|
Seeking the Seeker | ||||
|
Category: Post-HBP Characters:Harry/Ginny Genres: Angst, Drama Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: G Reviews: 8 Summary: When Harry disappears with Voldemort, Ginny cannot accept that he is dead. She sets off on her own, determined to find him. Hitcount: Story Total: 5183 Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work. Author's Notes: This was written for CatchMySnitch's first challenge, snitch. Thanks to my beta-readers Margo and Fearthainn. Some background information in this story comes from Quidditch Through the Ages, as well as the books of the HP series. |
|
|||
|
Even in highly competitive Quidditch matches, it is not unusual for the Golden Snitch to remain elusive for days at a time. Although the Snitch is charmed not to leave the pitch, it may seem to disappear at times. There exist many examples of this behavior, a quirk in the charms which allow the mechanical device invented by Bowman Wright to emulate the Golden Snidget. However, a 1756 match between two semi-professional teams outside of Moscow holds the record: the match went on for thirty-two weeks before the Snitch was caught. Quidditch scholars will also remember the match on Bodmin Moor in 1884 which was called off due to the disappearance of the Snitch; locals claim that the now-feral Snitch still inhabits the moors nearby, and can be seen when the moon is full. -Elbert Wormwood, A Treatise on the History and Mythology of the Golden Snitch "Stay back!" Harry bellowed at Ron and Hermione. Following his instructions, they crouched behind a large boulder, shooting spells at Death Eaters from behind their protective cover. Harry strode through the field, and the high green grass brushed against his knees as he walked. A tall, thin man stood in the center of the open area, watching Harry as he approached. "Harry Potter," he said in a cold voice. "We meet again at last." Harry was dimly aware of voices shouting around him and magic thrumming in the air, but he paid no attention. He held his wand loosely in one hand, and he could see Voldemort's as well. When he got within a few paces, he raised his wand and took a deep breath. At the same moment, Voldemort raised his own. "Avada--" said Voldemort in his high, cold voice. "Horcrucio," said Harry softly. Before, there had been doubt and uncertainty as to the best way to destroy the bit of soul that still remained inside Voldemort's body. As he cast the spell, though, Harry felt absolutely sure. A soft green light had begun to glow at the tip of Voldemort's wand as he spoke the first word of the Killing Curse, but Harry's spell was completed first, and that green light flickered and died. The pale sunlight reflecting off Voldemort's scaly white skin seemed to grow dimmer then, as if a switch had been turned somewhere. His vivid red eyes paled, too. All the light in the spring field seemed to pull away from him, until blackness surrounded and swallowed him up. For a moment, the darkness overwhelmed the whole clearing. When it abated, he was gone. "Ron," Hermione said urgently. "Something's going on. Something's happening. I think--" She raised her bushy head above the protective cover of the rock and looked across toward the center of the field, where Harry had been. "It's done," she said to Ron. "It's over -- he's -- they're both gone." A curse ripped through the air and hit her as she stood there, and she fell face-forward onto the rock, blood dripping from her mouth and nose. Ron cast a curse in the direction that the attack had come from, but heard nothing in response. The field had grown strangely quiet. He peered over the edge of the boulder but saw nothing. Only an empty field, filled with high, waving grass. No masked Death Eaters, no slit-nosed Dark Lord, no Harry. Hermione moaned softly and slid to the ground beside him. Ron looked around again, but saw nothing. He wrapped his arm around Hermione's waist and closed his eyes, and then he apparated away. "Miss Weasley," Professor McGonagall said in a low voice. "Please come with me." It was the tone of voice that she had used to summon Lavender after her parents were found with the Dark Mark over their home. Numbly, automatically, Ginny picked up her knapsack and followed the headmistress' tightly knotted gray bun down the stairs and along the corridor to her office. Once they were inside the small round chamber, the Professor turned to Ginny and said crisply, "Your brother is in St. Mungo's, and your parents have requested that I send you through immediately." "Which--" Ginny asked. "Who? What?" A shifting fear grabbed her, one without a target. Was it a joking brother? A laughing one, a Quidditch-player or a book-reader or a long-lost brother? "Your brother Ronald," Professor McGonagall said, not unkindly. "And he is going to be fine." She threw a handful of Floo powder into the fire, and settled her hand on the small of Ginny's back. "In you go, now." Ginny stumbled into the fire, and only through sheer luck did she manage to step out again at the right grate, into the large general waiting room of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. "Ronald Weasley?" she asked the mediwitch behind the reception desk, arrayed in crisp white robes and a matching jaunty cap. "Gin," said a hoarse voice, and she looked up to see Bill. Scars crossed his face, but he was grinning broadly, and the happiness that shone through made him look just as handsome as he always had. He pulled her into a rough hug, and she wrapped her arms around him, clinging tightly. "How's Ron?" She pulled back and looked up at his smile again. "What's going on?" "Ron's fine," he said. "Everyone's up here." She felt her shoulders relax a little bit as she followed him upstairs and into the ward. Down the hall, up two flights of stairs, and then out into a waiting room that seemed filled to bursting with people. In the midst of the group was Ron, with a bandage on his arm and a bruise on his face, but he was whole and awake and alive. She pushed through the group, not caring who she stepped on to get to him. She threw her arms around him and squeezed for all she was worth. He was hugging her back just as hard. "Merlin, I was so worried about you," she said, her voice muffled against his soft orange t-shirt. The fabric was bloodstained under her cheek, but Ginny tried not to think about that. She wanted to tell him not to do that again, to never ever put himself in danger again, to think of her and Mum and everyone for once, instead of haring off to save the world, but-- "C'mon," he said in her ear. "I guess you want to see Hermione." "What?" She looked up into his face. "Is she-- how is she--" "They didn't tell you?" he asked. "She's injured. It's pretty bad." Panic rushed back into the space where there had been relief a moment before. Her head spinning, Ginny found herself full of questions that she could not even put into words. In the room, Hermione lay propped up against a mountain of pillows. Her face looked nearly as pale as the white sheets, and her brown hair was streaked with blood and dirt. She blinked at Ginny, and smiled weakly. "Did they tell you?" she asked, her voice cracking. Ginny had no idea what she meant. "No, they only told me Ron was injured," she answered. "I had no idea you were--" "It's over," Hermione said quietly. "Harry cast the spell on Voldemort, and it's over." "It is?" asked Ginny stupidly. "But how -- who — where?" She felt like she was asking the same useless questions over and over again, constantly confused and never learning more. Ron wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his body. "It's over, Gin. He's gone, but--" She looked up into his blue eyes, brimming with tears. He trailed off, but she knew what he was going to say. It was already clear, without the words. "Harry's gone, too," Hermione whispered, looking up with wide eyes. "He just — disappeared." "He's --" started Ron. He paused, swallowed, then looked away. "He's dead. Harry's dead." "He can't be." Ginny looked from Hermione to Ron; both of them were silent, with tears rolling down their faces. They looked distraught, but Ginny herself felt calm. There was no bolt of lightning out of the sky, no magical soul bond, no hand on the Weasley clock telling her where Harry was, but she simply could not believe that he was dead. Word had always traveled fast at Hogwarts, and by the time Ginny arrived back at the castle, her head spinning and her clothes full of ash, students were already celebrating Voldemort's defeat. All around her there were smiling faces. They deserved to celebrate, she knew. The last few months, everyone had been on edge. Bad news could come at any time, and no one was immune. There had been deaths even among pureblooded families. With the news of Voldemort's defeat, it was as though a weight had been lifted from the shoulders of the entire world. Not only was the Dark Lord gone, but the constant worry and fear he'd brought with him had vanished as well. Ginny made her way toward Gryffindor Tower, listening to the sounds of celebration that echoed off the stone walls. Loud cheering drifted out from the direction of the Hufflepuff common room, and on the moving staircase, she saw Susan Bones and Ernie MacMillan snogging passionately against the railing. She stepped around them and continued on up the stairs, and as she climbed, the sounds of revelry grew louder and louder. Inside the common room was the biggest party that Ginny had ever seen. At least half of the attendants seemed to be from other houses. Seamus Finnigan stood near the door, drinking directly out of a large bottle of firewhiskey. His sandy hair was tousled, and his cheeks were flushed. "Hey, Ginny," he said, his voice slurred. "Come to join the party, eh? Give us a kiss." He lunged at her unsteadily, and she turned her head away, so that his lips connected with her ear instead of her mouth. He laughed loudly. "C'mon," he said, "Have a drink." He tried to hand her the bottle, but she refused, pushing it away with one hand. "Maybe another time," she said. "Not tonight." She pushed her way through the crowds of people in the room, fending off greetings and offers of drink as though she were dodging Bludgers. Everyone was louder than usual, closer than usual, happier and brighter and just more than usual, but Ginny felt apart from it all. She was not in a mood to celebrate. The war was not over for Ginny -- there was one more thing to do. The sixth-year girls' dormitory was blessedly empty. Ginny dropped her knapsack on the bed and threw things at it — jeans, a blanket, a big box of samples and products from the twins. Her small purse of money went into it, landing with a jingle. It wasn't much, but it would have to do. She didn't want to wait any longer. She slipped out through the party, looking determinedly at the floor and avoiding eye contact, and raced down six flights of hidden stairways to the bottom floor. Outside the castle, the night was cool and damp and smelled like approaching summer. The scents of grass and trees and flowers drifted through the air. Ginny took a deep breath and felt some of her strength return. The little shack that held the school's brooms sat across the wide lawns next to the Quidditch Pitch. Dew stained her shoes as she walked across the grass, away from the castle. The door came open with a whispered spell and she ducked in, grabbing her old Comet Two-Sixty. Ginny paused at the door to the shed and looked out. Behind a low grassy hill, Hogwarts rose in the distance, its windows shining in celebration. A candle burned in the Headmaster's old office — now the Headmistress'. The party raged in Gryffindor Tower, her home for six years, and of her brothers, her parents, and her ancestors before her. Elf lights flickered in the Great Hall, where she'd been sorted so long ago. It seemed as though the entire castle was beckoning to her, entreating her to stay. Resolutely, she shut the door behind her and turned away with her broom in one hand and her knapsack in the other. Far in the distance a light flashed, and Ginny hurriedly threw on her knapsack. She threw one leg over her broom and kicked off, rising a few meters into the air. The light flashed again, accompanied this time by a ragged humming sound. Ginny quickly flew behind the broom shed, then peeked out. There were two bright lights shining at her, near to the ground and only about two meters apart. As the sound grew louder, the lights grew brighter. They came closer, and closer, and Ginny let her broom drift behind the corner of the shed, not wanting to be caught before she could even leave the school grounds. After a moment, a loud and cheery beep sounded across the wet grass. All at once, Ginny realized what must have been the source, and felt incredibly foolish. She landed her broom on the ground and walked around the corner. There, on the manicured lawn at the base of the Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch, sat a very dirty old Ford Anglia. The headlights blinked in welcome when she appeared, and when she slid behind the wheel, the car shivered slightly in anticipation. Ginny sat still for a moment and looked at the controls. She'd no idea what they all did, but if Ron could drive the car, she knew it couldn't be that hard. She gripped the wheel with both hands and the car shuddered again. The engine trilled questioningly, and she pressed a foot to one of the pedals, as she'd seen her father do. Nothing happened. She tried the other one, and the car sped off down the hill, with such speed that she was pressed back against the seat for a moment. Gripping the wheel, she pulled it up and towards herself, and the car lifted smoothly off the lawn and into the air. It skimmed the treetops and then flew higher, into a bank of clouds. Fluffy gray and white clouds passed quickly by the windows as she drove on through the night, lit only by moonlight. The sky was a dark sea around her, and Muggle lights glowed below, appearing on the horizon and disappearing again behind her, but Ginny didn't notice. She bit her lip and concentrated on driving, even though the car probably would've done fine on its own. They'd confronted the Death Eaters near Malfoy Manor, according to Ron. That was far to the south, and Ginny had no idea how fast the car would go, but she looked out of the windows every few minutes, hoping for a glance of the Manor's famous topiary serpent. She worried that if she looked away for even a minute, she might miss something that would somehow lead her to Harry. The clouds on the horizon were turning pink when she finally saw the gray stone mansion come into sight far below. She had to get even closer before she could make out the vivid green hedges that snaked across the front lawn of the massive house. She gripped the wheel tightly with both hands until her knuckles were white, steering the Anglia around in a broad loop above Malfoy Manor and peering down through the open windows to the terrain below. Examining the grounds carefully, she widened her search area in ever-larger circles when she saw nothing unusual. The Manor itself was huge and imposing, gray stone against an emerald green backdrop. The grounds were extensive, and Ginny saw stables, greenhouses, and what was probably a potions laboratory in addition to a smooth practice Quidditch pitch. Other than the Manor itself, though, there was nothing below her but broad stretches of dense, green forest unbroken by Muggle improvements. On the few occasions when Ginny filled in for Harry at Seeker, she had always felt somewhat foolish. Seeking seemed to consist mostly of flying about aimlessly and looking for something that did not wish to be found. It was very similar to what she was doing now. She had nothing concrete to go on, and no real idea of what she was looking for. Ron's garbled, mournful account contained only the most vague of suggestions about where Harry had been when he disappeared. But it was enough. Ginny gritted her teeth. It would have to be enough, because she was going to find Harry, no matter what. In the middle of miles of thick tree cover, Ginny spotted a small clearing in the distance and steered the Anglia toward it. There was nothing at all unusual about it, just an empty patch of tall grass, dotted with rocks and wildflowers. She would never have stopped for the plain little clearing if not for her own desperation and the odd fact that it was the first break in the thick tree cover that she'd seen. Shrugging to herself, she landed the car carefully at the edge of the clearing. The Anglia set down with a bump and then shivered, as if with excitement. Ginny climbed out with her wand raised, and told the car quietly, "Wait here." The headlights blinked in response. On the ground, the little spot looked much larger, and Ginny wondered if there was some kind of concealing spell on this area. The thought made her heart beat faster -- long-term enchantments on natural environments were hard to maintain, and no one would go to that kind of trouble for an unimportant little clearing in the middle of the forest. No, if this field were disguised, it must be important. On the other side of the field, near the tree line, was an enormous boulder. Without anything else unusual to see, Ginny made her way towards it. Behind her, the sun was rising over the trees and casting its yellow light over the forest and the grass. Her shadow stretched out in a long line ahead of her, marking her path. When the light hit the stone outcropping, Ginny knew she was in the right place. Thick black marks scarred the stone, unmistakably scars from recent curses. She stood next to the stone and looked around. From here, she could make out tracks through the tall grass, leading back and forth. In a few places, there were larger areas of broken and matted-down stalks, as though a person had fallen and laid there a while, but no bodies remained to tell the story. Still resolute and determined to find any sign, any clue of Harry's whereabouts, Ginny began to search the field methodically. She walked back and forth, using her wand as well as her eyes and ears. The tall grass brushed against her legs as she moved slowly across the field, peering down at the ground below. By the time the sun was high in the sky, she'd found three bottle caps, two cigarette butts, and a few assorted buttons, but nothing that could lead her to Harry. Exhausted, she sat down in the shade at the edge of the field and leaned against a tree. She was tired and hungry and far from home and -- worst of all -- she was beginning to doubt herself. What if Harry truly was dead? What if he'd just vanished when Voldemort did, and was never coming back, like Ron said? A tear slipped down her cheek, then another. "No," she said aloud, as though she could convince herself. She swiped at her cheeks, wiping the tears away ineffectually. This was not the way to find Harry -- and she knew he was out here somewhere. "And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives," she said softly to herself, repeating the words of Trelawney's prophecy that Harry had told her last summer. They'd climbed the big oak tree near the Burrow, and sat side by side on a low-hanging branch, and Harry had pressed his shoulder to hers and confided in her. The sun shone down warmly that day, and the green leaves of the trees were like a protective barrier around them, but it couldn't hold the world away for long. It was only a few days after that Harry left with Ron and Hermione, setting off to fulfill his stupid destiny. "He has to be alive still," she said, even though a part of her mind was aware that the prophecy promised no such thing. "He must be." Ginny stood slowly, supporting herself with one hand on the tree. She had searched the clearing completely and found nothing. If Harry wasn't here... "He must be somewhere else," she said. She knew a few other places that he had gone with Ron and Hermione to find and destroy horcruxes: she would start there. Feeling as though things were looking up, she made her way back to the Anglia, still sitting on the other side of the clearing where she'd left it. When she reached the car, she patted it with one hand. "How're you doing, mate? Ready to go?" The car beeped its horn in happy agreement, and Ginny slid behind the wheel. She stepped on the right pedal this time, and tilted the wheel, steering the old car up into the sky. It wasn't until she was completely aloft, cruising along above the clouds, that Ginny realized she wasn't alone in the car. Her broom lay propped against the door, and her knapsack sat on the passenger seat next to her. And on top of her knapsack sat a tiny, round, yellow bird. She jumped a little when she saw it there, and then as if it could understand, she asked, "What are you doing here?" She leaned across the seat and rolled down the opposite window, thankful that the car could keep level on its own, and tried to shoo the bird out of the window. "Go on, get out of here," she told it. "Don't you want to be outside? In your home?" The little bird chirped in response and hopped up onto the dashboard, so that it was facing Ginny. Care of Magical Creatures had never been Ginny's favorite subject, but for some reason, the round yellow silhouette of the bird looked familiar. She reached out a hand and picked it up, and the tiny body fit perfectly into her hand, vibrating with excitement in a way that was just like... Ginny gasped. "You're a Snidget," she said. "A Golden Snidget!" She'd never seen one before. Even Hagrid couldn't get one for his classes -- they were terribly endangered. And famously hard to catch, yet here was one that had flown right into the car and let her pick it up. "What..?" Ginny said, forgetting about steering the car entirely and just looking at the little bird in her hand. It chirped again, excitedly, and beat its tiny wings against her fingers. If there had been any doubt in her mind, that would have convinced her, because it felt exactly the way a just-caught Snitch did. She just sat and looked at it for a moment, shocked and uncomprehending. The bird chirped again, startling her back to reality. "Well, you're a talkative one, aren't you?" she asked, in the same tone of voice she used to talk to Crookshanks. "Got something to say to me?" The little bird chirped again loudly, and fairly vibrated in her hand. A vague idea began to form in Ginny's mind, and she looked more closely. The bird had a long, narrow beak and a round body, with long, flexible wings. And it had some strange-looking feather patterns around its eyes. Of course, Ginny had never seen a Golden Snidget before, but she didn't remember reading anything about any variation of color beside the gold color. Certainly not any marks that looked suspiciously like a pair of spectacles and a jagged scar. Not taking her eyes off the bird, she reached slowly for her wand. Her hand shaking and her heart beating fast, she cast the spell. The effect was immediate. One moment, there was a little yellow bird in her hand, and then in the next moment there was a blinding flash of blue light, and then Harry Potter was sitting on the seat next to her, with her arm wrapped around his waist. He was dirty and disheveled, his shirt was torn and spattered with blood, and his glasses were cracked and crooked on his face. Ginny flung herself at him, wrapping her other arm around his body and burying her face in the crook of his neck, laughing and crying equally, her joy and relief pouring out of her. There were about a thousand questions she could have asked, but there would be plenty of time for those later. Harry sat and submitted to this for a few minutes, patting her head awkwardly and saying meaningless things like "there, there" and "don't cry." After a little while, though, he took her by the shoulders and lifted her upright. "Erm, not that I'm not grateful, and thank you very much by the way, it's good to see you too..." he said, "But who's driving the car?" "Oh!" Ginny said, sitting up and wiping her eyes. "That would be me." Harry laughed at the obvious falseness of this statement, as Ginny grabbed the wheel and the car kept moving on serenely at the exact same speed and direction as before. "Shut it, you prat," she said, swatting him lightly on the shoulder. "We thought you were dead." Two more tears welled up in her eyes and her throat hurt, but she blinked them away. Harry caught at her hand as she pulled it away, and held it in his own. "Well, I'm not," he said. "I'm right here." After a moment, he repeated, "I'm right here with you." Ginny looked down at their joined hands, where they rested on the leather seat. "Yeah," she said after a moment. "Yeah, you are." They sat there quietly for a few minutes, both of them looking down as clouds flew by the windows. It was Harry who finally broke the silence. "So, where are we going?" he asked. Ginny turned the wheel and angled the car north, towards Hogwarts. "Home," she said. |
| Reviews 8 |
|
