Written for Pink Mockingjay in Hufflepuff's Potter Family Challenge

Bravery Beyond All

"What's this?" James picked up the little medal that he had just spotted in the trophy cabinet whilst cleaning it. Although it wasn't his first time serving a detention like this, he'd never really paid much attention to the trophies and awards placed in there. This one, however, had caught his attention.

Ginny Weasley, it read, For Services to the school in 1998 & 1997. Bravery beyond all.

James, of course, knew of the war his parents had been involved in when they were not that much older than himself. But he had seen the trophies and awards they had received for them, and they were at home, displayed. What was this one still doing at the school?

Bartley MacMillan – James' best mate since first year – peered over his shoulder, looking at the medal he was now turning over in his hands. "Oh, that must be the medal for Dumbledore's Army!" he said. "My dad's got one, too."

"Dumbledore's Army?" He'd read about that, hadn't he? Or maybe he'd heard it mentioned once when he'd been dozing in History of Magic. The name sounded familiar, but….

"Yeah, you know," Bartley continued, "The secret army that was formed during Voldemort's reign. Your dad started it, actually, and my dad was involved."

"And… my mum was in it?" James questioned.

Bartley nodded, obviously confused by his friend's lack of knowledge. "I thought you, of all people, would know about Dumbledore's Army," he said. "They did a lot for the war, you know. Especially when your dad was out there, doing other things."

James eyed the trophy again, flipping it over in his hands. Bravery beyond all.

"So, they were just people who tried to stop Voldemort?" he asked, and Bartley shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess. They did some other things, too, which is what they got the awards for. Dad told me all about it." He took the medal from James' hand and looked at it. "Some of the group actually put their bodies on the line to help others."

"They all did that, though," James answered. He'd heard the stories, he had known what had happened that day. Well, at least he thought he had.

"No, but some of them – I think Dad said Professor Longbottom was one of them, too – really helped others. Kids were being tortured for the fun of it that year, and while your dad was who knew where, people like my dad and your mum and Professor Longbottom, they tried to help others. They'd sneak into classrooms where first year students were and take them away. They'd help them."

"Really?" James stared at the object, bewildered. He hadn't know that. Why hadn't his parents told him?

"I can't believe you didn't know!" Bartley exclaimed. "I mean, even if your parents didn't tell you, it's been mentioned in History of Magic."

"Yeah, but no one said my parents were involved," James replied defensively.

"I would have thought that would have just come with the whole Second Wizarding War thing." Bartley shrugged. "It's pretty cool, isn't it? But thank Merlin it wasn't us, yeah?" He tossed the medal back on the shelf and returned to polishing. They'd already been at it for over an hour, and he certainly wasn't going to hang around a moment longer than necessary to admire the trophies.

"Yeah, I guess," James said. "It's just strange." And why hadn't his mother kept her award?

…

It was only a week after that that James was on the train, heading home for Christmas. Ever since discovering the medal in the trophy cabinet there had only been one question on his mind – what had really happened?

He was almost seventeen now – almost an adult – and he deserved to know. He wouldn't tell the others, if that was what they wanted, but he needed to know. Others knew more about his family than he did.

"Mum?" He had decided to wait until after Christmas, and after everything had settled down. Christmas was a hectic time for them, and it was generally one of the happiest, too. Two days after was Rose's birthday, and a week after they were still eating the leftover food. It was difficult to find a spare moment for anything.

"James?" Ginny seemed surprised to see her eldest son standing in front of her. It was obvious something was on his mind; she had never seen him look so serious before.

"Can I talk to you?"

Ginny's eyes widened. James never talked to her. In fact, he never talked to anyone. He was a very private person, keeping his thoughts and feelings to himself. Even at school, Albus said he didn't think he shared much with his friends. From the look on his face, though, she knew he must have been serious.

"Of course, James," she said, indicating for her eldest son to come and sit beside her. She was in the living area, tidying up, so there was plenty of room for them to sit down. "What can I do for you?"

She had never seen James look so uncertain before. He fidgeted, not looking at her, and she was beginning to wonder if this question was more on the personal side. Why he hadn't gone to Harry….

"When I had detention a week ago," he began, "I found something."

Ginny frowned. "What kind of something?" she asked curiously.

"A… I was cleaning the trophy cabinet, you see, and something with your name on it caught my attention. And then Bartley, he was telling me all this stuff his dad had told him about the war… about Dumbledore's Army, and why you got that award." He looked up, staring his mother square in the eye. "Why didn't you tell us, Mum? What you did? Why didn't you tell any of us?"

"Any of you what?" Ginny asked, trying to deny what she knew her son already knew.

"Mum!"

Ginny swallowed, sighing. "Those are moments no one wants to remember, James. I don't want to remember them. I don't even want to think about what happened back then."

"You didn't even tell us about Dumbledore's Army, though," James argued. "People just assume we know everything, but you don't tell us anything. None of you do. It's not fair."

"It's protecting you, James," Ginny answered calmly. "We don't tell you, because we don't want our children reliving our lives. We want better for you."

"I'm almost seventeen," James countered. "I can handle it, you know. I'm not scared."

Ginny shook her head. "I know that," she said. "Of course I know that, James. But you're still my son, and I love you, and I don't want you to know about some things, okay?"

"Like you being tortured?" James said, his tone blunt.

Ginny didn't answer; only stared at him, wondering how he knew that.

"After I found the medal I did some research," he confessed. "I looked into it. You were tortured, Mum. You, and Professor Longbottom, and Luna, and heaps of others. It's why you got those awards. Because you put the lives of others before your own."

Ginny shook her head. "Don't glorify it, James."

"I'm not! But it's the truth, and you never told us. You told us about Dad almost dying, but not that?"

"It's hard to find the words," Ginny told him, her voice barely a whisper. She couldn't look at her son now that she knew that he knew of what had happened. She had known she'd have to tell them one day – they'd learn of it eventually – but she had never anticipated it coming out like this. "Don't go telling your brother and sister," she then said. "I'll tell them myself when the time comes."

James nodded. "I haven't said a word," he promised her. "But… Mum… are you okay?"

"It was a long time ago now, James," Ginny said. "I'd almost forgotten about it." That was a lie, of course, but James didn't need to know that. It was hard to forget times when someone used the Cruciatus Curse on you. Even the mention of it still made her cringe.

"Do you want the medal?" James then asked.

"No, it's at the school now. It's there for a reason."

"Oh." James patted the pocket in his jeans, suddenly appearing guilty. Ginny looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Please tell me you didn't take it," she said. "James?"

James' face told her that that was exactly what he had done, and that he hadn't expected her to be angry over it.

"Give it to me," she insisted, holding out her hand. "James."

"You said you didn't want it."

"That was before I knew you had stolen it."

James was obviously reluctant now, and something in his expression made Ginny take away her hand. "What is it?" she insisted.

"It's just… if you don't want it… can… can I have it?" He had never gone so red before, and Ginny was suddenly overwhelmed with great affection for her eldest son.

"You want it?" she questioned.

"If you don't want it, I mean," James said, refusing to look at her.

Ginny couldn't help but smile. "Don't tell the school you took it," was all she said. She was halfway off the couch to return to what she had been doing when James spoke again.

"I think it's cool, you know," he said. "It's cool that you did what you did. I thought you were just a Quidditch player, and that's what you were famous for. But saving people is much cooler than any Quidditch player."

A smile graced Ginny's lips – her first smile at the mention of the Battle, ever. "Thanks, James," she said. "That means a lot."

He returned her smile, turning a deeper shade of red. "I'll leave it here, though," he said, patting his pocket again. "It belongs here."

Ginny nodded. "Sorry I didn't tell you."

James nodded too. "It's okay," he assured her. "I guess it was kind of something you don't want to think about too often."

"No, it's not."

Ginny left after that, and when he was sure she wasn't returning, James took the little medallion from his pocket. He smiled at the engraved writing, his chest swelling with pride. Maybe his mother didn't want to be reminded of what had happened back then, but James always wanted a reminder.

Not everyone's parents were willing to sacrifice their own lives for the lives of people they hardly knew. This was probably the first time ever he had truly appreciated everything his parents had done.

This scenario was given to me as part of the challenge, but I love James so I chose to write about him. I hope you liked it and your thoughts are much appreciated.