Sunday Evening
Ginny finally hung up the phone and sighed. She felt a lot better after speaking to Dr. Albright. Ginny thought to herself, for the millionth time, that she didn't know how she had coped without a therapist for so long. She still didn't have a plan, but was at least determined to keep trying. Wiping her eyes one last time, she got ready to face her family, who had gone out to eat dinner in the garden some time ago.
"Hey! There she is!" exclaimed Ron, getting up to pull out her chair for her. Ginny let out a small laugh.
"I think I can get my own chair, thank you Ron."
"Oh shut up Ginny, you literally just got out of St. Mungo's this morning. I'm trying to be nice."
"Ronald, please! How was your chat with the doctor, dear?" Molly asked as Ginny took her seat and tucked in to her magically warm plate. She realized she hadn't eaten anything all day, and was suddenly absolutely ravenous.
"It was good, she really helped me sort the rational, helpful thoughts from the unhelpful ones. You know how she is," she replied between fork fulls of meatloaf.
"I hope you don't mind, Ginny, we told-"
"We were forced to tell, you mean-"
"Ron, stop. We may have been persuaded to tell your parents what's going on. About Harry, and your…fall down the stairs." Hermione gave Ginny a pointed look, and Ginny gave her a grateful smile in return.
"The whole thing is so incredibly bittersweet, darling, no wonder you wanted some help dealing with it. Now, I won't say I'm not a little offended that you didn't come to your father and I for help, but we're just glad you're alright. Right, Arthur?"
"Listen to your mother, dear," Arthur replied, head buried in a muggle newspaper. Molly shot him a look, and he snapped to attention. "Oh yes, Ginny, you know we're always here for you." Mrs. Weasley seemed content with that, and turned her attention back to Ginny.
"Thanks, Mum and Dad. Actually," she suddenly had a thought. "You two were in the Order around the time Harry's parents supposedly died, right?"
"Yes, of course. We were in it from the very beginning," replied Arthur proudly, putting the paper down.
"Do you remember Dumbledore talking about the spells he used on Harry's parent's house?"
"Well, I don't know that we'd be of much help there. No one but Dumbledore had any idea that they were even underground," Molly said, gently.
"Oh," she replied, deflated.
"What about any protection spells? When we visited the house during the war, I remember not being able to identify a few of them," Hermione interjected.
"Now that, we may be able to help with. Protection spells were a tricky issue in those days, because the other side was inventing counters to them as quickly as we could find new ones. In fact, your mother just so happened to be a part of the protective spells unit right around that time." Arthur draped his arm on the back of her chair, beaming proudly.
"Oh Arthur, don't be silly. It wasn't so much a unit, as it was my brothers and I fiddling around with old textbooks. I wasn't even officially part of the Order back then." Molly began busying herself with clearing the table.
"I'll get that, Mum. You stay and tell them about your work," Ron smiled at his mother.
"Thank you, dear." Molly reluctantly took her seat again. "There was one spell…" A misty look spread on her face. "My brothers…well, let's just say Fred…" she gulped, and continued, "Fred and George took after my brothers more than they did me. The two of them were always trying out old spells, trying to change them, or just clean inventing new ones. I never had much of a head for inventing spells, but they needed someone to keep them on track, and I needed to know my family was safe. We went through dozens of spells, but those bastards broke every one of them. But there was one spell, very complex, that the other side could never break. I haven't thought about it in years. Fabian and Gideon were the only ones who could cast it."
"Why was that?" Hermione asked, entranced.
"Well, the spell works with your emotions. The person attempting to break through it must have only good intentions for those within, and those within the spell must have a deep love for the person trying to break it. Thus, the spell requires two casters who have a deep love for one another. The deeper the bond, the stronger the protection. As they were twins…"
"The bond couldn't get much deeper," Hermione finished her thought with whispered reverence.
"Exactly."
"I've read about spells like that, but I didn't think anyone still used them today!" Hermione was sitting on the edge of her seat. Ron tried to hide a grin as he watched her from behind his after dinner cup of coffee.
"Where did they even find this spell, Mum? It sounds incredible!" Ginny looked at her mother, astonished.
"They didn't find it anywhere. They invented it," Molly replied, smiling proudly as tears threatened to fall. Ginny sat back in her chair, overwhelmed with newfound respect for the uncles she had never been able to meet.
"And…you think they would have used this spell on Harry's parents house?" Hermione prodded gently.
"I know they did. It was…the one and only time they got to try it out. They were so excited that Dumbledore let them try it out on such a high stakes mission. The two of them went out partying in Knockturn Alley that night, and ran straight into a bunch of Death Eaters. They died that night," Molly finished quietly, a lone tear splashing down into her lap. Ginny reached her hand across the table to cover her mother's. Molly gripped it and smiled back sadly.
"Thanks, Mum." Her mother took one last deep breath and stood up quickly.
"Pie! I almost forgot about the pie. I made blackberry, your favorite, Ginny. Come help me serve it." Molly bustled into the kitchen with a forced cheery smile plastered on her face.
"You left Ron alone in the kitchen with a pie? You might be losing your touch, mum," Ginny replied, trading a look with her father as she got up to help. Hermione was lost in thought.
Later that night, sitting in the parlor with a snifter of brandy each, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione said goodnight to Arthur and Molly.
"Are they gone?" Hermione said furtively.
"Aaaaand…yep, door's closed," Ron replied quietly, from his better vantage point.
"Thank Christ, I have to get rid of this brandy. It tastes like boiled piss. I don't know how you can stand it," she muttered as she left for the kitchen. Poking her head back around the door frame, she added, "Oh, and remind me, I want to talk to you two about something."
"It's an acquired taste, my love," he grinned and took a smooth sip.
"You really have corrupted her, Ron. The Hermione I know would never describe anything as boiled piss, except perhaps…actual boiled piss," Ginny remarked incredulously.
Ron laughed. "I don't think I can take all the credit, she's loosened up an awful lot since she finally finished her N.E.W.T.s. And she's learned some pretty salty language since she started working at the Ministry. I can't imagine what the rest of her department sounds like if we're getting 'boiled piss'." He shook his head, laughing.
"Trust me, darling, you don't want to know. There have been some days when even I needed a dictionary." Hermione returned with her customary glass of red wine, and plopped down not on the sofa next to Ginny, where she had been previously, but in Ron's lap, squishing him further into the plush armchair.
"Alright, what did you want to talk to us about, Mione?" Ron snaked his arms around her waist, clearly happy with this new arrangement. She hummed in recognition in the middle of a particularly big sip.
"Ok, so, I've been thinking about that spell your mum mentioned, the one her brothers invented. While I'm usually the first to suggest months of intense research and extensive planning, I can't get away from the idea that maybe we should just go and try to get into the basement ourselves. If he's already in there with them, Harry certainly has a deep bond with each of us, and we have good intentions, so we'll get in, no problem. If he's not, we won't get in, since Lily and James don't even know us. And then we'll go from there." Hermione raised an eyebrow, pleased with herself, and finished her glass.
"It couldn't really be that simple, could it?" Ron asked hesitantly.
"As much as I hate to agree with Ron, I was kind of thinking the same thing," admitted Ginny.
"I really think it could. I know I said I wouldn't, but…I did end up doing some light research on Imortium Confrelgo. It turns out, it's a Soul spell, similar to the one Mrs. Weasley described." Seeing her companion's blank faces, she continued, exasperated. "No, really? That doesn't ring a bell?"
"Babe, you can't blame me. I'm a bad boy simpleton. I dropped out of school, baby!" Ron pulled her tighter with a roguish grin. She was not amused.
"Ginny, I thought you took seventh year History of Magic?"
"I was a little busy getting tortured by the Carrows that year. Paying attention in History of Magic was not exactly my top priority." Ginny replied nonchalantly. Hermione huffed in frustration.
"A Soul spell is deeply attuned to who you are as a person, at the core. They are notoriously difficult to cast, because they require more effort than a normal surface spell, which attacks without considering the target. That, and the caster must believe in the spell wholeheartedly, or there is an extremely high risk of the spell backfiring."
"It's really rare for a Soul spell to even be attempted since you normally need two casters to produce enough power to get the bugger going. And they've both got to be into it, there's no second guessing or half-assing a Soul spell," Ron added, taking a long pull of brandy. Hermione turned around to him, annoyed.
"I thought you didn't know anything about this?"
"I never said that. I just like to see you all het up and academic." She giggled and rewarded him with a kiss.
"Oh good Merlin, I could've gone my whole life without knowing that. Hello? Anything else you'd like to add?" They separated, both blushing. "What we would even do if we got inside? Harry and I never got a clear answer on how to break the spell." Ginny ran a hand through her hair, getting more frustrated by the minute.
"From what I've read, most Soul spells are broken the same way they're cast. In this case, I would hypothesize that that means that everyone within the time bubble would need to wholeheartedly believe that it was no longer necessary in order to break it."
"So you think we just need to convince them to leave? I'm sorry Hermione, that seems way too simple to work," Ginny rebuked, placing her brandy snifter down on the side table firmer than she normally would. "You may be the brightest witch of your age, but everyone knows you can't just break a spell by wanting it. That's crazy talk!"
"No, Ginny, she's right. Soul spells are not your garden variety charms." Ron looked more serious than Ginny had ever seen him. "They're like…like living veritaserum. These types of spells are almost alive. They see into your head, and can detect even the faintest whiff of doubt. This is not about simply 'wanting' it to break. You have to have an iron will, and an unwavering conviction in what you believe in."
"Wow, I couldn't have put it better myself." Hermione grinned at him, amused. Ron just chuckled.
"Always the tone of surprise. They don't let you be an auror for nothing." She grabbed his face one-handed and kissed his cheek.
"An iron will…I guess when you put it like that, I guess it makes sense. That doesn't sound easy."
"It's not, very few wizards have ever broken a Soul spell successfully. Veritaserum is a good way of thinking of it, actually. If you're just honest with yourself, you can do it." Ginny nodded. They were all silent for a moment. Ginny suddenly leaned forward, grabbed her drink, and finished it all in one gulp. She winced, and turned to face her brother and sister-in-law.
"Well, what the fuck are we waiting for, then?"