Ginny woke on the now familiar cot. Shushes and whispers came from the kitchen. The loud clattering of a large pot falling rang through the apartment.
"Ronald!"
"Sorry, Mum."
Ginny peered over the couch back. The kitchenette, decorated in multitudes of multicolored streamers, burst with her chaotic family. They cowered underneath a table, hid in the cupboard, and lurked behind the counter wearing paper party hats. The twins, flanking Percy beneath the table, blew pink party poppers into Percy's annoyed face.
"Mum?"
The Weasleys stopped fidgeting and annoying one another and looked up. Ginny's head popped like a little meerkat over the backside of the couch.
"SURPRISE!" Her family yelled blowing noise makers covering her with colorful strands of paper. At the sudden burst of jubilant noise, Scabbers ran away from Ron and hid under the couch. Ginny laughed crawling under the couch pulling Scabbers out by his hind feet. He squealed nipping at her fingers.
Ginny walked over and gave Ron back his rat. Percy pulled her into a stiff hug as she passed on her way to Mum and Dad. Her Mum took her face into her hands smiling.
"Happy Birthday my beautiful daughter," she said kissing her on the forehead.
"Happy birthday Sis!" Bill strolled over and one handed pulled her onto his back. "What do you want first? Cake or presents?"
"Presents!" Ginny said. A small stack of gifts teetered awkwardly on the table threatening to tip over. Ginny picked up the first stabilizing the pile. Wrapped in brilliant crimson paper and tied with a delicate gold bow, the present was the size of a small book. Ginny tore into the paper ripping away the bow. It was a Gryffindor red book the same shade as the paper. She turned it over. Carved into the cover was a flat Egyptian woman with the head of a lioness. A golden cobra twisted and turned as it encircled a sphere. Ginny moved the book in her hands. The light shimmered off the gold embossed cover. Bill grinned broadly watching her.
"Is it a journal?" she asked with trepidation. Her heart pounded as she opened the book finding blank pages. Panicked she looked at her Mum who was as wide-eyed as she was. Both of them looked to one another to gauge the next moment. Bill placed his hand on the book closing it. He looked Ginny straight in the eyes and with full confidence replied.
"No. It is a diary." Ginny's heart stopped. Her hands poured sweat. Her Mum looked fiercely at Bill. The anger radiated off of her.
"William. We talked about this."
"I know we did Mum. And to be fair this is my gift for my sister."
Ginny looked between them caught in a stalemate of wills. Walking through the tension she flung her arms around Bill's neck and clung to him tightly. He wrapped his arms around her small frame and pulled her in for a large hug. Molly's breath caught as they started laughing.
"Sekhmet?"
"I told you, she is the goddess of the fiercest Weasley Women. Including one I had to cross to give you this gift. Happy Birthday, Smalls."
The next two weeks passed in a blur of temples, pyramids, and ancient shrines. They had their picture in the Daily Prophet posing by the Sphinx. Their Mum was so excited she ordered thirty copies to arrive at their door the week they came home. Through all the new adventures, Ginny's diary stayed packed deep in her bag. At night, when she was sure everyone was asleep, she would be called to the diary, wanting to document the exciting events from her day. Excitement morphed to fear as soon her fingers brushed against the spine of the book. She pulled her hand back as if she touched a live wire causing her to give up and stuff the clothes back in the bag burying the diary beneath.
Far too soon their trip was over. The last night before returning to Devon Mum made them pack their things in an evening frenzy. Ginny's small suitcase was at the foot of a pile of luggage waiting to be shrunk for transportation. The apartment entered one of the brief quiet stages with all the inhabitants, but Ginny, fast asleep in their beds. Ron's loud snoring mixed with the ticking of the grandfather clock were the only noises in the living room with her. She stood over her bag considering whether or not to bother opening it tonight. She knew exactly where her diary lay waiting, wrapped in her socks, shoved to the bottom of her poorly folded clothing.
"You know you can pull it out." A voice startled her.
"What?" She turned around catching Bill's eyes. He looked tired again. Holding two mugs he gestured towards his window to the small balcony that had become their spot. Ginny came over smirking at him cheekily grabbing her mug sticking out her tongue. Sitting on the balcony she gazed out into the quieting cityscape. After three weeks, everything felt familiar. The horns trumpeting, old men yelling in foreign tongues, the Nile flowing in the distance. All the noises flowed to her ears as easily as leaves rustling in the Burrow's orchard.
"You are a coward," Bill's soft but blunt voice jarred Ginny away from the cityscape and back towards the balcony.
"Don't be mean."
"This isn't me being mean, I am being honest. Why are you afraid?"
The question lingered in the desert air. Several beats passed as Ginny squirmed under Bill's unwavering gaze.
"It's just…" Her words stopped.
"I mean…" Ginny sighed. She couldn't articulate why. She fiercely met Bill's eyes daring him to push her. Daring him to force the words she couldn't find.
"I know why," Bill said. Ginny's gaze pierced at him. Her heart pounded like a warrior's drum calling soldiers to battle.
"Well enlighten me."
"Enough cheek," Bill reached over and gently ruffled her hair with his knuckles. "About two and half years ago, I was sent to Egypt as a new curse breaker. Six months later, a teammate almost died because of a mistake I made."
Ginny's eyes froze wide like the mouth of the teacup sitting heavy in her hand. What was Bill telling her? How could he have made a mistake? He was her oldest brother. He was brilliant and strong. He was effortlessly cool. How could he have almost killed someone?
"I was cocky. I thought I knew everything. I knew the standard procedure was to have a teammate check your work. But I thought my one teammate, Thomas, was an idiot. Even though he had been onsite for decades longer than I had been in training. I thought his slow speed, working his way through every single nook and cranny, was because he wanted to extend the billing hours."
Bill stopped and looked down into his tea cup. "I thought I could handle everything on my own. My arrogance at not accepting his help led to my inadvertently setting off a curse. It hit him on his side three inches from his chest," Bill's voice quieted.
"He had three daughters who adored him. I met them all at a company picnic. He hung the moon for his family. And in one moment, a moment where I knew better, a moment where I knew to have a teammate double check my work. Well, had he been standing a hair to the right I would have had his daughters to answer too."
Bill took a deep breath before speaking again. He wrung his hands in remembrance. "I sprung into action when it happened. I called the mediwitch over. I started chest compressions to restart his heart. I cast protective spells around us. I stayed by his side as he was pulled out of the cavernous temple. I called his wife to meet him at the hospital. I sat in the waiting room outside his room until his wife arrived. She was completely disheveled, red-eyed and puffy faced. Tears streaming down her cheeks."
"I caused those tears, Ginny. My arrogance almost took away the most important thing in this woman's world. Her security, her best friend, her lover. All gone in an instant because of me." Bill stopped talking. His voice full of emotion, he took a deep breath of night air in calming himself.
"The next few months I felt so much panic before it was time to go back into the tombs. My heart would pound, sweat poured down my face, my hands would shake. I was terrified to tell anyone what I was feeling. Suddenly, I went from being this surefooted cocky son of a bitch to a timid scattered worker. My productivity slowed as I got stuck in every crevice, terrified I would miss something. Terrified of another mistake. And worse of all, I was angry. Anger at myself turned outward into anger at the working conditions, my training, my team. Thoughts of my potential mistakes would play in loops in my head, I thought I was losing my mind."
"What did you do? How did you fix it?" Ginny's voice lost the previous edge enraptured by Bill's story.
"I didn't fix it. Thomas did. He returned from the hospital right as rain three months later. He asked to be placed on my team. I was completely floored and gobsmacked. Why? Why did he trust me when I didn't even trust myself. Soon he mocked me for going too slow. He prodded me ahead. One day, when I was stuck in a bad spiral and I yelled at him."
'How can you trust me? I almost had you killed?'
"And Thomas stood there looking at me confused. Finally, after what felt like an eternity he asked me a very important question."
'Did you intend to have me killed?'
"Appalled I shouted no. Of course, I didn't intend to have him killed. My intention was to finish faster. I begged for him to forgive me, I apologized, I offered to ask for a new partner or give my resignation. But Thomas stood there, and then he did something that helped." Bill took a long swig of tea and looked at the rising moon.
"What? What finally helped?" Ginny asked completely enthralled by Bill's tale.
"He called me a coward." The wind rustled around them. Sand from the river banks a few miles off blew through Ginny's hair.
"And he was right. I was a coward. Part of me hoped he would want a new partner so I wouldn't have to face him. Part of me wanted to be canned. But a larger part of me was terrified. Terrified of hurting someone else with my mistakes."
"Thomas conjured me a seat and told me to sit down. Harshly, he told me the tombs could smell my fear. And then he proceeded to listen. I told him everything I told you and more. I told him about nightmares of his funeral. I told him about getting stuck on the simplest charms afraid to move forward. I told him how my thoughts were looping and screaming at me that I missed something. How I knew someone would die because of me. And he listened. To every last word. He never interjected. He never asked a question. He didn't try to fix me. He was a vessel for my fears and worries to enter. Finally, I finished my ramblings and he asked me one question."
'Bill, do you love curse breaking?'
"I assured him, yes, of course, I loved curse breaking. My stomach was in knots, my hands were sweating profusely at this point. I was certain I was about to be fired."
'Then stop thinking about hurting others and start doing what you love.'
"And with that Ginny, he stood up and walked over to the wall where a particularly tricky rune waited for us. And that morning, I started curse breaking again. I didn't forget the lessons I learned. To have my partner check my work, move slower and thoroughly step by step through the tomb. But I did forget the guilt for a deed I never committed. I never tried to kill Thomas. I made a mistake. Something bad happened because I made a mistake. But my intentions were never malicious." Bill turned to Ginny. His eyes were blazing and his hair was blowing gently in the breeze. He looked hard into her eyes trying to burrow into her soul.
"Ginny, did you intend to kill or hurt any of your fellow students last year?"
"N-no." Ginny's voice was small. It broke halfway through the single word as the no felt too large to come out of her rapidly closing throat.
"Ginny, do you love to write?"
"Y-y-yes. I do Bill. I miss it sometimes." The words spilled easier. A weight released with her admission of longing.
"Then stop thinking about hurting others and do what you love." Bill stood up and accio'd her bag through the open window. He put it on the table in front of her as he lit a gas lamp on the table. And then he left. Without another word or prodding, he left her alone with the bag and the night sky. Her diary sat at the bottom of the bag still wrapped in her socks. It called to her. Her fingers itched to pick up a quill and put down all the words and emotions threatening to burst through her skin. She felt the words building on her fingertips she felt the calling of parchment and ink. She desperately wanted to feel the quill scratching into the heavy vellum paper.
Reaching into her bag, she dug through her socks and loose undergarments. She went past the small trinkets and souvenirs. Past the storybook that felt so vital to bring but went unread for the last three weeks. And she found it. The crimson red diary. She pulled it out of the bag and looked at Sekhmet as her crown glittered in the lantern light. Ginny crawled back into the living room and saw Bill standing by the window waiting for her.
One of his hands outstretched empty waiting to receive the book. The other held a quill and ink vial. With a smirk, Ginny grabbed the quill and ink, scurried back out the window, and sat beneath the moonlight writing about nothing and everything until dawn.
