Chapter 4
iThe familiar warm trickle had reached her eyes, stinging them and adding a red tint to her vision. Her consciousness was slipping, and in the haze she couldn't remember why she should fight the soothing unawareness passing out would bring. They were still talking... how she wished they would stop.
"We need to keep her alive," Lucius hissed, annoyed with Bella's overzealous tactics. The responding laugh was jarring, keeping Ginny conscious enough to comprehend what she heard even though her vision was becoming unreliable.
"I still do not see why..."
"If we want to revive our master we must collect the necessary pieces. She holds a valuable piece of the puzzle. We must understand what she has learned. I want to know what Dumbledore is up to and what he is ready for. We need to find out the truth behind the prophecy, and we alone must learn the Dark Lord's past and protect it so that we may pave the way for his future."
"I still do not like the filth we are forced to rely on. Why the Dark Lord would ever have trusted him..." Bellatrix sneered.
"He betrayed the Potters and that whole filthy lot. The Dark Lord knows fear and desperation can turn the smallest rodent into the most reliable slave. And speaking of slaves, surely with the one we have we will return the most celebrated of the Dark Lord's followers. No longer will we have to hide and grovel at the feet of all those do-gooders who don't recognize the superiority of blood. We will not only be on top, our ways will be the ways of all."
"That will never happen," Ginny wheezed out, not caring about the consequences. Her expectations were met when a foot collided with her gut causing blood to spill from her mouth. While she was still spluttering blood trying to re-catch her breath she was hit by a Cruciatus Curse.
"Cruicio!"
"Crucio!"/i
"Ginny! Ginny, wake up!"
A scream escaped her lungs as she bolted up out of bed. She was drenched in sweat with her t-shirt and hair sticking uncomfortably to her. She whipped her head left and right as her hand moved automatically to her bedside table to grasp her wand. A Shield Charm was cast before the faces of the twins registered in her mind.
"Ginny, it's alright. You're home," Fred said.
Ginny sighed in relief. "Sorry," she said. "I was having a nightmare."
"I'd say," George responded, sitting on the edge of her bed. "You were crying out for a while before we could wake you." Ginny dropped their gaze, picking at her comforter.
"Yeah… I... remembered something," Ginny said, squinting her eyes and trying to recollect all the details.
"Maybe you shouldn't try so hard to remember..." George said warily.
"No, I need to remember anything that could help."
"Help what?"
"Help Harry… help figure out why the Malfoys would risk capturing me... what they were really after..."
"Did we already toss out the 'They're psychotic, evil sadists' theory? Because I was a big fan of that one." Fred knew he had achieved his desired effect when she laughed.
"I think they may be psychotic, evil sadists, with an evil plan to match," she said. And she pushed herself out of bed with one goal in mind: finding Harry.
The twins trailed after her, trying to delay her, insisting she eat first and making other excuses, which she ignored. When she arrived downstairs she was surprised to realize that first, it was already late afternoon, and second, that the Burrow was bustling with more activity than usual. She stopped near the bottom of the stairs. The activity and all the people creating it froze and turned to stare at her. To say it made her self-conscious was insufficient to say the least. Ginny ran her hand through her hair in an errant attempt to straighten it.
"Ginny, you're awake. How are you feeling?" her mother asked, pushing through the crowded room.
"Umm… fine," she said, distracted by her search for Harry.
"Ginevra..." The warning in her mother's voice was obvious; no half-truths would be tolerated.
"Alright, I don't feel great. Every muscle in my body aches... Where's Harry?" She ignored the extras in the room and followed her mother's gesture to the couch where he was still in an enchanted sleep.
"What have you done for him?" Ginny asked the room at large.
"He's been given a Blood-Replenishing Potion, and the majority of his wounds have been taken care of," Madame Pomfrey filled in gently. "He will feel like a whole new person when he wakes."
"Why hasn't he woken up yet?"
"We thought it best to wait for you," Dumbledore said softly.
"Is it healthy for him to be like that for this long?" Ginny asked, realizing that it had been more than twelve hours since he had been put under.
"Yes, more than safe. This is an ideal way for him to be able to heal some of his physical ailments. The rest of his condition is proving to be much more difficult. I'm afraid we can't do much for him without understanding how he came to be in this situation."
"We were able to ward the house and even tested the new wards on a house-elf." This came from a tall, built man with a deep, friendly voice. Ginny managed to tear her eyes away from Harry and turn to the man who had addressed her.
"Kingsley," the man said, holding his hand out to her. Ginny hesitated, than forced her hand up to meet his. She tried to suppress her shudder when her hand met his but from the room's reaction she was not entirely successful.
Ginny slid onto the edge of the couch near Harry's head, amazed at how weary she was despite the amount of sleep she had gotten. "Seems a lot has happened since I went to sleep."
Ginny looked overwhelmed, so Bill decided to give her the simplified version. "These people are friends of Dumbledore. They are all well-versed in defensive work. They are trying to round up evidence against the Malfoys and help figure out what happened with Harry and how it's possible that he was taken without us knowing."
"What do you mean 'evidence'? Aren't my injuries enough? Can't Madame Pomfrey testify to that?"
"Well, that does prove that someone attacked you..." a small compact wizard said as he approached her cautiously. "But I'm afraid the extent of your injuries will cause some to question your memory of the event... And the Malfoys are extremely well connected..."
Ginny would have rolled her eyes if the thought that people would not believe her had not made her sick to her stomach.
"Don't fret. We'll figure something out. I work in the office of Magical Law Enforcement. I have dealt with his sort before. We just need to be prepared."
"The others are here," Bill continued, gesturing vaguely to the door that several wizards had just left through. "They want to take your... testimony."
Ginny's whole face dropped at the thought of it before she could carefully compose it again. At least the last time she felt like such a victim things had been kept quiet. Dumbledore had insisted on it. This was different. This was going to be big. She may have been willing to stand-up against the Malfoys and stop whatever they were planning, but that didn't make her anymore excited about it.
"Oh. Umm… now?"
Mrs. Weasley smiled tightly at her daughter trying to hold back her tears. Her daughter shouldn't have to deal with this. She needed time to recover.
"No, not now," her mother said definitively.
"No, I can handle it," she said softly, but she couldn't help think that maybe she should share some information with her family and Dumbledore first. Maybe she shouldn't let everyone know some of the things she heard – especially if there was a chance that Lucius would not be put away. She shuddered at the thought. She could almost feel his cold hands on her skin...
"Ginny..."
"Gin-"
"Miss Weasley."
Ginny's head snapped up and she swallowed convulsively. She was going to have to face him in the courtroom. Would the press be there too? She could feel her tenuous grasp on control waning. She looked at Harry. His need was greater, and with that thought breath returned to her lungs.
"I will answer all of the Ministry's questions, but not until we figure this out. Not until we've helped Harry."
Percy stepped forward. "I will handle them. I will share with them what you've told us so far. The secondhand knowledge will have to suffice for the ground work of the case."
There was a sudden cacophony of sound. A persistent beeping noise was pulsing from the walls of the Burrow. Ginny cowered immediately, pulling her knees tightly to her chest and covering her head with her hands.
"Does the intruder ward have to be quite so loud?" Fred asked, annoyed.
"Ginny," Bill said as he reached a hand out for her head. She flinched violently away from him before her senses returned to her. She looked up at her brother apologetically and quickly grabbed his hand at his hurt look.
"Sorry," she said.
"Don't be," came his quick response.
"It's just... try not to surprise me, okay?" Bill was really the only one of her brothers that could make her act like the young girl she was. "We have a new intruder alarm?" Wasn't anything the same?
"Yes," Kingsley said in a soothing voice. "We thought it would be best for both you and Harry."
"Well then, who's here now?" She couldn't stop herself from asking, because she did not need another person staring at her as if she were about to break.
"Don't worry, Gin, you'll like this guest," George said.
"Not-as-much-as-Ron," Fred managed to squeeze out in a fake cough.
Ginny turned her inquisitive stare to Ron who was already red-faced.
"I… uh, asked a friend to come," he said.
"Friend… riiight," George replied, sharing conspiratorial looks with Fred.
"Because," Ron continued, trying to talk over the twins. "I thought, and Dumbledore agreed, that she probably knows more about house-elf history than anyone."
"Hermione!" Ginny squealed, oblivious to the relief her smile brought to the room's occupants.
Hermione's voice came from the kitchen. "Honestly, those are the worst security questions I have ever heard. Anyone at Hogwarts would know those answers!"
"You may not enter until we are certain you are not an impostor!"
Ginny could practically hear Hermione roll her eyes. "Fine. On Ron Weasley's left buttocks there is an extreme concentration of freckles right below a scar left by a fanged geranium that he got when we were studying for the O.W.L.s two years ago. Go ask him about it. I doubt even his mother knows about that!"
The twins were practically rolling on the floor.
Charlie leaned in toward Ron and whispered, "Right, studying..."
Ron was now fire-hydrant red. He huffed, "She treated it for me... we were studying after hours and going to Madame Pomfrey would have gotten us caught."
"After hours," Bill said, nudging him approvingly.
"Hermione and I are just friends..."
She came into the room, hair bouncing behind her, with her purposeful strides straight toward Ginny, ignoring the sleeping figure on the couch. Ginny stood and met Hermione's hug.
Hermione was crying. "I'm so glad you're alright," she said turning their hug into a dance. "I was so worried."
"Thanks for coming," Ginny said sincerely. "The boys are going to drive me crazy."
"I figured... Plus it may be easier to talk to me about what's happened," she added. "I mean," she said changing tacts at Ginny's exasperated face. "At least you know I won't go running off in a temper-induced rage to avenge you."
Ginny laughed. "You have no idea how right you are."
"So, Hermione..." George said, smoothly siding up to her. "If I sit on a venomous plant will you treat my wounds as well?" he said with a devilish grin.
Hermione's eyes glanced at Ron who was staring red-faced at the floor and scuffing the ground violently with his shoe. Hermione tossed her hair back over her shoulder and leaned in closer to George, mirroring his grin. She paused deliberately.
"Nope," she said with a straight face before rolling her eyes and leaning back. "I'd probably let you die..."
Ginny didn't miss the loaded look shared between Hermione and Ron. Hermione had definitely done that for his benefit.
There was a sudden stirring near Ginny on the couch. Harry's unexpected abandonment of his motionless state startled many and caused the blanket that had been covering him to slide to the floor.
Hermione gasped as Harry fell to the floor, as if fighting some unseen enemy.
"Is he coming out of it?" Ginny demanded falling to the floor beside him.
"It appears so... I have never seen someone force their way out of it," Dumbledore said.
"Pull him out," Ginny said concern rising. "He's going to hurt himself."
Dumbledore pulled out his wand and leaned over Harry. "Move back!" Ginny ordered to the room at large. "Now! He'll be terrified if he sees all of you as soon as he wakes."
With one last sweeping motion Dumbledore removed the spell holding Harry in a deep sleep
After fourteen hours of motionless sleep one would have expected Harry to awaken slowly, but his eyes popped open, followed by him springing to his feet into a crouch in rapid succession. His terror-filled eyes scanned the room frantically. Ginny dropped low to the floor placing herself in his direct line of sight. A look of recognition passed through his eyes.
"You're real." The smile in his voice was much more evident than it was on his face. Slowly they both rose to standing. Ginny smiled at him.
"I thought you were a dream too," she said sheepishly.
"Really?" he asked perplexed.
"Yeah, you saved me, Harry. I thought I made you up to cope with... everything."
He leaned in close to her and grabbed her wrist. "Who are all these people?"
Ginny glanced sideways as their present company slowly crept back toward the center of the room.
"These people are here to help us. They want to make sure the Malfoys get the punishment they deserve."
For one second he just stared uncomprehendingly at her. Then, Harry collapsed onto the couch behind him. His eyes clenched closed in confusion. He shook his head in disbelief. "Punishment... the Malfoys..." A shuffling of movement by the doorway caused Harry to tense again, much to Ginny's annoyance.
"Dad," she called quietly. "Do you think we could get a lot of these people out of here? It's too much."
He nodded and smiled at her. "I think that's more than reasonable."
"Harry?" Ginny asked gently, pulling his attention back to her. "How are you feeling? Better than yesterday? Are you still being pulled..."
He shook his head. "No. I mean...yes, but it's not as extreme as it was...There is a constant pull..." Ginny watched as something changed in Harry face. He stood abruptly, scanning the room. "What am I doing here?" The question, directed at himself, held such panic.
"Harry, you're at my house. Remember? You got us out..."
"I remember..." he snapped his fingers and then immediately grabbed his head in pain. His groan was low and deep, almost suppressed. Ginny thanked Merlin that the ward kept him here, but hated that it caused him pain.
"Don't you understand what will happen if I don't return...what will happen when I return? I have to be punished."
"No, Harry, you don't," Ginny cried exasperatedly. She immediately decided to change tactics.
"Do I need to be punished?" she asked suddenly. Harry froze.
"You? N-no," came his panicked response.
"I defied them. I escaped. How is that any different than you? What about us is so different, Harry?"
He frowned, subconsciously digging his fingernails deep into the barely healed burns on his palms. "I deserve to be punished. You do not. That's why I got you out."
"So you think it's bad, what they did to me? That they hurt me?" Ginny raised her hand to her short sleeved t-shirt and lifted up the baggy sleeve, revealing a pattern of round shaped burn marks traveling over her bicep and shoulder. She moved closer to Harry so he could see her arm in greater detail, ignoring the response of her family. It was not as if she could keep the scars hidden forever. "Harry, do you think it's okay that they did this to me?"
"No," he gritted out. "I couldn't stand them hurting you...You are the nicest person I have ever met."
She was close now. Her gradual approach had allowed her to move until only a breath separated them. She slowly reached her hand out to his shoulder where an old burn mark, much deeper and thorough then hers appeared. His shoulder looked like hers would have if she had sustained years of the same treatment. She suppressed her shudder at the prospect of such a fate. She traced the outline of thousands of repeated small burns creating one large uneven patch. He regarded her quizzically. The warmth of her hand defied all logic, somehow reaching deeper into him than the scarred surface of his skin.
"iI/i couldn't stand them hurting you either," Ginny continued. "You don't deserve the way you've been treated... Do you remember right before you got us out of there?"
She paused forcing him to remember that moment. "Yes," he said slowly.
"You fought them. You fought against what they stand for and how they treated you. You knew inherently that they way they treated you was wrong. You didn't think you could fight against the power they have over you...but you did." She watched as the green of his eyes moved rapidly back in forth, as if searching for something buried within his own consciousness. She sensed the glimmer of recognition right before his brow contracted with pain.
"What is it?"
"I-I…" he breathed out. "I am not accustomed to... well, to saying my thoughts aloud..."
"Take your time," Ginny coached gently, moving her hand lightly up and down his arm.
He sighed deeply before beginning. "It is as if... there are two parts of me at war. One part is certain you are wrong and the other knows you are right. Every time I draw a conclusion the other half fights back again. My life has never been this confusing."
"I think," Ginny said quietly. "A part of you deep down knows that what you've been taught all your life is wrong. That same part is probably what drew you to Godric's Hollow. Deep down, your gut is telling you that everything your brain knows is wrong."
She let that sink in, pressing him no further. She couldn't tell if he was fighting the psychological control they had over him or if it was something more. As Harry thought, the silent moment grew longer and thicker.
"Ginny? Perhaps you and Harry are hungry? I've made your favorite meal," her mother interjected hopefully.
"Harry, you remember my mum, right?"
He nodded.
"She thinks that food can heal whatever ails you and sometimes I think her food can. Are you hungry?"
He glanced at her cautiously and then offered another slow nod. Mrs. Weasley left the room shortly thereafter, followed by Mr. Weasley.
Ginny glanced surreptitiously around the room at the multitude of hushed conversations taking place. Hermione and Ron were deep in conversation. Ron was trying to field the rapid questions that Hermione was firing at him.
Bill and Charlie were engrossed in conversation with Dumbledore only paces away.
"I think... trust Ginny on this. We should follow her lead," Charlie said in a low register.
"I wouldn't be surprised if she has a plan. She knows we need him to explain things if he is going to get any better," Bill added.
Ginny waited until she saw Dumbledore nod before turning her attention back to Harry. He looked... overwhelmed. She imagined that to someone not used to the chatter her family could create, her home probably sounded like the irritating static heard whenever the wizarding wireless was out of tune.
"My family can be a bit... overwhelming. They were very worried about me, and now that all of us are back together... well, no one is ready to give that up just yet. I can promise you that none of them will harm you. I want you to let me know if it's too much."
"You trust all these people?" he asked her incredulously.
She smiled at him. "Yes, without a doubt. All of the wizards in this room are my family. They would do anything to keep me safe, and they want to help you too. They are grateful that you got me away from that place."
"And who is that?" Harry asked, gesturing to Dumbledore.
"He's the headmaster at Hogwarts—" she responded.
"The wizarding school?"
She smiled at him in response and it almost made him lose his train of sudden increase in his heart rate startled him."Yes," she replied. "He is an amazing wizard. He was a great help to me when I was younger, when I got myself into a bit of trouble. And he was very kind."
"You said he was trying to help me? That's why he bound me?" Ginny nodded sensing Harry's reluctance to forgive and forget that too soon.
"Yes, he wanted to prevent you from hurting yourself. Come on," she said leading him into the kitchen. "I'm starved."
Ginny led Harry into the kitchen and moved with him to sit at the far end of the table, wanting to sit down with him before the rest came traipsing in. He sat where she indicated looking increasingly uncomfortable. She couldn't help but think that while sitting at the table, his state of dress or rather undress seemed more out of place than usual, but she was under no false impression that this was the source of his discomfort.
"It feels weird to be served," he said quietly to her inquisitive eyes, and then watched Mr. and Mrs. Weasley load the table manually with dishes. He fidgeted nervously pushing his long hair black off his face. "I've never actually sat at a table," he admitted unthinkingly. Mrs. Weasley's head whipped toward him, and every mothering string, of which there were multitudes, struck creating a resounding chord of sympathy and compassion within her. Ginny noticed that those who were already seated went silent. Obviously they had all been eavesdropping on her conversation with Harry.
"Well then, you're in for a real treat, Harry. My mum is the best cook. You'll have to try a bit of everything," Ginny said smoothly. She watched as the rest filed in, glad that Hermione and Ron landed closest to her and Harry, and Dumbledore with her eldest brothers landed furthest.
"Eat up," Mrs. Weasley commanded and the order was immediately heeded.
Harry cautiously mirrored all of Ginny's actions. There was a moment of silence as everyone began devouring the food before them. Harry raised the fork awkwardly but carefully to his mouth. Almost immediately a small pleasurable groan escaped him. All heads whipped his way. Ginny smirked and turned her head to him in time to see the shock flitter over his face, though whether the shock was at the taste or his own involuntary reaction she had no idea.
"Good?" she teased.
He swallowed quickly. "Yes," came his empathetic response.
"I told you my mum could cook."
He leaned out past her to look down the row. He met Mrs. Weasley's eyes briefly. "Thank you," he said determinedly before dropping his eyes, his voice barely audible from down the table.
Harry's down-turned face missed the tears that welled in Mrs. Weasley's eyes. "Oh dear, you are more than welcome. Eat all you'd like." Mr. Weasley wondered where he had learned his manners, surely not from the Malfoys.
Harry continued to eat with zest. The air at the table grew thick with uncertainty. Silence was completely foreign to the Weasley household. Hermione met Ginny's eyes across the table. Even having just arrived, Hermione could sense the impending urgency from the other end of the table. They wanted answers and Ginny knew they would start working their way to get those answers if she didn't act soon.
"This tastes a lot better than what you gave me at…" She swallowed. "… the Malfoys."
Harry turned and looked straight at her. Pain... fear... emotions he recognized and understood... but he hated seeing them on her face.
"What was it?" she asked evenly. He regarded her a moment before answering quietly.
"Sustenance. The elves taught me how to generate it. Sometimes they—we... were ordered to go without meals, but without nourishment we could not complete our tasks. It was a great source of dilemma. The elves called it the paradox: whenever two orders conflict with one another the choice remains with the slave. Compromise or disobey one of the orders... punishment would be unavoidable." Harry shook his head. Something about her made him forthcoming, and not for the first time he wondered if she possessed some indeterminate magical abilities.
"But... food cannot be created out of thin air. Food is one of the five Principal Exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration. No wizard can do it," Hermione said gently.
"The elves can," he said simply.
"And so can you," Ginny interjected. Harry nodded not seeing her point.
"But, Harry... you are a wizard," Hermione said, unable to stop herself. The conflict on Harry's face was displayed to the world for the span of one breath before he schooled his expression, replacing the unadulterated emotion with a stony apathy.
"So the elves taught you... did they teach you other things?" Ginny asked in an attempt to re-direct the conversation.
"They taught me everything." The table was now like a single organism, leaning closer, holding its breath, desperate for more information.
"Do you remember when you first met the elves?" Ginny asked and the room became a vacuum. All that existed was Harry, Ginny and the single entity that made up their audience.
"I have a faint memory... of waking up with more pain than my mind could comprehend, surrounded by these foreign-looking creatures..." Suddenly Harry was choking. He gagged, trying get oxygen into his lungs.
"Harry!?" Ginny cried in alarm. He opened his mouth again as if to speak only to find all of his attention diverted to the peculiar sensation of his tongue sliding back down his own throat.
Harry suddenly crashed his head into the table. He reared back in order to strike the table again, but Ginny moved her hands quickly to the table's edge. And when Harry's head made contact, instead of meeting the harsh corner of the table, his head fell right into Ginny's open palms. The unexpected sensation was enough to break him out of his trance and render him motionless. His head lay still, cushioned by Ginny's hands on the table. She ran her thumbs soothingly over his hairline.
"I-I... I can't," Harry said without any attempt to lift his head, which only compounded the note of defeat in his tone.
"Harry... it's okay," Ginny said. "Somehow, we can make this okay."
"I just... don't understand," he said quietly, lifting his head off the table. "You can't be right," he said turning to her. "There must be something wrong with me, some reason I am like this. Are there no other humans who are like me?"
"Harry, this stuff, how you came to be like this, it's not your fault. We will find you a way out of this. I promise. That's what all these people are here for, to help you—to break this control over you."
Dumbledore cleared his throat softly. "Harry, she is right. This is not your fault. This is mine. Your parents trusted that I would keep you safe. I tried. I do not know how it is that someone was able to take you out of the security wards I had placed surrounding you. Right now I have other witches and wizards trying to discern how you were removed from your aunt and uncle's care.
"Aunt and uncle?" Harry asked in weary confusion. "Yes," Dumbledore replied. "I delivered you to them myself."
"So... so, my... parents—they wanted me to live with them?"
"Well," Dumbledore said reluctantly. "Not exactly..."
Harry suddenly breathed in deeply through his nose. His chair was sent crashing to the floor a millisecond later as he sprang to his feet. That smell… he knew that smell. He knew better than this, knew better than to trust anyone.
"Harry? Harry, what is it?" Ginny asked, approaching him cautiously. He grabbed her arm pulling her to him and then snapped his fingers. Immediately he bent over at the waist clenching his head in pain with a resounding groan. A man entered the doorway across the room from Harry flanked by two of the wizards that were guarding the Burrow.
Harry pulled Ginny roughly behind him dropping into a low defensive crouch, as he watched the haggard looking man step into the room. His clothes were shabby. His eyes looked sullen. His smell filled the room, acting as a catalyst, opening some of the best locked boxes in Harry's head.
"Harry! Please!" Ginny was crying in his ear. "Please relax. What's wrong?"
"That man is no man," Harry said in a low voice, not taking his eyes off the threat.
The room was still, save for the desperate glances around the room for a way to diffuse the situation. Harry regarded the threat, trying to determine what his first move would be. But the man gave no indication that he intended to do anything but stand in the doorway.
"You stay away from me," Harry ground out.
"Okay," the man said, holding his hands out palms out to indicate his lack of a wand.
Harry's panicked panting ceased momentarily as he absorbed the shock of the creatures lack of hostility.
"I will stay right here," he continued in a soft, non-threatening voice. What was this trickery? "I am not here to hurt you in anyway."
Distrustful confusion splashed over Harry's face before he tensed even further. Sparks began emitting from his fingertips, casting blood red shadows on the floor below him.
"What? You prefer girls, Werewolf!?" Harry shot his hand out sending the man flying back and crashing into the ground. Ginny used this moment to force her way out of Harry's protective stance and plant herself in front of him.
"Harry, no!" She reached up and grabbed his hands, lacing his fingers with hers. She pulled their joint hands together. "Listen to me. You have to stop. That man is a friend."
"He is a werewolf," Harry said definitively.
"I know," Ginny said. "That is Remus Lupin. He is a good man and he will not hurt any of us. You have to trust me, Harry. I won't let anything happen to you," she said, shaking their clasped hands with emphasis. Ginny looked back over her shoulder to see Bill and Charlie helping Lupin into a chair.
"Is he okay?" she asked.
"I'll be fine, Ginny," he responded quietly. "I should have known better. You did say he was raised by the Malfoys."
"That's not it," Ginny said dismissively. "It's not prejudice." She turned back to Harry who was watching Lupin closely. The fear in his eyes seemed more obvious than a hippogriff in a bikini. It practically radiated off him; she didn't know how the others couldn't see that.
"Why does he scare you so much?" Ginny asked softly, reaching to push Harry's long unruly hair away from his face. Harry swallowed convulsively. He was shaking now.
"He smells like him."
"Like who?"
"Greyback," he said, beginning to shake outright. His breathing became more labored as his eyes lost their focus. A memory came to Harry's mind… the pain, sharp teeth… and that grin… just the memory of it sent Harry's adrenaline sky-rocketing in an attempt to keep up with his mounting panic.
"Greyback... I thought the Malfoys were just threatening me into talking..." Harry could see her fear.
"Now do you understand why we need to leave? I want to protect you from this," he said, turning slightly show her the scars on his back.
Ginny swallowed back the emotion that was choking her with its intensity. So that was what happened to his back. It look like someone had used him to sharpen a blade. Criss-crossing patterns covered the majority of his back. Now Ginny knew… teeth and claws—not a knife—were sharpened in Harry's flesh. How much suffering had he had to endure? Her resolve to take down the Malfoys grew exponentially.
"Remus Lupin is nothing like Greyback, Harry. Just as all wizards aren't the same, neither are all werewolves."
The room's occupants voyeuristically observed the two in silence. Harry was so different when he interacted with Ginny. Maybe there was hope for him yet.
"You know this... man?"
"Yes," Ginny said, dropping one of his hands and turning to face where Lupin was sitting. "Harry, I'd like to introduce you to Remus Lupin. He used to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts and he occasionally comes here to teach me some Defense."
"Hi, Harry. I'm sorry to have scared you. We should have warned you about me, but honestly I had no idea you would be able to tell in less than a minute that I'm—well, that I have a bit of a problem. Greyback is the werewolf who attacked me. That's why I smell so much like him to you. But I have never attacked anyone."
Harry regarded him thoughtfully. So this man had also been attacked by Greyback, attacked when Greyback was a wolf and then unwillingly turned. This man fought his nature, much like Harry had been fighting his. He felt a sudden rush of compassion for the man. Greyback was certainly not merciful.
As Harry's face changed, losing his fierce anger and fear, Remus couldn't help but stare, even as tears distorted his vision. It was as if James Potter was alive again, albeit dressed for a Halloween Party. But still… to see a full grown version of your dead best friend was a shock to the system. When kindness entered Harry's eyes Lupin gasped.
Harry tensed again at the sound.
"I'm sorry," Lupin said quickly. "It's just... you look so much like your parents. It's uncanny." The rough emotion in his voice prompted Mrs. Weasley to offer a kind pat to his shoulder.
"You knew them?" Harry asked.
"Yes, quite well. That's why I came as soon as I heard. I thought this might help," he said, reaching into his messenger bag and pulling out a tattered book.
Ginny could sense Harry's hesitation to close the distance between him and the man who evoked such a strange melange of feelings within him. She moved to walk closer to Lupin to take the book from him, but Harry's tug on her hand from where it was still clasped in his held her back. Ginny turned back to see Harry's panicked eyes and froze. She understood his need to keep her close; she felt the same.
Hermione walked past the two and took the book from Lupin with a small smile, and then turned and handed it to Ginny. She opened the fragile book to see a large photo of Harry's parents holding a baby Harry, who was smiling and waving at the camera.
"I managed to recover the book from the remnants of the house," Lupin said softly, thus explaining the burnt edges and fragile binding.
"My... parents?" Harry asked.
"James and Lily. Two of the most amazing people I have ever met."
Harry and Ginny flipped slowly through the damaged pages. Harry was silent, contemplative, as he flipped through the pages that elicited a strange persistent nudging sensation on his consciousness.
"And this… Voldemort… killed them? Voldemort... the man the Malfoys have pledged to devoutly follow. He is the one whom they call The Dark Lord?" Harry's voice was rising, something Ginny had not heard him do before. "My master's master killed my parents? They... they stole me from someone? They did something that was unnatural to me? This is what you are all trying to get me to believe?" He felt a foreign stinging in his eyes. His breath would not come easily but he couldn't stop. He became too filled with confusion and unfamiliar feelings to hold back any longer. He did not know how to cope with any of this.
"If I believe you, everything I know to be true is a lie. I did not deserve to be punished. It was not my fault. I... I submitted to their rule needlessly. That is more than a little difficult to believe."
Ginny nodded. This was too much for him to handle in such a short time. No one seemed to know how to respond. No one knew how to relate.
"So the pain... it was not to make me a better servant. The punishment was not because I was too stupid to properly do the simple tasks they demanded of me. They enjoyed it. It was revenge—more! They were trying to avenge their master by torturing me! They are horrible, dark, wizards. They are the ones who deserve to be punish—"
But it seemed that Harry had pushed it too far. Before anyone could react he turned where he stood, closest to the stove, and dove both of his hands into the large pot of boiling water. He cried out in agony as a sickly sizzling noise filled the room, before the smell overtook everyone's senses.
"Harry, no!" Ginny cried, hurrying to him and pulling ineffectually on his shoulders. In the end it took three of her brothers to successfully pull Harry away from the stove. His skin was raw, angry red and sickly white of variegated texture up to his elbows. Harry's face was clenched in pain as they carried him out of the kitchen, carefully avoiding any contact with his arms.
Mrs. Weasley was tending to him before he had even sunk onto the couch. He held his arms out limp before her hanging his head. Only from the gentle shaking of his shoulders could she tell that he was crying. She had more than a little experience dealing with boys who tried to hide their emotions. Mrs. Weasley moved tenderly over the wounds carefully dabbing a cool cloth that she had conjured to them. She began doling out orders, knowing only a properly brewed potion would be able to handle burns such as these and regenerate the skin that was destroyed.
The room became much quieter as all but Hermione and Ginny had left in order to help brew the complex potion.
"Harry dear, I'd like to use my wand to help support your arms without touching them. Is that all right?"
The subtle nod of his still downturned face was the only response she got. She waved her wand, supporting his arms in front of him and helping to dull the pain.
"Harry, is that better?"
Another nod.
"The potion will help regenerate the skin really fast. In a few hours you'll be as good as new."
"I can't even talk about them. I... I can't fight them. When... When it gets like that, I don't even remember that I should fight it. "
"But that's why this happened—because you are fighting them, fighting against what they taught you," Ginny interjected.
He finally lifted his water-logged gaze in order to look at her.
"I don't really understand how this happened to you," Hermione started quietly. "But you seem to be under genuine house-elf enchantments. I don't quite understand how this is even possible, but there is both a magical and psychological component to this. I have been thinking... there may be something simple that can help until we figure out the complexities,"
"Help?" Harry asked.
"Help you fight them, help you learn to fight the compulsions they've drilled into you. I don't think it will stop anything entirely, but it might help you remember to fight. But it will make little to no difference if you aren't ready to fight for your separation from them."
"What are you getting at Hermione?" Ginny asked impatiently.
"Well… clothes," Hermione responded.
"You think it will make a difference?" Mrs. Weasley asked.
"It would make more of a difference if the Malfoys gave him the clothes, but the ultimate form of rebellion for a house-elf would be wearing clothes. Perhaps if Harry tried... well, it may help him fight the compulsions," Hermione said, turning to the boy next to her.
Ginny had never been more appreciative of Hermione's obsessive nature. The thoroughness of research she had done for S.P.E.W. was bound to prove itself useful.
"What do you think, Harry?" Ginny asked, dropping to the floor in front of him to see his face better.
He was silent for a while. In his unavoidable line of sight were his scarred arms and Ginny's trusting, hopeful face. Suffering... and salvation. He knew what he wanted he just did not know if he could get there.
"I-I want t-t-to....fight. I want to try." Ginny reached up and gave his knee a light squeeze. "I just—I'm not sure I can."
"It's done," Bill announced, helping Charlie carry the thick cauldron into the room. Mrs. Weasley observed it, momentarily smelling it and testing its consistency. She dipped a cloth into the thick paste and handed it to Ginny. Ginny followed her mother's previous actions, carefully dabbing Harry's arm with the paste. He looked up at her thankfully before closing his eyes, deeply breathing in the soothing sensation the potion brought.
After she was done Ginny grabbed a pillow, placed it on Harry's lap, and then placed a clean cloth on top of it. Slowly, she lowered Harry's arms so they rested against the pillow, still covered in the potion. He fell back against the couch, resting his head and sighing deeply.
A sudden clattering in the room sent Harry sitting up ramrod, straight and alert. Mrs. Weasley got up taking the rags with her. "Boys, grab that cauldron and package up the salve and go find something to do to help out."
After the mass exodus, Ron cautiously peeked around the corner into the room. He held the photo album in front of him and slowly walked toward where Harry was seated.
"Hey... here," Ron said, placing the book on the coffee table nearest Harry. "I-I just thought you might want this. I know if it was me, I'd want to look at the photos again as soon as possible... might make it seem more real."
"Thanks," Harry said, though Ron saw him say it more than he heard it.
"No problem, mate," he said. "How are you feeling?"
"Covered in goo."
"Ah. So, better then?" Ron chuckled. The briefest of smiles crossed Harry's face.
Ginny picked up the album and began slowly thumbing through it, holding it where Harry could see. She found the spot where they had left off. When she reached a picture with Lupin and his parents she stopped.
"The werewolf?" Harry asked. "So if these photos are real then he's telling the truth. He did know them."
"The photos are real," Hermione stated matter-of-factly.
"So you two know the werewolf also?" Harry asked.
"Yes," Hermione replied. "Professor Remus Lupin. He taught us Defense Against the Dark Arts in our third year, Ginny's second. Great teacher."
"Even though he tarnished your perfect record?" Ron teased. Hermione turned and glared at him.
"I'll have you know, I still did well in his class."
"Still, that was the only exam you didn't get a perfect score on..."
Ginny smirked as she and she alone detected the touch of pride and admiration in his voice. Those two were hopeless.
"Harry, she practically lives in the library," Ron added.
"So would I," Harry responded quietly. They all turned to look at him. "If I could... The library was the only room I liked at the Malfoys. They hardly ever went in there. So the other elves would help me sneak in there a lot so I could read..."
The idea of reading as a luxury struck the other three hard. Sometimes it was so easy to take things for granted.
"Did you read a lot?"
"Yeah, I made it through the majority of their library before... before I got caught." The memory of the incident seemed to silence him.
Harry's eyes had returned to the photo album so Ginny began turning pages again until she came across a photo of baby Harry on a toy broom with his father chasing him around in circles. Ginny laughed, showing the picture to Ron and Hermione as well.
"Is that me flying?" Harry asked.
Ginny nodded. "You look like a natural," she said warmly.
"I've always dreamed about flying..."
"We've got some brooms, granted not any good ones, out back. We'll have to have a go sometime," Ron said enthusiastically.
"Like outside?" Harry asked.
Ron chuckled. "Well, yeah."
"I haven't really been outside much before... well before I met Ginny." She smiled at him while admonishing the butterflies that became all a twitter at the tender way in which he said her name, associating her with the positive changes in his life.
"Well then, we'll have to do so—and soon. Ginny's an excellent flier. I bet you've missed it. Eh, Ginny? Bet you're dying to get back on a broom."
"Yes, and thanks," Ginny said, a little taken aback by Ron's unprovoked kindness. The real question was if the shift in Ron's demeanor was due to the fact that Hermione was in the room or because of her own absence. Perhaps he was just growing up.
"WHAT!?"
All four teens whipped their heads to the booming voice.
"Was that Professor Dumbledore?" Hermione asked in a small worried voice. The two n
Weasleys could do nothing but nod in response.
"And you're sure? You are absolutely sure?" he asked, barely lowering his voice.
The four were still and silent as Dumbledore swept powerfully into the room, bringing the commotion with him. He looked at the faces of the young pupils before him. Fear, concern, and wariness battled out in their expressions. Dumbledore took a deep breath and returned back to the man they knew, the type of wizard one always wanted in a crisis: calm, collected and straight to the point.
Dumbledore exhaled and turned to Harry and Ginny. "We found something at the Dursleys."
"Dursleys?" Ginny asked in confusion.
"Harry's aunt and uncle whom he lived with right after his parents passed," Dumbledore supplied. "We've been trying to figure out how it was he got taken away from there, given all of the powerful wards that we had protecting him."
Ginny didn't know where this was headed, but she knew she wouldn't like it.
"Ginny, Harry, I'm sorry, but... we found Polyjuice Potion."
"I thought Harry's relatives were Muggles," Ginny interjected.
"So did I, so did we all," Dumbledore said wearily.
"I don't understand," Ginny replied in frustration.
"It was a Polyjuice Potion to make Vernon Dursley look like Lucius Malfoy."