From the moment Ginny walked into the Burrow, she knew something was wrong. Not only was it completely quiet - not even the ever-present crackle of the radio filled the fragile, taut silence that had been stretched over the kitchen - but also, the majority of her family were sitting around the table in front of her. Mrs Weasley, Mr Weasley, George, Bill, Fleur, Ron and Hermione were all there, despite the fact that at least half of them ought to be at work.
Ginny's heart thudded unevenly, and she had to remind herself firmly that the War was over. It wasn't like before, when the entire Gryffindor common room had used to sit in silence listening to Potterwatch, dreading bad news. Things were better now - there would be no more deaths. So why did it feel like they were about to break some very bad news to her?
"What's going on?" she asked. Her eyes flickered to each of her family members in turn, trying to read their expressions. All she saw was worry, fear and pity. But why?
Mrs Weasley got to her feet slowly, the chair scraping along the stone floor. "Have you seen Harry today, dear?" she asked, walking over to Ginny.
Ginny didn't like this tone of voice. It was the gentle, cautious tone of voice that made her feel like a small child about to throw a tantrum. It was a voice supposed to make her feel calm, but instead she only felt more on edge. "No. He was working late last night, and I left early this morning." This was hardly surprising. Everyone had been working a lot lately, just to try and distract themselves. "Why? What's going on?"
Mrs. Weasley's lips trembled. Two more chairs scraped backwards. Mr Weasley joined his wife, and Hermione approached Ginny with a worried expression. She was holding a piece of parchment.
"Harry... he left this." She handed the parchment to Ginny, who unrolled it carefully and began to read the scrawling handwriting of her boyfriend:
To whoever finds this first -
Firstly, thank you so much for your kindness over the past few weeks. It means more than I ever could explain, especially with Fred and everything.
But I think I need to leave for a while. I can't explain why. I just need some time alone.
Please don't worry about me. And please don't try to find me.
I'm sorry.
Harry had signed his name at the bottom. Ginny flipped the sheet over, expecting to see something else, anything else. Some kind of sign that this wasn't real, that he hadn't just left her like this without even saying goodbye.
"That's everything," Ron said, seeing her fruitless search. He looked as miserable as she felt. "All his stuff is gone, too."
Ginny shook her head. She skimmed the page again, feeling as though her chest was suddenly completely hollow and empty. "No," she said softly. "No. He can't have... he wouldn't..." She trailed off and, thrusting the useless letter back at Hermione, ran upstairs.
She burst into Ron's room expecting to see the few possessions Harry had left scattered across the desks or on his bed, or to see the man himself sprawled out reading a Quidditch magazine. But Ron was right. The left half of the room was tidier than usual, because there was nothing left there but the bed. The sheets were folded back neatly, as if Harry had never slept there at all.
She felt her knees give way beneath her, and she sank onto the vacated bed with her head in her hands. Harry had been distant lately, unwilling to talk or spend time with anyone, but she had assumed it was for the same reasons she had been similarly subdued. Fred was gone, and his absence was as obvious as if someone had taken a chunk out of the Burrow itself. His absence was a bitter wind whistling through the house, numbing their bodies, slapping their faces with an icy hand. There was not a waking moment when she forgot him. Even in her dreams, she chased him through the streets of Diagon Alley, calling his name, never quite catching up.
And now she had to cope without Harry, too.
Back downstairs in the kitchen, she felt everyone watching her warily. She refused to meet any of their gazes. "What are you all doing here, anyway?" she asked, irritation creeping into her voice now. "Why aren't we out looking for him?"
It was Fleur who spoke this time. "Because 'e does not want to be found," she said in her lilting voice, in a tone that implied this was obvious. "'E will be back when 'e eez ready."
Ginny's eyes flashed, and she looked up quickly. "So you just want to let him go off on his own? He'll do something stupid - he'll go looking for danger, you know he will. I can't- I can't lose him, too," she said angrily, but the last sentence came out weak and wobbly, as if she were a wounded animal. "He didn't even say goodbye. Again."
"He'll be okay, Gin," Bill pointed out. "If he can defeat Voldemort, I think he can manage to look after himself now." Even now, a little shiver went around the group at the mention of Voldemort's name.
She opened her mouth to argue, but Ron got there first. "He was with me and Hermione last year," he said. "And I think we should find him now."
A short silence, which Hermione broke. "You know what this is about, don't you?" Nobody replied. "He blames himself, obviously."
"Look, he'll be fine," Bill said firmly. "Let's not get worried over nothing. He's an adult and he said not to worry about him. He just needs his space. He'll be back soon, you'll see."
"If he was coming back soon, why would he take everything with him?" A sob caught in her throat, but she forced it back, and squared her shoulders. "We have to find him. And we have to do it without the rest of the Wizarding World getting wind of it; the last thing he needs right now is more pressure from the press. Now... are you with me, or am I doing this alone?"
Hermione smiled. "We told Harry we were with him last year, and we're not about to abandon him now."
