Chapter 14: The Past, Revealed
(A/N: Um ok so this story is getting SO DARK I'M SORRY. I think it'll be better from here but who knows really. I literally have no control here. ENJOY.)
Saturday, late afternoon
The fog was so thick in Ginny's brain. Not thick enough to dull her pain, but thick enough that she could not recall why exactly she was in pain. She was vaguely aware that there were people around her, which was a change from the indeterminable amount of time that had passed in silent agony. They moved too fast, talked too fast for her to register their words, but she could sense, between moments of blackness, that they were panicked. She was very suddenly blinded by a flash of light, and then was unconscious.
When she finally comes back, a bright light blinds her once more. However, it is not a flash, but a steady beam attacking her heavy eyelids. Forcing her eyes open is even worse, but at least she can finally tell that the source is a heavy industrial hanging light directly over her. She recognizes it, but it takes a moment for her brain to slog through the molasses it seems to be filled with before she figures it out. It's the kind of light she's only ever seen in…
She jolts up in bed, and immediately regrets it. Not only does her heavy head begin to swim sickeningly, but she is also able to take in the sterile and cold landscape that confirms her worst thoughts: she is in St. Mungo's.
"Ugh Ginny, you-you're awake!"
Ron's startled voice shakes Ginny out of her inspection of her surroundings.
"So I am, and I kind of wish I were still asleep. Um, Ron," Her brain scrambles to answer the question before she asks it. "Why am I in St. Mungo's?"
"Ah," Ron's face drops, lost for words. "Ginny, well…how much do you remember?"
"I…I don't know. I remember I was on the phone with Hermione. We were talking, but I don't…oh. We…we were talking about how Harry was missing." Her voice shook. "But what happens after that?"
"Maybe I'm not the best person to…maybe this is too soon to go through this Gin. You really should get some rest, you've been through a lot in the past couple hours."
"I have?" Ginny asked, beginning to really panic. "What the hell do you mean, Ron? I don't remember anything traumatic. I think I would remember something that put me in hospital!" Ron got up and tried to push her gently down from her seated position.
"Ginny just – just try to sleep, ok? Just let it go for now, they've got people who can help you here, you'll learn everything when you can handle it better-"
"When I can handle it better? You've got to be kidding – Ron, there is no way I'm just going to go to sleep and not try to get back the last couple HOURS of my life! What happened, Ron? What happened to me? Was I attacked? Did someone break into the flat?" Ron distractedly sat on the bed facing her, fiddling with the sheets as Ginny watched his brain working.
"N-no, nothing like that."
"A spell gone wrong?"
"No, you didn't cause it."
"Did I…" She struggled for more possibilities. The fact that she knew she probably wouldn't be able to guess scared her more than any of the awful scenarios she could think up. "Was it a bad fall? Down the stairs, maybe?" Ron flinches at the mention of the stairs.
"Stairs! So something to do with the stairs, then?"
"Uh, sort of. You were found on the stairs, but we don't think you fell down them, exactly. You seem to have fallen," he squirmed, "you fell while climbing them." Ginny was stumped, heart racing trying to process the new information.
"While climbing? What – how…"
"Hermione," Ron broke her train of thought with a sigh of relief. "Ginny wants to know what happened, I don't know how – I thought it would be better-"
"It's alright, Ron, I can take it from here," came Hermione's soothing voice from behind Ginny. She sat on the side of the bed opposite an obviously relieved Ron.
"Ginny, you don't remember much of what happened, correct?"
"Yeah, please just tell me, I promise I can take it, Hermione. I swear I won't freak out."
"I wouldn't be so quick to say that, Gin," she muttered before taking a large breath. "It began yesterday morning, when Harry disappeared…"
DAY ONE: Friday, early morning
The fog was so thick in Harry's brain. Too thick. His eyes were too heavy to open, and he was only barely aware of the wall he was leaning on. The peaks of the stucco sharply pressed into the soft skin on his cheeks. He clung to that unpleasant feeling and tried to will himself into consciousness. Eventually he regained feeling in his legs, which were curled up underneath him awkwardly, as if he had just crumbled. One was sprawled out in front of him, while the other was folded under him, reminding him of sitting criss-cross applesauce in his early muggle schooling. He could even feel a bit of carpet on the small strip of skin between his pant leg and his shoe, just like at school. Carpet! A new development. He tried to move his legs, now that he could feel them, and they tried valiantly to respond, but weren't quite in tune with his brain just yet. He realized this physical recovery might take a little longer than he was used to.
He abandoned his limbs for a moment to try and evaluate his mental state. He could call up, albeit at about the same pace that molasses moves, his basic statistics. Harry Potter, eighteen, no, nineteen, years old, boy-who-lived (but through what?), Chosen One (for what?), defeater of…someone. It was on the tip of his tongue, but would not come, as only the most important words are. The facts of his life came to him as if they were struggling to swim upstream. It took a real effort to try and remember farther back than a couple years, so he just tried to focus on the present. Where was he? What was he doing there?
Since none of the answers could be found within the confines of his own mind, he decided to go back to the eyes. Come on guys, now's your time to shine, he thought to them. Finally, he made a little headway, and, bit by bit, his eyes eventually were open. Not that it much of a difference, because it was pitch black. He wasn't even sure they were open, except for the rush of cold air against his warm eyes. He adjusted to the darkness much more slowly than he would have liked, but eventually could make out that he was in a very short hallway, with a closed door at his back. Though his mind was still moving like molasses, he was pretty sure he'd never been here before.
Suddenly the sharp, annoying buzzing sensation of a limb waking up surged through his legs as they belatedly followed through on his orders of movement. The feeling reminiscent of tacks being plunged again and again in his skin was not a pleasant one, but it was a sign that he was winning. Harry would have grinned if he could move his mouth at that point, but as the situation was a little behind on that front, he settled for having another go at his befuddled mind.
An hour later saw Harry finally back in control of his body, although it was sluggish and sore, as if he had just lost a fight very badly. He was wobbling on his feet, but he was walking. He lit his wand in order to truly examine his surroundings. Upon leaving the short hallway, he discovered what appeared to be, in the darkness, a combination kitchen and sitting room. It was all very hodge-podge, and seemed to be very seldom used. A clock over the kitchen sink (a plastic tub beneath a faucet) revealed the time to be 1:45 in the morning, and it suddenly hit Harry just how very tired he still was. Still, he was determined to see his parents.
The first door off the kitchen turned out to be a bathroom, but the second gifted Harry exactly what he wanted: the serene vision of his parents, sound asleep and blissfully unaware of the passage of time. In the dim light, they seemed to be almost as young as they were in their wedding photos. A few tears skittered down Harry's cheeks before he was able to turn away. Satisfied for now, he decided it was time to get some real rest. After casting a few spells to check for dark magic, he found the couch and flopped down onto it. He fell into the deepest sleep he would ever get, secure in the knowledge that his family was together once again.
Saturday, late afternoon
Tears fell freely from Ginny's eyes as Hermione's horrible tale came to a close.
"He's really gone? He's really in the house, then?"
"As far as we know. A large disturbance in the force field around the building was recorded late Thursday night around 11 o'clock. We think it was him, although the Aurors are still working to match his magical signature to the disturbance."
"That sounds like him, alright." Ginny scrubbed her face in annoyance. "I just cannot believe him. I can't believe that I gave him that stupid idea…I should know better, he practically lives of off stupid ideas."
"They are kind of his bread and butter," Ron joked, receiving a tired glare from his wife.
"Well, you know that's absolutely ridiculous, Ginny. He would have probably done it without any prodding from you anyway. He's never had any patience for research. Or caution, for that matter," she rolled her eyes with a tiny smile. "But don't worry about that now. The Aurors have got their best working on securing the area and getting him out. You just focus on getting better."
"Hermione, why do I feel like there's more to the story?" Hermione's facade slipped a little, her tired eyes revealing the toll the last few hours have taken.
"Ginny, I…I don't know how to say this."
"Wow, Mione speechless? That's one you rarely see."
"Not the time, Ronald," she whispered, fighting tears. "It seems that…" a single tear escaped, "you were with child, Ginny."
"Oh, yeah, I meant to tell you guys but…" her face drained of color.
"Wait…WHAT? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?"
"Not now, Ron, really, not-"
"Hermione," Ginny began to tremble, "What do you mean 'were'?"
"You have to understand, there was nothing they could do, it was already gone by the time you got here-"
"What do you mean, Hermione? Please tell me – oh my god, no, NO." The tears came fast and angry, the words were hard to get out through the sobs. "No, no no no, Hermione please…please…our baby…I can't lose them both, Hermione, please. Why? God, why? How did this even happen?"
Hermione was openly weeping as well, as was Ron. His tears fell silently down his horrified face. He slid closer to Ginny and held her close. She burrowed her face into his shoulder, finding comfort in her closest brother. "It was the stress, honey. When you realized what happened with Harry, your body went into shock. It was too much to handle, and…you had a miscarriage."
There was nothing Ginny could say. Her sadness and grief filled every inch of her until she felt she would burst. Her heart was broken, truly and definitely broken. And the only person who could truly understand, who could help her the most, who deserved to know more than anyone, was trapped in a basement almost twenty years in the past. And there was nothing she could do to get him back.
(A/N: I'M SO SORRY, IT CAN ONLY GO UP FROM HERE. HOPEFULLY.)