well, Arthur.” He reached up and stroked Fawkes’ head, and the phoenix trilled happily in return, causing everyone in the room to brighten for a moment. Then Fawkes flew over to the head of Mrs. Weasley’s bed and looked down at her. He cocked his head to the side for a long moment, apparently studying the unconscious woman. Then he launched himself into the air and disappeared in a burst of flame. “Oh, Molly,” Mr. Weasley whispered, a single tear slowly rolling down his cheek. “Excuse me, Arthur,” Madame Pomfrey said briskly. He stepped to the side, and the Matron removed Mrs. Weasley’s bandages and began working. “Headmaster,” she said over her shoulder, “you’ll need to take a blood replenishing potion and wait several minutes for it to work. If you try to move around too much before that, you’ll only faint.” Dumbledore nodded and slowly crossed to a shelf of potions. Selecting one, he drank it in a single swallow and sat down in a nearby chair. Mr. Weasley walked to the other side of the hospital bed and took his wife’s hand gently in his own. “Albus,” he said softly, “could you ask Minerva to please take Ginny and Harry to get warmed up someplace?” Dumbledore nodded. “Certainly, Arthur. I should have thought of that myself.” He got up from his chair and slowly walked into the Matron’s office. Two minutes later, he emerged with Professor McGonagall in tow. The Transfiguration professor wasted no time remarking on the situation. “Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley. Please come along to my quarters. We’ll get you cleaned up and warm.” “Harry’s sprained his ankle, Professor,” Ginny said. “Heal it, Minerva,” Madam Pomfrey called across the ward. Harry tensed slightly when McGonagall drew her wand. She’s just going to fix your ankle, Harry, Ginny assured him. She’s treated us really well all along. McGonagall tapped Harry’s ankle with her wand, and the pain faded instantly. “Thank you, Professor,” he whispered. “You’re welcome, Mr. Potter. Come along, now.” Harry and Ginny stood, maintaining their half-embrace, and Ginny looked across the room at her father. “Daddy?” “Go with Professor McGonagall, sweetheart,” Mr. Weasley said. “She’ll get you sorted out.” He looked up from his wife and met Harry’s eyes. “Will you go back to the Burrow for now, please? We can talk about this later, and I promise that nobody will try to separate you.” Harry was reluctant to go back, but Ginny convinced him. Can we go back, Harry? All of our things are there, and . . . she sniffed, and her voice broke into a brief sob in his head. I want to go home, Harry. He nodded slowly to Mr. Weasley. “Thank you, Harry. Minerva, will you see that they get back to the Burrow safely? I left Bill and Charlie in charge there.” McGonagall nodded, and Arthur turned back to Ginny. “Your mother will be fine, Firefly, and we’ll be along shortly. Alright?” “Alright,” Ginny said. Dumbledore cleared his throat to get Harry and Ginny’s attention. “When you return to the castle after the holidays, Mr. Potter and Miss Weasley, I should like to see you both in my office. You are not in trouble, but we do need to talk. Shall we say after the start of term feast?” After the students agreed, the Headmaster nodded to McGonagall. Harry and Ginny let Professor McGonagall lead them out of the hospital wing and up the stairs to a section of the fifth floor that they had not seen before. Opening one of the unmarked doors in a long hallway, McGonagall ushered them into the sitting room of her quarters. “Stand still for a moment, please,” she instructed. She flicked her wand at them each repeatedly, removing the worst of the mud from their clothes. Ginny’s hair was still a mess, and their pajamas were stained and rumpled, but they no longer spread dirt wherever they went. “Please, sit down,” McGonagall said, gesturing towards a small sofa. Harry and Ginny sat down together and released their embrace, but they clasped their hands tightly together. Glancing around the room, they noticed a well-used armchair, bookshelves packed with scrolls and bound volumes, and a large sheet of blank canvas on one wall. Before they could question the purpose of the odd decoration, McGonagall reclaimed their attention. “Here you are,” she said, conjuring two mugs of hot chocolate on the small table in front of the sofa. “Drink up, now.” They each took a mug and sipped eagerly, heedless of the chance of burning their tongues. They sighed as the hot liquid trickled down their throats. Their Head of House waited until they had drained half their cups and their shivering had subsided. “Would you be willing to tell me what happened?” she asked in a gentle and encouraging voice. Briefly and haltingly, Ginny told the Professor what had happened, starting with the horrible books they had found inside their Christmas jumpers. As the professor asked a few simple questions, Ginny also mentioned a few of the things she had said to her mother, and then she detailed their flight to Hogwarts and the unwanted running battle on the grounds. When she finished, McGonagall sat and looked off into space for a long minute. “Ginny, you used your hex on your mother after she injured Harry?” she asked at last. Ginny nodded. “And Harry, you used the same hex on the Headmaster after he stunned Ginny?” Harry also nodded. “And all of this started, in your opinion, because your mother refused to trust either of you?” “And because she wouldn’t treat Harry like he deserves to be treated,” Ginny added. “Very well, that also.” McGonagall nodded, and then she sighed. “It is not my place to say who is right and who is wrong in a situation like this. Instead, I can only offer you advice for the future. “The first and most important thing you must remember is that everyone has their own opinion about things, and most of the time, everyone’s opinion is valid. Your parents, Miss Weasley, see things from their own point of view, and they do their best based on what they see. They are not trying to make things harder for you, and they certainly don’t want to hurt you. They may do those things, but it’s very important to remember that their goal is always to take care of you.” Professor McGonagall paused and looked at Ginny expectantly. Even after the day’s events, Ginny found it difficult to imagine her mother wanting to hurt her, so she nodded. Apparently satisfied that Ginny was listening and thinking about it, McGonagall moved on. “Next, you should always seek to avoid a fight if at all possible. You should avoid getting into situations where you think such a conflict might arise, and if you do find yourself in such a situation, you should ask for a break. Take a few minutes to clear your head and cool your temper, and then approach the situation as a discussion rather than a conflict. If your encounter is with another student, seek out a Professor or any adult to help you resolve the situation without fighting.” Again the older woman paused to be sure the two students were paying attention. This time she proceeded after Harry nodded at her. “If all else fails and you find that you are in a fight, try to set your emotions aside and use your brain instead. Defend yourself, but do not escalate the level of violence unless your life is threatened. That may mean that you have to take decisive action to prevent harm to yourself or your loved ones, but try to think carefully about that before acting on your instincts.” As she finished her speech, McGonagall stood and crossed the room to a small table, which had a miniature Christmas tree on it. On the surface of the table, beneath the branches of the tree, were two tiny cloth bags with red and gold ribbons holding them closed. The Professor retrieved the gifts and handed them to Harry and Ginny. “These are for you,” she said. “I had intended to give them to you when you returned, but I think that now is a good time for you to have them.” Somewhat hesitantly, they untied the ribbons and opened the bags. Inside, they found identical pendants on black leather strings. The pendants were simple discs divided by a sinuous line. One half of the pattern was black with a smaller white circle inset, while the other half was white with a black circle inset. “I have charmed these pendants especially for you, given the troubles you have encountered thus far at Hogwarts. Given the events of this morning in particular, I should hope that next time you will use them before things escalate so quickly,” she said. “If you hold one of them in your hand and concentrate on me, I will be able to hear what you say and what is happening around you. Use these whenever you need help, and I will do my very best to assist you.” Harry and Ginny dropped the pendants around their necks, where they joined Bill’s gifts. Harry thought that the pendant on the longer strap and the fang on the shorter one went quite well together, but Ginny thought her delicate ankh looked a bit odd with the round pendant just below it. “If you would prefer a bracelet, Miss Weasley, there is a shorter strap in the bag,” McGonagall pointed out. Ginny dug out the bracelet string and transferred the pendant to her right wrist. “Thank you very much, Professor,” she said, and Harry nodded his agreement. McGonagall gave them a rare smile. “Please do remember to use them.” “Now,” she continued, “I think it is time we returned you to the Burrow. We will need to get outside the castle’s wards, and then I can apparate you there.” She crossed to a small closet near the door and opened the door. “I, for one, do not care to walk when a more efficient option is available. Would you agree, Mr. Potter?” she asked. She turned back towards them with two broomsticks in her hands. Harry and Ginny instantly recognized the Nimbus Two Thousand, and McGonagall’s personal broom appeared to be a very well-maintained Cleansweep Seven. Harry grinned for what felt like the first time in hours as he took the Nimbus from his Professor’s hands. McGonagall led them back to the Entrance Hall and out onto the front steps. Harry and Ginny resolutely avoided looking at the scene of their battle as they both climbed onto the broomstick. With high quality brooms beneath them, the three flyers reached the gates very quickly and landed just beyond them. They avoided very high speeds, though, because the air was cold enough without any extra chill from the wind. “Take the broom along with you, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall ordered. “I would not want our Seeker getting rusty during the holidays.” “Thanks, Professor,” he said. “You’re quite welcome. Now, I suggest that I apparate with you, Mr. Potter. Miss Weasley, you may follow using your own method. Is that acceptable?” They nodded, and McGonagall reached out to place her hand on Harry’s shoulder. After a brief moment of feeling stretched, Harry was standing in the front yard of the Burrow. Before he could fully catch his balance, Ginny was standing next to him and clutching his hand in hers. “Come along, then,” McGonagall said. “I’m sure your family is quite concerned for you.” She led them up to the door and into the living room of the Burrow. The room was almost exactly as they had left it, with gifts and wrapping paper scattered randomly about. Ginny noticed what had once been a chocolate frog melted into the carpet, though it was much too far from the fire to have been heated in that way. Two green jumpers lay crumpled and forgotten near the Christmas tree, which had turned from a pleasing green to a decidedly dark brown. As the front door closed behind them, Harry leaned the Nimbus against the wall, and Bill appeared in the doorway from the kitchen. “What the hell happened?” he demanded. “Where are Mum and Dad?” “It is good to see you again, Mr. Weasley. I trust that you are well,” McGonagall greeted him. “Your parents are at Hogwarts, concluding some business with the Headmaster. They asked me to escort Ginny and Harry back here, and I expect you to care for them until your parents return.” “Yes, of course, Professor,” Bill answered automatically. “Thank you,” McGonagall nodded. “I must return to Hogwarts and see what I can do to expedite their return. If you will excuse me?” With a short nod of her head, she walked back out into the yard and disappeared with a crack. “You look like you must be freezing, Ginny,” Bill observed. “Come on into the kitchen. We’ve just made hot cocoa.” Ignoring Harry, Bill put a hand on Ginny’s shoulder and gently guided her into the kitchen. She refused to release Harry’s hand, and the three of them formed an awkward procession as they walked. The rest of the Weasley brothers were waiting around the kitchen table. Fred and George leaned against the wall behind their customary chairs, while Ron, Percy, and Charlie sat on the opposite side of the table. All had steaming mugs of cocoa that made Ginny and Harry long for their warmth again after their most recent jaunt through the winter air in their pajamas. “Charlie, get some cocoa for these two,” Bill instructed. Seeing the condition his sister and her friend were in, Charlie jumped up and prepared two more mugs. Bill steered Harry and Ginny to the foot of the table and sat them down, and then Charlie placed cocoa in front of each of them. “Ginny, what happened?” Bill asked as he sat at the other end of the table. “After you vanished, Mum made a Floo call, and then she grabbed a broom and apparated away. Dad apparated after her, and the next thing we know, you two come back by yourselves and looking like you got dipped in a mud puddle.” Ginny and Harry had no desire to tell her brothers what had happened, but they knew that the Weasley boys would not let them get away without answering, and they had no idea how long it might be until Ginny’s parents returned. “We . . . we went to Harry’s dorm room at Hogwarts,” she began. “We were going to hide in the kitchens, but Mum caught us in the Entrance Hall. She grabbed me and tried to fly back to the gates, but I got away. She flew back and . . . and tackled us both. She threw Harry across the lawn, and he sprained his ankle. Then I . . .” “You what, Gin?” Charlie asked. “I . . . I hexed Mum,” she whispered. “You what?” Bill exclaimed. “You hexed your own mother? Our mother?” “She hurt Harry!” Ginny countered. Without waiting for a response, she continued the story. “The Headmaster came up and tried to disarm me, but he missed. I suppose I went a bit crazy, because I tried to hex him, too. He used some sort of spell that blocked my hex and sent a stunning spell back at me at the same time. “It was . . . it was awful. I could still see and hear everything Harry did, but I wasn’t really there myself. Harry could tell that, and he… well, he kind of hexed Dumbledore.” “Nothing by halves,” George muttered. “Dad showed up and got us all sorted out,” Ginny said. “We took Mum and Dumbledore up to the Hospital Wing, and Madam Pomfrey was healing Mum when Professor McGonagall came for us and brought us back here.” Fred leaned forward with a concerned look. “The Hospital Wing? What spell did you use, Ginny?” “My Bat-Bogey Hex,” she admitted quietly. “Bloody hell,” Fred and George said. “What’s so bad about that?” Charlie wondered. “She’s done it to all of us a time or two, and it doesn’t require a trip to the Hospital Wing.” George shook his head. “The power, Charlie. Remember Dad told us how much power she has now? With enough power, that hex . . .” He looked sharply up at Ginny. “Is Mum going to be okay?” “Dad said that Madam Pomfrey could fix her,” Ginny said desperately. “Fix her? What was wrong with her?” Ron demanded. “Er, well, her nose . . . it sort of . . . blew up,” she stammered. “Part of it was a bit . . . shredded. Dumbledore’s was just . . . just gone.” “You destroyed Mum’s nose?” Bill shouted incredulously. “Bloody buggering hell! You see, Ginny? You see what this connection of yours is doing? You attacked your own mother and sent her to the hospital!” “It’s not my fault!” Ginny wailed. “She attacked us! She hurt Harry!” “So what?” he countered. “Mum knows how to take care of you, and that’s what she was doing. This thing that’s inside you is making you crazy, Ginny.” He paused, and a look of determination came over his face. “I don’t know what it is, but I’m going to find out, and I’m going to stop it.” He shoved his chair back and strode around the table to stand behind them, drawing his wand as he went. “There must be some magical effect on you, and it can’t be any worse than some of the stuff I’ve found on tombs.” He reached down and yanked their hands apart, and then he sliced his wand through the resulting gap between them. “Stop it, Bill! You can’t do that!” Ginny yelled. She did not know if Bill could actually break the connection between her and Harry, and neither one of them wanted to take that chance. “Like hell I can’t,” he snarled. Ginny stood up and turned to face her brother. “Please, Bill, no! You don’t know what could happen. You don’t know what it feels like. Please, please stop,” she begged. “No, Ginny. This has messed up our family too much already,” Bill said grimly. Faced with the prospect of losing Ginny and sharing her fear and outrage at the idea, Harry snapped. He sprang up from his chair, drawing his wand with his right hand while he reclaimed Ginny’s hand with his left. The moment they touched, a wave of heat flowed away from them and across the room. Feeling the full potential power of their union, Harry raised his wand until the tip hovered between Bill’s eyes. “She. Said. No.” The room erupted into motion. Bill backed up a step and raised his wand to point at Harry’s chest, while Harry’s wand kept its aim at Bill’s forehead. Charlie, Percy, and Ron all leapt up from their chairs and drew their own wands, pointing them threateningly at Harry’s back. On the other side of the table, Fred and George straightened and pulled out their wands, but they seemed uncertain about where to point them. The kitchen was deadly silent as the six Weasley brothers surrounded Harry. He kept his blazing green gaze locked on Bill’s eyes, recognizing him as the main threat to Ginny. Next to him, Ginny began crying silently and, with her left hand, pulled her wand out of her pocket for the second time that morning. Tears pouring down her cheeks, Ginny turned to press her back against Harry’s, giving them a nearly complete view of the room around them. As she turned, Harry slid his hand up to encircle her right wrist. Slowly, she raised her left hand to point her wand at Charlie. If they had to, they would fight all of her brothers at once. A/N: Special thanks to moshpit, who helped me to sort out the movements in the middle of this chapter. A nod, also, to the author alluded to earlier in the chapter. His work influenced me in several ways, long before I started this story. Also, I moved the Hospital Wing from canon. I should have mentioned that in chapter 11. Since JKR moved it herself between books 2 and 5, I don't feel so bad about moving it for my own purposes. |
| Reviews 1026 |
Previous Next
|
