The house was two hundred years old.
"I need to know you'll be safe," her mother had said. "My baby, my little princess." Ginny rolled her eyes, but she went off to London and Grimmauld Place anyway.
Now she was stuck here, alone with two hundred years of dust and dark magic. Outside, there was a war on, but in here, she was alone, quiet, inactive. None of those things fit her nature; she was the girl who'd grown up with six loud brothers. At Hogwarts, she'd known every hall, every hidden nook and secret password. Without Quidditch or war to occupy her time, she explored.
In the parlor, she traced her fingers across the paneling and noticed the tiny seam that didn't belong. There were no sconces that could be turned or decorative carvings to press, so Ginny tried a password. "Pureblood," she announced confidently. Nothing happened. Remembering the tapestry upstairs, she said, "Toujours pur." There was a soft click from behind the panel, and it slid open. Ginny shivered as she stepped through and shut the door behind her.
Ginny lit her wand and walked downhill through the dark passage. The tunnel grew gradually narrower before ending in what seemed to be a black pit. As she grew closer, she saw a set of stairs leading in a downward spiral. She stepped onto the staircase, trailing her hand along the wall as she walked. Her footsteps made a loud, hollow sound on the wooden stairs, and the entire structure creaked as she climbed. It was probably just as old as the house above.
When she reached the bottom, she found herself in the middle of another tunnel, leading away from her in two directions. The stairway was set in a recess in the wall, and disappeared almost entirely into the gloom. Even knowing it was there, Ginny's eyes slid right off it.
She knew she should go back to the house, where she could stay locked up safe, but the thought made her itch. She was trying to decide which way to go when she heard the sound of running footsteps.
"Nox," she whispered, stepping backwards onto the bottom of the staircase. She could still see the tunnel, but hopefully the stairs' cloaking spell would hide her. Hopefully. She pressed herself back against the wall and held her breath.
The footsteps grew closer and closer as she waited, and then suddenly three figures appeared. Swathed in dark robes, they stopped and stood near Ginny's hiding place. They did not speak, but they were so close that she could hear them breathing. Her heart seemed to be lodged in her throat, its beating impossibly loud.
"What was that?" asked one, in a familiar voice.
"A great hideous tunnel monster." That was definitely Ron. Ginny nearly cried out with relief, until she remembered that she was supposed to be tucked away safe and not lurking about in tunnels.
"Where are we?" That was Harry.
"The entrance must be here, it's right on the map." Hermione sounded frustrated. Now that she knew it was her, Ginny could see the bulge that her bushy hair made under the robe.
"You've been saying that for hours. It's not. Bloody. Here."
"Well it must be here somewhere." She pushed the hood off her head and revealed her face. She was smudged with dirt, and thinner than Ginny remembered, with a determined set to her mouth.
"Doesn't matter," Harry said. "We have to get up to Gr-- to the house no matter how long it takes to find the tunnel."
The tunnel. The house. The cloaking spell. Ginny snapped out of her panic-induced silence and stepped toward them.
"Pssst. The tunnel is here."
Three heads turned to look at her. Hermione covered her mouth in shock.
She led them up and up and up past the decaying staircase and along the dark passages and through the secret door into the parlor of the old, empty house.
Ron and Hermione fanned out immediately, as though they already had their instructions. At a loss, Ginny watched them go. She didn't even know what they were looking for. As she stood there, feeling confused and left out, Harry touched her hand.
She looked up at him.
"I've missed you," he said. "I tried not to, but--"
Ginny struggled to breathe. "I wish I was with you," she said finally. Forget safety and security. None of that made any difference, with Harry here, his hand warm against her own and his black hair sticking up and that look in his eyes. "I could--"
"I know," he said. "But I have to do this alone now." He leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips, leaving just a trace of moisture behind when he pulled back. "Tell them I'm sorry."
And then he turned and stepped back through the panel in the wall, and he was gone. And even though she now had Ron and Hermione to keep her company along with the two hundred years worth of dust, she'd never felt more alone.