It was a quiet Sunday morning when Mcgonagall called Ella aside during breakfast. Ginny thought nothing of it, until she went to the library – where she and Ella had agreed to meet, to work on their abstract potions essay – and Ella wasn't there.
She tried to study by herself, but memories nagged at the corners of her brain. She kept remembering things, things she had tried to forget.
The Chamber is silent.
Tom Riddle turns, his smile comforting. "Come here Ginny. You have done so, so well. Only one thing left now."
Ginny smiles, trusting, and Tom's smile grows, until he is nothing but one big grin who only wants to be her friend.
Her only friend.
She steps closer – and falls. Sprawled on the floor.
Something comes out of Tom, a snake of colour and darkness weaving its way towards her chest …
"NO!"
Ginny's quill was snapped in her fingers; her hands were shaking. She forced herself to breathe. What the…
Madam Pince descended like a cloud. "No yelling in my library!" she whispered harshly. "OUT!"
Ginny was barely able to snatch up her books as she was pushed out of the library, the broken quill spilling from her arms and slowly floating down onto the floor.
/
Two weeks later
Ella had left to stay with her uncle, without even saying goodbye. Mcgonagall had told Ginny and Jane and Alexis about Ella's parents. Ella, who had known Lucy and Jack Stilt fairly well, shed several hot tears and made a little memorial stone for them under one of the trees near the lake. It was what Ella would have wanted.
She had written to Ella, and her friend had replied, in a short and painful letter which promised more at a later date.
Now Ginny was sitting in Potions class, struggling to concentrate while Slughorn droned on and on about Liquid Luck and Abstract Potions. She had just returned from a short D.A. session during lunch, and her mind was on anything but Potions.
Her desk was cold beneath her legs. She felt old. Anciently old. She stared at her hands, and wondered what they would do one day. They were so fresh and young; they still had so much to experience and feel and touch and hold. Yet she felt so old.
Ginny imagined herself grasping her wand; pointing it at Death Eaters. Performing curses that her father would shake his head at. Making Harry proud –
Yes.
Yes, she would make Harry proud.
Ginny slipped her hand into her pocket, and fingered her wand. Its smooth edge calmed her fingers, and made her take a deep breath.
"Miss Weasley!"
"Pardon?" Ginny looked up, her face pale and her freckles standing out like stars.
Slughorn was slightly taken aback by her intense gaze, but he would never admit it. "I asked you about the properties of Abstract Potion. Were you even listening?"
"I'm sorry sir, I wasn't."
Slughorn refused to be unnerved by Ginny's unapologetic stare. "A point from Gryffindor. As I was saying, an Abstract Potion allows the drinker to be aware of magic. By aware, I mean that they can see it. Magic becomes visible. Yes, Cripps?"
"What does it look like, sir?" asked Jane.
"Magic, you mean? Well, it looks like swirls and sparkles and all that you'd expect it to look like, I suppose. As I was saying, a well-made dose of Abstract will provide no side-effects aside from a slight dizziness, but a badly made dose can be crippling and have immense long-term damage. This is an intensely difficult potion to create, but I am going to give you all the opportunity to attempt it. Weasley, were you even listening?"
Ginny shook her head, and turned to stare out the window.
As five more points were taken from Gryffindor and Slughorn droned on about the difficulty of the potion, Ginny decided very firmly that she was going to hold it together.
She had to finish this.
She had to be strong.
No more tears.
/
The D.A. had three main adventures over the course of the rest of Ginny's time at Hogwarts.
The first was spreading rumours, painting walls with slogans, and keeping up the moral.
The second was training and practicing to fight. Neville constantly reminded the group of thirty seven D.A. members that they were training to help Harry when he returned; to help him fight You-Know-Who, and to win.
The third venture was the least successful. Ginny, along with Neville and Luna, tried to steal the sword of Godric Gryffindor. They had planned to give it to Harry, to help him in his cause.
It didn't work, to say the least.
Ginny thought afterwards that she should have known that it wouldn't work. After that awful night in the Forbidden Forest, where she, Neville, and Luna had huddled under a tree as insects climbed up their bodies, and dark things licked their feet and only disappeared with the crucio curse, Ginny realised that it had been a stupid idea in the first place.
And then Luna didn't come back after Christmas Holidays.
Hold on, thought Ginny. Hold on hold on hold on.
And somehow she did, until the Easter Holidays, when she was finally able to go home to see her family.
/
"Ron what?"
"He went back, don't worry. But we haven't heard anything from him since. Just thought you should know. I want you to know everything."
"Why didn't you write and tell me?" Ginny's hands were clenched in frustration.
"What would you have done?" Molly took her hands out of the dishwater and frowned at Ginny. "Told him off? That wouldn't have helped matters at all. Besides, I only found out after – he stayed at Bill's."
"Yes, but …"
"There's nothing to it. He left Harry and Hermione, and now he's back with them. This was way back in Winter. There's no need to get yourself worked up about it."
"But mum –"
"Not another word!"
Mrs Weasley looked positively fierce, and Ginny stormed up to her room. She heard her father's voice call her, but she ignored him, slamming her door.
She couldn't believe it! Ron had actually left Harry and Hermione alone in the wilderness, doing whatever dangerous business they had been doing, trying to defeat the Dark Lord. Why, if she had been in such a situation, she would rather have died than betray her friends.
Especially not Harry.
Ginny leant on the window sill, the curtains flapping gently in the icy wind. The horizon was clouded; the sun would be setting soon. The trees stood overcast in the distance. The garden was ill-kept; since all the Weasley children were away, it had fallen into disrepair. She glimpsed the broom shed on the corner of the paddock, and smiled a little. So many memories …
So much love.
There was a screech from downstairs; it was her mother. Ginny threw herself downstairs, her feet barely touching the steps. "What's it?"
Bill was climbing out of the fireplace in the living room. Ginny gasped and threw herself on him, "Bill!"
He barely returned her hug. "You need to get out!"
"What?" Her father stared, clearly in shock.
"They caught Ron, Harry, Hermione. They escaped, mum, it's okay, but they'll be after you next. They could be here any second. You need to go."
"Oh great Merlin," muttered her mother.
"Grab anything, quick!"
Ginny's father sprung into action. "Ginny, grab your school trunk, quick! Molly, the briefcase and the papers. I'll lock up. Quick, Gin!"
Ginny sprinted upstairs and tore into her bedroom, seizing her school trunk, which she (luckily) had yet to unpack. She rolled it down the stairs, just in time to see Bill closing the last curtain, and her father locking the kitchen door.
The trunk was thrown in the fire, and – "Muriel's house!" cried Bill. He disappeared in a flash.
"You're next, Gin," cried her father, almost throwing her into the fire.
Without thinking, Ginny threw the floo powder and sneezed. "Muriel's house!"
There was a flash, and a bang, and a puff.
When Ginny opened her eyes, she fell into her aunt Muriel's arms, and for the first time in her life, didn't want to let go.
