Ginny sat staring determinedly in front of her. She was trying desperately to ignore her coach, Gwenog Jones, who was pacing nervously.
" Merlin, what is taking so long? It happened, you publicly apologised, and we're prepared for you to cop a suspension. They've been in there for over a bloody hour," growled Gwenog.
Ginny was trying to not hear Gwenog, but her voice was rising as she spoke. Ginny winced, well aware that the longer they were waiting outside for the verdict, the worse it was going to be.
" Judgemental bastards...wouldn't be dragging this out if it were Oliver Wood...course, the blokes don't have the photographers following them around like my girls do...unfair...effin discrimination, that's what it is," muttered Gwenog. She started when the door opened, and Mr Hopgood, the head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports stood in the doorway.
" Ms Jones, Miss Weasley," he gestured, for them to follow him into the office. His face gave nothing away, but Ginny felt his eyes on her as she slid past him.
To their surprise, there was no-one else in the office. Both Ginny and Gwenog sat on seats opposite his desk.
Mr Hopgood looked down at the papers in front of him, then over his spectacles at Ginny. She squirmed uncomfortably in her seat.
" Miss Weasley, this is not the first time this season that you've been called into this office for an infraction. Most disappointing for one that has gathered quite a cult following at such an early stage in your career," he said gravely.
Ginny hadn't intended to say anything, but Gwenog's fake cough demanded she say something. "Yes sir, sorry." 'Bite me, you pompous ass', was what she really wanted to say.
" Your popularity has ensured your transgression has stayed very public since last Saturday's match. The Daily Prophet is continually rehashing it, and the Quidditch show on the wireless has dedicated quite a bit of their show this week discussing it. Should you be punished, or do you simply play the game hard? It has all the fans divided. However, this is not what we here at the Department of Magical Games and Sports want the fans to be talking about."
" I know, Mr Hopgood," nodded Ginny. Gwenog looked at her in approval.
" Before I tell you what we've decided to do, is there anything you'd like to say?" asked Mr Hopgood.
Ginny hadn't prepared anything, but she decided to speak from the heart. " Sir, I love Quidditch, and I'm proud to play for the Harpies. I will," – reluctantly – " admit, during a very hard fought and tight game, that I overreacted at something that Harper said to me, and even after the match, when he continued," – in a blatant show of bad sportmanship – " I should have been able to walk away, but I let my emotions overrule me and I hexed him. I admit I was caught up in the thrill of victory, but I should have had the sense to simply shake his hand and walk away." Until he started making suggestions about my mother and the things she could do with her broom. "I'm sorry that so many young fans were close enough to hear the things we said to each other. I have made a public apology on the wireless, and the Harpies released a statement that was printed in the paper."
" If I may?" asked Gwenog, before Mr Hopgood could speak. He looked at her and nodded. " If the Department agrees, Ginny is prepared to do community service, perhaps some coaching clinics with the children? The press would be invited, of course," said Gwenog.
" Hmmm." Mr Hopgood rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then sighed.
" While that does sound like a sound idea, I'm afraid I'm going to go along with the suggestion that a panel of us decided on. Miss Weasley must be shown to be punished for bringing the game into disrepute."
" She could pay a fine, to go to the charity of Harper's choice," suggested Gwenog.
" Miss Weasley, one of the people we spoke to in reaching our decision was a mind healer, someone who you have spoken to in the past."
Ginny stiffened.
" Healer Flynn seems to think your outbursts, physical, magical and verbal, stem from a possible Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Miss Weasley, your actions during the final battle were well documented, not to mention a certain incident in your first year."
'Shut up, shut up, shut up' chanted Ginny in her mind.
" Our player's welfare is our most primary concern, as well as the image each and every one contributes to our wonderful game of Quidditch. We feel that it is in Miss Weasley's best interest to take a break from the game, to get the help the healer feels she needs. It will, however, be considered a suspension for her actions in last week's match against the Ballycastle Bats, but the important thing is that she gets better." Mr Hopgood folded his hands on the desk and smiled patronisingly.
" What complete and utter bullshit," snarled Ginny, jumping to her feet. " There's absolutely nothing wrong with me. I play the game hard, and if Harper is such a pussy that he can't handle it, then he shouldn't be playing professionally. Send him to the States, I think Quadpot is more his style! Hopefully, the bloody thing will explode in his face!"
" Miss Weasley!" cried Mr Hopgood, startled.
" Ginny!" warned Gwenog.
" This is all just a boy's club mentality." She pointed at Mr Hopgood, who watched her with his mouth ajar. " You can't handle a girl being tougher than a guy. Hell, even my brother's said I went too far, but if they knew what he said about our mother, they would have been even worse," she said.
" Enough!" exclaimed Mr Hopgood. He took out his handkerchief and mopped his sweaty brow. " I think you've clearly shown to be on the verge of an emotional breakdown. I agree with Healer Flynn. You are suspended, without pay, for the next six weeks. During this time, you will work with Healer Flynn, in whatever capacity he deems best."
"Six weeks!" screeched Ginny and Gwenog, who jumped out of her chair to stand next to Ginny.
" It's six weeks till the finals. You're costing me one of my best players, and possibly the Harpies chance of taking the title – again," snarled Gwenog.
" Miss Weasley is only one player," soothed Mr Hopgood, "and surely her mental health is more important than anything."
" Please, don't penalise the team just because of my behaviour," pleaded Ginny. " I promise to get all the help you think I need, once the season is over. I'll do whatever the stupid mind healer thinks I need to do, just please, let me play."
" I'm sorry, Miss Weasley, my decision is final. The announcement has already been released to the Daily Prophet. You will miss the next six matches and you will be reviewed after that before we let you return. If Healer Flynn feels you need more time, well..." He mopped his sweaty brow again.
" So it didn't matter what I had to say here, the decision was already made," retorted Ginny, angrily.
" We'll appeal," said Gwenog. " You'll be hearing from our lawyers. Come on, Ginny." She grabbed Ginny's arm and pulled her along.
" Miss Weasley?"
Ginny stopped and looked back at him. " We're doing this for your own good, you know." He looked at her paternally.
" You don't even know me," spat Ginny, " so spare me the platitudes."
" Good day, Ms Jones, Miss Weasley," he replied.
" Yeah, well, fu-" Gwenog dragged Ginny out before she could finish her farewell. Both witches breathed heavily as the door shut behind them.
" Look, if they've already released a statement to the press, the reporters are probably waiting downstairs, and in the mood we're in, I don't think we need to make matters worse. Go to the Auror office, see if your brother's there and will let you use their Floo. Go home and wait to hear from us. I mean it, Weasley. Stay out of sight, do not, I repeat, do NOT speak to any reporters about anything, understand?"
" Right. So, I'll here from you soon?" asked Ginny. " About the appeal, I mean?"
Gwenog nodded. " We'll have you back in the green and gold for this week's match against Appleby."
Ginny sighed in relief, and went to find her brother, Ron.
/*/*/*/*
She stared defiantly at the healer. He stared impassively back at her.
" We can do this all day if we have to. This is my job. I would have thought you would want to co-operate to get back to yours," he said easily.
" There's nothing wrong with me. I'm a red head, we're known for having tempers," said Ginny, tossing her long locks over her shoulder.
" How have you liked being back under your parent's roof?" asked the healer, his quill poised over the parchment that filled her file. A file created after her first year.
Ginny hated it, it made her feel like she was twelve, thirteen again. " It's okay," she lied, shrugging.
" I'm sure your mother is happy to have you home," he stated.
Happy. Ecstatic. Mothering her to the point of smothering her. " Yes, she is."
Healer Flynn sighed. " Ginny, you've been coming to see me daily for the last week, and you've given me nothing."
" That's because there's nothing wrong with me," protested Ginny, looking away. A week without Quidditch – she was going stir crazy, but she didn't think it prudent to say 'crazy' to a mind healer.
" Let's talk about your first year at Hogwarts," suggested the healer.
" This, again. Look, I'll tell you now the same thing I told you back then. I am fine. I don't need to talk about that time in my life, all I want to do is play Quidditch."
" What about the battle of Hogwarts? Bell –"
" No! I'm not discussing any of that. It's in the past." Ginny spoke through gritted teeth.
" On the contrary, I think you still carry it around with you today."
Ginny crossed her arms. " It seems we're at an impasse, then." She arched an eyebrow in challenge.
Healer Flynn looked through his paperwork. " Ginny, have you ever lived alone?"
Ginny looked surprised at the change in topic. " Erm, no. Why?"
" Large family, dorm mates at Hogwarts, then at the Harpies compound in Holyhead. You've never really been alone, have you?" asked the healer, rhetorically.
Ginny pictured a small girl, alone, writing in a diary. Tom, her only friend. She did not comment. "It's possible to feel alone in a crowd," she said softly.
The healer eyed her sharply, then his gaze softened. "Ginny, you can go for today," said the healer.
" Already?" asked Ginny, surprised. They'd only started their session ten minutes ago.
Healer Flynn scribbled a note. " I'll see you tomorrow, same time," he said, dismissively.
" Yeah, sure...bye," said a confused Ginny. She quickly left, feeling reprieved.
Healer Flynn debated on what to do about Ginny. He decided to write a letter. If the recipient declined, then the decision would be out of his hands. But if the recipient agreed, Ginny Weasley would be going on a trip. A trip that could change her life.
As the owl soared off, with his letter in it's clutches, Healer Flynn hoped the result would be positive. In his professional opinion, Ginny Weasley was heading for a possible breakdown, until she dealt with her past. Something the recipient of his letter knew all about.
/*/*/*/*
" You're sending me where?" shrieked Ginny, the next day, once Healer Flynn told her the change to her suspension.
" Fogsworth Island," he replied calmly.
Ginny gulped. " I didn't even realise it was a real place."
" You've heard about it then," asked the healer, interestedly.
Ginny nodded. " Ever since I was a little girl. I was told it was a small island, where powerful wizards lived. Powerful dark wizards that brewed horrible potions and practiced dark magic. No-one knows where it is. Not exactly a holiday destination," she quipped.
" Good thing you're not going for a holiday then," returned the healer, unsmiling. " It is a small island to the north. It has a small town, with a declining population. They are a proud people, but are always welcoming to visitors."
" How will I get there?" asked Ginny.
" You'll be arriving by Portkey. I wrote to the Island's mayor, informing him of your reason for staying. He has agreed to your visit, and asks to meet you upon your arrival. Seems your reputation has reached the island. He wants no upheavel from you, or you'll be forced to leave straight away. In a nutshell, you leave them alone, and they'll leave you alone. Understand?"
" Do I have a choice?" asked Ginny, wryly.
" Of course. You can start opening up in our counselling sessions," prompted the healer.
Ginny said nothing.
" You'll be staying in a small cottage, close to a castle. The owner is a former client of mine, and he has agreed to let you stay there at no charge. His house elf will see to your basic needs, but under no circumstance are you to go to the castle or seek the owner out. This was made quite clear to me to pass on to you. My former client values his privacy immensely. Do you understand?" asked the healer.
" Yes!" said Ginny, rolling her eyes. "Am I allowed to visit the town? How far away is the castle from the town?" she asked. There was no way she could stay in a small cottage by herself for weeks on end.
" Your day is pretty much your own. I'll be sending you a task to complete every now and then. How well you do in these tasks will determine when you can return to the Harpies," said the healer.
" Tasks? What sort of tasks?" asked Ginny.
Healer Flynn shrugged. " You'll find out soon enough," he teased.
" When do I leave? Today is Friday, what do I need to take?" asked Ginny, planning to ask Luna to accompany her on a shopping spree.
" Just this Portkey," said the healer, handing it to her.
She leaned over to take it. " But when does it -ahhhhhh."
She felt the pull of the Portkey. " Blooooddddyy helllll – " The rest of her words were lost as she spun towards her destination.
She landed with a thud. " Ugh," she said, the wind knocked out of her. She took a few deep breaths, then slowly stood.
She was on a beach. The late afternoon sun tried to peek at her through the thick fog that gave the island it's name. She looked out over the calm, cerulean blue water. "Oh," she breathed. It was picturesque.
She chanced a look around. The golden sand she was standing on went metres behind her. A path led to a set of concrete stairs that spiralled to the imposing castle. She supposed the cottage must be close, so she headed for the path.
As she climbed the many stairs leading to the castle, she chanced a look at it. It reminded her of Hogwarts, with it's many towers and turrets. Ginny shivered, both because of the sudden coolness and with the many bad memories of her last days at Hogwarts. This castle looked run down, like Hogwarts after the battle, and she wondered what it had looked like in its glory days.
As she made her way up the stairs, she saw bushes that were dying or had already died. The whole area screamed of neglect; barren and dry. This place matched her grey mood.
She came to a landing and saw the cottage immediately. She made her way over to it, only to find it was locked.
POP " Dobby is sorry to keep miss waiting. Please go inside. Dobby will accompany you," said a small house elf. "Your personal items arrived moments ago."
Ginny tried to smile at the small elf. She had a new respect for house elves after they had helped her and her fellow students in the year of hell at Hogwarts. Never would she disrespect a house elf. "Hello, Dobby."
Dobby clicked his fingers and the door opened. He gestured for Ginny to go in, and he followed her nervously, wringing his hands. " Dobby did clean the cottage for your arrival. I hope it meets with miss's approval."
Ginny walked in and around. It really was small, simply a kitchenette, a lounge, a bathroom and a bedroom. It was all she needed. " It's fine, thanks Dobby. Please, call me Ginny."
Dobby eyed the newcomer; he'd hoped for more enthusiasm. " Dobby will come to clean your cottage every day at eleven and can even bring you your meals. If Miss Ginny needs Dobby, you just need to call Dobby's name. If master has no need of me, Dobby will come straight away."
" Who is your master?" asked Ginny, curiously. She opened a window to let some fresh air in. The grey fog stretched endlessly in the sky.
Dobby shifted uncomfortably. " Master does like his privacy. If Miss Ginny has no further need of Dobby, Dobby must go."
" Oh, yeah, sure. Thanks, Dobby. I guess I'll see you tomorrow at eleven," said Ginny, dully.
" Yes, miss. Goodbye." With a pop the elf disappeared.
Ginny checked the fully stocked kitchen, then went into the bedroom to find her clothes were all in the closet and drawers. She decided to have a quick shower and get changed into shorts and a tee shirt then go exploring. There wasn't much else to do.
Up in the castle, Dobby prepared an afternoon snack for his master. As he appeared in the master's workshop, he looked around for him, but couldn't find him. Usually he was at the bench, stirring a cauldron or chopping up potion ingredients. Sometimes he'd be writing notes or consulting books.
Dobby placed the tray on the bench and went to find his master. It didn't take long.
He was looking out the window, his back to Dobby. " She's here?"
" Yes, master," said Dobby. He wished he could see his master's face, to know what sort of mood he was in. By the sound of his voice, he was in a melancholy mood.
" The cottage was to her liking?"
" She seemed to find it satisfactory, although she seemed a bit down. Miss Ginny was very nice to Dobby. Perhaps she could – "
" No! I know what you are going to say, Dobby, but the answer is no."
Dobby saw him adjust his cloak to cover his face, and sighed. " As you wish, master."
Dobby saw his master turn, so his face was in profile. His green eyes glittered in the candlelight. "When you visit her tomorrow, you are to remind her that the castle is off limits. Make sure she understands, Dobby. No visits."
" Dobby will do as master wishes, but Dobby thinks it would be good for the master to have someone his own age to talk to. To bring news from London. To – "
" Dobby! Enough," said the master, harshly. " I don't care what happens in London, I left that world years ago. You will do as I say, or I will get another house elf," he warned.
" Dobby will do as master wishes," repeated Dobby sadly.
" Good. Now, please go to the greenhouse and get me some more to use caution, it's leaves are quite toxic. I'll also need some Valerian root."
" Yes, master." Dobby disappeared immediately, not wanting to upset his master further.
His master turned back to look out the window, down at the cottage below. He could see her come out the cottage, and simply look around. She had a trim figure, but it was her long tresses that caught his eye. Reds and golds mingled together, and as he watched, she ran her fingers through it and twisted it up atop her head, settling it there with her wand.
She stilled, then turned around. She tilted her head and seemed to look up at the very spot he was standing. He took a step to the left, hiding behind the heavy drapes, but still affording him a spot to see her.
He felt foolish. Of course she couldn't see him, nor would she want to. He ran his fingers over his scarred face, then adjusted the cloak again.
They called him a beast. When he'd first come to the island, he'd ventured to the village, wanting to know more about the place he'd decided to call home. People had cringed away from him, and children had run off screaming. The scars were still fresh then, and he hated seeing them in the mirror each morning, so he couldn't blame the towns people. Before too long, he decided it would be easier for everybody if he simply sent Dobby to town for any of his needs, and he remained in the castle most of the time. When he did venture out, he was heavily cloaked, and rarely showed his face. Rumour had it that he visited the ladies of the night down Knobblers Lane from time to time. Those witches, used to keeping all sorts of secrets in their trade, confirmed nothing.
He looked back out the window. She had gone back inside and for some reason he felt bereft.
He wondered briefly what it would be like to talk to her. Then dismissing the idea, for what could they possibly have to talk about, he returned to his afternoon tea, and back to his work.
He gave her no more thought.