It was not until a week or two later, Ginny wasn't sure exactly how long it'd been, that the rest of her family came home. She had to check the date on the wall calendar to see that it was June 8th. Her time since she'd been home had been mostly a blur, and if pressed she wasn't sure she'd be able to describe any particular day as being different from the other.

It was at that point in time when her siblings finally came home that her Mum tried to take her wand. Her mum had done the same for all her boys, and continued to do so tucking them all away and out of sight for the summer. But as she reached for Ginny's wand, the fear and anxiety mounted within her. For the first time since she came home, Ginny spoke.

"No. I need it. I won't do any magic I promise, I just-. I can't-. I'm not-." She struggled to find the words to describe what she meant or how she felt.

She knew she wasn't strong enough to defend herself from the world. She knew that it wouldn't make a difference if she had her wand or not, but the delusion that with it she at least had a chance at safety was something she clung to. She found it impossible to explain how important it was that she hold onto her fantasy of self-protection. She stammered as she tried to find a way to express her thoughts that having a wand was better than not having it, even though she was useless regardless. The importance of her 'maybe' and her false sense of security were impossible for her to put into words. All she managed to do was stutter uselessly.

It may have been because those were the first words she had spoken since she had come home. It might have been the look on her face as she looked up at her Mum, begging for this like she'd never begged for anything else before in her entire life. It was possibly due to how cautious her Mum had been around Ginny ever since she'd come home, trying as hard as possible not to upset her. Her Mum was always being sure to announce herself when she entered a new room, and making Ginny's favorite foods, and so many other little details since they'd been home. This might have just been one more way her Mum was trying to keep Ginny from breaking into pieces.

Ginny didn't care much for the reason, only having room to worry about the response.

"Fine." Was her Mum's terse answer. "But you don't do a lick of magic, not as single spell! Not even the thought of it! Understood?"

"I promise." Ginny swore.

Ginny broke that promise in less than two days.

She'd been practicing since she came home. After she woke up her first night home screaming, plagued by dreams of emerald stones that looked like eyes which shifted into yellow slits that could turn a person into stone, tormented by the soft whisper of "I'll be your friend, Ginny. I miss you already" breathed against the back of her neck, Ginny knew she needed a way to keep the situation under control. Her parents had burst into her room her first night back. They'd tried to hold her tight. They tried to scare away her nightmares with warm hugs and soft murmurs like they had when she was younger.

"It's okay, Ginny, Mummy's here now. Shh. Shhhhh."

But their embrace just made it worse, and she felt smothered and trapped and unsafe. She felt like she was in the Chamber again. With no room to breathe, no room to think, no room to feel anything but terror and fear.

She lashed out, flailing, with a muffled "No!" She looked up and recoiled from the hurt look in her Mum's eyes. More important than her Mum's feelings, though, was feeling safe, and whole, and free.

They eventually learned to leave her be, to let her cry it out, but they sat there in her room watching her. Their eyes bored into her, making her feel judged and found wanting as her mind refused to settle back into slumber. She wasn't good enough to overcome this, she wasn't strong enough. She knew this for a fact; it was marked deeply on her soul.

So instead she focused on something she was strong enough to do. The Silencing Charm was a fifth-year charm, but it was used as an example in her first-year magical theory book. Once she knew about it, it was easy enough to nick one of Percy's old textbooks (which were really Charlie's, which were really Bill's, but weren't yet Fred or George's). So behind closed doors, for hours and hours at a time, she practiced it. She'd been practicing it since the first day she was home. Perhaps that was why her days all blurred together; they were largely spent monotonously casting the same spell over and over in the sanctuary of her room, away from prying eyes. Perhaps casting the spell was really the only thing she could remember, and everything else felt faded in comparison. She didn't know for sure.

It was two days after she was allowed to keep her wand that she finally managed it.

She didn't let herself think about the fact that it should have taken her longer than that, or the extra knowledge of magical theory she seemed to have at her fingertips that helped her understand her stolen and tattered hand me down books. She tried not to be discouraged by the fact that her Charm only covered her bed, when the example said she should be able to easily use it over whole rooms. Instead, she kept practicing, and was pleased when two evenings after she'd been granted permission to keep her wand the spell seemed to finally work.

Even though it was what she'd been practicing for, hoping for, she was still torn up with guilt at the fact that she'd officially broken her Mum's trust. While her spell had been failing or fizzling out, she could delude herself into believing she hadn't gone back on her promise. But that night, she'd officially cast "a single spell" and done more than just "a lick of magic."

She had a mix of emotions when she woke up screaming in the dead of night from the sight of a wound in Harry's arm, the look on Colin's face as the camera flashed, and that seeping feeling of cold, no one came rushing to her room. Her Charm had definitely worked, and she felt a giddy elation at her success. Then, because she couldn't get back to sleep and needed something to do, she kept practicing her Silencing Charm, trying to make it cover more area and last longer, all the while her conscience ate at her, decried her as the liar and terrible daughter that she was.

But when that next morning there was a full breakfast out on the table, and her Mum beamed at her bright and wide, any lingering guilt about breaking her promise evaporated. She'd lie as much or as often as she had to if it made her Mum that happy.

Ginny found the solution to her inability to get a good night's rest by accident, a week after she completed her Silencing Charm. It started with a long morning degnoming the garden. Then the chickens needed to be fed, and the coop needed a repair, and before she knew it, the sky was darkening. Ginny had worked from nearly sun up to sun down doing hard, tiring work. Her body exhausted, she fell into her bed that night after dinner, flicked out a quick Silencing Charm, and fell straight to sleep. When she woke up, it was with more sleep than she had had in weeks, and she hadn't even screamed all that loudly! She could feel the pressure beating against her Charm, and it was so much less than normal.

That's not to say it wasn't still dark out when she woke. She still laid in bed, flicking her wand as she practiced the Silencing Charm to keep herself occupied until dawn. She just didn't have to wait nearly as long for the dawn to break.

That started her new routine of being extremely helpful around the house. Her Mum would occasionally give her strange looks, as though she couldn't believe her eyes. Ginny didn't care. She was able to sleep through most of the night, and she always had a pleasantly sore feeling right before she went to bed. She worked so hard that on one occasion she forgot to set up her Silencing Charm before falling asleep, and it didn't even make a difference. Her screams were more deep gasping breaths, and they were so mild and muffled that not a single person stirred in their sleep.

Gardening, taking care of the chickens, degnoming the garden, more gardening (because apparently magical gardens grow back incredibly fast!), picking apples, trimming the orchard, repainting the shed, cleaning the Burrow, helping do a deep clean of the kitchen after an especially messy lunch with far too much grease, and just a touch more gardening. Anything to strain her body, mindless tasks that she could accomplish while she turned off her brain and work her muscles so hard she didn't have the time think, let alone to feel afraid.

She burrowed into her covers still, but not quite as deeply. She didn't hide underneath her bed on those nights when going back to sleep just to fall into another nightmare was too terrifying to contemplate, like she did her first week home.

She was nearly cured, she told herself.

Nearly.

Sometimes something would just set her off, though. The squeal of a hinge as a door opened that sounded a little too much like a hiss. A hand on the shoulder, or a hug that felt a little too much like the phantom contact Tom used to give her. And she had a tendency to react more violently than she used to when she was surprised.

George and Fred had been trying to help. They'd thought she was working too hard, that it wasn't good for her recovery. It had been 5 days straight that she had worked sun up to sun down. She had overheard them the night before, talking to each other quietly under the moonlight.

"Laughter is the best medicine" said one twin.

"That much work isn't good for anybody, 'specially not one in her condition" returned the other, giving his reasoning.

Even still, she thought nothing of it. Didn't expect them to act on their worries. So, when the bucket of cold water dropped on her head the next day, she panicked.

Her body stilled, but her mind was worse than still - it froze. She hadn't been this cold since the Chamber. A shock went through her system as she was suddenly freezing.

She distantly heard Fred laugh as George said, "You've been outside working so long, and you looked so hot out there, we thought we'd help you cool off!"

But the only thing she could focus on was how cold she was. It seeped through her clothes, into her body, she didn't know if she'd ever feel warm again, and she didn't want to die, she didn't, she wouldn't. She wouldn't give up, not again!

Then she was on top of George, wailing into him with her fists, her muscles sore and protesting over the last five days of hard work, his smile looking too close to a snarl or a sneer for her fragile mind. She wasn't angry, she wasn't incensed. She was lashing out the only way she knew how, she was fighting against the cold that stuck to her bones through her clothes at the only target available to her, the only source of her fear she could find. She wasn't that little girl in the Chamber anymore, she wouldn't lay down to die, she would fight!

She didn't hit hard enough to do any real damage, she was still much smaller than George, but by the time Fred had pulled her off, screaming all the while "Mum! Mum, help, it's Ginny!" George had a bloody nose and a slightly reddened eye. It was easy to tell it'd turn into something of a nasty shiner in only a few hours.

Ginny was crying, and shaking, and rubbing her hands on her arms, wishing she could warm up.

"I don't want to be cold. I don't want to die. I don't. I don't."

Then suddenly she was warm, and she looked up as her tears suddenly stopped falling. She rubbed the wetness from her face and was shocked to find it dry. She saw her Mum standing there, moving her wand away from being pointed at Ginny and pointing it instead at George. A distant, analytical part of her mind whispered to her Warming Charm, Drying Charm, not dangerous. Ginny saw George's face then, and what she did to it, really saw it and realized that she had just hit George, sweet, kind, funny George.

The tears came again after that, but her mantra changed.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. I love you, I swear, I didn't mean it. I'm sorry." She babbled whatever apologies she could muster, whatever came to mind, as she hesitated near him. The urge to hug him to apologize warred with the terrifying possibility that he might reject her or flinch away.

The fear that he wouldn't forgive her was gripping her, the dreadful surety that her family would finally realize she was broken, damaged, not worth it. The idea that Fred would smile at her like Tom had in her dreams or say all the things Tom had said to her in the Chamber. Instead, she was the one to flinch as he wrapped her up in a hug and said "It's okay. I know. I forgive you."

Before she knew it, she was swaddled up in a blanket, with a cup of hot chocolate, and sat in front of a fireplace. Even though it was summer, she basked in the heat. She was glad the twins had forgiven her. She was relieved she hadn't seriously hurt anybody.

Deep down, though, Ginny was scared. Scared of herself, mostly. She hadn't been in control of her own body. The hard labor she was doing was helping with that feeling of control, making her feel stronger and more coordinated. But she wasn't in control of her own mind either, and that terrified her even more. She needed to get control of that too. The incident with Fred and George wasn't the first time she'd felt out of control, only the most recent and most violent.

There was a moment in the kitchen cleaning up after dinner, when Ron was lazing about instead of helping. He was his usual obnoxious self and making comments to her about what a poor job she was doing cleaning up, while he sat on his fat arse and did nothing.

"How are you not done, yet, Gin? I want to head outside and fly before it gets dark, but Mum said I can't unless dinner is cleaned up."

Like a gentle breeze, her fingers skimmed her wand and twitched to twirl its tip in an elegant design. The words ghosted on her lips; Oculis Cruentas. She bit her lip to keep the words from spilling out, her restraint failing slowly like cracks in a dam. She could feel herself about to burst.

"Do it yourself, then." She hissed as she scurried to her room, afraid of what she'd do if she stayed any longer.

She couldn't say if that was better or worse than the time Percy got in her way while gardening, laying outside to "get some sun" while he studied. Three times, three! she found him blocking the tools she needed, or the path to the shed, or just otherwise being in her way. The garden trowel felt heavy in her hand, and she had to grit her teeth and strain her muscles as she stilled her body. Images of her trowel swinging towards his chest, his neck, and moving his body out of her path for good flooded her mind.

"Percy," she ground out. "If you aren't going to help, then get out of the bloody way." He sniffed at her, and she threw her trowel into the earth as hard as she could as he walked away. It took her a moment and a bit of effort to pull it back up from the ground.

The most terrifying thought, though, that she would only even admit in the dead of night, was that there was more out of her control than her body or her mind. At night, when she was bone weary and dead tired, her Silencing Charm cast more as habit than out of any conscious thought, she tried very hard not to notice if it was any stronger, lasted any longer, or covered more area than when she cast it deliberately. There were a lot of things she was trying very hard not to notice.

The thing she tried the hardest to ignore, the thing she refused to think about more than anything else was the fact that for the rest of the summer, the twins didn't prank her once. Ginny ignored the looks George shot her when he thought she wasn't looking. They weren't fearful, thank Merlin. But they were wary. Cautious.

Ginny had to ignore it all, or the fear would overtake her.

It was two days after the bucket incident, as her Mum has taken to calling it, when their Dad came home one day with a giant smile on his face.

"Hidey Ho, Weasleys! We've won the lottery!" His announcement was as big as his smile.

"Woah, really?!" Fred and George said together, as they gave each other a high five.

"Blimey, how much did'jya win, Dad?" Ron asked, tactless as ever.

Ginny just smiled, which she was getting better at doing. It was making her Mum flinch less than it used to, and Ron, Percy, and the twins didn't even notice anymore. She couldn't tell if her Dad did or didn't notice. He was harder to read than her Mum.

"Don't you worry about that, boys. But I know you were all quite upset about missing out on visiting Bill in Egypt over Christmas. Well I just got off the floo with him, and he said we'd be welcome to come visit this summer."

He held off for a moment, letting the pressure build up in the room as the children all waited for the surprise he was holding out on, clear as day on his face.

"For an entire month!" He nearly shouted.

Fred and George pretended to feint, Ron ran to his room to start packing immediately, but Ginny and Percy stayed put. Ginny because she wasn't sure she knew how to feel. Egypt sounded great, but she'd miss the chickens, and her gardens, and the orchard, and her ability to sleep through most of the night which she'd only just got back.

But Percy said "Father, is that really the best -."

"Percy." Her Mother hissed. "Come help me in the kitchen a moment, would you love?"

He looked momentarily confused, but one does not disobey Mum's request to help in the kitchen. To do so is unthinkable.

Ginny was left alone in the living room with her Dad, and Ginny wasn't certain of what to say. There'd been a gulf between them, uncrossable and insurmountable. He was never home while she was working in the yard, and then they'd have dinner which was always loud and crazy and no place for quiet conversation, and then she'd head straight to sleep. He would be home on some weekends, but he'd gotten in so much trouble over the whole 'magical car' incident that he was still pulling weekend shifts, even as a department head. And besides, she spent her weekends working just like always, out under the hot sun.

"Are you excited, firefly?" He used his old pet name for her, from the time she had pronounced that she would grow up to be a firefly animagus. She both hated it and loved it at the same time, for too many reasons to count.

She was an odd blend of being nervous, while also simultaneously being ecstatic about going to Egypt. Even more so, she was confused about how much she wanted to see Bill, and yet how desperately she didn't want him to see her.

She decided to simply settle for a murmured "Of course" with the most genuine smile she could muster. She wasn't sure if he found it comforting or concerning.

Egypt was wonderful.

She had overhead her parents discussing the trip, late at night after she was supposed to have been sleeping. She couldn't hear everything, only snippets of the conversation, but it was enough.

"Are you sure this..."

"She needs a change of..."

"But she seems … and we really shouldn't..."

"I know, Mollywobbles, but Dumble-."

"We were planning on..."

"But is she … needs it now, not in another month ..."

"Well, I suppose Bill might have some…"

It was pretty clear that this trip was for her. Her parents had often joked that Bill was like a third parent for her whenever he was home for the holidays, and she honestly agreed. He was old enough that he was often tasked with being in charge of her when she'd been very little, and they'd developed a close relationship, more intimate than she had with her other brothers. Her parents seemed to hope he could draw something out of her that, so far, no one else had been able to find.

As she listened in, she realized it seemed likely they were going earlier than planned, and probably for a lot longer. The knowledge that it was almost certainly due to her outburst from Fred and George's prank tried to gnaw at her conscience. She wanted to feel guilty about the need to spend all their newfound money on a frivolous trip just for her. She wanted to be concerned that they may have taken charity, basically a curse word in the Weasley household, for her sake.

Worse than all that, she was concerned about leaving the safety of the Burrow. The Burrow was solid, it was real, it was grounding. There were chores to do, and she could tire herself out, and keep her family safe from her impulses… mostly.

The build up to their travelling slowly ate away at her nerves, and she got more and more jumpy as the date crept closer. She was thankful that portkeys were instant, because if she'd had a trip that lasted longer than the floo to the Ministry and the short walk to the International Travel department, she may have actually exploded from nerves.

She did feel all of those things, that confusing maelstrom of emotions, up until she got to Egypt. Then she just didn't care. Egypt was special. The powerful sun beating down on her back, sweat pouring off her body as they wandered around the city of Cairo, it all felt so right.

Expeditions to different long-lost tombs were some of her favorite times. Bill was strict with them all, so much so he had even managed to cow their Mum into submission. Listen to every word out of his mouth. Don't move unless instructed to. Only do exactly as he says. It was easy and calming, for those few simple moments, not to be in charge of her own actions. It felt reminiscent of her time with Tom, when she wasn't in control, except now the person in control was someone she trusted implicitly. She wouldn't accidentally touch any cursed objects. She wouldn't unleash any basilisks or dangerous monsters through her own stupidity and childishness. Bill was in charge, and she trusted him.

After a particularly harrowing day, Fred and George had been banned from going on any more excursions until Bill was confident they were sufficiently sorry for attempting to shut Percy in a pyramid. Percy didn't go with them to any pyramids or tombs after that - although he did spend a lot of time at the museums. He seemed fascinated with the ancient system of papyrus organizational spells in the magical section of the museum.

So, for two whole days it was just Ron and Ginny in the pyramids with Mum and Bill, while Percy, Fred, and George explored the museums with Dad. Even though they were exploring the tombs that had already been cleared out, it was still dangerous, and her nerves were on high alert. The sun bearing down on her combined with the cold sweat on her brow from the stress of navigating the dangerous areas they were exploring. The cool air of the excavated tombs juxtaposed with the burning in her legs from walking so far she was convinced they'd fall off. It all proved to be just as effective at wearing her out enough that she could mostly sleep through the night. She was so tired, it was like a long day at the Burrow, and her waking screams became smothered whimpers as she woke from her nightmares.

So, Egypt was wonderful.

But it was their first two days which were the most special to her. More than the time she spent alone with Bill, where he tried to teach her the Bat-Bogey Hex, but she instead asked about a basic detection spell, and he tapped his nose as he said 'Don't tell Mum. Our little secret.' More than the time with Percy where they got separated from everyone in a museum and they shared a mischievous smile as they very specifically did not stay put like they were supposed to in order to be found but went on their own adventure to see how the Ancient Egyptians used to brew potions.

She laughed so hard she couldn't breathe at the glint in his eye as he read over the exhibit about the Cauldron Wars, and their effect on cauldron bottom thickness regulations in the modern day.

But that first day they arrived, the moment their portkey appeared under the sun, Ginny felt warm. She felt heat course through her in a way she hadn't experienced since she'd left the phoenix behind at Hogwarts.

Bill had been excited to see them. He had been even more excited that they had arrived in time for the Solstice. They'd have to get up early the next morning for the heliacal rising of Sirius, he told them, but it would be worth it.

Fred, George, and Ron hadn't cared very much. Percy and her Mum had had looks of distaste on their face when Bill had mentioned the ritual. Her Dad had a general curiosity, without much judgement; he wasn't overly interested though.

Ginny was sure they could all see how excited she was. She felt suffused with sunlight, almost a scorching heat filling up her entire body. It was nearly uncomfortable, but it was so opposite the cold that she only just then realized hadn't ever left her completely that she couldn't help but bask in it.

They could see bits and pieces of the wizarding world's celebration as they walked from their portkey point through the muggle world to their hotel. Ginny basked in the sun, its oppressive rays beating down on her, relishing the drip of each sweat droplet running down her back.

It wasn't just that it was hot out, it was the upcoming Solstice itself that she felt connected to. The hottest day of the year, the longest day of the year where the sun was strongest, was just a single day away. It was as though the magic had been building for weeks and weeks, and it suffused the very air. It banished the shadows that lurked in the corner of her vision and it burned out the ice in her soul.

The shadows would be back eventually, she had no doubt, and the ice would cling to her again soon enough, but for the moment she was free of it. It was glorious.

It was a lazy afternoon after they'd checked into the hotel, trailing through the city. When they popped into the wizarding district there were preparations for a huge celebration. Markets were open, and the people were selling food and trinkets and anything else you could think of. Dizzying and twinkling decorations were being spelled into place. With each breath she could nearly taste the delicacies being prepared, and the whole city bombarded her with a conflux scents; the people, the sweat, the spices. Ginny's smile never wavered as they meandered through the streets.

That next morning, before sun up, Bill had them all grab onto the portkey to Dendera. It was one of many places a summer Solstice ritual was being held. It was also the most well-known by locals and easily considered the most world famous.

"I did a friend a favor, and he cleared us to watch the ritual happening in this space. It's an incredible honor." Bill grinned at them all. Then he gave them all a stern look, lingering just a while longer on their Mother and Percy. "Please, don't embarrass me."

In true Weasley fashion, they arrived just in time and took their places to watch the sacred rites.

Pristine white robes adorned the masked wizards and witches. There were six in total, moving concurrently in a haunting silence. They circled the space, swirling around each other as though following the music to a perfectly choreographed dance.

Two falcon masks. One blue, and red, and white, looked sharply wherever it turned. A Wedjat for each eye, and a lock of hair styled perfectly down the right side of the ritualists head. The other red, yellow, and gold, with eyes just as sharp, but fiercer and more piercing. Its plumage seemed more regal somehow, just from the colors. Nearly identical in shape, the two masks looked lifelike, as though the feathers would ruffle at any moment from just the slightest twitch.

A canine mask, set in a regal scowl, pitch black in color. The mask so finely carved, the fur looked soft to the touch, the fangs sharp enough to pierce skin.

A long beaked bird, lean and needle thin. An ibis. Deep blue and startling green, with sharp unrelenting eyes. Too knowing, too lifelike, too human.

The last two masks depicted stunningly beautiful women, vivid in their detail and yet otherworldly in their perfection. Almost identical in design, the only difference between them their eye color and the tears streaming down the cheeks of one mask. Both ritualists had the image of the flight path of a kite tattooed prominently up their arms.

The six flowed together as they fell to the floor as though to a silent signal. They began inscribing sigils and symbols filled with meaning and power into the temple floor. This process was slow and laborious, and the magic in the room increased all the while to palpable levels. The hair on her arms raised and goosebumps covered her flesh as Ginny felt the air become suffused with emotion and energy. A feeling of deep mourning and gravitas fell over the occupants, and Ginny felt tears sting her eyes as she watched this beautiful magical dance.

The six participants took up their places around the magical runes etched on the floor. They brought out bread, which they consumed one by one. They brought out beer, which they all took a single sip from. They brought out a live ram, which was sat in the center of their circle.

One lone voice began to chant, and the ram swayed as though under enchantment. As the cadence of the voice rose and fell, so too did the eyelids of the ram, until eventually it fell into a deep slumber.

As a second voice joined the first, Ginny realized with surprise that she couldn't understand the words they spoke. As the first voice faded out, and again a lone voice intoned foreign words, she recognized that she'd been able to discern their meaning through the emotions that settled in her chest.

Deprivation. Despair. Desperation. Desire.

The emotions welled in Ginny as one by one the ritualists chanted their piece, each overlapping at the rise and fall of their own incantation. The ram did not stir within into its slumber, dead to the world around it, breathing in time to the cadence of the chant. Each transition between speaker was so smooth it was as if for a brief moment one voice was made of many, and it never disturbed the ram.

The words and chant surrounded Ginny, filling her head to the brim, until all she knew was the sound of their voices. She could feel them for the sentiment they carried, more clearly than she ever could have expected.

The magic in the room was nearly stifling, when suddenly the last person finished chanting. The world held its breath, and Ginny did too, until finally she saw the star Sirius crest over the horizon through an arch window, and all six participants, three pairs of men and women, began speaking in unison, in earnest.

The ram awoke with their crescendo and let out a long, painful cry in tune with the chanting of the wizard-priests.

Ginny's world exploded in a warm, comforting, embrace. Ginny, for the first time in a long time, didn't shy away from the emotion, the phantom sensation of being held. It wasn't stifling, it wasn't at all like feeling trapped. It was the warmth of her Mum's hug from before Hogwarts or Tom. It was the soft sigh that left her lips before falling asleep on her Dad while they relaxed on the couch in the evening during that year it had been just her, Mum, and Dad at the Burrow.

It was all those things, and more. She luxuriated in it. Most perfectly described, it was the feeling she had when she had earnestly decided she wanted to live. The feeling of being so close to the edge, so afraid and alone, and choosing to carry on anyways, choosing to struggle for something more important than herself.

The longer she held onto it, the less comfortable it became. It became almost too hot, too searing, but Ginny held tight to the feeling, committing it to memory. Rather scorching than freezing, rather sweating than shivering, rather too hot than too cold.

The sun followed Sirius when it too crested over the horizon, and at the same time the final echo of the chant tapered off, silence engulfing the temple halls. Ginny had lost track of time. Had it been seconds or hours? She had no clue and didn't rightly care. The ritual came to a close. The light, airy feeling of warmth would stay with her for at least the rest of the day, she knew that for a fact.

Shortly after they left, and had returned to Cairo, her Mother had huffed to no one in particular, possibly to herself, about the 'deplorable, outdated practices.'

"Honestly," she had said "who even worships gods and goddesses anymore?! We all know it's just poppycock that the muggles and witches who didn't know any better made up to explain magic."

"Don't." Ginny's voice was thin as a whip, and just as vicious. "That was beautiful. It wasn't about gods, or goddesses, or muggles. You shouldn't look down on it. It was about mourning. And loss. And rebirth, and growth, and magic. It was about the husband, and the wife. Protection, and desperation, and magic, and love. So much love. Those who were wronged shall seek vengeance, and struggle to find their loved ones anew. The coming of the Sun, a source of life and of unbending fury both, Sirius rises with it after a long time in hiding. The tears of mourning will nourish the land, and in the unyielding light the land will flourish."

Her whole family was staring at her, wide eyed, as she struggled to put words to mere feelings and nebulous thoughts. Bill stepped in for her. He explained about the 70 days of fasting and mourning, the importance of the star Sirius, the ways wizards and witches used religion as a way to both connect with magic in the past, and as a method of helping muggles understand some of the more esoteric concepts by putting it in the form of stories from before the Statute of Secrecy. On and on he droned, and Ginny soaked it all up, all the details she couldn't verbalize or didn't know.

Their Mum grudgingly admitted that maybe there was more to it than she knew, and they all forgot the minor argument as they lost themselves in their enjoyment of the massive celebrations throughout the entire day to celebrate the Solstice. As the celebrations took hold, the tension that had plagued the Weasley's at the Burrow faded into nonexistence.

No one ever commented on the fact that Ginny knew more about that ritual than she should have. They didn't cover Sirius in Astronomy in depth until third year. Certainly, no classes in first year covered 'Ancient Egyptian Fertility and Nature Rituals.'