Hogwarts is meant to be brilliant. It's meant to be your home away from home, the safest place in the world. For Ginny, it is none of these things.
Hogwarts is brilliant, yes, brilliantly cold and silent. The rooms and hallways stretch, yawning abysses, and the paintings stare and snicker to each other. Ginny walked these halls alone in her first year and then, later, with a shade walking beside her. Hogwarts was not kind to Ginny, another Weasley, another Gryffindor, another first year. Hogwarts was empty, was talking to mirrors that didn't talk back, was writing in a diary because no one else listened.
Hogwarts was a place Ginny grew to fear, from the way blood stuck to her robes, to her fingers; from the way a voice whispered in her ears, in her mind; from the way when she walked, something in the walls slithered along beside her and she could hear it.
The year ended and Ginny's family swarmed her, checking on her every single of the day. She was being smothered beneath their attention, but it was sometimes easier to walk when someone was always talking. At least then she could pretend that there was no water dripping here, no shade controlling her feet, no snake hissing in the walls.
But the nights were dark and Ginny's nightmares curled up in her bed, waiting. So Ginny curled up in front of the fire, blanket heaved over her shoulders, and got to work on her schoolwork. She handed in essays smudged with ink that echoed the bags under her eyes. She flicked and swished her wand and wondered whether there was something that made her magic impressive or whether it was her alone.
When the year ended, Ginny went home and was smothered by her family once again. When she stared up at the ceiling at night, there was no schoolwork to do. But there were books. They weren't good and sometimes Ginny felt sick at the sight of them. For a moment, though, she could pretend there was nothing dripping away in her memories, no whisper caressing her ears, no snake hissing in the pipes.
There's only so much to do at the Burrow. Ginny oscillates between fierce shouting and shrinking in the shadows. Her mother tells her to garden and when Ginny shoves her fingers into the soil, all she remembers is trying to get the blood out of her robes. When she goes flying with the others, she flies so fast and so high that her teeth chatter and her fingers freeze, and it's not freedom, it's just the chamber closing in on her once again.
But Ginny is determined to not let anything keep her from flying. She flies, stays near the ground, dares her brothers to say a word as she beats them time and time again. She takes this back for herself, but wonders whether it'll ever be the same as it once was.
In the end, she finds herself in the garage and the guts of a car. She works alongside her father, quiet and wordless, handing tool and using tool. His voice is soft, steady, but not patronising. He tells her one thing after another, points out what to fix and how to weave magic into it all.
There are no smudges of ink on her fingers, but grease lines her hands and covers her cheeks. She quickly grows used to wearing dark clothing which doesn't show the stains as much. When she looks at it, she only ever sees black and never red. It's the kind of blessing she didn't know she needed.
When the holidays draw to a close, she's not exactly better, but she's steadier. She can stand on her own two feet and has gotten better at raising her voices. Her family no longer smother her in well-meaning platitudes, but treat her the same as they ever did—though her parents are a bit more willing to listen to her. Her brothers less so, but they are her brothers after all.
Before she leaves to catch the Hogwarts Express, Ginny pats the bonnet of the car. It'd been a good project, and she's not entirely sure whether she's ready to trade grease for ink, but she doesn't exactly get a choice in that. Hogwarts awaits.
Returning to Hogwarts does not feel like turning at home at all. Rather, Ginny fights to keep herself from shrinking, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin instead. There are grease stains still clinging to her clothing, part of her robe sleeve stained too, but no one sees that.
They meet her gaze, turn to their friends and whisper. Ginny keeps her head high, tries her best not to care.
Harry saved her in the chamber, but no one can save Ginny from her own mind. On long days where her homework's been completed during the night, Ginny wanders around outside. It's better than long halls that echo when she walks, better than hearing the drip-drip-drip of water, better than feeling the ghost of Tom stalk her.
It's outside where she finds Luna. Or, rather, Luna finds her. "I need your help," Luna informs her, holding out a watch with bright yellow straps. "I've been told you can fix this."
"By who?" Ginny asks, confused, but takes the watch anyway. It's a muggle-looking one. Electronic or something. Nothing at all like the car she fixed.
Luna smiles in reply and doesn't say a word.
Sighing, Ginny fiddles with the switches, watches the screen flash when she taps it with her wand. "Well," she says, "I can try."
And that's only the beginning. After that, Luna brings her an alarm clock that's taken to spitting out live birds. Ginny takes to pulling things apart and putting them back together. Learns to weave magic in around cogs and gears and whatnot. It's not a school-taught thing, just magic as she wills it.
Tom would never stoop to do such a thing, which means that Ginny's only good at it because of her magic, not the shade that watches her.
In her seventh year, Ginny returns to Hogwarts. She's one of the few from her year that does. She stalks the halls, Luna beside her, and doesn't pretend that everything's okay. The hallways are cold and foreboding, especially during the day, and the light that comes through the windows seems filtered and grey.
But Ginny's lived through wars in Hogwarts, one that no one else lived and one everyone fought in. She marks the places people died and teaches others how to avoid them. She turns to the paintings and dares them to gossip. They begin to get her when someone starts to cry.
The kitchens became another safe place, like they had been in the year past. The House Elves get quick and very good at making hot chocolate. It drives the cold away from inside of you, Ginny tells student after student. Not forever, but sometimes it makes things feel better.
There aren't any Dementors around, but Ginny carries chocolate with her anyway. Chocolate doesn't help, but it gives people something to do as they smooth and crinkle wrappers in their hands.
"Hogwarts isn't a place that magically fixes you," Ginny tells one student as they both drink hot chocolate in the kitchens at night. "But sometimes you can fix yourself." It makes it sound easier than it is, but they're both up in the middle of the night because it's not that easy. Being around people helps though. It's different to being alone.
Ginny stalks the halls of Hogwarts and Tom doesn't walk with her anymore. Or, at least, he doesn't walk with her alone. She carries with her so many ghosts of students dead and dying, family laughing one last laugh, the memories of a war won and lost.
Hogwarts halls are long and cold, but Ginny carries with her chocolate now. She walks them and sometimes people walk with her, some are ghosts and others aren't. When she curls her hands around a cup of hot chocolate, she doesn't wonder what people think of her. Instead, she smiles and tells them of old jokes.
She teaches other to fix things, to weave magic and muggle technology together. It's not easy, but that's the best part of it. It's hard but they're all capable of doing it. Every time Ginny sees someone fiddling with parts, her shoulders relax. She can't save them from their memories, but she can give them the tools she used to save herself.
One day, someone will come up to her and thank her. Ginny will tell them to thank themself. After all, she had very little to do with it.
Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments) forum, specifically for Fornightlies Liza's Favourites and Go Beyond! Plus Ultra (specifically step 2), fulfilling the prompt of genre: hurt/comfort.
Hope you enjoyed!