Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Nothing. At all.
Warning: Adult themes: Mentions of death, scenes of gore. There's also a tiny bit of romance in it, but it has no effect on the rating whatsoever.
Assumptions, Adjustments, and Atonements
Part I: Assumptions
Harry was sleeping peacefully, dreaming of absolutely nothing when he was woken up by a summons from a messenger. "Your presence is required at the trial of one Ginevra Weasley, who has been charged with the murder of Luna Lovegood approximately two days past."
Harry sighed as he rubbed his face to try and wake up, feeling the short stubble that had grown there rasping against his fingertips. He grunted in the direction of the messenger and got out of his bed slowly, walking around and stretching to help wake himself up.
He had no delusions of grandeur about what he did for a living; he was an executioner. An executioner with too much heart, he'd been told, but an executioner nonetheless. If he was wanted at a trial, it would be because there was little doubt that the sentence would be death. If the charge was murder, then there was no doubt whatsoever that the sentence would be death. It was a harsh system of justice, but one that Harry supported. The way he saw it, if a person was capable of taking a life in cold blood, then that person was thus forfeiting his or her own right to live.
"Thank you, Neville," he said with a yawn when he noticed that the messenger, Neville, had not yet left. "I will be ready presently."
"It is requested that you do not dress in the customary executioner's garb. You have been given permission for this to dress normally," Neville said before bowing slightly and turning to leave. Harry's eyebrows rose, but he did not react other than to shrug and begin getting dressed.
He selected a simple long-sleeved fleece shirt and buttoned it up after putting on it, and pulled on a pair of trousers. As he fastened his trousers, he looked in the mirror that had been provided for him, and yet again wondered at the turn of events that had led him to become someone that was so feared.
His notoriety extended from the fact that he wore no executioner's mask when performing what he saw as his duty. This way, he was able to let the executed see his face before he executed them, let them see what he felt for them. More often than not, it was pity that he showed; regardless of his job or whether or not justice demanded their death, Harry hated killing. Besides, he was well aware that at times, people were unjustly sentenced, and it helped his conscience to let those he was sure that had been wrongly charged that there was someone out there that believed in them. But it was not his place to protest the sentencing; he was no jury or judge, though he had, out of personal interest, become well-versed in the laws of the time.
He looked at himself in the mirror, taking in his high cheekbones, his deep green eyes, his unruly black hair that refused to be tamed no matter the effort put into doing so. He was tall enough for his liking, and executing required a lot of upper body strength, both for submission and for the act itself. He liked the color of his eyes, but what he saw in them was another matter entirely.
What he saw in his eyes rarely if ever satisfied him; either they showed too much soul or no soul at all. He hated the look in his eyes, the haunted, resigned look of an executioner. Harry wasn't one of those types of executioners who enjoyed what they did, though he was aware and had met some that were like that. It mildly disgusted him to think that people in this world could be so happy in taking someone's life, even if in the name of justice.
Pulling himself out of his thoughts, he pulled on his boots and left his room, wondering who this Ginevra Weasley person was and why she had felt it necessary to murder someone. She was someone who he would hate having to execute, as he hated having to execute at all, though there were few executioners quite as distinguished or as hardy as him. But he would feel no qualm in meting out justice. An eye for an eye, he thought to himself as he made for the courtroom that was mere steps away from the executioners' quarters.
Ginny was extremely quiet as she was manhandled into the courtroom, her brown eyes looking around for a sign of red hair that matched hers. As she'd expected, there was no such hair to be found, though she was hurt and disappointed nonetheless. It isn't like they'd come to support me in this anyway, she thought, tamping down most of the bitterness she felt towards her family for seemingly abandoning her in the face of a crime she hadn't committed. But no one would believe her, and now here she was, to be sentenced to die, and not one of her family members could be bothered to watch as the youngest member of the Weasley family was to be sent to her termination.
She was forced roughly into a chair and made to sit up straight, though it wasn't in her habit to slouch and forcing her to have an upright posture was largely unnecessary. She looked through her long red hair up at the podium where a judge sat looking down at her in austere disapproval. She saw no sympathy in his eyes, nor did she see anything to imply that the judge thought her anything but guilty. But how could she convince him – or anyone – otherwise when no one could be bothered to listen, so convinced were they of her guilt?
Her eyes moistened as she thought of Luna, who had become her best friend despite their differing circumstances. Ginny had been born into a life of privilege, and could have had any man in Britain. But she'd never had much interest in finding a husband, though it would undoubtedly have made her mother very happy, since all six of her brothers had married and inherited the familial estates of their wives. Bill and Fleur, Charlie and Amanda, Percy and Penelope, Fred and Katie, George and Angelina, and Ron and Hermione…
The fact that all six of her brothers had left the Weasley estate, affectionately referred to by all of them as "the Burrow," meant that Ginny was the heir to the estate in all but name, since there were no other male heirs; her uncles had all predeceased her father, and so she was the only one left bar her mother, who would receive some sum of money and a chunk of the estate upon Arthur's passing.
But because Ginny was female, she was not able to be recognized as the rightful heir to the estate and upon her father's passing, unless she was married, the estate would pass into the ownership of the Ministry, who would be free to use it as they saw fit.
She'd tried to foster some sort of interest in finding suitors, but Ginny was far more intelligent than most of the men who'd tried to court her in the past, and she'd never had patience for people she'd felt weren't worth her time.
But Luna hadn't been one of those people. They'd met by pure chance when Ginny was in London, and upon making all the proper apologies and platitudes, they'd gotten to talking. Ginny was shocked to know that Luna was the only child of Xenophilius Lovegood, a well-known zoologist and theoretician. But for some reason that Ginny could only attribute to the workings of bureaucracy, Xenophilius had been fired, and he and Luna had moved to London after her mother had left them upon hearing news of her husband's fresh inoccupation.
Luna had inherited her father's love of animals and speculation, and she and Ginny had had many a discussion over their acquaintanceship, about topics ranging from animal care to the existence of reality. They'd become extremely close, and Ginny wondered why on earth, knowing that, people could believe that she'd ever be capable of killing the only friend she'd made since her brother closest in age to her, Ron, had gotten married and moved to the Granger estate.
Luna had been everything to Ginny, and they'd become like sisters. Luna, I swear I will find some way to avenge your wrongful death, Ginny had vowed before she'd become convinced that no one would believe her. It hurt to break her vow, but what could she do? Besides, Luna was dead anyway...
"Luna?" Ginny called out as she walked through the front door with an ease that only came from close acquaintance and deep affection on the parts of the homeowners. "Luna, are you here?" She made her way through the foyer, looking around for any sign that her friend was around like she'd said she'd be. It wasn't like Luna to lie. Maybe she was called away for some matter of urgency, Ginny thought as she made her way toward the sitting room.
As she walked through the house of which she'd become so familiar, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was horribly wrong. The house was never this quiet; even when Luna or her father was busy, they often would hum some tune that it seemed only they knew the melody to. But there was no such humming here today.
She walked into the sitting room, and her hopes that her feeling of dread was unwarranted were dashed. Lying supine on the floor, a blank gaze in her eyes as her lifeless body stared at the ceiling, was Luna Lovegood. There was a coppery scent pervading the air, one that Ginny dreaded to identify until she came closer and ascertained what she already knew: her best friend had been murdered.
Things after that were a blur; she vaguely remembered a piece of parchment. Other than that, it was as though the time between her discovery of Luna and her subsequent apprehension hadn't even existed. The first thing she remembered after finding Luna was waking up to find herself in a prison cell, being told that in two days she would stand trial for the murder of Luna Lovegood, and that she had visitors.
Her parents had been her only visitors, but as far as Ginny was concerned, the two of them were enough. There had been yelling, crying, and pleading, but things remained as they were before Molly and Arthur had visited: Ginny was determined to find who was responsible for Luna's death, and her parents were convinced that she was the one responsible.
She snapped out of her reverie as the judge banged his gavel and said, "The trial will soon proceed. Executioner Harry Potter has been called to witness this trial."
Harry Potter? Ginny thought with a gulp as she looked toward the doors through which Harry would undoubtedly enter. She'd heard of him, obviously; his penchant for stoicism far preceded him, and she'd heard tales in taverns and the like about the "human execution machine." Now she'd get to see him for herself, though the circumstances surrounding their encounter were far off from even her wildest imaginings.
Harry walked into the courtroom as the judge finished speaking, and looked to the figure sitting in front of the bench. What he saw surprised him.
Ginevra Weasley wasn't short, but she was thin and of a willowy build. She hardly looked capable of lifting a heavy knife, let alone killing someone with.
What surprised him much more was that she was looking back at him.
He felt an odd tugging as he met her eyes and they maintained eye contact. He couldn't explain it, but something, some overwhelming instinct, told him that this girl – since she couldn't be much past the cusp of womanhood, she looked so young – was innocent. He silently reminded himself to withhold any prejudgment until the trial had finished. With some difficulty, he looked away from her and moved to stand behind and to the left of the judge, on the opposite side than the jury. Judge, jury, and executioner. All were present, and all (save one) were already convinced of Ginevra Weasley's guilt.
I really hope this goes well for you, Ginevra, Harry thought, though his face did not betray his thoughts; long self-conditioning had caused him to master the "poker face." You deserve a fair trial. He waited silently for the judge to begin the trial. He did not have to wait long.
"Ginevra Molly Weasley, you stand before this court on the day of the eleventh of August, 1804 anno domini, charged with the murder of Luna Evanna Lovegood on the date of the ninth of August. How do you plead to this charge?"
"Not guilty," Ginevra responded, and Harry found that her voice was as soft as she looked. Why can none of them see that this girl is incapable of murder of anyone? Harry wondered if it was only obvious to him, and whether that was evidence of bias on his part. He reminded himself that it was not his place to judge or place blame; he was the executioner. That was the job he had chosen, and it would be the codes of that job to which he would adhere.
"Ginevra, you were found at the scene of the murder by the local authorities," the judge said. "You were covered in blood, and the deceased was found shoved several feet away from a large pool of blood toward the front door, when a notification was raised by a concerned neighbor."
"I didn't kill Luna," Ginevra replied softly. "She was my sister, my best friend. What possible reason could I have to kill her?" I don't know, Ginevra.
"Your motives matter not, only that the act was done and the evidence against you is too strong to be ignored," the judge said, inexorable. Do you have any evidence other than circumstantial? Harry wondered, and then chastised himself. Regardless of his knowledge of legal proceedings, he had no right to do anything other than wait passively for the sentence, and then carry out his duty, whatever that may be.
"I didn't do anything," Ginevra said, tears in her eyes and in her voice. Harry's heart went out to her, in spite of his previous self-remonstrating.
"Have you any evidence to your claim?" the judge said.
"Have you any substantial evidence for yours?" Ginevra shot back, and Harry was taken aback by the sudden spark that seemed to shoot from her eyes. His eyelids fluttered once, but Ginevra noticed, and her focus slid to him for a single second. In that second, it was as though her gaze sent a shock through Harry's blood. She's innocent. He knew it.
"You would do well to remember your place," the judge said, sounding annoyed. "If you can provide no evidence to corroborate your plea, then the evidence in opposition does suffice to pass a verdict and a sentence." Ginevra made no response, and Harry's eyebrows contracted slightly. Where did the spark go? She could have really done herself some good. But even as he thought that, Harry knew that neither the judge nor the jury would tolerate even copious amounts of substantial evidence from Ginevra now, not that she had shown such outright disrespect and impudence to a judge. Harry lamented the injustice that seemed even to permeate the justice system.
He could practically see the wheels turning in the judge's head as he came to his inevitable conclusion, wrong though it may be. For the last time, I don't know that she's innocent! Harry yelled at himself harshly. She has provided no evidence to back up her claim, and the evidence against her, regardless of substantiality, is still more than nothing. And if she provides no defense, she can't be innocent. No innocent person would refuse to give evidence of their innocence! Stop making assumptions! I don't even know this girl, and already I've decided that the judge and jury are both wrong. When there's proof that she's innocent, then I can say that it wasn't justice that was served here today. But unless that happens, as far as I know, this is justice.
"If you have neither evidence nor any defense, then all that remains is for the jury to make their verdict," the judge said, looking to the jury, who all stood and left the room. While the jurors deliberated, Harry studied Ginevra. Just as she seemed to realize that she was under his scrutiny and met his eyes again, the jurors filed back in and took their places.
The judge looked at them expectantly, and one of the jurors stood and said, "We the jury find Ginevra Weasley guilty of the murder of Luna Evanna Lovegood."
Ginevra bit her lip and looked down, but made no reply. Harry admired her fortitude.
"Then by order of the court," the judge said, "I sentence you to execution to be carried out in a month's time."
Harry closed his eyes as Ginevra's shoulders began to shake lightly. Only a month left to live… Harry thought, then opened his eyes as the judge said, "If Harry Potter would please escort Miss Weasley to her cell?"
Harry nodded and moved from behind the judge's chair to stand next to Ginevra. He gently tucked a hand under her arm and pulled lightly. Ginevra got the hint and stood, still looking down at the ground. Harry could hear the tiny intakes of breath, and it made his heart hurt in a way that hadn't happened since his first days as an executioner. Despite what he told himself, his heart went out to this girl. She may have been found guilty, but Harry did not believe that she was. With a certainty that surprised him, he realized that he intended to do whatever he could for Ginevra in her last month on this planet.
Ginny was hard-pressed not to look up at the tall, silent man gently guiding her down the same hall she had been so roughly escorted through not even thirty minutes prior. She found him utterly captivating, if she was completely honest with herself. She had expected some grizzled, hardened old man with scars on his face and built like a lumberjack.
It was an ironically pleasant surprise when Harry Potter had entered the courtroom and Ginny had laid eyes on his tall form, his broad shoulders and narrow waist, his thick arms, his shadowed jaw, his messy hair, and his eyes.
Those eyes were what captured her thoughts most of all. They were the purest green she'd ever seen, and yet… They were dull. Almost as though there was a light hidden somewhere in them that had been covered up. Though, being an executioner, Ginny supposed that that was to be expected.
Great, she thought drily. I'm attracted to the guy who's going to kill me. The irony threatened to choke her, and she let out a laugh that was thick with sobs at the same time.
"What is it?" Harry asked her, and she laughed again that he would care. Or pretend to care, anyway.
"Nothing," she replied, surprised at how steady her voice sounded, despite her stilted breathing. "I'm just being maudlin. I think I have that right, since I'm going to die in a month."
She looked up in time to catch an amused half-smile get wiped off his face and felt oddly pleased that she'd made the statue crack even slightly. "Fair enough," he said with a shrug, moving his hand from under her arm to the middle of her back, covering about from between her shoulders to about halfway down her spine. His warm hand there almost made her forget that she was living on rationed time and that this man who was guiding her so gently with just one hand was going to be the one who would come to collect.
"Please get into your cell," Harry said, and Ginny blinked; she hadn't even noticed that they'd gotten that far down the hall. She walked in without argument, and when she turned around and watched Harry slide the grate shut, she was surprised when he said, "I'll be back later." She nodded, and then he was gone.
She turned back around and looked around her cell; she hadn't really paid it much attention since she had been too busy being in shock and denial. It was a relatively well-furnished cell, all things considered. It had a pot in one corner. When she picked it up, she was relieved to see that there was a hole in the ground that led to a large underground chamber. She preferred not to think of what was in the chamber.
She put the pot back down and noticed that her finger had caught on something around the rim. She explored around it and her finger pushed a tiny slide. Ginny blinked in surprise as the bottom of the pot opened in a spiral, sliding the pieces out beyond the base to form a circular sort of platform. "Impressive," she muttered to herself as she pushed the slide back and the bottom closed itself before she placed it back over the hole.
Looking around, she saw that there was also a chair and small desk-slash-table, as well as a fair-sized bed. She'd be able to fit on it easily, and it looked comfortable enough. And with Harry around – Even though he's going to kill me, she thought – she might actually be able to find some modicum of happiness in this last month.
Part II: Adjustments
A fortnight had passed since Ginevra's sentencing, and thus a fortnight remained until her execution. A length of time that Harry was trying very hard to ignore, creep upon him slowly and steadily though it might. He hated that he seemed to be attempting to undermine justice in such a manner, but he'd be damned if he let Ginevra go an entire month with no human contact, whether she appreciated it or not.
He was pretty certain that she definitely appreciated his company, even if she wasn't very forthcoming with ways to help him prove her innocence. Every day he went to see her and they talked, he felt a bit more affection toward her, a bit more of an attachment. It was an attachment he hated to form, since in fourteen short days, she was to die. It isn't fair! he thought.
This was a circle he'd treaded mentally many times already, so he shut the thought down before it could continue. He stood up and looked outside; it was night. That meant he'd slept all day. Ginevra probably hadn't had much to eat since he'd seen her around midday. He'd have to take her a late dinner, if she wasn't sleeping herself.
When he walked to her cell, she wasn't sleeping, however. She was sitting in the chair, facing the wall, seeming to be intently focused. Harry, rather than rouse her, decided to wait for her to rouse herself. He didn't know what was commanding so much of her attention, but that was well enough, he supposed.
Eventually, her voice was heard. "Are you planning to simply stand there?" she asked quietly. "Or is there something that you needed?"
Though he was reasonably taken aback, Harry supposed he hadn't been very subtle, standing in plain view. "I figured you needed food, since you probably haven't eaten since I saw you this afternoon."
Ginevra shrugged. "It isn't something to be overly worried about," she replied. "After you left and I'd finished eating, I just took a nap. I was tired."
Harry allowed himself a smirk. "It would appear that we have similar ideas in how to spend time. In any case, I brought you a late dinner, if you're interested." Ginevra graced him with a smile – he loved her smile – and nodded. Harry slid open the grate and walked into the cell, shutting it as quietly as he could behind him. He placed the platter on her desk and sat on her bed. This had become a sort of custom between the two of them; he would bring her food, she would eat, and they would talk. They hadn't talked about why Ginevra was here in the first place, since Harry figured that it'd be a rather unimportant subject to discuss. Ginevra apparently had had the same idea, as she hadn't brought it up either.
Harry waited quietly until Ginevra was finished, and then said, "Ginevra –"
"Please, Harry," Ginevra cut across him softly. "Call me Ginny, if you would. It's what all my friends call me… or, at least, it's what Luna and my family called me." The way she said it made Harry's eyebrow rise.
"You had other friends than your family members and Luna, didn't you?" Ginny shook her head. "Well, hasn't your family come to see you?"
"You know the answer to that as well as I do," Ginny said with a humorless laugh. "Since you're here almost all the time, and anyone who'd want to visit me would have to be escorted by you. We both know how that works. So no, they haven't been to visit me."
"They believe that you're guilty." It was a statement, not a question. Ginny nodded in agreement, looking quite hurt, but looking even angrier.
"I don't know how they could think that I would kill Luna," she said quietly, and Harry was again forced to admire her composure, even when discussing obviously stressful subjects. "She was like a sister to me. She visited the Burrow often enough that they knew when she was there, that we were at least friends. I could never kill her. Ever." Her gaze dropped to her desk, and Harry allowed her whatever time she needed to regain her semblance of composure. His heart couldn't help but hurt for this girl who had lost her best friend and then been all but abandoned by her family in the same breath.
"Why would they think that you could?" he eventually asked, and Ginny shrugged, her breathing evening out.
"I don't know," she replied. "I mean, what their blasted neighbor reported did look awfully suspicious, and few people in London where Luna lived knew of our friendship. It wasn't that it was a secret; it was just something we wanted to share between the two of us. We wanted to keep our friendship to ourselves." Harry could understand that; besides the fact that any two girls in any sort of relationship were beginning to be suspect unless they were sisters, from what he knew of the Weasley and Lovegood families, they didn't exactly play on the same field.
"Do you remember anything at all about that day?" Harry asked her, and Ginny shook her head.
"No. I've told you, I keep trying to remember, but it's like a wall is around that specific amount of time, so I remember up until I walked into the sitting room, and then there's nothing until I'm being escorted into the courtroom."
Harry nodded, and then said, "Ginny… have you thought about hypnotherapy?"
Ginny looked at him, tilted her head to one side, and then replied, "No, actually… I hadn't. That's where someone is hypnotized to try and get past some sort of mental barrier, right?"
"That's it exactly," Harry said. "If you could remember what happened right after you found her, then maybe we'd be able to prove that you're innocent."
"You think I'm innocent?" Ginny asked him, clearly shocked.
Harry nodded. "I'm fairly sure I knew that you hadn't killed Luna the second I walked into the courtroom and saw you sitting there. When you looked into my eyes I couldn't help but think, 'There's no way that girl killed Luna Lovegood'."
Ginny smiled at him, and suddenly tears began to fall down her cheeks. Mildly alarmed, Harry got up and moved over to the desk and pulled lightly on Ginny's arm. She stood up, and Harry wrapped her in his arms. "Why are you crying?" he asked her quietly, hooking his chin behind her shoulder.
"I… I didn't think anyone believed me," Ginny said just as quietly, though her speaking was stilted due to her tears. "I thought you were just talking to me to be nice, since I'm going to die in a fortnight. I was sure that you were going to abandon me and execute me…" Her hands grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him impossibly closer. Harry let it happen, and held her until her sobs had subsided enough for her to form more coherent sentences.
She looked up at him, and he smiled. "Of course I think you're innocent," he said. "Anyone with half a brain could see that you loved Luna dearly and were as incapable of killing her as cutting off your own arm." Ginny smiled back, and hugged him closer again.
I don't care that he's supposed to be my executioner, Ginny thought as she hugged him, burying her face in his shirt. I don't care. He believes me… She supposed that she should've known that, since he'd never given any sort of hint as to his belief in her guilt. But he'd never given any sort of hint that he believed her innocent, either; she hadn't been able to figure out why he would invest so much of his time in her.
But it didn't matter. He knew she was innocent, and it made Ginny's heart sing to know that someone was on her side in this. Even if he's the one who's supposed to kill me for a crime I never did. Ginny shook her head sharply to rid it of that thought, and then pulled away from Harry, almost immediately missing his body warmth. It was cold in her cell, and though she had thick clothing, sometimes shivers still shook through her. But for that moment when Harry had embraced her, it was like all the cold had gone, and any urge to shiver with it.
Ginny looked up into his eyes again, and saw that this time, they weren't dull. They weren't extraordinarily bright, either, but they were deep, and all of that deep focus was centered entirely on her. Her throat worked, but it wasn't because his intense scrutiny made her uncomfortable; quite the opposite, in fact.
It occurred to Ginny that there was something she'd wanted to know about Harry for about a week now, ever since she had realized that he wasn't an enemy, even if he was her executioner. "Harry, why did you become what you are?" she asked him softly, and Harry's eyes seemed to visibly shut down as all traces of emotion left his face.
"You should rest now," he replied, and his voice had lost any semblance of warmth or personality; it was like something non-human was talking to her now. "You're probably exhausted, and keeping you awake wouldn't be a good idea." He made to leave, but Ginny, without knowing why she did it, grabbed his forearm. Though she was fairly sure he could break her grip with barely more than a thought, he stopped and looked behind him at her hand.
"Please answer my question, Harry," she said quietly.
"No!" Harry snapped. "I don't want to talk about it."
Ginny could sense that there was something extremely important that Harry was hiding, but he was clearly distressed, so she let go of his arm. "I'm sorry," she said as he walked out of the cell and turned to shut the grate. "I didn't mean to make you upset or anything like that."
"It's…" Harry let out a deep sigh and ran a hand through his hair. "It's fine. I just can't talk about it. It isn't because it's you who asked; I just… I can't. I'll be back tomorrow morning with news about whether or not we can try hypnotherapy." With that, he walked away, leaving Ginny to wonder what on Earth would make Harry so upset, especially since he always seemed to be such a master of mastering himself.
I shouldn't have been so short with her, Harry thought as he headed back to his room. She asked a simple question. But he also knew that that "simple question" was anything but. It hurt him to this day to think about his parents, which was why he tended not to do it most of the time. But Ginny's question had caught him completely off-guard, and he'd been unwillingly thrust into bursts of memory, remnants of something he'd tried hard to forget but knew would always be burned into his mind until the day he died.
"Why?" he yelled. "Why are you doing this?"
"Why not?" the man replied in a whisper. "They were going to die anyway."
"No they weren't!"
"Not right now, no – but eventually. I'm just speeding up the process."
"But why?" he whispered. "Why them? Why now?"
"Why not them? Why not now?" the man countered. He vaguely wondered if the man was insane, since he seemed to be incapable of giving a straight answer.
"Because they don't deserve this!" he yelled, and the man laughed.
"Of course they do, boy. Everyone deserves to die; otherwise God wouldn't have made them mortal. Now if you don't shut your trap, you'll die with them." Hating himself, he shut his mouth and did not make another sound.
"Good," the man said silkily. "You're learning. Now then." Without another word, he cut the throat of the man that was bound to the chair on his right. Grabbing his hair, the man pulled the seated man's head back, and the man's yells were silenced as blood poured out of his throat. The man yanked harder, and the seated man's head nearly became detached from his neck entirely. The woman who was bound to the chair on the standing man's right began to scream, and the standing man punched her in the jaw, startling her into silence.
"Shut your mouth," the man hissed at the woman. "You're lucky I made his death so quick. He had no chance to suffer." The woman would have responded, no doubt with some venomous remark, but she was currently gagged as well. "You know, I really don't feel like dragging this out with you, either," the man said conversationally, and stabbed the knife that he'd cut the man's throat with into her heart. She shrieked through the gag, and the man stabbed her again and again until the noises and movement stopped entirely.
"Don't cry, boy," the man said to the boy who'd watched his own parents be murdered by a lunatic for no good reason. "Don't think of it as killing them. I didn't kill your parents… I liberated them." The boy didn't respond save to cry harder, and the man stalked toward him and punched him hard in the stomach before he left. After the boy was sure he was gone, he walked toward his parents, still crying.
"Mum… Dad…" he whispered, touching his mother's motionless chest. Biting his lip, the boy moved toward his father and placed his hand underneath his father's head, bringing it back to where it was supposed to be.
The boy heard sirens outside, and a piece of parchment fluttered in the window. Harry grabbed it and read what it said.
Remember, boy, I did not kill your parents. I liberated them.
Voldemort
Harry's hands shook as he held the parchment, handing it to the policeman who walked in and promptly swore at the gruesome scene. "Boy, are you alright?" the policeman asked.
"Don't be an idiot," another policeman said, walking in. "He had to have been here while this happened, look at the blood on him." Harry looked down and saw that his hands were covered with blood, and began to cry again.
Strong arms immediately wrapped around him and a deep voice was whispering platitudes in his ear. "It's going to be alright," the second policeman whispered. "We're going to get the man who did this to your parents."
"I wouldn't be so sure about that, Remus," the first policeman said, having read the parchment. "It was Voldemort that did this." Remus slowly released Harry, then swore vehemently.
"It figures that that depraved being was the one responsible for this," Remus said, his tone disgusted. Then, he looked at Harry again, and his face and voice softened. "Do you have any next of kin?" he asked. "Cousins, uncles, grandparents, anything like that?"
"I don't know," Harry said quietly. "Mum and Dad didn't take me to see any family that I can remember."
"What's your name?" Remus asked.
"Harry. Harry Potter." Remus held out a hand, and Harry shook it, mildly disbelieving. He felt dead inside, like someone had ripped out everything that had made him a person out and stomped it into the dust.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Harry," Remus said. "My name is Remus Lupin, and this daft man over here is Sirius Black."
Remus and Sirius… They'd been unbelievably kind to Harry, and he'd always be grateful to them. They alone had understood why Harry had decided to become an executioner. Or at least, they thought they understood. But they didn't, not completely.
Vengeance is only part of it. No one deserves to die mercilessly like my parents, Harry thought as he walked into his room and sat down at his desk and picked up a quill and parchment. Especially people who didn't do anything wrong. But I'm helping them, even by killing them. I'm saving them, liberating them, from having an executioner who takes pleasure in what they do. There is no glory in killing, only pain and emptiness in the souls of those left behind.
He wrote the letter to the best hypnotherapist he was aware of and then took it to the Mail Room where a messenger would be able to take it to him. He sent the letter off, and then returned to his room to wait and – hopefully – sleep.
Ginny woke up around midmorning to the sound of quick footsteps. She quickly got up and tried to make herself look somewhat presentable as Harry came into view and practically threw open the cell door. He turned to look at her, and his eyes were bright. Extremely bright.
"I wrote to the hypnotherapist," Harry said without preamble. "I got this when I woke up earlier this morning. I had to leave to work out some specifics, but he's coming. Today. Ginny, this could save you." He sounded so happy, and Ginny was so happy, she could just kiss him. So she did.
It was a quick peck on the lips, but it startled both of them. Surely Harry too had felt that tiny spark when their lips had met? Ginny was sort of scared to look at him, to see what expression was on his face, if any expression was there at all. She thus failed to see the light blush that had colored Harry's cheeks that he had to will away.
She felt his fingers under her chin, lightly forcing her to look up at him. She gave a tiny gasp when she realized how close Harry's face was, but it was as though his eyes were magnetic. She couldn't look away, though her eyes slid shut of their own accord when he kissed her again.
This must be what magic feels like, Ginny thought vaguely as Harry's lips moved softly against her own. She opened her eyes a small bit to see that Harry's eyes were completely shut up, his eyelashes resting lightly against his upper cheekbone. Almost without realizing it, Ginny's hand came up to rest against Harry's face, feeling the ever-present stubble there.
Harry's eyes opened, and Ginny could see into them as though they were emerald pieces of glass. All she could see was how deep they were; it was like looking down two jade tunnels that didn't seem to end.
His tongue lightly traced her bottom lip, and her lip quivered. Harry pulled her lip into his mouth gently, and both of his hands came to cradle her face. Her mouth opened in a tiny sigh, and Harry's tongue touched her teeth. Ginny's tongue met his, and she was fairly sure that he'd definitely felt the charge between them when he pulled away suddenly, looking at her with a mixture of surprise and… something else.
"Sorry," Ginny said softly. "I was just so happy, and –"
Harry kissed her again, though it was chaste this time. "Don't apologize," he said a hoarse voice. "Don't apologize unless you regret what you did."
Ginny shook her head roughly, and Harry smiled. "Good," he said, and then moved away entirely. "Like I said before you… er, interrupted me, I set up an appointment for you with the hypnotherapist. He's coming today in about an hour, so I wanted you to be ready."
"That's… that's amazing, Harry," Ginny said. "Thank you so, so much."
"You're welcome," Harry replied. Then, he turned around to leave.
"Wait, where are you going?" Ginny asked, and Harry turned around slowly.
"I was going to leave you alone while you met with the hypnotherapist," he replied.
"I'd rather you were here when he comes," Ginny replied. "It'd make me feel more comfortable."
Harry looked at her for a moment, then nodded and said, "Well, how do you propose we spend the next hour?"
Ginny tapped her chin thoughtfully, then smirked at him and said, "I'm sure we can think of something. I don't know. We can talk…" She sauntered up to him playfully and ran her fingers across his chest. Harry's nostrils flared, and then Ginny was on her back on the bed with Harry looming over her, green eyes steady as they looked at her. "Or not," she said, and Harry's mouth descended.
An hour passed – though Ginny felt as though it hadn't been nearly as long – and they got up and made themselves look like they hadn't just been kissing each other for an hour.
They could hear footsteps, and Harry moved to lean against a wall as Ginny sat down in her chair. A man who looked old but walked young entered the cell and looked at the both of them. "I assume that this young lady with the extremely complacent look on her face is Ginevra Weasley?" he said with a smile, and Ginny flushed as Harry rubbed the back of his neck.
"Er, yes, sir, that's Ginevra," he replied, and the man nodded before moving to look at Ginny.
"Well, my dear, it is a pleasure to meet you, though these circumstances are anything but pleasant," the man said, and Ginny nodded in response, still mildly embarrassed. "Come now, Ginevra, you must look me in the eye when I'm hypnotizing you, otherwise it'll never work." Ginny looked at him and the man smiled, blue eyes twinkling.
"There, much better," the man said happily. "Now, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. I have a Ph.D. in psychology and have made learning and practicing hypnotherapy my life's work. I've been doing this for a good thirty years now."
"That's… nice, Dr. Dumbledore," Ginny replied, confused as to his small introduction.
"Please, call me Albus," Albus said, and laughed. "And I told you all of that to make you feel less uncomfortable and to assure you that I know what I'm doing, that's all." Ginny nodded, understanding, and Albus smiled again.
"Now then, my dear, please tell me all that you remember about the ninth of August," Albus said, and Ginny nodded, thinking back.
"I remember walking into Luna's house, because we were going to have lunch together and then go see what London had to offer us for an afternoon," Ginny said. "I remember walking into her house to find it totally silent, no noise whatsoever. I got this bad feeling like something horrible had happened. I called Luna's name a couple of times, then went into her sitting room. I could smell something coppery… I know now that it was blood, but when I was in the house, I think I was too scared to believe it. I walked into the sitting room… and saw Luna lying there on the floor. Her throat was slit, and… that's all I remember."
Albus was nodding and making notes of things. When Ginny had finished, Albus kept writing for a few minutes, then said, "Do you know about what time it was when you found Luna?"
"Why does that matter?" Ginny asked curiously.
"It doesn't," Albus replied with a smile. "I just wanted to see how much you truly could remember, that's all. Now then, I'm going to try to hypnotize you to allow you to bypass your subconscious. What I believe happened is that your subconscious mind became so distressed by your discovery of Luna that it repressed all that had happened from when you found her to when you found yourself here. Hypnosis is kind of like sending you into a trance. You won't remember what happened unless you say now that you want to, but if not, you'll be sent into, as I said, a trance. It's kind of similar to when you lose focus and simply stare into space for any amount of time, and when your attention is caught, you don't really remember what you were doing. I'm sure you've done that before, yes?"
At Ginny's nod, Albus pulled out a pocketwatch dangling from a golden chain. "Would you like to remember this process?" he asked, and Ginny thought about it before shaking her head.
"It'll be enough to remember what happened to Luna," she replied. "I don't need to remember how we got to that point."
"Very well." Albus cleared his throat, and began to speak in a much calmer tone. "The hypnosis is about to begin. I must ask that you remain completely relaxed, and allow yourself to become heavy. Your limbs, your breathing… everything. Your eyelids will start to get heavy, and that's alright, just let it happen. Concentrate on nothing but the sound of my voice. If your eyes want to close, let them. If you slump at your desk, that's fine. Let yourself slump. Do nothing… but… relax…"
Ginny worked to concentrate on listening to Albus's voice, and her body slid forward to catch his words, which were becoming ever softer. Her eyes slid shut to drown out visual distractions, like Harry. She just wanted to hear what Albus had to say, since it would help her prove her innocence…
"Is it working?" Harry asked, and Albus nodded.
"She's nearly there already," he replied. "Quite remarkable that someone who appeared so collected, even in the face of embarrassment, would be so susceptible to hypnosis. It is no matter, I suppose. Now then, Ginevra… I want you to think back… Back to the ninth of August… Becoming more relaxed and focused as you get closer… Now, what do you see?"
"I see Luna's house," Ginny said, her voice a monotone. "I walked in her front door. It's so quiet… something's wrong. But what is it? Luna? Luna, are you here?"
"What is she doing?" Harry asked.
"I would have expected you to know," Albus said tolerantly. "In any case, she is reliving the memory as though it is happening in real time. Ginevra, where are you walking to?"
"The sitting room," Ginny replied. "If Luna would be anywhere, it would be there, but why isn't she answering me?"
"Go check and see," Albus suggested gently.
"Okay," Ginny replied, and was silent for a moment. Just as Albus was about to say something, Ginny screamed. Harry started forward, but Albus thrust out an arm and caught Harry.
"Let her go through this," he said quietly. "She has to, or she won't remember." Harry looked at him and frowned, then nodded and backed away. "Ginevra, what do you see?" Albus asked.
"Luna… she's dead!" Ginny said, her voice quickly becoming hysterical… yet still somehow retaining that odd detached quality. "Her throat is cut… She's just staring at the ceiling… Luna, who did this to you?"
"Tell me what else you see," Albus suggested, and Ginny began to look around as though she were searching the room.
"I just see Luna… There's blood… And a piece of parchment."
"What does the parchment say?"
"It says, 'This girl has been liberated. Voldemort'." Harry was hard-pressed not to gasp… or snarl angrily. Voldemort… He killed Ginny's friend too? He has to be stopped somehow. He didn't know how, but Harry vowed he would make Voldemort pay for what he'd done to Ginny.
"Is there anything else, Ginevra?" Albus asked her softly, and Ginny looked around again before shaking her head.
"No… I have to move Luna, though… I have to take her somewhere, so that she can be looked at. So that she can be buried…" Tears began to pour down Ginny's face, and Harry itched to embrace her again, to do anything he could to make her crying stop.
"Alright, Ginevra, you do just that," Albus said quietly. "While you're doing that, I want you to imagine your muscles tightening, your breathing becoming shallower with the effort you're putting into moving Luna. You're steadily becoming less and less relaxed… When I count to three, you will open your eyes and remember none of this. One… two… three."
Ginny's eyes snapped open, and she buried her face in her hands. Harry was there immediately, whispering quietly in her ear. Albus watched the two of them without speaking, waiting until Ginny had calmed down somewhat. When she had stopped shaking so violently and Harry had loosened his hold a little, Albus said, "Ginevra, do you remember what happened now?"
Ginny buried her face in Harry's shirt, but nodded her head. "I wish I didn't now, but I do, yes." She looked up at Harry, who for the moment became entirely caught up in her eyes. They held so much pain… But he could see gratitude in them, as well. Harry gave her a small half-smile and pecked her on the lips, then Albus cleared his throat and they both looked at him. Ginny scrambled to stand, and Harry backed away to allow her to do so, smiling slightly.
"Thank you so much, Albus," Ginny said. "I mean… it feels like I lost Luna all over again, but… at least this way I can prove my innocence… But wait. I can't… That letter is probably gone."
"You mean this one?" Albus said, pulling out a piece of parchment from his pocket that had faded bloodstains on it. Ginny and Harry were both so shocked that they couldn't respond, which made Albus laugh. "I had the presence of mind, fortunately, when Mr. Potter here requested my services, to see what the investigation had turned up. The policemen who had investigated Ms. Lovegood's house found this parchment and kept it as evidence, since the name Voldemort is somewhat of a familiar name."
At this, Harry's hands clenched into fists, which Albus saw and looked at Harry, his expression sad. "Yes, Harry, he's responsible for this."
"I have a question," Ginny said suddenly.
"Ask away, dear girl," Albus said.
"Well, if this was found in the investigation, why in the name of God was I held here and sentenced to execution?" Ginny asked, and Harry found himself suddenly ripped away from his anger at Voldemort to fury at the judge and jury.
"Well, I expect that they were not told of this particular evidence," Albus said. "It is to my understanding that the policemen had lost this particular piece of evidence – it was noted in the police report, but not among the exhibits when I asked to see them, and the police were at a complete loss as to where the letter could have gone until recently, when it was brought to light that the police station had had a visitor from one of the families involved."
"…What?" Ginny asked, and her voice held worlds of anger and pain in it. "It wasn't Xenophilius, he wasn't even home… He was off on another of his research circuits. That means that…"
Comprehension dawned on Harry, and with it fury unlike any he had felt other than against Voldemort. "Your family, the Weasleys, took that letter." Ginny nodded, her hands balled into fists.
"Come on," Harry said, taking the parchment from Albus and grabbing Ginny gently under the arm.
"Where are we going?" Ginny asked.
"To get you an emergency appeal," Harry replied, his face determined. "In cases like this, where there is no evidence on behalf of the accused but only circumstantial evidence on behalf of the accusing party, an immediate appeal can be called when substantial evidence in favor of the convicted party is unearthed. That's exactly what we're going to do."
Part III: Atonements
"We call this emergency appeal to order on the date of August the twenty-sixth in the year 1804, anno domini, on the grounds of substantial evidence found in favor of Ginevra Weasley, who was convicted of the murder of Luna Evanna Lovegood and sentenced to execution fifteen days prior to the aforementioned date," the appellate judge said. "Ginevra Weasley, do you change your plea?"
"I do not," Ginny replied.
"Then let the evidence be shown," the judge said. Albus moved forward, and the judge said, "State your name and business for the record."
"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, doctor of psychology, hypnotherapist," Albus replied in a pleasant voice.
"What evidence do you have in defense of Ginevra Weasley?" the judge asked, and Albus procured the parchment and laid it upon the bench in front of the judge.
"Your Honor, this parchment was found at the scene of the murder of Luna Lovegood. However, the Weasley family patriarch, one Arthur Weasley, removed the evidence without the knowledge or consent of the police or Miss Weasley. The police records state that Arthur did not appear at the police station after the visit in which he feasibly had taken the evidence."
"You have proof of such an occurrence?" the judge asked, and Albus brought forth a packet of papers and handed them to the judge, who looked through them rapidly. "That is well and good," the judge said presently. "Now the evidence itself, if you would?"
Albus handed him the bloodstained parchment, and the judge read it quickly before slamming it down on the bench. "Voldemort is responsible?" the judge demanded, and Albus nodded.
"That is the conclusion we came to, Judge Cornelius," Albus replied.
Cornelius looked at Ginny and said, "Miss Weasley, is this true?"
"That is the note that I found in Luna's house," Ginny said. "And then dropped when I was moving Luna."
"You admit to moving her, then?" Cornelius asked.
"I never denied that," Ginny said mildly. "If I may continue, Your Honor?" At Cornelius's impatient nod, Ginny continued. "I dropped the parchment when I was moving Luna. I was attempting to get her outside so that I could get her into a cab of some sort and take her to a funeral home so that she might receive a proper burial."
"Miss Weasley, you should know better than to move anything at the scene of a crime," Cornelius said.
"I beg your pardon, Your Honor, but I had just lost my best friend, and in my shock, I couldn't think of anything but getting her what she deserved… Not that she deserved to die."
Cornelius regarded her for a few moments, and then said, "Your testimony, combined with this evidence, is enough for me to demand a revision of your sentence in light of new evidence which was not previously released, constituting an error of procedure."
"Thank you, Your Honor," Ginny said, moving to stand.
"You're very welcome, Miss Weasley," Cornelius replied. "If I may offer some advice? When you go back to the court that tried you, it would be wise to plead innocent of the murder charge, but guilty of tampering with evidence, though you were not in your right mind at the time. The worst sentence they can give you for that, since it did not actually obstruct the investigation, is community service most easily served at a soup kitchen or something of that nature."
"Thank you for your advice, Your Honor. I will do as you instruct." Cornelius nodded, and Ginny and Albus left the courtroom.
Harry was waiting anxiously outside when Ginny and Albus came out. Harry took one look at Ginny's face and knew that something had finally gone right in this case. Ginny hugged him, and Harry could feel her laughter.
"I take it things went well?" he asked Albus, who nodded.
"The appellate judge, Cornelius Fudge, deemed that there was an error of procedure and demanded a revision of the trial and sentencing," Albus replied, and Harry grinned.
"That's so amazing," he said, looking down at Ginny, who nodded. "Well, come on then, let's get this over with."
The trial, which took place the day before Ginny was supposed to be executed, had gone exactly as Cornelius had predicted, and Ginny was relieved of her sentence and was instead charged with unintentional tampering with evidence under emotional duress which, as Cornelius had said, got her thirty hours of community service to be served as she chose.
It was as she and Harry were leaving the courthouse and were heading down the street so that Harry could take her out to celebrate that Ginny heard a familiar voice. "Ginny! Ginny, is that you?"
She and Harry turned around to see a tall, redheaded man running toward them. "Ron?" Ginny said, disbelieving. Ron got to the two of them and made to hug Ginny, who moved away from him, her eyes narrowed.
"Ginny, what –"
"Where in the name of God were you?" Ginny demanded, eyes flashing in anger. "I was sentenced to death, and you didn't see fit to at least come see me?"
"Ginny, I had no idea of what was going on!" Ron replied. "You know Mum and Dad don't tell me anything anymore, not after I married Hermione, and by the time the newspaper got to where we live, you had already been imprisoned for a week. I had it out with Mum and Dad over it, and Hermione said that I should wait to come see you, since she had an idea that someone would be here helping you even though I couldn't be. She said his name was Harry Potter, and that she knew that he would help you."
Ginny looked up at Harry, who had started at the mention of his name coming from the mouth of this man he'd never met before. Then the name he'd said struck a chord. "Hermione… Hermione Granger?" he asked.
"She's Hermione Granger-Weasley now, but yes," Ron said. "She said that you and her were friends growing up, and that if she knew you at all, you'd be doing everything you could to help Ginny." He looked at Ginny again. "Ginny, I'm so sorry," he said desperately. "You know that if I'd known about what had happened to you, I'd have been here before you were even sentenced the first time!" Oh, Ron… Ginny thought; she and Ron had been the closest of the siblings and the only one that Ginny could trust with Luna, since he had been the only one who thought of Ginny as his sister before he thought of her as a Weasley.
"Ron… I believe you," Ginny said, and they embraced. "I want to see Hermione again," she said when they'd separated. "I want to thank her for having such faith in Harry."
"Wait…" Ron's eyes trailed over to Harry, who stood at about the same height as Ron. "You're Harry Potter?"
"At your service," Harry replied, holding out a hand. Ron took his hand, pumping it hard.
"Thank you, mate," Ron said sincerely. "Thank you so much. You saved my sister's life, you really did."
You're telling me, Ginny thought amusedly, and could tell from the look on Harry's face that he'd had the same thought. Harry half-smiled at Ron, who let go of his hand, and said, "It's nothing that I wouldn't do for anyone else I'd fallen for."
Ginny made to smack him, but then stopped as his words registered. "Fallen…" she said, eyes widening. "Fallen as in…"
"Love? I think so," Harry replied conversationally, and Ginny did smack him this time. He rubbed his arm in mock hurt, pouting at her. "A fine way to treat the man who was going to ask for your hand," he groused, and Ginny felt her eyes widening even farther.
"Wh… What?"
Harry grinned at her and dropped to one knee. "Ginny, I know that the way we met wasn't exactly… conventional" – Ginny rolled her eyes, but grinned herself – "And I know that we've technically only been together for about two weeks, but… Would you… allow me to ask for your hand in marriage?"
"Yes!" Ginny said immediately, startling even herself with how quickly she replied. "I mean, obviously we've got a bit more to learn about each other before that actually happens, but… yes."
She didn't think she'd ever seen Harry look happier than he was right at that moment, not even when he'd finally told her what had made him decide to become an executioner and she'd told him that no matter what he'd done in the past or what had happened to him, she liked him far too much to let it get in the way of what they had… which was something special. She didn't know what it was – except now, obviously, as she embraced the man she was going to marry, she knew that it was love – but it was something. Harry had looked unbelievably relieved that night when he'd told her and proceeded to break down in her arms, but that was nothing to the happiness she could feel practically radiating from him.
"Hey, mate, I'm glad you're gonna be part of the family and all, but could you turn down your happy glow just a few notches?" Ron groused good-naturedly. "I don't want to be blind for the rest of my life, you know." Ginny laughed and told Ron to hush his mouth, and Ron mocked her with a grin on his face.
"Well, so I see you're free now," another familiar voice said, and Ginny could feel her happiness sliding away like water down a stream.
Harry turned around to look at who had spoken, and saw that the voice belonged to a rather short woman with bright red hair and narrowed eyes.
"Mum, what are you doing here?" Ron asked. "You have no right to be here after what you did to your daughter."
"I did nothing other than what she deserved!" Mrs. Weasley snapped. "Associating herself with such disgraceful people like that Lovegood girl, God rest her soul. She needed to be taught a lesson, and yet here I come to find her wrapped around who is no doubt the first layabout ragamuffin she could find."
"You were going to have her killed? To teach her a lesson?" Ron shouted, incredulity coloring every syllable.
"Of course not," Mrs. Weasley said with a derisive snort. "That's what I came here for, to get the evidence that would set Ginny free."
"Mum… You really felt that I needed to be imprisoned for making friends with Luna?" Ginny asked in the same tone as Ron, though Harry could hear the hurt in her voice much more clearly, and it made his heart ache and burn at the same time.
"Yes, dear!" Mrs. Weasley replied, exasperated. "That girl was no good, and you knew it! Of course, I wouldn't dare speak out against her memory –"
"But that's exactly what you just did," Ginny said, her voice sounding like that of someone who finally understood something, but did not like what they were understanding at all. Harry couldn't blame her, frankly. "You insulted her, and left me for a month in prison for no good reason!"
"She wasn't of the same breed as you!" Mrs. Weasley yelled. "The amount of damage done to your reputation would have made it impossible to find you a suitable husband! But you didn't care! You disrespected me so fully as to leave my house to go meet with her after I expressly forbid you to do so! You were impudent and rude and insolent, and you needed to be taught a lesson!"
"You are a disgusting woman," Harry finally said, his patience completely gone. "You are supposed to love and protect your daughter, because when all is said and done, once you have children, they are supposed to be the entire center and meaning of your existence. They aren't pieces of clay to be molded; they're supposed to be guided, helped along. But Ginny made one friend and you deemed it necessary to leave her in prison to die? And you knew she was innocent, but lied to the police? You disgust me. You don't deserve someone as amazing as Ginny as your daughter."
"And who are you to talk to me in such a way?" Mrs. Weasley demanded.
"Harry Potter, scion of the Potter family, executioner, and your future son-in-law, as distasteful a relation as you may be," Harry shot back.
"Potter?" Mrs. Weasley repeated, her voice gone from condescension to awe. Harry rolled his eyes; he knew the reputation of the Potters was that of immensely powerful citizens, all either engaged in business or famous doctors or lawyers, a family that could trace their lineage back centuries. "Wait… son-in-law? You're going to marry Ginny?" At Harry's nod, Mrs. Weasley immediately became the fawning mother. "Oh, Ginny dear, that's so delightful!" she said excitedly. "We'll have to start planning your wedding right away."
"Excuse me?" Ginny said incredulously. "What on Earth makes you think you'll even be allowed near my wedding after what you put me through?" As Mrs. Weasley tried to talk, Ginny spoke over her. "Did you think I would be grateful to you, for saving me from dying a day before I was supposed to? Molly, I was sentenced to death. For something I did not do. And the evidence that could have saved my life, you kept a secret to 'teach me a lesson'."
"I was going to save you today!" Mrs. Weasley said.
"You should have saved me four weeks ago," Ginny said coldly. "You know, when I was sentenced to death on my twenty-second birthday?" Harry blinked; Ginny had never told him that, and he realized now that he'd never asked her when her birthday was, nor did she know when his was. One thing to cross off the list, he thought.
Mrs. Weasley looked like she was about to say something, but Ron said, "Mum… You should just go." Mrs. Weasley looked from her youngest son to her youngest daughter and scowled.
"Fine," she said, making to turn and leave. Before she did so, however, she said to Harry, "It was a pleasure to meet you dear, and it's so wonderful you'll become part of the Weasley family, full of children with disgraceful behavior that it is."
"Mrs. Weasley, I do believe the only person acting disgraceful here is you," Harry responded. "Don't act hurt, either; it's the truth. You're her mother, not her schoolteacher, and certainly not any role model that I'd appreciate. I cannot imagine having a daughter look up to someone so obsessed with trivialities such as yourself. Good day, madam; I intend to take my fiancée and future brother-in-law out." With that, Harry fell silent, staring at Mrs. Weasley until she huffed and pivoted on her heel before stalking away.
"You didn't have to do that, Harry," Ginny said. "She may not be the best or even the sanest, but she is my mother."
"No woman who could treat their children so callously deserves to be called a mother," was all Harry would say by way of reply.
"Mum is always like that," Ron said.
"But it bothers you because you can't fathom how someone lucky enough to have children could act that way, right Harry?" Ginny asked quietly, yet Harry's head snapped toward her. "Your parents were wonderful people, weren't they? And they were snatched so brutally from you… That you couldn't bear watching someone else be treated that way, because they're so lucky, and their parents don't even let them know it… Nor could you bear treating your own children like that." The last part was a whisper, but it made Harry shake all the same.
"We'll talk about it later," Ginny said softly, tucking her arm into Harry's bent elbow and linking her hand with his. "For now, let's go eat, please?" Harry looked at her, then his face softened and he nodded before looking next to him to see Ron standing there.
"Yeah… come on," Harry said, and the three of them began to look for a place to eat. Where it was didn't matter, what sort of clientele it catered to didn't matter, the food there didn't matter. All that mattered was that Harry would be going with Ginny; nothing else was important.
Epilogue: Peace and Love
Voldemort Captured
by Rita Skeeter
4 June 1806
The serial murderer known only as Voldemort was apprehended today after a killing spree that lasted for nearly thirty-five years.
He will not be given a trial, but will be immediately executed. The executioner chosen is one Harry James Potter, whose parents James Charlus and Lily Susan Evans- Potter were murdered by Voldemort. When asked for a comment, Harry only had this to say: "Finally, Voldemort will get what he deserves. The liberator shall be liberated, and I am honored to perform this particular duty in the name of justice."
As Voldemort's execution date looms ever closer, one can almost see the fear rising from this fair country like steam. It sounds as though an enormous breath is being released by the land itself. This reporter is certainly relieved; it is unbelievably enlightening to realize that who may be the darkest and most dangerous killer in Britain's history will soon receive the justice he so rightfully needs, and that it will be administered by one who so rightfully deserves it.
Potter Scion to Wed
by Rita Skeeter
6 August 1806
After an engagement lasting nearly two years, the wedding between Harry James Potter and Ginevra Molly Weasley will finally occur. It will be held at the Potter estate, which was kept in pristine condition by maids and servants even though their master chose not to live there while engaged in his profession of executioner.
Confirmed to be attending the small wedding is Ginevra's older brother Ronald Bilius Weasley and his wife Hermione Jean Granger-Weasley, Xenophilius Lovegood, and two of Harry's self-appointed "guardians," Remus John Lupin and Sirius Black III. Whether or not more guests are to be invited remains to be seen.
Interesting omissions from the guest list are the parents of Ginevra Weasley. Molly and Arthur Weasley, matriarch and patriarch of the current Weasley generation, were expressly forbidden to attend the wedding. When the bride-to-be was asked why her parents were not to attend, Ginevra simply said, "I do not wish to have such a happy day marred by the inconsiderate contributions of two people so concerned with what does not matter."
In the name of discretion, this reporter shall not relate what caused such a schism between Ginevra and her parents, but rest assured, dear readers, her reasons for wishing to exclude her parents from her wedding are most certainly justified.
The groom, Harry Potter, well-known as a "humane executioner," when asked about the upcoming wedding, simply wished to express how happy he was, and how grateful he was that Ginevra had agreed to marry someone like him. Taking a look at him for my lady readers, they can rest most assured that there is nothing wrong with Harry James Potter, other than perhaps being too attractive.
This reporter wishes the happy bride and groom many years of love and happiness, and may their children – should they have any – be blessed with the temperament and character of their parents.
- FIN -
A/N 2: Over two years later, here I am finally reviewing this, and I fixed most of the problems that I was notified of, but if there are any more, please don't hesitate to let me know.
So, the idea for this came while I was reading Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, with a scene about the burning grounds, and how one of the people who were there was bare-chested and sweating due to his proximity to the immense flames. I immediately made a connection to executioners, and all this sprang forth from my head.
I'd like you to ponder some of the issues that were a part of this oneshot either as you read, now, or at your leisure: capital punishment; murder; abandonment; mismanagement of priorities and the consequences of that; as well as a possible look into the psyche of a killer. I seriously doubt that a killer would find anything wrong with what they were doing, since otherwise they wouldn't do it.
Hopefully you enjoy reading this and find it as absorbing as I did when I was writing it. And if you'd like to discuss anything at all, go ahead and leave a review. I'll reply to signed reviews, obviously, though I have anonymous reviews enabled.
A few quick notes about names:
- I took Luna's middle name from the actress who plays her in the Harry Potter films.
- James Potter's middle name I took from his conjectured father, Charlus Potter.
- I took Lily's middle name from the actress who played her as a teenager in the Harry Potter films.
And now I'm going to reply to relevant reviews I got (which, thank you, by the way, everyone who left them, I really appreciate it):
Ranglar: You are not the only person who questioned the length of their engagement, and upon thinking about it (and the fact that even for the 19th century five years is a bit extensive) I don't really remember why I had them wait so long. So I changed it to two years, and then after Voldemort was caught and murdered. I feel that that would be a better place for Harry and Ginny, since it would only be after the person who'd caused them such trauma was gone that they could truly begin to heal, using each other for support. Thank you so much for your compliments, and I'm glad you enjoyed the story.
DukeBrymin: Thank you very much! I fixed that typo (and then went through and edited the entire thing while I was at it), and any others I could find. I have debated writing a side story for this to outline how Harry and Hermione became such close friends, but…I don't know. I don't really have a good reason not to write it, so I guess we'll see.
Alita258: Well, I'm hoping that in comparison to the InuYasha story, mine isn't quite as unrealistic or stupid, haha. Thank you for pointing out the inconsistencies; I have fixed them (hopefully all of them). Thank you so much for your compliments, and I'm glad you liked it.
EmlynMara: I'm glad you liked it! Regarding the inconsistencies you mentioned, executions (what I'm assuming made it feel like the Middle Ages) took place in the United Kingdom up until the 20th century, capital punishment wasn't outlawed in Great Britain until 1969, and the death penalty was still in effect in the UK until 1998; in 19th-century Britain there were horse-drawn cabs, which was the cab I meant. Regarding schools, the type of schools that upper-class families could send their children to had been established since before the Reformation, I believe. I took a number of things like this under consideration when I wrote the story and placed it in the context I did; the only glaring anomaly was the extended engagement period, which I changed for the reasons I told Ranglar. Thank you for your review, however; it was very helpful for me as I went through and edited the story.
And I think that's everything! I hope you continue to enjoy the story. :)