Three: Those we lost, those we gained
Ginny didn't sleep well that night. She wasn't sure if she ever would, again. But she slept better than she had in a while. The world was still awful, but the return to Hogwarts hadn't been. People were looking. Eventually they'd start talking too. Some would even laugh. But she could do this. She would do this. For those who no longer could.
Still, that late night resolve was more difficult to hold onto when she went down for breakfast and could feel the looks on her. Briefly, she considered brushing her hair forward, so it at least covered the scars. But then people would think she was ashamed, and that would be even worse. So instead she had breakfast, received her schedule from a worried-looking Professor McGonagall and engaged Demelza in a discussion about the Harpies' chances for this year. And when it was almost nine, she headed to the Dungeons for her first class of her fifth year.
The Potions Classroom was already unlocked, though Slughorn was nowhere in sight. In front, a single cauldron stood on a stone dais, white smoke drifting up from it, forming strange shapes before dissipating. Ginny quickly looked away before she could see things in it that she preferred not to see.
It was a testament to Snape's legacy that so far no one had even dared to approach it. With Slughorn still an unknown element, no one was willing to risk poisoning or eternal scarring. Instead, they were all readying their equipment. Ginny still hadn't figured if and how to approach Colin. Fortunately, Astoria's invitation was still there and in a suddenly even class, one of the Gryffindor boys had been whisked away to France by his parents, that left her with an opportunity.
Astoria hardly looked up as Ginny dropped her satchel down next to her, seemingly fully focused on laying down her knife, quill and parchment with a precision that could rival Percy's.
"Good morning Ginny, slept well?"
"Morning Tori," Ginny mumbled in a tone that would just have to suffice as an answer. Astoria turned to her, brow furrowed.
"I guess everyone wanted to talk to you last night?" she asked, but Ginny shook her head.
"No, people have been surprisingly decent. And you saw my honour guard before," she added. She was quite sure Parvati and Lavender had read the whole house the riot act pre-emptively. Astoria smiled thinly.
"So, are you actually any good at Potions? It was difficult to judge Gryffindors as long as Snape was doing the grading," she admitted.
"Decent," Ginny said with a shrug. "Do you know anything about Slughorn?"
"Not a bad sort. Bit of an influence peddler though, or so Daphne told me last night. Apparently, Dad complains about him a lot as he never made it in Slughorn's little club."
"Apparently?" Ginny asked, sensing a story. She'd never caught a glimpse of the workings of a Slytherin family before.
"Dad complains a lot. I gave up on keeping track a long time ago and just nod along. I'm quite sure Mum does the same. Daphne, however, was actually paying attention as it turns out," Astoria hesitated and then sighed. "It seems that's what she always does. She found out we talked and considered it… unwise."
"Should I sit somewhere else?" Ginny asked, trying to sound like it was nothing. Astoria shook her head.
"No, really, I can handle my sister. I have fifteen years of experience. Besides, before I paired up with Harper and he's terrible at Potions," she added.
Before Ginny could say anything more, Slughorn finally arrived in the class, drops of sweat glistening on his bald head.
"Good morning class, apologies for the delay but I had a floo call from my good friend Dirk Cresswell," he said as he moved to the front.
"Head of the Goblin Liaison Office," Astoria whispered when she noticed Ginny's confused look.
"Now, welcome to fifth year Potions. A challenging year this one, an O.W.L. year no less, but I will not bore you with speeches on the hardships await you. My colleagues will already do that exceptionally well, I'm sure. I, on the other hand, will reassure you. A true Potioneer is born, not raised. But an Outstanding on your O.W.L., that can be taught," he promised.
"Today we will surmount the first hurdle, the Draught of Peace," Slughorn declared with rather grand gestures that made Ginny fear he was going to knock over the cauldron. She pushed her chair back a little bit, just in case. Slughorn, unmindful of her concern, drew his wand and waved it at the blackboard, filling it with row after row of instruction. Ginny's stomach sank, and sank even further when she saw Astoria gape at the instructions with equal despair.
"Now, does anyone know what it does?" Slughhorn asked, looking at them with expectant eyes. Ginny raised her hand and didn't need to wait long.
"Yes, Miss Weasley?" Slughorn said, pointing at her. She wondered if he already knew everyone's names somehow and then realised she'd been on the cover of the Prophet quite a few times this summer, with those scars of her that now shone in the dungeon light.. Of course he knew who she was.
"It basically does what its name promises. It makes you calm, so calm that even horrible things no longer hurt," she said, thinking of the few times they'd given it to her. After the worst pain of the curse had subsided and had left the room for the realisation to set in.
Slughorn studied her for a few seconds and then nodded.
"Quite, Miss Weasley. Take five points for Gryffindor. It's a difficult potion, I'll admit and the official instructions make it even worse. So, how about I let you in on a secret?" Slughorn asked, winking at the class and pointing at the blackboard again with his wand. The instructions were erased and replaced by a much shorter series.
"You have Professor Snape to thank for that. It was about the last of his discoveries he shared with me, before he started hoarding them," Slughorn laughed. "Though I'm sure that you as your students have reaped the advantages from his genius."
Ginny exchanged a look with Astoria, wondering if at least the Slytherins had benefited from his tutelage. She shook her head in mute denial. No surprise there. Snape never had been one to share his secrets.
The rest of the class went by in a dream. Uncanny as it was to brew a potion without Snape breathing down their necks, Ginny rather liked it. Slughorn strolled through the classroom, seemingly unmindful of what was happening, though always just on hand to avoid disaster, such as when Astoria came close to dumping a whole moonstone into the potion.
"Sorry," Astoria squeaked, looking at Slughorn with mild terror.
"Quite alright, Miss?" he said, voice trailing off.
"Greengrass, Astoria Greengrass," she supplied.
"Quite alright Miss Greengrass," Slughorn repeated with a smile before wandering off.
"Sorry," Astoria repeated again when as Slughorn was out of earshot.
"It's fine," Ginny said as she began crushing the moonstone. "Though if this blows up in my face, Tori, I'm not partnering up with you again."
"I rarely make things explode and when I do, it's usually intentional," Astoria said airily, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.
"That sounds like something Fred and George would say," Ginny muttered, applying some extra pressure till the moonstone was reduced to fine powder. It was easy really, when she pretended it was Dolohov's face she was smashing in.
The end result was perhaps closer to turquoise green than turquoise blue, but all in all, Ginny was happy with the end result. Astoria studied it rather dubiously.
"So, this is alright?" she asked Ginny.
"Yeah, mostly. Colour's a bit off, but not much."
"You sure?" Astoria asked, comparing it to the black-and-white picture in the book.
"Yeah, I had to take the stuff while at St. Mungo's," she admitted.
"Ah," Astoria breathed in. "That makes sense. Sorry for bringing it up."
"It's fine," Ginny said, bottling a sample and struggling with the plug. "St. Mungo's was awful, but I'm better now," she said, willing her right hand to stop shaking.
"We both know that's not true," Astoria corrected her firmly. "I'm not even fine at this point," she added after some hesitation.
"Maybe," Ginny hedged, laying down the finally stoppered vial before she dropped it. "But we'll get there?" she said, half a declaration, half a question. Astoria just nodded.
"We'll get there. Partner up again for Charms? I swear I'm better at that," she promised, picking up the vial and heading to the front of the classroom.
Slughorn chose that moment to appear next to Ginny. She almost hexed him, though judging by his warm smile, he'd missed her going for her wand.
"Could you stay after class, Miss Weasley?" he asked, drifting back to the front before she could even reply.
Was she already in trouble? Fred and George would be proud, but she couldn't think of anything she had done to earn his scrutiny. Still, what else could he want from her after but one class? It wasn't as if their potion had been the best, Harper's had looked frustratingly perfect. Tempting as it was to just run, she packed and waited.
"You not coming?" Astoria asked as she closed her bag, already the last in class.
"Slughorn wanted to talk to me," Ginny said with a nod of her head. Astoria looked at Slughorn and pursed her lips.
"He probably wants to recruit you," Astoria declared. "I'll explain to Flitwick why you're late," she said and then hurried off before Ginny could ask what he could recruit her for. She didn't like the sound of that. First the Patils and Lavender, now this?
Unmindful of her unease, Slughorn strolled towards her casually.
"Thank you for staying Miss Weasley," he said, leaning against an adjoining table.
"Of course Professor," she said.
"I believe I owe you an explanation," he said, looking almost contrite. Ginny just blinked. "As you no doubt heard, I had a little luncheon with a few students during the train ride, the inaugural meeting of the Slug Club so to say."
Luncheon on the train? Slug Club? It was all new to Ginny and she still didn't quite understand why she was here.
"And I just wanted to make sure you didn't feel left out. I'd be delighted if you'd be willing to join us for our next session. I just thought that the train ride might already be a difficult affair," he said, and for just a second, Slughorn lost all of his usual pomp and his eyes were brimming with concern and compassion. "So I decided not to put you in a difficult position and instead forego the invitation. I hope you won't hold that against me."
Ginny wasn't sure what was worse, the compassion or the condescension. She wanted to tell him he didn't know anything about her. But it would be really nice to have at least one year of Potions without a teacher who hated her for the simple act of breathing. So instead she just nodded and favoured Slughorn with the smile she'd sometimes used on her mother when she wanted to shift the blame towards Fred and George.
"Of course not, Professor. Thank you for taking it into account."
"Don't think anything of it, my girl," Slughorn said, patting her on the shoulder. The left shoulder, naturally.
"But, I'm sorry for asking, but I've been a bit out of the loop lately. What is the Slug Club?" she asked, deciding she might as well learn something from this strange conversation. If Slughorn was put-out by her question, he hid it well.
"That's a difficult one to answer," Slughorn said, favouring her with another one of his broad smiles. "Some would call it an excuse for getting together and eating the best food around. A bit base, but not inaccurate. Others would say it is an opportunity for talented students to meet in a more convivial setting. But I'd just say that it is an opportunity you wouldn't want to miss and encourage you to discover the rest for yourself," he said, laughing loudly. His was a rumbling laugh, coming straight from his rather impressive belly.
That told her enough, more or less. An exclusive club and he, as Astoria had predicted, wanted to recruit her for it. She probably had to fill the seat he'd already reserved for Harry in his mind. It was disgusting. But a small part of her – The Riddle part? – was flattered. And it did sound good. Food. Drinks. Connections. Exactly the sort of event Weasleys never got invited to.
Maybe there she'd have the chance to write her story anew. The one she'd dreamt up as a child had involved Harry. The one she'd gotten instead came with scars. But maybe there was a third one still up for grabs, involving Ginny Weasley. Nothing more. Nothing less
"Well, I'd be delighted, Professor," she said, turning up the charm. It earned her an even broader smile from Slughorn.
"Music to my ears, Miss Weasley. I was thinking about holding a first dinner in two weeks, Monday, if you can wait that long that is?" he asked.
"It will be difficult, Professor, but I'll try," she said.
"Splendid. Now, do you need a note for your next class to explain why you're late?" Slughorn asked.
"No, it's fine. Astoria said she'd tell Professor Flitwick."
"Yes, you worked together rather well this class. Heart-warming really, such interhouse unity. It's been, oh twenty years, since I last had a Gryffindor and a Slytherin pair up in my class. The Gryffindor also had red hair," Slughorn chuckled, eyes glassy as he relived a no doubt ancient memory.
Ginny just shifted on her feet, beginning to wonder if she'd even make it to Flitwick's class before its end. But Slughorn didn't notice it, nor did he pay any attention to the murmur coming from the classroom door.
"But I digress. Would you like me to invite Miss Greengrass as well to the occasion? It might be good to have a friend there," he said.
More compassion. But truth be told, it'd be good to have a friend there. As she hadn't heard about the Slug Club yet, she doubted there'd anyone else present she actually liked.
"I'd appreciate that, Professor."
"Then it's set. I'll get you two official invitations," he said, before sobering again. "I imagine returning to Hogwarts hasn't been easy for you, Miss Weasley. If you ever want to talk, my door is always open," he offered.
"Thank you, Professor," she said, vowing she'd go crying to a House Elf before accepting that offer.
"Well, I suppose you have a class to get to. And I have a class to teach," Slughorn laughed, guiding her towards the exit. "Good day, Miss Weasley," he said as the door swung open, revealing a rather disgruntled group of third year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws who all saw Slughorn with his arm around Ginny's shoulder. That should guarantee 'teacher's pet' would be added to her list of titles before the end of the day.
A quarter of Flitwick's class had elapsed by the time she dropped down next to Astoria, everyone's eyes following her all the way to her seat, the Slytherins no doubt gossiping about whatever she'd discussed with Slughorn. The Gryffindors probably too. At least Flitwick required no explanation, just waving her to her seat.
"And?" Astoria whispered as Flitwick was wrapping about his speech on O.W.L.'s.
"Invitation to the Slug Club," she muttered, getting out quill and parchment.
"Thought as much," Astoria grinned.
"You're invited too," she added. That at least got her a surprised look from Astoria.
"Wait what?"
"Slughorn asked if I wanted you to come as well. I said yes."
"Huh. Thanks."
"Figures a Slytherin would appreciate it," Ginny retorted, earning her an affronted look from Astoria.
"Hey, this has nothing to do with being a Slytherin or not. I just heard the food's great. And, more importantly, Parkinson's going to lose it when she hears I got invited. As will Daphne."
"Typical Slytherin," Ginny scoffed.
"You're just jealous 'cause you ain't us," Astoria said in a singsong voice.
"Right. Now shh, I'm trying to listen here," she said with a nod of her head at Flitwick.
"Why? I bet we'll get this speech at least two more times. Today," Astoria muttered, though she did fall silent after that.
Astoria turned out to be right, both in Transfiguration and Herbology they were warned about the dreaded O.W.L.'s, who by the tone of it would kill them, though only if the extra loads of homework didn't get to them first. So far, only Slughorn had spared them from an essay or spell practice and Ginny was quite sure that was only because he was going for a favourable first impression.
Transfiguration was the worst, for several reasons. Her first class without Astoria, there was an awkward moment when she wasn't sure where to sit. In the end, the odd number of Gryffindors saved her and rather than pull up a chair and join a table of two like she'd have done before, she opted for claiming a desk for her own. Colin looked at her again, but no more. McGonagall frowned when she saw it, but said nothing. Ginny was beginning to hope McGonagall would let it slide, but after assigning vanishing spell practice to them all, she asked for Ginny to stay behind.
"You wanted to speak with me, Professor?" Ginny asked, straightening.
"Would you mind accompanying me to my office?" McGonagall asked.
At first, Ginny thought she'd misheard. McGonagall didn't do requests. Except apparently, for the Girl Who Survived. Ginny nodded and steeled herself for another pity session as she followed her to the small study on the first floor. At least McGonagall didn't look away from her face, giving her scarred right side just as much attention as her left side. She'd come by her title of head of Gryffindor house honestly. Ginny dropped down in a chair and gazed out of the window, wishing she was on the Quidditch pitch instead.
"Have a biscuit, Miss Weasley," McGonagall said with a wave at a dented tartan tin lurking just underneath today's Prophet.
"I'm sorry?" she stammered, rather sure she'd misheard that.
"A biscuit, Miss Weasley. Have one," she repeated with exasperated fondness. Ginny gave her another dubious look, opened the tin and fished out a Ginger Newt. She studied it a while longer and then nibbled on it cautiously. This day was too confusing to keep up.
"Thank you Professor," Ginny said, meaning it. They weren't half bad, really.
"I'm sorry for not speaking with you earlier, Miss Weasley. I must confess I have been putting this off," she admitted.
"No problem", Ginny said. McGonagall wasn't the only one who had been putting this talk off. Most people still were.
"In all my years at Hogwarts, we have sometimes lost a student. Accidents happen, as do illnesses. But five at once, four of which from my house…" McGonagall said, voice trailing off. For a moment, she looked just as fragile as Dumbledore had at the Feast. It hurt to see her like that. "I needed time to process that," she admitted. "I still do, but neither Hogwarts nor Order can spare more time."
The Order. Ginny swallowed down the last of her Ginger Newt. She'd tried not to think about it. Dumbledore's actual army, the one that had stormed into the Department of Mysteries when there was almost no one left to save. And even then they'd ruined it.
Bellatrix laughs as Harry flares with green light, then crumbles. Ginny screams and tries to get up, but her body refuses to obey. She screams again, keeps screaming till her voice gives in. Harry's gone. They're all gone.
"Oh, are you sad? Don't worry child, you'll soon join him," Bellatrix says, pointing her wand at Ginny. "If you beg, I'll even make it quick. Maybe," she laughs again, an insane sound that seems to fill the whole room.
Then, Harry scrambles back up, looking just like he had in the Chamber three years ago. Exhausted, hurt and invincible.
"Leave her alone, Bellatrix," he says, raising a wand.
No one moves, all eyes on the Boy Who Lived Again. Bellatrix gapes and points her wand at him, hands shaking.
Then, two doors burst open and Sirius, Lupin and Tonks rush in. Ginny wants to cry. They're here. They're finally here. Too fucking late.
"Miss Weasley?" McGonagall asked gently. Ginny blinked and breathed heavily. The images were gone, but hadn't been replaced by anything else. All she could see was darkness. The only reassurance she had that she was still in the room was the feeling of the chair underneath her."Easy now Miss Weasley, I'm here. You're safe."
Safe. Ginny had come to hate that word. That's what everyone had been telling her in St. Mungo's over and over as well. As if it still meant something. As if that was what kept her up at night. Still, safe or not, slowly she began to see the office again. The desk. The window. The tin can. She took another biscuit and tried to pretend nothing had happened.
"Have you spoken about what happened with anyone yet, Miss Weasley?" McGonagall asked.
"Yeah," she muttered.
Mum had tried to speak about it with her for two weeks straight before she finally got that her daughter didn't want to, didn't need to. Then she'd sent for Lupin, gentle Professor Lupin. That had been better. He'd at least been there at the end. Not that he'd said much. Tonks had been better at it, slowly drawing her out. But talking had never made her feel better, only worse.
"If you want to talk about it again-"
"Thank you Professor, but no," she said. McGonagall nodded in understanding. Her she could at least refuse outright, unlike Slughorn.
"Of course. Have people been bothering you?"
No," Ginny said.
Of course people had been bothering her. How they looked at her, or how they didn't look. How they just went on with their stupid little lives, or how they tried to draw lessons from it. But no one had confronted her yet, though she was sure that was only a matter of time. Give it a few days, or weeks.
"If they do, come speak with me. If you want to," McGonagall added.
Ginny took another bite from the biscuit and nodded. For a while, they just sat there in silence, Ginny studying the clear blue sky outside, McGonagall studying her and unlike all those other stares, it didn't itch. Nor did she find compassion there, just understanding. It reminded her a bit of Astoria's eyes, only older, wearier. McGonagall had been here before, Ginny realised.
"I loved them too, you know," McGonagall said suddenly. "I love all my students, but they were special."
"They were," Ginny agreed.
And suddenly, despite her promises, she could feel the tears coming. Sniffling softly, she accepted the handkerchief McGonagall silently proffered. She blew her nose and dabbed at her eyes until the tears stopped, taking extra care around her right eye, a half-eaten biscuit still in her other hand.
"It's not fair," Ginny said.
"War never is," McGonagall said. "I just wish we could have spared you that lesson."
"Only you didn't," she said, blowing her nose again.
"No, we didn't," McGonagall agreed. "And I can't promise we won't do it again. But I'll try."
It was honest, at least. More honest than the promises she'd heard so far. And that would just have to do for now.
When she left McGonagall's office, Demelza, of whom she still couldn't remember the last name, was leaning against the wall.
"Hi Demelza."
"Hi Ginny," she answered, pushing herself upright.
"If you need to see McGonagall, she's free now," Ginny offered.
"No, I'm here for you. I heard your classmates mention McGonagall had kept you behind and wanted to see if you were alright," she said, giving her a worried look.
"I'm fine," Ginny said, painfully aware she must look a proper mess. She always was an ugly crier. She hadn't met anyone yet who wasn't.
"Do you want to talk?" Demelza asked as they both walked through the corridor.
"Yeah, but not about that," Ginny said.
"Fair enough," Demelza said and for a few steps, neither of them said anything. "O.W.L. year as bad as they claim it is?"
"Worse," Ginny said. "Endless homework and terrifying speeches. I recommend flunking your fourth year."
"I'll consider it," Demelza laughed.
"Demelza?"
"Yeah Ginny?"
"What's your last name?" Ginny asked, figuring she might as pull off that particular band-aid.
"Robins. One 'b', very important," she said, laughing.
"Weasley. Like the mammal, only different," Ginny offered, earning her another loud laugh rolling down the hallway.
In that, Demelza was different from Astoria. Her laughs were louder, easier. And while Ginny could feel that she'd be willing to talk about what had happened and what was still happening outside, it was possible not to and that she rather appreciated.
"I had Snape this afternoon," Demelza supplied and Ginny groaned.
"Was it as bad as Potions?"
"About par for the course. 'Miss Vane, if you talk one more time during class, the dark arts will be the least of your concern'," she said in a very passable imitation of Snape's drawl. "And then he docked twenty points from Gryffindor."
"Still the same old Snape," Ginny agreed. "You'd have thought he might have softened a bit after getting the DADA post."
"Don't count on it. It wasn't bad though. Miles better than Umbridge. He reminded me a bit of Moody. Fake Moody," Demelza amended.
"That's hardly confidence inspiring."
"Not like that," Demelza said with a chucjkle. "But, he gets them, you know, the dark arts. Maybe a bit too well though. When do you have him?" she asked.
Ginny stopped next to a suit of armour and rummaged through her bag until she found an already rather crumbled schedule. "Thursday," she said, unable to shiver.
"Well, then you'll get to judge for yourself."
"I can't wait," Ginny muttered as they reached the Fat Lady's portrait. Demelza prepared to climb inside, but Ginny put her hand on her arm.
"Demelza?
"Yeah?" she said, giving her a curious look.
"Thanks," Ginny said. Demelza just shrugged.
"Anytime. Just remember me for the tryouts," she teased and then disappeared inside.
Ginny followed her inside, though part of her wondered why Demelza cared. They'd hardly interacted before. Was this just an example of a loner seeking out an outsider? Or was there something more? There'd been such vehemence when she first spoke to Ginny at the Feast. She'd ask, but that seemed a poor way to repay Demelza for respecting Ginny's own boundaries so well.
Besides, above all she didn't want to scare her away. Through some kind of miracle, she'd stumbled onto two budding friendships. Two people who didn't see the scars or the Girl Who Survived. She wasn't quite sure if they saw the real Ginny Weasley, whoever that may be at this point, but it was good enough. So what did it matter she didn't fully understand Demelza herself yet? That was part of the miracle of new friends, you didn't really know them yet, you just knew that you liked them.
Still lost in reverie, the chaos of the Gryffindor common room rose to meet her. A few were working on their homework, mostly the upper years fretting about O.W.L.'s and N.E.W.T.'s. The lower years were playing exploding snap, loud as always. A few first-years were just sitting there, still taking in the wonder of it all. And near the fire were Lavender and Parvati, who immediately got up when they saw Ginny.
"Ginny, could we talk to you for a second?" Parvati asked. Ginny could already read the question in her eyes.
"No," she said and then headed for her dorm.