Eyes Wide Shut
Disclaimer: The characters of this story stem not from my imagination, but from that of the brilliant mind of J.K. Rowling and I take no credit for them.
Chapter One
Ginevra Weasley surveyed the eclectic collection of artifacts scattered around the room. The charming little store had been unusually busy that morning, and this was her first chance to take a step back from the customers and breathe. When she'd gotten the summer job at Archer's Antiquities she'd been a bit dubious about the quality of her work experience there, but as it turned out, she found it oddly comforting helping customers discover unique baubles and exchanging pleasantries. It was a safe environment. Besides, it was something to do to pass the time until she returned to Hogwarts for her sixth year, and in a few weeks she'd be able to afford a new set of dress robes.
Dumbledore had declared at the end of last year that it was the end of an era, and they must all work together to put their community back together. Voldemort had been killed at the Ministry for Magic just a few weeks ago, he hadn't managed to escape before the Aurors showed up, and as they joined Dumbledore's efforts, he was overpowered. The wizarding community was reeling with the shock, having found out about his return and his demise simultaneously. The tension was palpable – Voldemort's sympathisers had no idea what to do with themselves, pureblood elitists were looked upon with suspicion, and families had no idea who to trust or what to believe in. Dumbledore believed the younger generations were the logical starting point towards the rebuilding of the wizarding community, and he intended to make sure it happened.
"Starting next term, you will all be in for quite a shock. House unity is admirable, but school unity is a necessity. Keep your minds open – you may learn something yet." He'd mused.
The doorbell chimed as the last customer left the shop, in a hurry to escape the confines of Diagon Alley before the lunchtime rush. Ginny didn't mind, it gave her a moment to straighten out the store in peace. The antiquities were displayed around the shop to their best advantage, but became increasingly displaced throughout the day as customers examined them. If she didn't make a quick tour of the damage every few hours, she'd severely regret it come closing time.
Her boss, Mr. Archer, was a kindly old man who loved the store but didn't have the physical capacity to keep up with the rush of customers. He usually spent his mornings filing paperwork in the back office. I'll have to ask him if I can have Monday off for Mum's birthday, she thought. Maybe she'd like one of these– the oriental jewelry box she was holding slipped through her fingers, and she watched in a daze as it crashed onto the floor and a cloud of thick, dark smoke ascended from the shards and billowed towards her. Shocked out of her reverie she inhaled sharply, only to be brought to her knees in fits of coughing, fire in her lungs. Desperately she clawed her wand out of her pocket and sent a flurry of red sparks in the direction of the back office, frantically wishing for Mr. Archer to look up from his stack of paperwork. 'I hope that wasn't terribly expensive'was her last thought before the lights dimmed around her eyes and everything went black.
An extremely frazzled-looking old man barged into St. Mungo's emergency ward with an unconscious redhead levitating behind him. He was gasping for breath, and was covered in what appeared to be smudges of soot.
"There's been an accident, we need help! It's an emergency!" The anxious man gesticulated frantically at his charge, and doctors rushed to his side with a gurney.
"What's the emergency sir? How did the lady hurt herself?"
"How long has she been unconscious for?"
"What is your relation to this young woman?"
"Sir, please calm down!"
People staring down at her surrounded Ginny, but they were all blurry. As her vision cleared and their anxious and horrified expressions came into view she came to the conclusion that she was dead. She was dead, and her ghost just hadn't floated out of her body yet – that must be why there was so much grief surrounding her.
"Ginevra Weasley?" A concerned-looking doctor with a friendly face asked. "If you can understand me, blink twice."
She blinked. That was odd, usually ghosts were treated with at least a modicum of respect – insulting her intellect and abstaining from addressing the elephant in the room – her actual death – was deemed bad manners by anyone's account.
"How'd I die?" She rasped. Her body felt as heavy as granite, and she was hot, so very hot.
"You're not dead Miss Weasley. But I'm afraid you're in grave danger, it is imperative that we find your next of kin immediately. The substance you've inhaled is burning the magic from your blood, and if we don't get a transfusion of the closest matching DNA as possible, you will not be able to survive it." He smiled sadly, then shot a distraught look across the bed at Mr. Archer, who was pacing furiously at her side, his mind elsewhere.
Ginny had no energy for this. Why was he explaining all this to her? Her parents would be along shortly and they could deal with it. "Parents." She mumbled.
The doctor looked at her with pained eyes, and took her hand gently. "We compared your DNA with that of your father and your brother Ron, they were the only ones we had blood information on. Not only does your DNA not match either of theirs, but you also flagged a red alert in our database. Your DNA matches that of an infant who went missing from the hospital 16 years ago. I'm so sorry Ginevra, but Molly and Arthur Weasley are not your legitimate parents, and they can't save you now."
Ginny's eyes bulged incredulously. She passed out. Mr. Archer stopped pacing and glared at the doctor.
A perimeter was set up around Ginevra Weasley's ward, the ministry had issued a security detail to the hospital until they got to the bottom of this unprecedented case. An attempt was made to hush it up, but somebody would eventually leak the scandalizing information and at that point all hell would break loose. It was imperative that Arthur and Molly Weasley were apprehended for questioning before then.
The hospital had contacted them after Ginny had been examined, and they came stumbling through the fireplace 30 minutes later.
"MY BABY! Where is Ginny – Hello sir, Ginevra Weasley, which room is she in?! Is she hurt?!" Molly Weasley made a beeline for the emergency ward, expecting the doctor she had addressed to keep up. Arthur followed anxiously behind her, wringing his hands.
"Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Step this way please." Kingsley Shacklebolt and a fellow Auror blocked their path, gesturing in the direction of a side door. A third moved up behind them and waited cautiously, on the alert.
"Kingsley, you don't understand. Our daughter's been hurt, we need to see her. I'm sure whatever questions you have can wait until another time. Get out of our way." Molly glared at them, planting her hands on her hips defiantly. She had no idea what nonsense procedures they had established at St. Mungo's since her last visit, but she wasn't having any of it.
"This is a matter of Ginevra's well-being. We assure you Molly, we are doing everything we can to protect her. If you would please step into this room for questioning, we can get the information we need to help her." Kingsley looked at them pointedly. Molly sighed and followed him into the room. Realization slowly dawned on Arthur's face, and he gasped and backed away jerkily. Firm hands closed around his arms and escorted him forwards, forcing him into the room with Molly.
"Now, Molly, Arthur. Can you please explain to me why Ginny's blood sample matches that of Leonora Zabini's 16-years-missing infant?" Shacklebolt crossed his arms, muscles flexing threateningly.
(AN: Let me know what you think! =] )