Family

Chapter Nine
The Truth About Ginny

The Gryffindors moved back to Gryffindor Tower the next day, but the professors decided not to hold any classes until after another week had passed.

Bridget Myers, Mark Graham and Jude Connolly from Ravenclaw, and Sarah Wilson from Hufflepuff had been sent back to their families at home, albeit under very tight security. Only a handful of students from the hospital wing were released that morning—however, Harry received news that although Madam Pomfrey was still not letting in any visitors (except very important ones) in the hospital wing, she would be letting Ginny return to the Tower that evening.

Feeling considerably lighter, although still burdened, Harry made his way towards the Great Hall for breakfast alone. Usually, at eight-thirty, the Great Hall was already filled, but it wasn't on that day. And the few who were already there were extremely subdued.

Harry sat down and helped himself to some bacon and toast. As he quietly began to eat, he noticed Parvati and Lavender out of the corner of his eye.

"This can't be right, your homework says it'll be next month!" exclaimed Parvati who was sitting about five empty chairs away from Harry as she studied a bit of parchment.

"I can't be wrong this time!" Lavender retorted. "I'm sure of it. This month. And Ginny is now—"

Harry's fork fell on his plate with a clatter. The two girls jumped up, looking horrified at the sight of Harry.

"What?" Harry asked.

Parvati and Lavender looked at each other, their faces losing color.

"What about Ginny?" Harry said, his voice growing louder.

Parvati nudged Lavender on the shoulder and frowned at her, as if trying to convince her to tell Harry whatever it was they had been talking about. Finally, Lavender motioned for Harry to come over.

They were reading Tarot cards. Harry groaned inwardly and was about to turn away when Parvati took hold of his sleeve.

"Harry, you have to listen to her," said Parvati.

Harry gave her an exasperated look, hardly noticing that he had never been as rude as this to the two of them. "Why?"

"Because it concerns…someone very important to you."

Harry sniffed. "Right. And I certainly mind you meddling with her future."

Lavender was looking intently at the cards, but when Harry said the last word, she flinched slightly.

"Harry," Lavender began very awkwardly, "…something's wrong with Ginny."

Harry snickered sardonically and shook his head. "I know something's wrong with her," he said. "Haven't you checked out the hospital wing yet?"

"It's not that," Lavender went on quietly. "So she's supposed to be leaving the hospital wing now—right? But it doesn't seem as if she's perfectly okay now. You have to watch out for her. The curse seems to have remained—"

Harry slammed a hand on the table, causing the other Gryffindors to look their way. "Listen!" he yelled angrily at Parvati and Lavender. "I've had enough of this Divination crap! I don't have to listen to you!"

Parvati and Lavender stared at him, horror-struck. Lavender's Tarot cards had been strewn all over the place. Noticing this, she scooped them up, and Harry saw tears forming in her eyes. He suddenly felt bad. He had never raised his voice like that at a girl before.

He threw his palms up in apology. "Look," he said quietly. "I'm sorry."

Parvati looked away with a pained look in her eyes. Having enough, Harry turned around and stormed out of the Great Hall—but not without meeting a delighted-looking Malfoy.

"Not you again," Harry said, feeling his body tense up.

Malfoy's trademark sneer was still pasted on his bloodless face. "Know what, Potter?" he drawled. "Brown was right. Maybe you should watch out for the Weasley brat's back. While the Dark Lord is after you…they'll also be after her."

Harry glared at him, but that didn't stop his blood from running cold.

Harry let the feeling of dread in his chest subside. When he thought it already had, he looked Malfoy straight in the eye.

"Tell you what," he said in a low voice. "Leave us alone, and I'll take care of Voldemort."

Malfoy's smoky gray eyes widened. Harry turned away and headed back to Gryffindor Tower calmly, although the feeling of dread didn't leave him.



It wasn't your fault. She was brave, wasn't she? She saved those third years—

What if I hadn't held her up outside Honeydukes? What if I convinced her to run away with the others?

Would you have saved the third years that way?

I might have. Who the hell knows?

Harry rubbed his forehead, absently running his fingers over his scar. He had been talking to himself like this for a whole hour, back and forth, wallowing in guilt and all the while contradicting himself, alone in their dormitory.

He was thinking of what Malfoy—Draco Malfoy, that is—said an hour ago. "While the Dark Lord is after you…they'll also be after her." He had tried to ignore it, but the truth in it became much stronger as he thought about it.

What was the guarantee of keeping Ginny safe when he continued to beclose to her? Voldemort was bound to know, one way or another. What if he learned about his feelings for her? He would put her in more trouble. Why hadn't he seen these things before?

Harry buried his face in his hands. Malfoy putting a curse on Ginny might have been partly due to the fact that Harry had been there, and Malfoy wanted to make Harry suffer or something…Harry squirmed around, guilt washing over him again.

What if I somehow blocked Malfoy's curse?

What was that curse, anyway?

Harry's eyes snapped open. The curse…he was so caught up in Ginny's safety that he hadn't given it a thought. Of course! The curse. He couldn't remember what it was, but if he could only read it somewhere—

Harry bolted upright and headed downstairs. The last place he wanted to go to that day was the library, but it could give him the answers. At least that would be one question off his mind.

But just as he climbed out of the portrait hole, he almost slammed into a tall someone's body.

It was Ron's. He was looking at Harry indifferently. Harry stepped aside clumsily, letting Ron enter.

What are you waiting for? something in his head was asking. Get it over with!

"Ron—hang on," he blurted out.

Ron was about to say the password when Harry spoke. He turned back to Harry. The Fat Lady looked on curiously.

"Yeah." Ron's tone was flat.

"Listen," Harry said. This was going to be hard. He hadn't rehearsed any apology speech or anything, and he certainly didn't expect to be giving it off the cuff. "Er—I mean—come on." His shoulders slumped forward. "Ginny's coming out a while later, everything's fine."

By the look on Ron's face, it seemed as if it wasn't—at least between the two of them.

"Maybe you'd want to leave her alone, then, rather than make her join you in your heroics," he replied sourly.

Harry fought to cool off his rising temper. "She did that of her own free will," he said softly.

"Free will." Ron laughed sarcastically. "Yeah, I'll be damned she did. Just because you're famous Harry Potter doesn't mean you can do and have everything."

That hit a nerve. Ron was very good at doing that. Harry snapped and found himself saying an awful lot of off-topic things that he had wanted to say since the day Hermione told him about Ron's hidden jealousy in their fourth year.

"That's just it," he said, clenching his fists. "I'm famous Harry Potter. For that reason, everyone's after my blood, everything's my fault, I'm not even free to love the one I want to, and I don't have a family to begin with. Yeah, a family, Ron." At that point he wanted to throw a punch at Ron's face, which was about a head higher than his. "You have no idea how much I envy you. You're the one who's got everything."

Ron's irate expression seemed to have faltered at that point, but he didn't say anything. Harry and Ron stood there, glaring for a long while, the Fat Lady looking on amusedly. After what seemed like ages, Harry spoke again. "I care for Ginny. A lot. And you know it. And you know that I didn't want her hurt, and I won't ever let her get hurt again."

When he got that out, he realized how wholeheartedly true it was.

Ron was studying him. At last, he sighed and softened his gaze at Harry.

"I love my sister too, you know," Ron said. "And I can't stand it when I see her the way she is now."

Ron turned to the portrait hole. "Shazam," he muttered and stepped in.

Harry stared after him, remembering what he had just said.

I won't let her get hurt again.

It took him a while to recall what he was about to do until he held Ron up. He marched down to the library, unsurprised that it was almost empty.

Harry went to the Defense Against the Dark Arts section and took out three heavy books. He browsed through A Concise Encyclopedia of Curses, Hexes and Jinxes first, feeling sure that the first word of the curse began with a cunk" sound. But nothing in the list triggered his memory—it wasn't there. He was beginning to leaf through the whole book when he heard a female voice say, "Fancy seeing you here."

"Hermione," Harry said, looking back down on the book. "Studying right after all that's happened. I should've known."

Hermione ignored his comment. "What are you looking for?"

"That curse Lucius Malfoy used on Ginny," said Harry matter-of-factly.

"Does it matter?" she asked. "I mean, she'll be okay, right?"

Harry glanced up at her. "I dunno," he muttered. "I just…thought of looking for it."

Hermione drummed her fingers on the desk, biting her lips as if she was aching to tell Harry something. Harry looked at her, annoyed. "Let me guess. You want to talk about Ron."

Hermione was clearly taken aback. "Why, yes," she said, blinking.

"And did you tell him what a flippin' prat he is?"

"Oh, Harry," Hermione groaned. "I know he didn't mean what he said, about you being—look, I just know," she insisted when Harry opened his mouth to protest. "It's just a big brother thing, he's being overprotective—"

"This isn't any Big Brother Theory, Hermione," Harry hissed. "It's the Harry Potter Spells Trouble Theory! For that reason, the whole Weasley clan is waging war against me!"

"Fred and George are being very supportive!" Hermione shot back while trying to keep her voice to a minimum. "And you're not even sure if Mrs. Weasley is still mad at you, after the twins cleared everything up."

Harry slammed the book shut. "You don't know how it feels," said Harry, "being responsible for those who get hurt while I had been there—because I had been there," he corrected himself. "It was like that for Cedric. And my whole family."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Why do you still carry all that old guilt? It wasn't your fault. Nothing was your fault. Everything happens for a reason. Not everything revolves around you—you're not God, for His sake!"

Harry threw his hands up. "Okay," he said, taking a deep breath. "Look at it this way. Until we defeat Voldemort—" Hermione winced at that point—"he will always be after me. And if he learns—heck, I think he already has—" something gnawed at the pit of his stomach as he said that, "—they'll go chasing after Ginny because of me. I couldn't let her take that risk."

Hermione looked at him, absentmindedly twiddling a nearby quill. "What if she's willing to take the risk?"

Harry stared at her.

"Think about it," Hermione finished. She picked up a book and began reading, leaving Harry to his own thoughts.



When Ginny came back to the common room that evening, Fred and George were ecstatic. They initiated the first few laughs in Gryffindor Tower since Saturday afternoon, and before long, quite a few Gryffindors had joined them. The laughter wasn't as energetic as they were usually, but it was decidedly better than no laughter at all.

Harry was subdued all evening, however. He had been sitting at an oddly familiar spot, until he realized it was where he had been staying when he taught Ginny simple things about Muggle items—what was it again? Batteries and stuff. How different things were just a little over two months ago. It had been a peaceful night, and he and Ron were making fun of their predictions again. There had been nothing to worry about. No one then had died three days ago….

Ginny was sitting on an armchair in front of the fire, her cheeks looking far more radiant than they had been since Harry's visit in the hospital wing. She was laughing at Fred and George's jokes, but something was missing in the way she laughed. It must have been her eyes. They didn't light up the way they usually did when she smiled.

Fred yawned. "Hey, George, how about pilfering the kitchens for some food?"

Ginny caught Harry's gaze. They grinned at each other knowingly, although Harry knew he was straining himself to do so.

"Go get it," George said lazily. "Speaking of food…we really have to stock up on some before long." He ruffled Ginny's hair. "Seventh of May, remember?"

Ginny beamed at him. "I wonder why I had forgotten about it," she said.

"Ah," said Fred wisely. "You know. At times like these, it's easy to forget."

"Naw, c'mon, Fred," George said lightly. "Ickle Ginny was thinking about…you know. Other things. Or should I say people?" His eyes momentarily flicked to Harry's direction.

Harry felt his cheeks grow warm. It was enough that George talked about him and Ginny in front of everyone in the common room—it was just that he hadn't remembered, either. He only kept a calendar on Privet Drive, not at Hogwarts. And he hadn't marked anyone's birthday except his.

Ginny was turning fifteen in a week.

Ron wasn't laughing along at the last joke, and Harry had enough reasons why. Ron didn't speak to Harry all evening, but he seemed to be a lot less cold, too. Meanwhile, as he tried to go along with Fred and George's jokes, he was treating Ginny as if she were a bomb about to detonate, or glass about to break.

Harry watched Ginny make her way to a couple of third-year boys who sat huddled on a corner. He immediately recognized them as the two who normally hung out with Bridget Myers. Harry couldn't make out even snatches of their conversation, but it was clear that Ginny was consoling them.

"Of course, drinks are necessary," Fred was saying. "We'll have to put off the Butterbeers, though."

Hermione groaned. "Please don't remind us all," she said.

"Right." Fred smiled apologetically. "There'll be music, of course, and lights."

"Ballroom dancing!" George said enthusiastically. "We can learn a lesson or two from Ginny."

Ron looked around in confusion. "They teach ballroom dancing in Muggle Studies, Ron," explained Hermione.

"They do?" Ron let out a guffaw. He shoved Hermione lightly. "So you learned how to when you took up Muggle Studies?"

"They teach ballroom dancing in fourth year."

Ron pretended to look disappointed. "And I wanted to dance with you."

"Oh, dance with her already," muttered George. "Don't tell me you still don't know how to foxtrot, at least."

"What's the big deal about my birthday, Fred?" Ginny called from the corner.

George looked at her in mock indignation. "Why, we wanted this to be a special one for you!" he exclaimed.

"Trying to make me feel better, huh?"

"Well, yeah!" George said. "I mean, it's nice having you back!"

"Gee, thanks," Ginny replied dryly, but she was smiling. "But really, don't make a fuss about it, just…bring me a pie or something and I'll be grateful. I'm okay already…okay?"

"We're going to need more convincing than that," Fred said.

Patting the two third-year boys' hands kindly, she stood up and walked to the couch where the twins were sitting, and hugged Fred around the neck tightly. Fred was clearly taken aback; it took him a while to recover from shock, as if little sisters never hug their brothers. Fred grinned, finally, and hugged her back just as tightly.

Harry heard Hermione sniffle beside Ron. Ron looked choked up as well.

Ginny pulled away. "Convinced?" she asked.

George was smiling at her. "Pretty much. But that doesn't stop us from having fun on your birthday."

This time, Ginny's smile looked genuine. She hugged George as well. "I love you guys so much," she said.

"Yeah, we love you too, kiddo," George said, ruffling her hair again.

Ginny caught Harry's eyes for the second time that night. Harry gave her a nod and smiled serenely.

As midnight approached, the common room slowly emptied, until it was Harry, Ginny, the twins, Ron and Hermione left. Among the six of them, Hermione was the first to give in to sleep.

"I think I'm going, too," said Ron to no one in particular. He gave Ginny's arm a squeeze. "'Night."

"'Night, Ron," Ginny said softly, tiptoeing to kiss him on the cheek. Ron's ears turned pinkish as she did. Harry had to bite back a smile—clearly, Ron was not very articulate in showing his love for Ginny. But then again, Ginny rarely kissed Ron.

Fred elbowed George on the ribs and winked at him. "Shouldn't we be going to sleep too, George?"

"Oh—but of course!" George promptly stood up. "You don't mind, do you, Harry?"

"No," Harry said, standing up and joining Ginny on the leather couch. "I'll stay. Make sure she goes to bed."

Fred raised an eyebrow. "Yours, Harry?"

"Hers!" Harry said indignantly. "And no, I'll go to sleep on my own bed," he added when Fred and George looked even more scandalized.

"The couch already looks fine to me," said George, not missing a beat. "And it's soft fragrant leather."

Ginny stuck her tongue out at her brothers. "Shut it, you two."

"All right, then," Fred said. He and George began climbing up the stairs to their dormitory. "Be fertile and multiply."

"Move it," Ginny growled.

"G'night to you too, Gin," George said, snickering with Fred.

Fred and George had barely disappeared when Fred went down again. "Seriously, Harry, I know the couch is tempting, but don't do anything bad to my sister, okay?"

"I won't," Harry said, not bothering to contain his laughter. Fred winked at him and headed upstairs.

"They're disgusting," said Ginny as they heard a door slam shut. "They're always like that. Charlie, Bill and Ron too…never mind Perce, though—he's the gentleman among them, but he's also the most boring." Ginny grinned at him. "Can you imagine living with such jerks?"

Harry gave her a strained smile that was too obvious.

Ginny peered at him through concerned brown eyes. "You've been awfully quiet all evening. Something wrong?"

Harry looked back at her. He knew it wasn't right, asking Ginny about what had happened in Honeydukes…but he couldn't help himself. He forced himself to look straight into her eyes. "Gin—I was just thinking." He cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. "Did you…by any chance, did you hear the curse Malfoy put on you?"

Ginny blinked in surprise. Harry, however, had the impression that Ginny was half expecting him to ask that question.

Ginny hesitated before answering. "Yes," she said.

Harry felt a sense of foreboding. "And…you remember what it is?"

This time, Ginny obviously didn't seem to want to meet his eyes. "Why do you want to know?"

"Gin, I have to know."

"I…didn't want to tell anybody. Especially you."

Harry frowned. "Tell me what? The curse?"

Ginny looked up at him. Her eyes were unnaturally bright. "Harry," she whispered slowly, "whatever I'm going to tell you tonight—please don't tell anyone else—especially my brothers."

Harry shook his head. He was beginning to feel extremely anxious. "Why? I don't understand."

"Promise me," Ginny insisted.

Harry pursed his lips. Finally, he nodded hesitantly.

He soon wished he hadn't. He wasn't prepared for what Ginny told him.

"Harry…I'm not okay yet."

It took a while for her words to sink in. "What do you mean?"

Ginny paused, then stood up and walked slowly towards the study table, where her books were still stacked on top of one another. He straightened up and followed her. She took a black-bound book from the top of the stack and handed it to him.

It was The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts. "It's in there. I had it marked."

Ginny had marked the book on the chapter devoted to the curses used exclusively by the Death Eaters. He scanned the pages and immediately found what he was looking for: Cunctantis aegrotatio.

Cunctantis aegrotatio. A deadly curse. The victim of this curse will acquire something that resembles a lethal disease. It slowly eats the systems from the inside. The victim will remain conscious for two to four weeks after the curse has been cast, depending on the part of the body that is hit by the curse. Afterwards, the victim will lapse into a coma wherein he/she will never wake again—

Harry's eyes flew to the bottom of the page, and what he read made his heart stop.

There is no chance of recovery. There is no counter-curse.

The book slipped from Harry's hands and hit the study table with a loud thunk.

Harry's breath came out in ragged, uneven gasps. He couldn't bear to look at Ginny. He couldn't think, except for one thought that ran through his head over and over again: No, not her. It can't be her. Not Ginny. Not her. Not my Ginny. Oh God, please, not her.

"Harry," came Ginny's soft voice, "please look at me."

Harry's limbs were shaking as he forced himself to look at Ginny's painfully beautiful face.

"It wasn't your fault."

Harry needed to grasp the edges of the table. "I should've been the one," he gasped.

"It doesn't matter," Ginny said. "It happened for a reason. And knowing that I saved those third years' lives—as well as yours—I'm forever glad."

"How can you take this so lightly?" Harry asked angrily, though he couldn't bear to raise his voice. "Don't you understand what this lot's supposed to mean?"

"I do," Ginny replied quietly. "I'm going to die."

Harry felt a lump rapidly forming in his throat. "You can't," he choked out. Tears were already threatening to fall from his eyes. "I love you."

Harry's very heart ached. He had never heard himself say those words to anyone in his whole life. He didn't know he could actually say it. He only wished he could have said it to Ginny Weasley in a better way.

Ginny's own eyes glistened with tears. She approached Harry and put a soft, cool hand on his cheek and caressed it fleetingly. "I love you too, Harry. That's why I know my sacrifice was worth it."

The tears began cascading down Ginny's cheeks. Harry wanted so badly to wipe them away, wanted to embrace her and not let go—but he was momentarily paralyzed. Ginny's hand left his face; she turned around and headed for the girls' staircase. All Harry could do was stare after her retreating figure.

Harry didn't feel himself slump back on the couch. He didn't even feel the tears that began coursing their way down his face continuously.