Hey guys, I'm finally back with a new story! I know, I know...shocker. Now you guys know what I was writing when you all were crying "Update Faithless, update Faithless!" Which makes me wonder if you even read these things, because I specifically wrote that I wanted you guys to tell me what drabbles you wanted to see turned into chapters. And not one of you said a thing, so until you do...no new chapters for you. To those of you who braved that rant and don't even know what I'm talking about...terribly sorry. I hope you enjoy this chapter and will stick around for every one that will follow after. This chapter is dedicated to all of you reading this, but most especially to my beta, CrystalSaffron and to my best friend, SinPiedad. Love you guys so much for all you've done to make Bad Moon Rising a reality. Thanks, guys.
Bad Moon Rising
By: CattyRose
Chapter One - The Animal Inside
September 13, 1996 – 10:48 AM
"I hate this." Ginevra Weasley muttered, careful not to break the never ending silence that seemed to hold Gryffindor Tower within it's endless grip. "It's like we're just giving up, Colin. And that scares me."
The young photographer sighed, blue eyes sweeping the Common Room for any sign of the life it once held. "I know, Gin. I know."
He spoke a little louder, purposefully drawing the eyes of the hopeless students who sat silent and still, unwilling to break the lifeless grip of grief that seemed to be pervading the castle. "We're letting the Dark Lord win by sitting here, acting as though we're already dead. We have all lost friends, we will lose friends again, because this is War." Collin ground out. "That doesn't mean we should stop living our lives. To do so is to dishonor those who have fallen, fighting so that we might live. What kind of Gryffindor allows themselves to cower in fear?" He questioned, his voice rich with disgust.
"Here, here!" The redhead cried, inclining her head proudly. "We are Gryffindors, and it's about time we start acting like them. Tonight, we celebrate life! We celebrate for Dean, Romilda, and my brother. Tonight, we're going to laugh, and love, and live again. Who's with us?"
"Yeh bet your arse I am, lass." A strong Irish baritone rung through the room, causing several people to look at the blond seventh year oddly. "Dean would hate to see us like this, yeah? Can yeh all see them sitting around like a buncha zombies?" Seamus queried with a solemn expression that seemed oddly out of place on the usually jovial Irishman's face. "Harry, wherever he is now, would want us to be strong for the rest o' the school. So aye, I'm with yeh."
"They're right." Neville said, nodding empathetically. "We won't let this be a victory for Vol-Voldemort. We can't. The school needs us."
"We won't forget them," Lavender affirmed in a rare moment of seriousness. "They fought hard and lived life to the last. And that's what we're going to do."
"For Dean, Romilda, and Ron," cried several voices at once.
"Long live Gryffindor!" The crowd roared in answer, fires sparking in once dull eyes, even as others clapped their hands or stomped their feet, the wild cheering and enthusiastic whistles showing the crowd's approval. They would be strong, and they would survive this war to live their lives to the fullest. For those who had already fallen.
Giving her best friend's hand a squeeze, the youngest Weasley shared a triumphant smile with Colin. "Speaking of which, I think I'm going to talk to McGonagall this week. I...I have some things to atone for. Maybe he'll forgive me if I try to preserve his memory."
"Ginevra..." He began, shifting in his seat. The rare use of her full name caught her attention, stopping her words before she could even speak. "Your brother knew you loved him, even if you didn't say it, you told him every day simply by being his sister. I....I can't imagine losing Denis, but even if I never got to say goodbye, I'd still know." He mumured, trying in vain to comfort the girl before him.
"But I...I was such an annoying little bint to him that morning. I called him a git for hogging the hot water, and joked about him eating like a pig and I never even got to say sorry for teasing him before he was gone. Hermione and her parents are in America until the war's over. Harry is in forced hiding, doing research on horcruxes. It seems unreal, y'know?" She carded shaking hands through her hair, trying to gather her wits enough to keep speaking.
"It feels like I was just joking around with Ron and Harry this morning, and I've suddenly lost two of my brothers and a girl I considered my sister in one fell swoop. And the brothers I do still have are all risking their necks. What am I doing for the cause? I'm safe and sound sitting here, crying like a little baby over my brother." The redhead ranted, her entire form trembling from the onslaught of emotions.
Leaning forward, Colin opened his mouth to speak before shutting it abruptly. Shrugging slightly, he slid his hand under her chin and forced teary chocolate eyes up to meet tired blue. "It's war." The sixth year said simply, as this explained everything. And perhaps it did.
September 1, 1996 – 8:19 AM
"C'mon, Ron." Ginny Weasley shouted, slamming her fist against the bathroom door. "You're not the only one that is leaving for King's Cross today, you prat! Hurry up already!" Her brother was taking forever in the bathroom, and she desperately needed a shower and something to eat in the morning before could even consider herself anything resembling awake. Tapping her foot in irritation and cursing her brother under her breath, she nearly jumped a foot in the air when a warm chuckle came from somewhere behind her. Crossing her arms and turning to playfully scowl at the dark haired boy who had startled her, she shook her head. "Think it's funny, eh, Potter? He's taking forever, the git. And you lot talk about girls taking forever in the loo."
Harry Potter snickered and leaned causally against the wall, emerald eyes sparkling with good humor behind his trademark glasses. Shifting the towel in his hand to his shoulder as he waited for the bathroom, he pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and leaned forward conspiratorially. "Well, Gin," He said quietly, careful not to alert his best friend, who had finally left the shower, as to what he was saying. " You see, it's like this...the reason Ron takes so long in the loo is because he has to make sure he's pretty enough to fight with Hermoine..."
Stuffing a fist in her mouth to keep from laughing hysterically, she shot a dark look towards the amused brunette and pounded on the door again. "Let's go, ickle Ronnikins, or you'l miss breakfast. Harry and I would like to shower now so we actually stand a chance of getting downstairs before you eat it all!" This comment seemed to draw another chuckle from the boy behind her.
"Aw, Gin, I didn't know you wanted to sneak a peek at my arse. You don't need excuses like showering together to save time to get a look. I'd be quite happy to help..."
"Harry!" She cried, sounding somewhere between amused and scandalized. "How dare you suggest I'd be so devious as to have ulterior motives when it pertains to food? I love breakfast more, no matter how fine the arse. Weasleys don't joke about food." The redhead said with mock solemnity, trying and failing to keep from laughing.
"Is food truly so important you'd neglect a chance to see my hot bod? I'm utterly insulted, Gin-Gin." He joked, a genuine smile tickling his lips.
"You and everybody else, Potter." The petite girl retorted sarcastically. "I aim to please."
"You know," said another voice conversationally, "If you two would stop flirting for a minute you'd realize I've already been to our room and gotten dressed while the bathroom sat empty."
Green eyes met brown for a few seconds, communicating silently before both sets of eyes turned towards the other redhead. "Shut up, Ron!" They said in eerie unison, before Ginny slipped away into the bathroom to get washed up.
Ron shrugged at the other boy as his sister darted around him and rushed into the bathroom. "My sister is mental, I swear. Don't know why you hang out with her. Anyway, I'm going to go finish tossing things into my trunk and then grab some breakfast. I can't wait to get back to school. We're the kings of the world this year! Anyway, see you when you're showered, yeah?" Giving his best mate's shoulder a light nudge, he headed back towards the room he shared with Harry, still rubbing a towel through damp ginger hair.
Little did he know, he'd be felled before he ever got to board the Hogwarts Express for his final journey to the school.
September 14, 1996 – 3:34 AM
The usually cheery fire that seemed to burn perpetually in Gryffindor Tower's fireplace had long since dimmed to the faintest of embers, casting odd shadows about the room. It was a strange sort of testament to the late hour, that the sole witness and companion of the Gryffindor's celebration was slowly dying, barely presenting warmth to the bodies spread out across the common room. Few had made it to their beds, choosing instead to stay close to their friends, as if making sure that those who remained would still be there in the morning. Others had simply fallen asleep where they were, making the scene far more comical than anything had a right to be during war time.
"Nah, s'impos...impossible. I-" Ginny slurred, absently tossing her card to Seamus, who was acting as a dealer. "Fold. S'no way I can...can...can win this thing. 'M out for the nigh'. I'll...jus' watch." She declared, taking a liberal swig from a nearby bottle of firewhiskey.
"Y'know, I'm kinda hungry..." Neville mused aloud. "I say we...raise...rage...raid! Yeah, s'it. I say we raid the kitchens after this hand."
To the sole few remaining awake and conscious enough to play poker, this sounded like a smashing idea. Until Lavender, in an odd moment of sobriety, pointed out the hour. "Bugger." Seamus swore and rose unsteadily to his feet. "I say we do it anyway! Right, guys? Nev? Gin? Lav? Guys?" The Irishman called, trying to get a response from his now sleeping friends. "Bugger," he repeated again, dropping into his armchair and closing his eyes. Maybe they had the right idea, after all.
"No, Ron..." the red-headed girl whimpered some time later, tossing and turning violently on the loveseat in the throes of a nightmare as the firewhiskey in her system caused her to relive her worst memories.
September 1, 1996 – 10:33 AM
"Now dears, you be good. I don't want to hear you've gotten yourselves into any trouble, you hear me?" Mrs. Weasley said, hugging each of her children fiercely in turn.
"Yes, Mum." The two Weasleys and Harry chorused in unison.
"Boys, I want you to look after your sister. Ginevra, the same goes for you. In dark times like this, we need to take care of each other. Be careful, kids. And remember, your mother and I love you very much." With lingering hugs given to each child, Arthur turned to leave. Catching sight of the clock nearby, Arthur Weasley's eyes widened. "I had to go back to work fifteen minutes ago. I'll see you all at Christmas. Behave!" The Weasley patriarch exclaimed, hurrying over to the apparition point with a quick nod to Kingsley and his fellow aurors. A backwards wave to his family and the order members that stood guard around them, Arthur was gone. Little did anyone know that his hasty goodbye would be the last time he would ever hug his youngest son.
"You kids should probably be getting on the train before all the good compartments are taken." A rather new member of the Order said, intent on getting his charges to safety.
"He's right." Harry murmured, turning to hug the woman he considered his mother one last time.
"We should go, Mum." Ron agreed quietly.
"We'll write, Mum. Promise. Please don't worry about us." Ginny pleaded, kissing her mother's cheek.
"Of course I'll worry, dears. It's what being -" Molly Weasley trailed off, words having fled at the sound of several pops signaling apparition and a scream from further down the platform. "Quickly dears, on the train. Go, go, go..." The woman cried, pushing her children towards the doors of the steam engine frantically.
Harry's face was ashen as he was pushed towards the train. "No," he said forcefully, a steely glint entering his emerald eyes.
"Don't be a fool!" The order member from before cried. "Get on the train!"
Ron shook his head quietly, and resolutely stood by his friend's side. Catching his sister's movement out of the corner of his eye, the redhead again shook his head. "Not this time. Sorry Gin. Colloportus!" He cried, waving his wand. Instantaneously, the train doors sealed shut, trapping the girl behind them.
"No!" She shrieked, betrayal evident in her eyes. Damnit, did they really expect her to stay put while they fought for their lives? Beating her small fists against the door, she could only watch helplessly through the compartment door as the battle raged. Angry tears blurring her vision, she barely managed to catch sight of a green light streaking towards her brother. Screaming, she beat her fists harder, watching in slow motion as her brother crumpled to the ground, blue eyes lifeless. Nonononononono...a mantra of denial as her body gave out. Sliding down the door in stunned disbelief, the redhead hugged her knees to her chest and rocked as angry tears turned into great, gasping sobs filled with grief.
Some time later, perhaps hours, minutes, seconds, an eternity having passed, the train began to move. Ginny was later joined by Collin, Luna, and Neville, but the girl refused to speak, crying all the while. She wouldn't receive word that her Mum and Harry were alright for a week.
September 18, 1996 – 4:25 PM
"Please, Professor. I know it seems like a lot to ask, but..." The redhead sniffled quietly, chocolate eyes darting around the room in a futile attempt to hide the beginning of tears from her stern head of house. How many times had she cried in the weeks following her brother's death? She had lost count. "He was so excited when he completed his transformation for the first time. He couldn't believe he was a lion, but that was my brother. R-R-Ron was nothing if not a Gryffindor..." Ginny Weasley swallowed hard, tears beginning to slide down her cheeks as she finally lost the valiant battle against crying.
Seemingly deflating at the mention of her lost lion cub, the usually stoic Transfiguration teacher rose from her seat and slipped a comforting arm around the petite redhead's shoulders, giving the younger woman a small squeeze. Minerva McGonagall was a stern woman, but she was not without a heart. Seeing the girl she had once considered her own in such a state nearly broke her heart as much as the loss of the youngest Weasley son. Inhaling slowly, she made a desperate attempt to keep the guilt at bay. She had failed to keep her beloved students safe, and thanks to her failure, Gryffindor tower was now without three of its own. Never again would she scold Dean Thomas for fooling around with Mr. Finnigan in class. Ronald Weasley would never lose another point from Gryffindor for fighting with Mr. Malfoy, and young Romilda Vane would never be able to spread the latest gossip in the tower amongst her classmates. Curtailing that train of thought before it could continue, and silently thanking the Gods she had not lost more, the weary Deputy Headmistress waited for the once fiery girl to collect herself enough to finish pleading her case. Losing her big brother, her former boyfriend, and her dormmate in such rapid succession had dimmed much of the innate fire the youngest Weasley possessed, so it was with some surprise that the aging witch regarded her young charge as she began to speak again.
"I want to remember him like that. I need to remember him like that, Professor. This is the way I can honor him. This is the way I can keep the memory of my brother, and all he was, alive. Please help me do this, Professor. Please." The girl pleaded, the first real signs of passion returning since the first fall of an older brother to the war. Almost as if her plea had taken all the strength she had left, the young woman slid down in her seat, her entire form seemingly becoming listless. Turning dull eyes on her teacher, the drained redhead waited for her elder to speak.
"You do understand that this will not be easy, Miss Weasley? It is a long and difficult process that one must go through to become an animagius. I've little doubt that you are quite capable of doing anything you set your mind to, but I do worry about your current state of mind. The training is rigorous and frustrating, and quite frankly, I am worried that your grief will complicate the process." The older woman said quietly, raising a hand to halt the protest she was certain was coming. "However, I believe that you are determined enough to take matters into your own hands should I refuse, correct?" Smiling at the jerky nod she received in reply, she continued to speak. "Very well, Miss Weasley. Stay after class tomorrow and we will get a schedule sorted out. However, you must promise me that you will not try anything I might teach you in these lessons on your own unless instructed. With your state of mind, you will need supervision from someone who knows the process well, lest something go wrong. Will you give me your word, Miss Weasley?"
Sitting up straighter in her chair with each word spoken, the once hopeless girl felt a genuine smile light up her too pale features for the first time since her brother's death. Withdrawing her wand from the inside of her robes, she held it out and made her oath. "I, Ginevra Molly Weasley, do solemnly swear on my magic and my honor as a witch to take my animagus training no further than instructed, and until mastered, never try to transform without the supervision of Professor McGonagall." Golden light surrounding her as the vow took, she murmured "So mote it be," only to be echoed by the smiling Professor. Thanking the older woman profusely, she made her excuses and left, with a promise to stay after class the next day, leaving a bemused Minerva McGonagall in her wake.
Shaking her head fondly, the animagus turned her attention to the rolls of parchment waiting to be graded, even as her thoughts wandered back to the young lady who had just left her office. Idly correcting papers, she mused that teaching Ginny Weasley to become an animagus was the least she could do for the poor girl. Not only would she be alleviating some of the girl's overwhelming grief, she would also be giving the girl a goal, something she could focus and work towards. Indeed, animagus training was just the thing to keep her from feeling useless even as she worried over her family and friends while they risked their lives to complete missions for the Order.
'Besides,' the Transfiguration professor thought, quill dropping from her hand as she was distracted, 'It will come in handy sooner rather than later, if I remember correctly. I really must check in on Fillius and his progress at some point. I do believe it's almost time.' Smiling secretly to herself, she picked up the abandoned quill and began to grade once more, lost in memories of redheads with beautiful laughs and wickedly smiling Marauders.