Disclaimer--Much as I wish it did, nothing here belongs to me--including the references to Egyptian gods and lore.
Author's Notes--One influence I meant to mention in my notes for Chapter 5--the idea for Hermione's wand belongs to Zimmerman, and isn't mine...just like everything else! I hope I did justice to Egypt, but it was tricky since I've never been there, so if I didn't, I apologize!
Strawberries and Blueberries--Read more...read more...read more! ;-)
EEDOE--I thought the words Bill read to Ginny were incredibly beautiful and profound (and well-suited to her situation), but--much as I'd love to--I can't take credit for imagining them. They belong to Normandy Ellis' "Awakening Osiris". I think you've put Ginny's feeling into words perfectly...poor little girl. *sighs* It means a lot you think Molly's reaction was realistic--I did, too...but it's hard to write a mother's feelings since I don't have kids of my own yet. (And I think Fred and George are great models for your own kids--after all, they're confident, humorous, focused in their goals, and--in their own way--very dedicated to helping others without leaving them obligated. I adore them.) I enjoyed the names and the little touches of humor, too...isn't this fun? *hugs and winks*
Bill--Those verses from Job! So beautiful, and so oddly fitting--they gave me shivers--thanks for sharing them! :-) I was trying to invoke the image of the basilisk with the leviathan, you're so good. *grins* I think Ginny's freedom so far is a perfect example of why Molly was in Gryffindor, and if I had been in Molly's shoes, Ginny had better believe she'd be sitting in the sun. *grins* On the other hand...With any luck, our faith in Bill is about to pay off...*hugs*
***********
"It's...beautiful," Ginny said unevenly, brushing her dark-stained hair across her palm.
"Yes," Bill said simply.
They sat there in silence a moment, together.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Ginny sighed. She didn't know...part of her did, more than anything...the other part wanted to pretend there was nothing to talk about.
"I can't go back to the way I was," she heard herself say, surprising her. "I want to, Bill, more than anything...but I just don't know how."
"You can never forget a friend," Bill said softly. "And you shouldn't. To forget the love you held for someone diminishes love itself."
Tears stung bitterly at her eyes, burning the inside of her nose like acid. Bill, always so protective of her feelings, reached out and pulled her close, sheltering her in his shadow, supporting her by his side.
"How can you be touched by something dark...something evil...and not be evil yourself?" Ginny demanded, her voice suddenly loud with weeks of pent-up self doubt. "Look at me, Bill," she ordered, jabbing the ends of her hair in his face. "It's there...like a stain...and I'll never be clean, because it won't come off!"
"Curses can do unspeakable things," Bill said, as if changing the subject. "You've seen the results of a few today." Ginny stared at him. "For the victims, those curses were terrible things...but what about for the people who set them up to prevent desecration of the pyramids? They were protection. They did their job. The Egyptians believe not all curses are evil-it's the use to which they are put that determines what they become."
"I...I don't understand." Ginny faltered.
"You were introduced to evil unknowingly, and you'll never forget," Bill told her flatly. "But the knowledge of evil-even of your own ability to be evil-doesn't make you evil, Ginny, and it never will. It could be the one thing that helps you defeat it...if you're willing to let it be."
He reached out and touched the uneven line where the ink stain met her fiery hair. "It's a trait like freckles, like red hair, like dark sherry-colored eyes, Gin...part of who you are, but not what you are."
Ginny started to take a deep breath, and burst into tears. Bill hugged her close, let her cry, and was there.
"Honestly, Ginny," Mum said huffily, "must you always get so worked up over everything? You're old enough you ought to take being told no more reasonably. You've seen plenty of pyramids today."
Bill patted Ginny's back consolingly as he pulled away and struggled to his feet. "Not impressed, then, Mum?"
"Oh, it was interesting enough," Mum said, "but I'm a bit tired of pyramids, I have to admit-they're so dark and cramped."
Bill grinned. "Maybe we should call it a day."
The next day, he took them to the ancient shrines. Shrines of Horus, and of Annubis. Shrines of Osiris and his wife Isis-the story of their love and devotion struck Ginny as tragic, rather than romantic...she would much rather have companionship, laughter, and warmth, than a return from the dead...She liked Hathor-goddess of love, joy, and the womanly arts-though, her shrine was filled with the rich, muted gleam of malachite-a stone said to be an expression of joy-that reminded her of Harry's eyes, and the spicy scent of myrrh.
Another day, they saw several of the most famous muggle museums at Dad's insistence, and were surprised at how much they enjoyed them, though Ginny couldn't help being disappointed they were thousands of years too late for the Great Library.
They saw the wide, open street market, full of vendors shouting advertisement of their wares and the aroma of strange and unfamiliar foods. A man in the street charmed a snake-which Ginny was relieved not to understand. Not in words at least, though its body language seemed oddly comprehensible-using nothing but a flute to make it dance and weave from its basket. Children younger than Ginny ran up and asked for money. Dad gave them copper muggle coins he said were worth less than a knut. Mum didn't look convinced, but she didn't tell him not to.
After they'd been there about a week, they finally got a chance to go to the Magic Corridor of the city, and spent an entire day trying to see everything there was to see. Ginny spent most of the allowance she'd managed to save up buying souvenirs-she made sure to buy a malachite utchat and a very old and dog-eared copy of the "Book of the Dead" Bill told her should include the verse she'd heard him translate-and Christmas gifts, and she didn't think she was the only one. Ron bought Harry a Sneakoscope as a birthday present, which Ginny thought was brilliant.
One morning, she wandered out of the den and into the kitchen, vaguely intending to pour water in her cup for instant coffee. She sat down at the table, reached for the Daily Prophet an owl had already delivered, and let out a little scream. Scabbers was sitting on it. Actually, he was standing on it, running across the page as if trying to escape something. "Stupid rat," Ginny muttered darkly. She didn't care for him, and never had. He had an annoying habit of grabbing ahold of her with his claws and trying to run up her sleeve. Besides, he just looked...oily...like an untrustworthy salesman or something.
"Get out of the way," she said, straight-arming him so he tumbled across the table.
She picked up the paper, more out of boredom than interest in anything she might read, and nearly dropped it. There, staring up at her, was a bold Headline-"Escape from Azkaban No Longer Impossible"-and, beside it, a black-and-white photograph of man labeled-"Sirius Black, responsible for death of thirteen."
Author's Notes--One influence I meant to mention in my notes for Chapter 5--the idea for Hermione's wand belongs to Zimmerman, and isn't mine...just like everything else! I hope I did justice to Egypt, but it was tricky since I've never been there, so if I didn't, I apologize!
Strawberries and Blueberries--Read more...read more...read more! ;-)
EEDOE--I thought the words Bill read to Ginny were incredibly beautiful and profound (and well-suited to her situation), but--much as I'd love to--I can't take credit for imagining them. They belong to Normandy Ellis' "Awakening Osiris". I think you've put Ginny's feeling into words perfectly...poor little girl. *sighs* It means a lot you think Molly's reaction was realistic--I did, too...but it's hard to write a mother's feelings since I don't have kids of my own yet. (And I think Fred and George are great models for your own kids--after all, they're confident, humorous, focused in their goals, and--in their own way--very dedicated to helping others without leaving them obligated. I adore them.) I enjoyed the names and the little touches of humor, too...isn't this fun? *hugs and winks*
Bill--Those verses from Job! So beautiful, and so oddly fitting--they gave me shivers--thanks for sharing them! :-) I was trying to invoke the image of the basilisk with the leviathan, you're so good. *grins* I think Ginny's freedom so far is a perfect example of why Molly was in Gryffindor, and if I had been in Molly's shoes, Ginny had better believe she'd be sitting in the sun. *grins* On the other hand...With any luck, our faith in Bill is about to pay off...*hugs*
***********
"It's...beautiful," Ginny said unevenly, brushing her dark-stained hair across her palm.
"Yes," Bill said simply.
They sat there in silence a moment, together.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Ginny sighed. She didn't know...part of her did, more than anything...the other part wanted to pretend there was nothing to talk about.
"I can't go back to the way I was," she heard herself say, surprising her. "I want to, Bill, more than anything...but I just don't know how."
"You can never forget a friend," Bill said softly. "And you shouldn't. To forget the love you held for someone diminishes love itself."
Tears stung bitterly at her eyes, burning the inside of her nose like acid. Bill, always so protective of her feelings, reached out and pulled her close, sheltering her in his shadow, supporting her by his side.
"How can you be touched by something dark...something evil...and not be evil yourself?" Ginny demanded, her voice suddenly loud with weeks of pent-up self doubt. "Look at me, Bill," she ordered, jabbing the ends of her hair in his face. "It's there...like a stain...and I'll never be clean, because it won't come off!"
"Curses can do unspeakable things," Bill said, as if changing the subject. "You've seen the results of a few today." Ginny stared at him. "For the victims, those curses were terrible things...but what about for the people who set them up to prevent desecration of the pyramids? They were protection. They did their job. The Egyptians believe not all curses are evil-it's the use to which they are put that determines what they become."
"I...I don't understand." Ginny faltered.
"You were introduced to evil unknowingly, and you'll never forget," Bill told her flatly. "But the knowledge of evil-even of your own ability to be evil-doesn't make you evil, Ginny, and it never will. It could be the one thing that helps you defeat it...if you're willing to let it be."
He reached out and touched the uneven line where the ink stain met her fiery hair. "It's a trait like freckles, like red hair, like dark sherry-colored eyes, Gin...part of who you are, but not what you are."
Ginny started to take a deep breath, and burst into tears. Bill hugged her close, let her cry, and was there.
"Honestly, Ginny," Mum said huffily, "must you always get so worked up over everything? You're old enough you ought to take being told no more reasonably. You've seen plenty of pyramids today."
Bill patted Ginny's back consolingly as he pulled away and struggled to his feet. "Not impressed, then, Mum?"
"Oh, it was interesting enough," Mum said, "but I'm a bit tired of pyramids, I have to admit-they're so dark and cramped."
Bill grinned. "Maybe we should call it a day."
The next day, he took them to the ancient shrines. Shrines of Horus, and of Annubis. Shrines of Osiris and his wife Isis-the story of their love and devotion struck Ginny as tragic, rather than romantic...she would much rather have companionship, laughter, and warmth, than a return from the dead...She liked Hathor-goddess of love, joy, and the womanly arts-though, her shrine was filled with the rich, muted gleam of malachite-a stone said to be an expression of joy-that reminded her of Harry's eyes, and the spicy scent of myrrh.
Another day, they saw several of the most famous muggle museums at Dad's insistence, and were surprised at how much they enjoyed them, though Ginny couldn't help being disappointed they were thousands of years too late for the Great Library.
They saw the wide, open street market, full of vendors shouting advertisement of their wares and the aroma of strange and unfamiliar foods. A man in the street charmed a snake-which Ginny was relieved not to understand. Not in words at least, though its body language seemed oddly comprehensible-using nothing but a flute to make it dance and weave from its basket. Children younger than Ginny ran up and asked for money. Dad gave them copper muggle coins he said were worth less than a knut. Mum didn't look convinced, but she didn't tell him not to.
After they'd been there about a week, they finally got a chance to go to the Magic Corridor of the city, and spent an entire day trying to see everything there was to see. Ginny spent most of the allowance she'd managed to save up buying souvenirs-she made sure to buy a malachite utchat and a very old and dog-eared copy of the "Book of the Dead" Bill told her should include the verse she'd heard him translate-and Christmas gifts, and she didn't think she was the only one. Ron bought Harry a Sneakoscope as a birthday present, which Ginny thought was brilliant.
One morning, she wandered out of the den and into the kitchen, vaguely intending to pour water in her cup for instant coffee. She sat down at the table, reached for the Daily Prophet an owl had already delivered, and let out a little scream. Scabbers was sitting on it. Actually, he was standing on it, running across the page as if trying to escape something. "Stupid rat," Ginny muttered darkly. She didn't care for him, and never had. He had an annoying habit of grabbing ahold of her with his claws and trying to run up her sleeve. Besides, he just looked...oily...like an untrustworthy salesman or something.
"Get out of the way," she said, straight-arming him so he tumbled across the table.
She picked up the paper, more out of boredom than interest in anything she might read, and nearly dropped it. There, staring up at her, was a bold Headline-"Escape from Azkaban No Longer Impossible"-and, beside it, a black-and-white photograph of man labeled-"Sirius Black, responsible for death of thirteen."