AS STRONG AS WE ARE UNITED A Harry Potter fanfic by Winky
Disclaimer: If I owned any of this I would be married to Bill, living at the Burrow and raising my own little redheaded boys. Characters, chapter titles, and other brilliance belong to JKR.
Special thanks to Arabella for her thoughtful comments, and to Dobby for her unique methods of encouragement.
CHAPTER FOUR: THE DREAM
Harry's mission to discover the identity of Arabella Figg proved more difficult than he expected, and as the days slipped by without bringing him any closer to the truth he began to lose hope of ever solving the mystery. Apart from his disappointment in that regard, though, Harry thoroughly enjoyed his time at the Burrow. The week flew by in a blur of Quidditch games, studying, and evening chats with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Most of the time it was just the four of them, as the twins spent a lot of time locked in their room and the older Weasleys usually worked late at the Ministry. On a few occasions, however, Bill and Charlie managed to come home early enough to join in at Quidditch practice. Ron hadn't exaggerated when he said that Charlie was an amazing flyer, and Harry picked up some excellent tips before the former Seeker returned to his job in Romania at the end of the week. Bill left the same day for Egypt, but both boys promised to visit their sister and brothers at Hogwarts later in the term.
The house seemed much quieter without the Weasleys' eldest sons, and mealtimes were certainly less crowded in the tiny kitchen, but Harry already missed Bill's teasing smirk and Charlie's easy-going humour. He often thought about how lonely it must be for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley during the school year when all their children were away. Harry liked the evenings best, when the whole family gathered in the living room to talk, play games, or read on their own before a final round of hot chocolate signaled the time for bed.
It was on the last of these evenings that Harry finally received a clue about the elusive Arabella Figg. Everyone had gone to their rooms to pack for the journey to Hogwarts the next day when Harry discovered that he had left his Seeker strategies book downstairs. He retrieved it from the living room couch and started back towards the stairs, but hushed voices in the kitchen made him pause.
"...much better knowing that Arabella is returning to her post at Privet Drive," Mr. Weasley was saying. "Those poor Muggles would be completely defenseless if anything were to happen."
Harry didn't like to eavesdrop, but he couldn't help tiptoeing closer to the door as Mrs. Weasley's harsh voice joined her husband's. "Those poor Muggles used to lock your son's best friend in the cupboard!" she reminded him angrily.
"I know," Mr. Weasley agreed, "but they don't deserve to be attacked because of it. Besides, the rest of the Muggles on the street need protection, too. Death Eaters aren't likely to be squeamish about a few extra murders."
"You're right, of course, Arthur." Mrs. Weasley gave a weary sigh. "I just hate to think of poor Harry living with those awful Dursleys for so long, not knowing who or what he was." Her next words sounded muffled, as if they were spoken into Mr. Weasley's robes. "I know it's easier to protect him while he's with them, but I'm so grateful to Albus for letting him stay with us."
"So am I, Molly," Mr. Weasley answered. "Harry has a hard road ahead of him. He deserves whatever happiness we can share with him."
The voices fell silent, leaving Harry's mind awhirl with confusion over what he had just heard. He stole back up the stairs silently and returned to Ron's room.
"Find it?" the redhead peeked out from behind his trunk as Harry closed the door.
"I left it on the couch." Harry waved the book absently and knelt beside his own trunk, trying to sort out his thoughts as he finished folding his school robes. He considered talking to his friends about what had happened downstairs, but he was reluctant to admit he had eavesdropped on Ron's parents, and also he wanted some time to think things over first.
Long after Ron had begun to snore Harry lay awake replaying the Weasleys' conversation in his head. Now that his suspicions about the Dursleys' eccentric old neighbor were confirmed, he wondered about the full extent of Mrs. Figg's duties at Privet Drive. Much as Harry disliked his mother's relatives, he agreed with Mr. Weasley that they didn't deserve to be targeted by Voldemort's followers, and it made him angry that they and the other Muggles on the street were endangered because of him. Harry thought again about Mrs. Weasley saying he was better protected at the Dursleys, and remembered how Dumbledore always insisted he return there each summer. Some kind of powerful magic connected him to that unfortunate family, Harry felt, and it seemed if he could just think hard enough he would figure out why. But no answers came to him, and eventually he drifted into a turbulent sleep.
Harry opened his eyes to find himself standing under a broken streetlight in the middle of the night. The terrified shrieks of pale-faced, fleeing Muggles pierced the air while masked figures in long robes loomed ominously in every direction. High in the sky above the panic-filled street, a giant, glittering green skull cast its sickly tinge on the houses below. Harry's stomach twisted with dread as he let his gaze drop to the house directly beneath the Dark Mark. He knew before he read the address that it was Number 4 Privet Drive.
Harry sat up with a jolt, shaking hard and drenched with sweat. Automatically he pressed a hand to his scar, letting out his breath with relief when he felt nothing more than the dull ache to which he had grown accustomed. It had only been a dream after all. Nonetheless, Harry knew better than to try to fall asleep again, so he slipped quietly out of bed and stepped into the hall.
The utter silence of the house grated on Harry's overwrought nerves, and he made his way quickly to the back door, shivering in the chill air when he stepped out into the garden. It was a clear night, much like the one in his dream, and Harry couldn't prevent his gaze from sweeping the sky as he started down the overgrown path before him. "Stop it," he told himself firmly, taking a seat on an old stone bench in the corner of the yard. He let his head drop into his hands and took several deep breaths, trying to clear his thoughts.
"Oh!"
The sound of a small gasp made Harry raise his head sharply. Ginny was standing barefoot a few paces away, her old white nightgown ghostly in the moonlight.
"I didn't know you were out here," she stammered hurriedly, blushing. "I'm sorry." Ginny looked at the ground, dragging her toe idly in the dirt.
"That's okay." Harry wiped at his face quickly. "I was just thinking." Ginny didn't say anything. Her gaze fell on the seat next to him and Harry suddenly remembered his manners. "Do you want to sit down?" he asked, budging over a bit to make room.
"Oh-yes." Ginny sank down onto the bench and let her legs swing back and forth. "Thanks." She smiled shyly at Harry.
There was a pause before he thought to ask what she was doing out in the garden at that hour. "Couldn't sleep?" Ginny nodded. "Excited about school tomorrow?"
"Sort of," she shrugged. "Hermione's been helping me a lot with curses and countercurses for Defense Against the Dark Arts. I hope we have a good teacher this year."
Harry smiled faintly, remembering the disasters all but one of his Dark Arts professors had been. "I wish Professor Lupin were still at Hogwarts," he sighed. "He was the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we ever had."
Ginny's head bobbed in agreement. "I thought so, too. I'll never forget how he stood up to that dementor on the train." She shuddered slightly. "I hate to think what would have happened if it had been that prat Lockhart instead."
Harry snorted. "He probably would have jumped out the window and left us, the worthless coward." He still remembered his reaction to finding Lockhart trying to run away after Ginny was taken into the Chamber of Secrets.
"I don't know what I'll do if we get another one like him," said Ginny, shaking her head gravely. "It would be just too awful." She sighed and looked up at the stars. "Especially now."
Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"
Ginny's eyes were serious when she turned back to him, making her seem suddenly older. "Things are different now, Harry," she reminded him sadly. "With Voldemort back we all need to know how to protect ourselves, how to fight against the Dark Arts and the Unforgivable Curses. We have to be prepared."
Harry stared at her, not even registering that she hadn't said You-Know-Who. Ginny's matter-of-fact acceptance of the situation surprised him. "But-we'll be safe at Hogwarts as long as Dumbledore is there," he told her, trying to inject some certainty into his words.
"I know," sighed Ginny, "but that doesn't mean we shouldn't be extra careful." A note of bitterness crept into her voice as she looked down at her hands. "Just look what happened to me because I didn't know how to recognize Dark Magic-people nearly died because of me." Ginny raised her head again, and Harry was startled by the fierceness of her gaze. "I don't want to be a pawn for the Dark Lord again," she said firmly.
"But that wasn't your fault," Harry protested. "It could have happened to anyone."
"Maybe so," Ginny conceded, "but I still feel horrible about it." Her lips curved into a wistful smile as she peered up at his face. "Cedric's death wasn't your fault, either," she said gently, "but don't you wish you could have done something differently, and maybe it wouldn't have happened?"
Harry's mouth fell open. He IdidI wish that, at least a million times a day, and twice that many at night, when Cedric's face would appear sometimes in his dreams. He stared down at his hands, twisting them in his lap, and then he felt a soft touch on his arm. Harry glanced sideways to see Ginny gazing steadily at him with eyes full of sympathy. Her fiery hair looked dark in the starlight, like a lamp that had dimmed.
"Harry, you can't change what happened any more than I can," she said quietly, "but you IcanI change the future. You IcanI fight back, and you IcanI defeat Voldemort, once and for all. I know you can, because you won't be alone next time."
"What?" Harry's head snapped up sharply. "What are you talking about?"
This time Ginny's eyebrow lifted in amusement. "Oh, come off it, Harry," she said impatiently. "You saved my life, and Ron's and Hermione's, and everyone's in the wizarding world if you think about it. Do you honestly believe any of us are going to stand by and let you face Voldemort alone again?"
"But-" Harry faltered. Despite everything he knew about Dumbledore's efforts to unite the members of the magical community, he had somehow still pictured himself alone in the final confrontation with the Dark Lord. He had always been alone before, and had come to accept the fact that for whatever reason he was meant to be the champion of his fellow wizards. But mostly it was the tiny voice in Harry's head that kept him clinging stubbornly to his isolation, a voice that whispered persistent reminders of what happened to the people close to him when he faced Voldemort, a voice that was now screaming at him to flee the garden. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, wishing Ginny would go away.
She didn't. In fact, she reached out and took his hand. "Look, Harry," Ginny began softly, "I know you must be really worried about what's going to happen this year. We all are. But it's no use torturing yourself-what will come will come, and when it does, all of us will face it together." She squeezed his hand briefly, and Harry swallowed and looked up. Ginny's pale face seemed to give off a light all its own as she gazed back at him with an expression of mingled hope and determination. "That's why we're going to win, Harry," she continued fervently. "Maybe not right away, maybe not even soon. But eventually Voldemort will lose, because he doesn't have what we do."
"What, you mean the Boy Who Lived?" Harry scoffed, not understanding how Ginny could be so confident. "But I'm not-"
"I didn't mean you," she cut him off, and Harry immediately felt like an idiot. But Ginny was shaking her head gently. "At least not that way," she explained. "I meant bravery, loyalty, selflessness-everything that's helped you defeat Voldemort in the past. Good people-people like Dumbledore, your parents, Professor Lupin-those are the people on our side, people who chose a side because they knew it was the right one, and not because they thought it would win. Voldemort doesn't understand that. His followers only support him out of fear and selfishness, and in the end he'll be all alone. But you, Harry Potter," Ginny squeezed his hand again, "you'll never be alone. Everyone in the wizarding world is going to fight, too, no matter what it takes. And we're going to win, because real power comes from loyalty and love and sacrifice, not curses and Dark Magic."
Ginny finished in a breathless rush, her eyes bright with emotion, and Harry got the impression she had wanted to say all of that for quite some time. He stared at her incredulously, and after a moment she seemed to suddenly realize what she had said and ducked her head quickly, the tips of her ears reddening to match her hair.
Harry didn't know what to say. He felt as if an enormous weight had lifted from his shoulders, carrying with it the knot that had sat in the pit of his stomach all summer. The burden was still there, but it no longer seemed impossible to bear. Of course he was not alone. He never had been, at that. Harry felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as Ginny's words echoed in his head. ILoyalty and love and sacrificeI. Hadn't his loyalty to Dumbledore saved him in the Chamber of Secrets, and his parents' love and sacrifice in both encounters with the Dark Lord? Harry remembered the ghostly forms of Voldemort's victims protecting him as he fled from the graveyard, and suddenly he could see their faces more clearly than he ever had before. Bertha Jorkins, Cedric, his parents-they were all dead, but not gone, and Harry knew, with a bursting inside his chest like warm butterbeer bubbling over, that Ginny was right.
She had let go of his hand and was now standing to leave, much subdued. "I think I'll go to bed," she mumbled to the ground, her face obscured by a tumble of hair.
"Ginny, wait." Harry stood quickly and caught her shoulder as she moved away. But when her eyes lifted to meet his gaze he realized he had no idea what he wanted to tell her. "Er," he hesitated.
Ginny sighed and passed her hand tiredly over her eyes. "Harry, it's very late," she began, turning to leave again. "I think we should go back inside."
Harry let go of her arm, and she started down the path with her shoulders drooping. "Thank you," he said quietly, and Ginny halted in mid-stride. "Thank you," he repeated more loudly as Ginny turned to face him. He took two swift steps toward her and found her hand. "I think you're right," he said slowly. "It's just like what Dumbledore said: we're only as strong as we are united."
Ginny regarded him silently before a soft smile lit her face. "That's right," she said, glancing down at their clasped hands. "We all believe that-Mum, Dad, my brothers, Hermione, and me." She looked up at him earnestly. "You can count on us to fight with you, Harry. Remember that."
"I will," Harry nodded, feeling for the first time that he was ready to meet whatever lay ahead. "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
They stood smiling at each other for a long moment, until Harry noticed he was still holding Ginny's hand. He dropped it quickly and covered by gesturing up the path to the back door. "We should go in." They walked back to the house in silence and slipped inside, careful not to make noise. At the foot of the stairs Ginny stopped and stood looking up at him.
"I'm going to make some hot chocolate," she whispered. "Do you want some?"
Harry shook his head. "No, that's all right. I think I better go to bed." Ginny nodded and started for the kitchen. "And Ginny?" he whispered after her. "Thank you."
Ginny smiled. "Goodnight, Harry."
"Goodnight, Ginny," he smiled back. Turning, he crept slowly up the stairs and back into Ron's room. For the first time in many weeks, he fell asleep almost immediately.
Author's Note: Does anyone else out there agree this could (should!) happen at some point in the future? I'd like to hear your opinions (hint, hint) about Ginny's "more important role" in Book 5. The next chapter's the last, where we find out if Harry's prepared to go back to Hogwarts.
Disclaimer: If I owned any of this I would be married to Bill, living at the Burrow and raising my own little redheaded boys. Characters, chapter titles, and other brilliance belong to JKR.
Special thanks to Arabella for her thoughtful comments, and to Dobby for her unique methods of encouragement.
CHAPTER FOUR: THE DREAM
Harry's mission to discover the identity of Arabella Figg proved more difficult than he expected, and as the days slipped by without bringing him any closer to the truth he began to lose hope of ever solving the mystery. Apart from his disappointment in that regard, though, Harry thoroughly enjoyed his time at the Burrow. The week flew by in a blur of Quidditch games, studying, and evening chats with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Most of the time it was just the four of them, as the twins spent a lot of time locked in their room and the older Weasleys usually worked late at the Ministry. On a few occasions, however, Bill and Charlie managed to come home early enough to join in at Quidditch practice. Ron hadn't exaggerated when he said that Charlie was an amazing flyer, and Harry picked up some excellent tips before the former Seeker returned to his job in Romania at the end of the week. Bill left the same day for Egypt, but both boys promised to visit their sister and brothers at Hogwarts later in the term.
The house seemed much quieter without the Weasleys' eldest sons, and mealtimes were certainly less crowded in the tiny kitchen, but Harry already missed Bill's teasing smirk and Charlie's easy-going humour. He often thought about how lonely it must be for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley during the school year when all their children were away. Harry liked the evenings best, when the whole family gathered in the living room to talk, play games, or read on their own before a final round of hot chocolate signaled the time for bed.
It was on the last of these evenings that Harry finally received a clue about the elusive Arabella Figg. Everyone had gone to their rooms to pack for the journey to Hogwarts the next day when Harry discovered that he had left his Seeker strategies book downstairs. He retrieved it from the living room couch and started back towards the stairs, but hushed voices in the kitchen made him pause.
"...much better knowing that Arabella is returning to her post at Privet Drive," Mr. Weasley was saying. "Those poor Muggles would be completely defenseless if anything were to happen."
Harry didn't like to eavesdrop, but he couldn't help tiptoeing closer to the door as Mrs. Weasley's harsh voice joined her husband's. "Those poor Muggles used to lock your son's best friend in the cupboard!" she reminded him angrily.
"I know," Mr. Weasley agreed, "but they don't deserve to be attacked because of it. Besides, the rest of the Muggles on the street need protection, too. Death Eaters aren't likely to be squeamish about a few extra murders."
"You're right, of course, Arthur." Mrs. Weasley gave a weary sigh. "I just hate to think of poor Harry living with those awful Dursleys for so long, not knowing who or what he was." Her next words sounded muffled, as if they were spoken into Mr. Weasley's robes. "I know it's easier to protect him while he's with them, but I'm so grateful to Albus for letting him stay with us."
"So am I, Molly," Mr. Weasley answered. "Harry has a hard road ahead of him. He deserves whatever happiness we can share with him."
The voices fell silent, leaving Harry's mind awhirl with confusion over what he had just heard. He stole back up the stairs silently and returned to Ron's room.
"Find it?" the redhead peeked out from behind his trunk as Harry closed the door.
"I left it on the couch." Harry waved the book absently and knelt beside his own trunk, trying to sort out his thoughts as he finished folding his school robes. He considered talking to his friends about what had happened downstairs, but he was reluctant to admit he had eavesdropped on Ron's parents, and also he wanted some time to think things over first.
Long after Ron had begun to snore Harry lay awake replaying the Weasleys' conversation in his head. Now that his suspicions about the Dursleys' eccentric old neighbor were confirmed, he wondered about the full extent of Mrs. Figg's duties at Privet Drive. Much as Harry disliked his mother's relatives, he agreed with Mr. Weasley that they didn't deserve to be targeted by Voldemort's followers, and it made him angry that they and the other Muggles on the street were endangered because of him. Harry thought again about Mrs. Weasley saying he was better protected at the Dursleys, and remembered how Dumbledore always insisted he return there each summer. Some kind of powerful magic connected him to that unfortunate family, Harry felt, and it seemed if he could just think hard enough he would figure out why. But no answers came to him, and eventually he drifted into a turbulent sleep.
Harry opened his eyes to find himself standing under a broken streetlight in the middle of the night. The terrified shrieks of pale-faced, fleeing Muggles pierced the air while masked figures in long robes loomed ominously in every direction. High in the sky above the panic-filled street, a giant, glittering green skull cast its sickly tinge on the houses below. Harry's stomach twisted with dread as he let his gaze drop to the house directly beneath the Dark Mark. He knew before he read the address that it was Number 4 Privet Drive.
Harry sat up with a jolt, shaking hard and drenched with sweat. Automatically he pressed a hand to his scar, letting out his breath with relief when he felt nothing more than the dull ache to which he had grown accustomed. It had only been a dream after all. Nonetheless, Harry knew better than to try to fall asleep again, so he slipped quietly out of bed and stepped into the hall.
The utter silence of the house grated on Harry's overwrought nerves, and he made his way quickly to the back door, shivering in the chill air when he stepped out into the garden. It was a clear night, much like the one in his dream, and Harry couldn't prevent his gaze from sweeping the sky as he started down the overgrown path before him. "Stop it," he told himself firmly, taking a seat on an old stone bench in the corner of the yard. He let his head drop into his hands and took several deep breaths, trying to clear his thoughts.
"Oh!"
The sound of a small gasp made Harry raise his head sharply. Ginny was standing barefoot a few paces away, her old white nightgown ghostly in the moonlight.
"I didn't know you were out here," she stammered hurriedly, blushing. "I'm sorry." Ginny looked at the ground, dragging her toe idly in the dirt.
"That's okay." Harry wiped at his face quickly. "I was just thinking." Ginny didn't say anything. Her gaze fell on the seat next to him and Harry suddenly remembered his manners. "Do you want to sit down?" he asked, budging over a bit to make room.
"Oh-yes." Ginny sank down onto the bench and let her legs swing back and forth. "Thanks." She smiled shyly at Harry.
There was a pause before he thought to ask what she was doing out in the garden at that hour. "Couldn't sleep?" Ginny nodded. "Excited about school tomorrow?"
"Sort of," she shrugged. "Hermione's been helping me a lot with curses and countercurses for Defense Against the Dark Arts. I hope we have a good teacher this year."
Harry smiled faintly, remembering the disasters all but one of his Dark Arts professors had been. "I wish Professor Lupin were still at Hogwarts," he sighed. "He was the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we ever had."
Ginny's head bobbed in agreement. "I thought so, too. I'll never forget how he stood up to that dementor on the train." She shuddered slightly. "I hate to think what would have happened if it had been that prat Lockhart instead."
Harry snorted. "He probably would have jumped out the window and left us, the worthless coward." He still remembered his reaction to finding Lockhart trying to run away after Ginny was taken into the Chamber of Secrets.
"I don't know what I'll do if we get another one like him," said Ginny, shaking her head gravely. "It would be just too awful." She sighed and looked up at the stars. "Especially now."
Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"
Ginny's eyes were serious when she turned back to him, making her seem suddenly older. "Things are different now, Harry," she reminded him sadly. "With Voldemort back we all need to know how to protect ourselves, how to fight against the Dark Arts and the Unforgivable Curses. We have to be prepared."
Harry stared at her, not even registering that she hadn't said You-Know-Who. Ginny's matter-of-fact acceptance of the situation surprised him. "But-we'll be safe at Hogwarts as long as Dumbledore is there," he told her, trying to inject some certainty into his words.
"I know," sighed Ginny, "but that doesn't mean we shouldn't be extra careful." A note of bitterness crept into her voice as she looked down at her hands. "Just look what happened to me because I didn't know how to recognize Dark Magic-people nearly died because of me." Ginny raised her head again, and Harry was startled by the fierceness of her gaze. "I don't want to be a pawn for the Dark Lord again," she said firmly.
"But that wasn't your fault," Harry protested. "It could have happened to anyone."
"Maybe so," Ginny conceded, "but I still feel horrible about it." Her lips curved into a wistful smile as she peered up at his face. "Cedric's death wasn't your fault, either," she said gently, "but don't you wish you could have done something differently, and maybe it wouldn't have happened?"
Harry's mouth fell open. He IdidI wish that, at least a million times a day, and twice that many at night, when Cedric's face would appear sometimes in his dreams. He stared down at his hands, twisting them in his lap, and then he felt a soft touch on his arm. Harry glanced sideways to see Ginny gazing steadily at him with eyes full of sympathy. Her fiery hair looked dark in the starlight, like a lamp that had dimmed.
"Harry, you can't change what happened any more than I can," she said quietly, "but you IcanI change the future. You IcanI fight back, and you IcanI defeat Voldemort, once and for all. I know you can, because you won't be alone next time."
"What?" Harry's head snapped up sharply. "What are you talking about?"
This time Ginny's eyebrow lifted in amusement. "Oh, come off it, Harry," she said impatiently. "You saved my life, and Ron's and Hermione's, and everyone's in the wizarding world if you think about it. Do you honestly believe any of us are going to stand by and let you face Voldemort alone again?"
"But-" Harry faltered. Despite everything he knew about Dumbledore's efforts to unite the members of the magical community, he had somehow still pictured himself alone in the final confrontation with the Dark Lord. He had always been alone before, and had come to accept the fact that for whatever reason he was meant to be the champion of his fellow wizards. But mostly it was the tiny voice in Harry's head that kept him clinging stubbornly to his isolation, a voice that whispered persistent reminders of what happened to the people close to him when he faced Voldemort, a voice that was now screaming at him to flee the garden. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, wishing Ginny would go away.
She didn't. In fact, she reached out and took his hand. "Look, Harry," Ginny began softly, "I know you must be really worried about what's going to happen this year. We all are. But it's no use torturing yourself-what will come will come, and when it does, all of us will face it together." She squeezed his hand briefly, and Harry swallowed and looked up. Ginny's pale face seemed to give off a light all its own as she gazed back at him with an expression of mingled hope and determination. "That's why we're going to win, Harry," she continued fervently. "Maybe not right away, maybe not even soon. But eventually Voldemort will lose, because he doesn't have what we do."
"What, you mean the Boy Who Lived?" Harry scoffed, not understanding how Ginny could be so confident. "But I'm not-"
"I didn't mean you," she cut him off, and Harry immediately felt like an idiot. But Ginny was shaking her head gently. "At least not that way," she explained. "I meant bravery, loyalty, selflessness-everything that's helped you defeat Voldemort in the past. Good people-people like Dumbledore, your parents, Professor Lupin-those are the people on our side, people who chose a side because they knew it was the right one, and not because they thought it would win. Voldemort doesn't understand that. His followers only support him out of fear and selfishness, and in the end he'll be all alone. But you, Harry Potter," Ginny squeezed his hand again, "you'll never be alone. Everyone in the wizarding world is going to fight, too, no matter what it takes. And we're going to win, because real power comes from loyalty and love and sacrifice, not curses and Dark Magic."
Ginny finished in a breathless rush, her eyes bright with emotion, and Harry got the impression she had wanted to say all of that for quite some time. He stared at her incredulously, and after a moment she seemed to suddenly realize what she had said and ducked her head quickly, the tips of her ears reddening to match her hair.
Harry didn't know what to say. He felt as if an enormous weight had lifted from his shoulders, carrying with it the knot that had sat in the pit of his stomach all summer. The burden was still there, but it no longer seemed impossible to bear. Of course he was not alone. He never had been, at that. Harry felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as Ginny's words echoed in his head. ILoyalty and love and sacrificeI. Hadn't his loyalty to Dumbledore saved him in the Chamber of Secrets, and his parents' love and sacrifice in both encounters with the Dark Lord? Harry remembered the ghostly forms of Voldemort's victims protecting him as he fled from the graveyard, and suddenly he could see their faces more clearly than he ever had before. Bertha Jorkins, Cedric, his parents-they were all dead, but not gone, and Harry knew, with a bursting inside his chest like warm butterbeer bubbling over, that Ginny was right.
She had let go of his hand and was now standing to leave, much subdued. "I think I'll go to bed," she mumbled to the ground, her face obscured by a tumble of hair.
"Ginny, wait." Harry stood quickly and caught her shoulder as she moved away. But when her eyes lifted to meet his gaze he realized he had no idea what he wanted to tell her. "Er," he hesitated.
Ginny sighed and passed her hand tiredly over her eyes. "Harry, it's very late," she began, turning to leave again. "I think we should go back inside."
Harry let go of her arm, and she started down the path with her shoulders drooping. "Thank you," he said quietly, and Ginny halted in mid-stride. "Thank you," he repeated more loudly as Ginny turned to face him. He took two swift steps toward her and found her hand. "I think you're right," he said slowly. "It's just like what Dumbledore said: we're only as strong as we are united."
Ginny regarded him silently before a soft smile lit her face. "That's right," she said, glancing down at their clasped hands. "We all believe that-Mum, Dad, my brothers, Hermione, and me." She looked up at him earnestly. "You can count on us to fight with you, Harry. Remember that."
"I will," Harry nodded, feeling for the first time that he was ready to meet whatever lay ahead. "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
They stood smiling at each other for a long moment, until Harry noticed he was still holding Ginny's hand. He dropped it quickly and covered by gesturing up the path to the back door. "We should go in." They walked back to the house in silence and slipped inside, careful not to make noise. At the foot of the stairs Ginny stopped and stood looking up at him.
"I'm going to make some hot chocolate," she whispered. "Do you want some?"
Harry shook his head. "No, that's all right. I think I better go to bed." Ginny nodded and started for the kitchen. "And Ginny?" he whispered after her. "Thank you."
Ginny smiled. "Goodnight, Harry."
"Goodnight, Ginny," he smiled back. Turning, he crept slowly up the stairs and back into Ron's room. For the first time in many weeks, he fell asleep almost immediately.
Author's Note: Does anyone else out there agree this could (should!) happen at some point in the future? I'd like to hear your opinions (hint, hint) about Ginny's "more important role" in Book 5. The next chapter's the last, where we find out if Harry's prepared to go back to Hogwarts.