In Times Of Test, Family Is Best
At ten past five in the morning by Ron's watch, the kitchen door flew open. Fred, George and Ron flew out of their seats, expecting to see their mother. Instead there was Bill, deathly pale and red-eyed. As much as Harry hoped, he was almost certain that the redness wasn't attributed to a sleepless night.
"D-dead," he stammered. "We were too late." As one, Fred, George and Ron sank back into their seats. Ginny buried her head in her hands, whether or not she was crying was hard to tell. Sirius got up and motioned to Harry, who followed him and Bill upstairs, away from the others.
"When?" Sirius asked, and Harry knew that the extra gruffness in his voice was emotion.
"About half past four," Bill answered, his face set determinedly. "Mum had just reached him. I was on my way. At least he wasn't…alone."
"Where's your mum?" Harry asked. Mr Weasley, dead…it couldn't be true.
"Still there," Bill said, his voice trembling with suppressed emotion. "She can't accept it."
"I'm sorry," Sirius said, clapping Bill on the shoulder. "But the best thing is to get some rest."
Harry hurried upstairs. He was filled with a terrible, all-consuming guilt. If he'd raised the alarm a little faster, if he hadn't been the snake, the snake that had killed Mr Weasley. He took off his cloak and tossed it on the floor. Phineus had appeared in his dingy portrait.
"Dumbledore knows," he said silkily. "Dilys sent word." He disappeared. Harry lay down on the bed. A minute or it might have been an hour later Ron came in. Hearing sniffs, Harry pretended to be asleep.
Unable to sleep at all, Harry went downstairs at around seven. No one else was about. Pulling another bottle of Butterbeer from the pantry, Harry sat down on the nearest chair and drank deeply. What had happened to Mrs Weasley? Was she perhaps still at St. Mungo's, by her husband's body? Harry had just finished his bottle when he heard quiet sobbing.
Following the noise he found Ginny in the drawing room, raising a bottle repeatedly to her lips. Examining the label, Harry realised it was Firewhisky. He took the bottle from an unresisting Ginny's limp hand.
"You don't want to drink that," he warned, throwing it out of the window and hearing the tinkle of broken glass on the pavement.
"I do," Ginny said, slurring her words slightly. "I want to forget. I don't want to hurt."
"And then you'll wake up and the pain will be worse," Harry said. "Ginny, you have to face your grief."
"I don't want to!" Ginny screamed, suddenly white as marble and near-hysterical. "I want to kill you, Harry James Potter, and then I want to drink until I drown." Harry noticed that during the scream Ginny's eyes gleamed red. Suddenly she fainted and Harry only just caught her before she hit the floor. Suddenly Ron came charging through the door, wand out, hair sticking up at all angles.
"I heard screaming," he gasped, breathing hard, plainly having just run down from the top floor. The he noticed a limp, pale Ginny in Harry's arms. "What happened?"
"I found her in here crying and drinking," Harry said. "I threw the bottle out the window and she was crying all over me when she…" he hesitated, wondering how to tell Ron. "She started screaming, saying she wanted to kill me and her eyes were red and glowing. Then she suddenly stopped and fainted dead away."
"Sounds like some sort of fit," Ron said, though he sounded uncertain. "She's always been a bit bonkers since the Riddle incident. Probably just grief, no sleep and drink pushed her over the edge. She didn't know what she was saying, mate."
"Best thing is probably for her to sleep it off," Harry said and together he and Ron put Ginny on the nearest sofa, removed her shoes and cloak and covered her with an old blanket coated in a fine layer of dog hair.
Harry and Ron headed down to the kitchen to find someone already sitting in there, gazing into the flickering ruby red embers of the fire. Harry had his wand out before realising it was Hermione, still in her Hogwarts robes and travelling cloak, her hair saturated in snow. Ron hung back a little as Harry went to talk to her, running a hand through his unruly hair, bending a little to give his pyjamas the appearance of fitting.
"Fawkes came for me," Hermione said by way of explanation, before either had opened his mouth. "I came here on the Knight Bus. Oh, and I got a message from Mad-Eye on the way here. He and Tonks went to St. Mungo's. They're bringing your mum home, Ron."
"Why couldn't she some home herself?" Ron asked, suddenly defensive.
"Um, she wouldn't leave your Dad's body," Hermione explained gently. "She wouldn't let the Healers take him away. She's in shock and crying all the time."
"Right," Harry said, confirming that they were satisfied, while Ron just stared at Hermione with his mouth open.
"Hermione, you're a girl," he said.
"As I said last year, well spotted, Ronald," Hermione said, a smile twitching the corners of her mouth.
"Well, can you cook?" Ron asked hopefully. "I'm starving!"
"Once a human dustbin, always a human dustbin," Hermione said under her breath. "Alright, I can do eggs and bacon for ten."
Soon the cold, quiet, empty kitchen was filled with the homey smells of frying bacon, the sizzling of the oil in the saucepan and the quiet chink of glass on glass as Hermione poured glasses of pumpkin juice. Harry took a stack of plates from the cupboard and Ron swept away the debris of the restless night. People were soon drifting bleary-eyed from upstairs, no doubt tempted by the smell of breakfast. If anyone noticed Ginny's absence, no one mentioned it.
Soon everyone was eagerly digging in to Hermione's cooking, drinking pumpkin juice, chattering loudly. It would have been normal if not for the aura of grief that hung in the air. At last Tonks and Moody came in, both supporting Mrs Weasley.
"Thank you," she said in a high-pitched voice as Ron slid a plate of bacon and eggs down the table towards her.
Making a vague and probably completely transparent excuse about going to the bathroom Harry escaped the over-crowded kitchen and went through to the drawing room to check on Ginny. She was still asleep, the colour having returned to her skin, her breathing soft and steady. Harry checked her pulse and regularity of her breathing. Everything was normal. So what had happened? Harry was pretty sure that, whatever had happened, it had not been a fit or the result of too much stress and Firewhisky. For that moment when she looked at him, Ginny's eyes had been the same shade as Voldemort's, glowing red like hot coals.
He wanted to talk to Dumbledore, the only one who would have the answer, but after his urge to bite he was too scared to see Dumbledore, much less talk to him. As he sat there pondering Ginny coughed and opened her eyes.
"Harry?" she asked, her voice faint and distant-sounding. "What happened?"
"You fainted," Harry replied. He was sure it would just unhinge Ginny to tell her what had really happened. Suddenly Ginny's eyes changed from brown to red.
"There is no point hiding, Harry James Potter," she said. But it wasn't her voice. It was deep and evil, it sounded old and angry. "I am coming for you and I will find you." The…whatever it was gave a hideous, horrible, spine-tingling laugh. Ginny gasped, her eyelids fluttered and she thudded back against the pillow. Harry dropped his head into his hands. How could his world have turned upside-down in just a matter of minutes?