Disclaimer: I do not own any of this, really. These are the copyrighted property of another; may all props go to JK Rowling, who has blessed the literate world with a body of fiction so rich and so beautiful so as to defy belief. Let this humble work serve as an homage to her brilliance. I certainly will not make any profit off of this tale. It exists in part to aid me in learning to write, and largely only for my own amusement.
Dark Days: Ginny WeasleyAugust 27, 1997. Ginny fumbled about for the loose strand of red hair that playfully danced across her face in the stiff wind, tickling her nose and perpetually threatening to take her mind off of the unusual circumstances she now faced. She finally got a hold of it, and forcibly tucked it behind her freckled ear. She felt her brother's arms tighten around her waist from behind..
"You alright there, Gin?" Charlie shouted into the howling wind.
"Oh my god…" Gin mumbled indistinctly.
"Gin?" came Charlie's voice, more concerned this time.
"Yeah, I'm fine!" she shouted, turning her head slightly to talk over her shoulder. As she did so, the strand of hair got loose again, jerking wildly about her face. "It's just so… wow. Breathtaking, I guess."
"Isn't it?" he called, a note of pride evident. "And think: you're one of a dozen people to do this!"
Hagrid would wet his pants if he knew about this, Gin mused.
Charlie Weasley and his coworkers had finally accomplished what no wizard had ever done in recorded history – the impossible task of taming a dragon. Ginny now sat astride a Common Welsh Green, soaring above the ocean off the coast of Iceland. At a gentle prod from her brother, Ginny pressed down gently on the makeshift harness affixed around the dragon's throat, and in response the great winged beast dove lower until they were nearly skimming the tops of the waves. In a rush, the smells of salt and foam filled her nostrils, and she coughed a little.
"Gloria" had been a sickly young dragon and undersized to boot, abandoned by her family as a runt. Without the intervention and care of the wizards, the dragon would have died in its infancy, likely as a snack to one of her older brothers. When Charlie had told her this, Ginny had just nodded knowingly: "Yeah, older brothers can be vicious like that." That particular remark had earned her a fierce session of tickling.
As Gloria got older, she was still shunned by her own kind, and the Wranglers had decided to keep her out of the community, again fearing for her safety. At the same time, she developed a kindred spirit with her human keepers, with a particular fondness for a certain redhead. One day, Charlie had been brave enough to climb on her back, and was rewarded by being the first human to ride on back of one of these great beasts.
The sun was setting to her left side, casting fingers of orange and purple over the sky. The waters underneath were a dark blue: ominous and cold. She cast her gaze below into the darkening ocean, where a few small fish took notice of them and hurriedly dove deep into the murky sea.
All around Ginny was arrayed the magnificence of all creation. She felt then like a miniscule part of the cosmic whole, something so big and so great that words, thoughts, and feelings could only be inadequate to express it. She was touched by a sense of peace, content. She inhaled deeply, loving every second of this ride. It was almost more than she could handle; sensory overload.
Charlie's arm left her side and rose over her shoulder, pointing to their right. A muggle ocean liner was in the distance, likely carrying German engine parts, or crates of frozen fish. At his suggestion, she pulled the reins to that side, leading Gloria gently east. Charlie and his friends had put a thorough round of enchantments on the dragon and her two riders, so that any muggle who looked at them would see and hear only a green helicopter.
Within minutes, the dragon was flying leisurely beside the boat. Ginny giggled with delight, positively giddy, when she realized that a dozen or so dolphins were riding in the wake of the boat. The two Weasley sat in silence for a moment, witnessing the playful creatures beside the muggle vessel.
"Take her on up, we need to head back before it gets too dark!" Charlie instructed her.
Ginny frowned at the prospect of this perfect moment coming to an end, but obliged the command. She eased the flying monster up, and was touched anew by the thrill of ascension, the joy of flying. It was as if all the problems in the world melted away as they rose into the heavens.
Flying is the greatest feeling in the world! No wonder Harry loves it so much.
Ginny stiffened suddenly at this thought, an expression of grim acceptance covering her face. She could never seem to keep her mind off of him completely, no matter how remarkable or novel the activity that she was engaged in. Again she felt the flush of embarrassment that occurred when her mind drifted to thoughts of The Boy Who Lived. It was a constant struggle with her; keeping those interfering thoughts out of her conscious mind. She reasoned that if she did not think about him everyday, it could only be evident that she was no longer hopelessly in love with him.
The project was a lot like not thinking about the color red; as soon as someone gives the assignment, the hue will instantly fill one's thoughts, if only for an instant. Her failure at her own attempts filled her with frustration.
"Down there!" Charlie called, gesturing to one of several small islands in the ocean. Neddleton Island did not appear on any Muggle map; Ministry wizards had enchanted it heavily in order to keep it secret. Neddleton Island was home to a small group of wizards and their dragon companions. Ginny led Gloria into the middle of a patch of tents and hastily constructed buildings far below.
Ginny gently eased the dragon down in wide spirals. Gloria certainly seemed to know where she was heading. A few short minutes later, the redheaded sixteen-year-old was climbing down reluctantly. She stopped for a moment, and placed her palm tenderly on the side of the beast's scaly head.
"Err, Gin, not necessarily a good idea-" Charlie interjected, but she scarcely heard him.
She was instead concentrating all of her energy on a single thought, as if she could communicate it by simply wanting to badly enough. Thank you bringing something beautiful into my life. She peered compassionately into the large eye of the dragon, searching for some manner of recognition. Perhaps it was just her whimsy, but she thought Gloria understood.
* * * *
August 27, 1997. "I'm glad you could make it out here, Gin," Charlie was saying.
She was sitting outside of his tent, gathered around the fire with a couple of his coworkers. Charlie had pitched his tent a good ways away from the bulk of the campsite, on a small hill. It was the most popular gathering place for off-duty dragon wranglers. A large meal, consisting largely of beans and rice, had been prepared and Ginny ate heavily, surprised at her suddenly vigorous appetite.
"Three cheers to that!" a fellow by the name of Jimson echoed loudly, lifting up the bottle of Odgen's Firewhiskey that he had been consuming. A few ragged cheers accompanied the toast from the group gathered there.
Charlie flushed a shade of red, and it was hard to tell whether this was anger of embarrassment. He muttered something about "Hexes in the night" and Ginny laughed.
Jimson passed the bottle to his right, and the next youth in line imbibed heavily, tossing Ginny a toothy grin after he did so.
To her right, she heard a snort of disgust, and turned to behold Sandra, one of the few women working there and the only other in that particular circle. She was a younger witch, likely 22 or so, with straight black hair, and a pretty smile. "You'd think they'd never seen a woman before, the way they go on," Sandra told her in a confidential undertone. "It's a good thing you're here – usually it's me they leer at like that." She and Ginny shared a good-natured laugh at the expense of the foolish boys.
"All kidding aside, I'm glad you could make it out here. Mum and Dad told me things have been kind of rough, and- oh, thanks," Charlie said, interrupted by suddenly receiving the bottle of Firewhiskey in his lap. He tipped his head back, and took a generous swig.
Ginny was thankful that he was not for a second paying attention to her, because she broke into a scowl that no one else could see in the dim firelight. So. Mum and Dad put you up to this. They had been worried about her, and for good reason. They probably figured this trip would help her to take her mind off the things going on at home.
It was true, she had been somewhat strung out lately. Everyone was, what with the fear of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the continuing demands of the Order, and then, to top it off…
Ron had been looking pretty glum, Hermione had been stressed, and Harry was looking worse than he had since the death of Sirius. (No! Don't think about Harry!) Even Fred and George had not been seen smiling in what seemed like years.
The shadow of the Dark Lord had been cast ever farther. Good witches and wizards were hard to come by, as many died, many disappeared, and the ones that remained looked increasingly suspicious. It was hard to know whom to trust anymore.
Earlier in the summer, they had gotten clearance from Dumbledore to invite Harry over for the rest of vacation, but that had come to a rather dramatic close a week before.
* * * *
August 20, 1997. Silence hung, oppressive and thick in Ron's bedroom. Ginny was sitting on the floor next to Ron, their backs pressed against his bed. Hermione leaned against the wall opposite them, and Harry sat on top of the bed, staring out the window. It was a moonless and overcast night, and even the orange walls seemed dark and ominous. The whole house was cased in a complete stillness, and the only sound Ginny could hear was her heart beating in her chest. She wished the ghoul in the attic would turn over a box or something, just so they might have some noise. Tragically, even he seemed to realize the gravity of the situation and remained calm.
"Harry," Hermione said, breaking the silence.
Harry continued to stare out into the night, the expression on his face unchanged.
"Harry," Hermione repeated, more plaintively. Ginny looked up at him, a curious fear beginning to work in her mind. "Come sit next to me."
"I am sitting," Harry observed, his voice dull and flat.
"They told us not to get to close to the window, you know that. It's dangerous for you. Just come sit down and it will all be over soon enough," Hermione implored him. Downstairs, Molly Weasley, Dedalus Diggle, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Elphias Doge were watching out from all the windows, alert to any attack. An hour before they had been celebrating Harry's birthday, when they received word through the Floo Network that Deatheaters were seen in the area, and the kids had been sent upstairs as a precaution.
"That's what I'm afraid of, 'Mione," Harry answered, a flash of anger playing across his fingers. "I don't like being in here at all."
Ron feigned a little offense at the remark. "Oh, it's not so bad in here. I know the color scheme could use a little help, but it's okay if you like the Cannons," he quipped.
Harry took his attention off of the window and turned to regard his mate. Harry's face could not seem to decide whether to be angry or to be amused. "I certainly prefer them to the Wasps, if that's what you're asking." He let out a small chuckle, and the rising tension in the room was dispelled immediately.
A crashing noise came from below, followed by a woman's scream. Ginny felt her heart turn to ice; there was only one woman downstairs. Her breath came quickly, and terrified tears started to pour out of her eyes. She looked over at Ron, as she began to quiver, and saw that his face had completely gone white. Hermione began whimpering.
The sounds of a struggle could be heard clearly now, as a wizard shouted out "Obliviate!", followed by more crashing noises. It was hard to tell whether the voice was friend or foe. Ginny began crying in earnest now, and she felt Ron put his arms around her consolingly.
"It's okay, Gin," he breathed, not sounding very convinced. She buried her face into his shoulder and tried to stop shaking.
Hermione was the first to see it. "Harry, don't." They could clearly hear her terrified voice. "Oh God, Harry, please don't."
Ginny looked up in surprise to see that Harry had risen from the bed and was striding purposefully toward the door. She put her hand out to catch his, but he brushed past her.
"Harry, you can't!" she squealed.
"Mate, what are you doing?" Ron half-shouted, clearly incredulous. He jumped to his feet and put his hand on Harry's elbow just as the dark-haired boy had reached the door. Harry shrugged off the hand forcefully, and turned to face his friend.
"I gotta go out there," he said, his voice deafeningly quiet.
"No, you can't-" Ginny protested frantically. "They'll kill you!"
Ron raised his hands as if to hold Harry back by force. "What are you going to do, mate? You can't hope to fight with Deatheaters!"
"I suppose you're right,," Harry pronounced flatly. His head drooped slightly and he turned back into the room. Ron breathed a heavy sigh and relaxed. Then Harry caught him off-guard with a strong stiff-arm to the chest, sending Ron sprawling over the bed. In a fluid motion Harry pulled the door open and swept outside. Ginny began screaming, watching him go in horror, the hallway behind him lit up with hazardous spells. In an instant he was outside, and the door was shut.
Ron recovered his feet and tried the door. "It's locked," be breathed, surprised. "But I don't have a lock on my door!"
Hermione had also gotten to her feet, and pushed past Ron. She tapped her wand on the knob, muttering "Alohomora". She tried the door again, but without any luck. "He's put some kind of charm on it," she explained, looking around worried. They both sat on the edge of Ron's bed, looking dazed.
Down below, they could hear the battle raging furiously. For ten solid minutes the house shook with violent spells, occasionally ending in human voices singing out in anguish. Ron and Hermione had joined Ginny on the floor, and the three of them huddled together, crying heavily. Every minute, Ginny expected to see the door torn open, and a Deatheater on the other side, grinning with murder in his eyes. Ron perhaps was thinking the same; he kept his eyes trained on the door, his right hand twitching around his wand.
Eventually the noise died down and the awful silence returned, the feeling of death heavy in the air. Ginny continued to cry, a sense of horrible anticipation wearing on her senses. Long minutes passed slowly, and the feeling of foreboding worsened. Not a sound could be heard from below, save the occasional odd creak of the old house. An owl hooted outside a few minutes later, startling the three kids greatly. They looked out the window from their place on the floor, not daring to get up.
Still, nothing happened. Ginny thought she might lose her mind with terror. It was like a terrible dream from which she could not wake up.
Then, suddenly, the silence lifted as voices could be heard indistinctly in the otherwise noiseless house. There must have been six or seven people, judging by the creaking of the floorboards, all conversing in low, concerned tones. After a few more minutes, someone could be heard ascending the stairs, and then a heavy banging on the outside of the door.
"Children!" came the shriek of Molly Weasley, anguished and half out of her mind. "Children! Are you okay?"
Ginny experienced an intense sensation of relief, and let out a strangled cry: "Mom!"
"Ginny!" Came the reply. "Are you okay?"
"We're here, Mom, and we're fine!" Ron shouted back, getting to his feet and walking towards the door. "What's happened?"
"Oh, thank goodness you're okay! I was so worried!"
"Mom, what has happened?" Ron repeated, even more loudly.
"Mom, where is Harry?" Ginny called, her voice nearly a scream.
"We were attacked! Everything's under control now. Harry's okay." Mrs. Weasley's answer could not have been more welcome. Ginny turned to Hermione and pulled her close into a tight embrace.
"Can you let us out of here, Mum?" Ron shouted.
"Hang on!" Mrs. Weasley called back. "Alohomora!" they heard from the other side of the door. "Blast!"
"Already tried that one, Mom!" Ron called to the other side.
"Okay, step away from the door: I'm coming in!"
Ron obliged, and a second later Mrs. Weasley appeared with a loud POP beside him. "Oh thank heavens!" she exclaimed, pulling Ron into a stifling hug. Ginny and Hermione got to their feet, and the four of them pressed together in a solid mass of flesh.
Minutes later, they broke apart, and Ginny asked again about Harry.
"Well, he's okay. I don't think he's been hurt at all, but he's quite shaken up. Why did you let him leave?" she asked suddenly.
"Didn't," Ron breathed, sounding a little disgusted. "He knocked me down and ran out of here."
"He must have put quite a Sealing Charm on the door, huh?" Hermione observed.
"Yes, and we'll get someone up here to open it soon enough," Mrs. Weasley told them. "For the time being, it's better that you remain in here."
"Mom, what happened?" Ron asked, his voice very grave.
Mrs. Weasley was a minute in answering. Ginny's heart plummeted, a sensation of cold starting in her feet and spreading quickly through her body.
"I can't quite answer your question, Ron. I was downstairs when they attacked. There were roughly ten Deatheaters here, and they swooped down on us so quickly that it's a wonder that I survived. As it happens, I was, urm, stuck in the cupboard most of the time myself."
"What?" gasped Ron.
"Harry?" Hermione asked.
Mrs. Weasley nodded. "I think so. From that point on, I was as removed from the action as all of you were, up until the point where Dumbledore showed up and let me out. Children, it isn't easy for me to tell you this, but you must know that we suffered casualties this night. Kingsley, Dedalus and Elphias are all dead."
The words hit Ginny like a brick. "But, Dumbledore got here in time to save Harry?" she asked timidly.
Mrs. Weasley seemed about to answer, then thought better of it. She took a moment to choose her words carefully, then said: "Yes, I suppose he did."
Ginny looked over at Hermione, a question passing unspoken between them.
A noise from the door grabbed their attention. The doorknob turned and Albus Dumbledore appeared before them.
"Ah, another Sealing Charm. I trust everything is okay in here?" he said.
Mrs. Weasley got to her feet immediately, like a soldier saluting a general. "Yes, Albus. I think the kids were as removed from the action as I was."
Dumbledore nodded. "Indeed. You may come downstairs now if you wish, but I warn you that everything hasn't been cleaned up yet."
Ginny didn't need to be told twice. She, Ron and Hermione got up and filed down the stairs. Behind her, she could hear Dumbledore speaking quietly to her mother. "Molly, are you sure that there were only three members of the Order here before we arrived?"
"Yes, Albus, of course."
Ginny could see that the house was devastated by the time she reached the last step. Furniture had been smashed, portraits torn from the wall and broken glass strewn about the floor. The floor at the base of the stairwell was covered in an unmistakable red fluid. She went into the living room immediately, where the large picture windows had been broken in. She saw Remus Lupin and Professor McGonagall standing in the foyer, talking in hushed tones. On a curious instinct, she snuck closer, staying out of their peripheral vision until she could hear them clearly.
"When we got here, it was so quiet I thought everyone must be dead," Remus remarked. "I nearly had a heart-attack when Molly started banging around in the pantry."
"It doesn't add up, Remus," McGonagall exclaimed. "Diggle, Shacklebolt and Doge were all found in the living room. Molly was apparently sealed up in the kitchen. We found 4 dead Deatheaters inside and 4 more outside! Yet, by the time we arrived, this had apparently been over for ten minutes! How did Molly get in that cupboard?"
"She says Harry put her in there, presumably to keep her out of harm's way," Remus answered. "Her story was that they came in through the living room window and killed Diggle and Doge straight away."
McGonagall looked aghast. "Then… then… Harry and Shacklebolt took down 8 Deatheaters by themselves? How is that even possible?"
"How?" Lupin echoed. "I've got the answer to that, Minerva, but you may not want to hear it."
"Huh?"
Lupin gestured toward the kitchen. "We've been saying for years what a powerful wizard he'll be someday, and we've watched him grow up too quickly. And now that he has, how surprised can we be?"
"Harry?" McGonagall exclaimed. "But, you can't mean… Oh, Merlin's beard."
Ginny edged forward from her position next to the overturned sofa and peered into the kitchen. Harry Potter sat at the dining table, a glazed look in his eyes. He was simply staring into space out the window, his wand lying on the table in front of him. He wiped his hair out of his eyes with his left hand. His attention returned to present moment then, as he realized that his face had been slathered with blood from his hands. A look of pure revulsion crossed his face, and he began wiping it off violently with the tail of his shirt.
Ginny emitted a small gasp, drawing attention to herself. Lupin and McGonagall ceased their conversation immediately, and they stepped outside and away from her. Ginny began to slowly walk toward Harry, who did not show any sign of seeing her. She made it to his side, watched him shudder noiselessly next to her. She put her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, as they both began to cry.
There was a distance between them now that had never existed previously. In her arms she could almost feel him aging years in the span of minutes. He had seen and sone things that day that pulled him entirely out of the realm of her ken. She felt the importance of everything that came before this moment – long talks by the fireside in the burrow, easy hours spent playing Quidditch, surprised laughter at the latest prank of her twin brothers, even her hopeless and eternal crush on him -- slide away right there. Even as she held him tighter she could feel him getting further and further away.
That night, Dumbledore took Harry away from the Burrow, and she had not seen him since.
* * * *
August 27, 1997. "Oi!" Charlie exclaimed, making a fist and pounding it once into his chest. "That does pack a wallop!" He held the bottle of Ogden's up to the light and beheld with a new respect. He then reached past her to hand the bottle to Sandra, but Ginny intercepted him and took the bottle, giving her older brother a wicked smile.
"Ginny, that-" Charlie protested, but broke off as Ginny took a healthy swallow of the beverage. Jimson and several of the others gave a cheer when she lowered the bottle and gave a small smile.
Meanwhile, the inside of Ginny's mouth and her throat had fused together, melting and sinking into her stomach. A dizzy sensation spread instantly into her head, and for a wild second she thought she might throw up. Steam must have been pouring out of her ears, and she wondered fleeting if she could breathe fire like the dragons they were there to watch. She held in the temptation to cough, and after a moment the feeling passed. It was, without a doubt, among the roughest physical sensations she had yet encountered. She took another swig and passed the bottle to Sandra, eliciting another round of cheers from the boys. Even Charlie looked impressed.
"Tell me, Ginny, does Charlie have a nice place for you to sleep?" Jimson asked, his voice thick and sloppy. "If not, there's room in my tent…"
Everyone laughed again as Charlie started pelting Jimson with sticks and small rocks until the other wizard apologized.
The conversation was light and friendly, wandering about from Quidditch to Camp gossip and back, always keeping a healthy distance from International Magical events, and no one dared mention the V-word. The bottle was passed around until it was emptied, and another one magically appeared to replace it.
Charlie was in the midst of a riotous tale, likely fictional, about an unscheduled trip to Hogsmeade he had taken with some of his mates during their sixth year. He was interrupted briefly again when the wizard next to him handed him the bottle.
"Thanks, Chas," he said, putting the rim to his lips. His eyes raised skyward and he was just about to throw the bottle back when he stopped suddenly, a look of horror crossing his face. "Crap!"
The rest of the circle looked up and saw what had caused that reaction. There in the night sky, shimmering in eerie green, was the Dark Mark. Flying underneath it were roughly three dozen wizards, riding brooms with wands extended. A ripple of cold passed through the group, and many curses were uttered. Ginny could feel her heart beating furiously in her chest, and a sense of great terror washed over her.
Charlie found his wand and put out the fire. Darkness swallowed them instantly. Muted voices rang out, as several wizards in various degrees of inebriation looked for their wands. Meanwhile the Deatheaters laid siege to the main campsite. Most of the lights had been extinguished, covering the entire island in shadows, and all that could be seen was the rapid flash of green lights as spells were launched in frenzy.
Within seconds, the entire group at Charlie's tent had prepared, and the elder Weasley assumed command. He hissed orders in a low, urgent voice, and the other wranglers listened attentively. "Sandra! Apparate to Ministry of Magic and tell them we're under attack. Collins, go to Hogsmeade, and start looking for Dumbledore. I don't know if you'll be able to find him, but we'll stand a much better chance if we can alert the Order."
Ginny could not see her brother, but felt his attention on her. "Ginny, get in the tent and pull my sleeping bag over you."
"That's not fair!" she protested.
"Can it, Ginny. Get in the tent!" he barked.
Ginny decided against arguing, and capitulated. She fumbled about for the entrance to the tent, unable to see a thing.
"What should I do, Charlie?" Jimson stammered.
"Er," Charlie hesitated, clearly not wanting to include the drunk young wizard in his plans. "Stay here, and guard my sister. Don't make a sound, and don't make any light. Stay here until I return, and stay perfectly quiet!" He started to divide his team in half, laying plans to flank the enemy. They left suddenly, and Ginny was left in the tent, with Jimson keeping intoxicated guard in front.
Charlie Weasley never returned.
* * * *
September 1, 1997. Ginny stared out the window of the Hogwarts Express as gray countryside flowed past, lost in her own thoughts. Across from her sat her brother, staring at the ceiling and not saying anything. He already had his school robes on, but his Prefect badge was somehow missing from them. Next to him sat Hermione, her arm thrown around his shoulder, looking typically concerned. She continued to gaze sorrowfully at Ron, eyes brimming with tears, but if he noticed her he gave no sign of it.
Next to Ginny sat Neville Longbottom. He had, of course, heard of Charlie's untimely demise, and sat fidgeting most of the time, obviously wanting to say something but just as clearly not knowing what that might be. He would shuffle about in his seat, try to make eye contact with her, and then clear his throat as if about to speak. But he never did, and Ginny was not about to invite the conversation. Between them, no one said a word through the entire train ride, except for when Hermione informed the witch pushing the snacks cart that no one in their compartment cared for any refreshment.
It was, without any doubt, the worst ride to Hogwarts Ginny could ever remember. The sense that things were not right was heightened by the fact that Harry was not on the train. They had not been told for sure, but Ginny expected that he was already at Hogwarts, safe in the private company of Professor Dumbledore.
They arrived in Hogsmeade just after sunset. In darkness of atmosphere and darkness of thought, the four weary souls trudged over the carriages that would take them to the school. She felt truly guilty for not even stopping to greet Hagrid, who was leading the first years to their boats. She hoped he would understand. They arrived at the carriages, and Ginny's eyes went wide.
She felt a comforting hand on her elbow, and turned to see Luna looking graver than she would have guessed possible. She meant to tell Luna that it was okay, she was fine, but instead she blurted: "Oh, so that's a thestral."
* * * *
September 1, 1997. Ginny hardly paid attention to the sorting, or to Dumbledore's opening address. She just stared up at the bewitched ceiling of the Great Hall, which looked almost uniformly black. She looked around for a while but did not see him anywhere. If he had died, I would have heard about it by now. She felt the old guilt for thinking about him so much, but pushed it away. It did not matter anymore. She just needed him there, and she did not care to guess why.
Ginny resolved herself to staring at the surface of her table, and was content to do so, looking up now and again. She was distracted for a moment by a loud cheering from the Slytherin table. Severus Snape had finally achieved his dream; Professor Dumbledore had just announced that he would fill the recently vacated post of Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts. The greasy haired former Potions master was standing up at the table, taking a few mock bows, and acting very proud of himself. The ovation from the Slytherin table persisted, and Ginny felt her irritation rise. Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Bulistrode, Parkinson… they could all go to hell.
Shortly thereafter, food appeared on the table, but Ginny ignored it. She just kept dragging the edge of her knife across the surface of the table, making abstract patches of markings. At long last, Dumbledore dismissed them, and Ginny followed the herd of Gryffindors to their common room. She received the new password ("Pallas Athena"), but did not enter the chamber with the rest of her house. There was someone she had to see. She looked left and right down the long corridor and, satisfied that it was abandoned, made her cautious way to the North Tower.
* * * *
September 1, 1997. Ginny did not bother to ensure that the passages were empty. She made no effort to conceal the noise of her shoes. She could not have stopped the tears if she wanted to. The desire to avoid capture had left her, and all that remained was the need to be as far away from Professor Trelawney as possible. She ran as fast as her legs could take her, not knowing how long she had been running, or where she was headed.
She ended up in The Restroom: not the restroom in Gryffindor House, not the faculty restroom, but The Restroom. Broken glass laid beneath one sink, still left there from her first year. The lights had long since gone out and no one had bothered to replace them. Moaning Myrtle was nowhere to be seen, oddly enough. She had heard that the ghost preferred the prefects' restroom these days, not that it mattered. She had not come here to see Myrtle.
She walked slowly to The Sink, her heart beating heavily. She caught her reflection momentarily in the mirror before her, but tried to avoid the panicked expression in her own eyes. Instead, she kneeled before The Sink and examined the copper taps beneath it. She knew, somehow, what to do: concentrating with all her energy on the dark memories of her first year, she breathed "Open up."
* * * *
September 1, 1997. "Ginny? Ginny, are you here?" his voice called out into the darkness. Harry cast his lit wand back and forth in the abject darkness, looking around for her. Finally, the wide beam of his light fell on her huddled mass, cowering in front of the front of the face of Salazar Slytherin. He was, undoubtedly, struck with a pronounced sense of déjà vu. "There you are," he said softly.
"You knew I was here all along," she answered spitefully. "How did you find me?"
"The Marauders' Map. I took the liberty of expanding it include the Chamber of Secrets last year, once I'd learned how," he said thoughtfully. "Y'know, just in case."
"Put that out, would you?" she asked, squinting in the bright wand-light.
"Um, sure," he muttered, obliging her. Near-complete darkness took them, save for an eerie green light with no clear source. He found his way over to her and sat down. Whatever sense of urgency he might have felt to locate her washed away; she could tell that he was willing to sit there as long as she wished. Indeed, why go back? She had not seen him since the Deatheaters attacked her home. Each day that had passed found Ginny wondering where he was, how he was, what sort of things were going on in his mind. In the days after Charlie's death, she longed for him as never before; as if only he could pull her through her suffering.
They said nothing for the span of several minutes. He finally broke the silence by asking, "So, why'd you come down here?"
Because I knew only you could come down here and find me. "Because I wanted to be alone," she said simply.
"Yeah, but, why the Chamber of Secrets? I... I didn't know that you could still get in here."
Ginny sighed resignedly. "I suppose once you've been touched by evil, it never really goes away."
Harry did not respond to this. "So, you needed to be alone. I can sympathize, I really can. But why not take a walk around the lake or something? Why not leave a note s your friends wouldn't worry?"
Ginny felt her cheeks burn, and was thankful that he could not see her expression. "I guess I wasn't thinking very clearly. I'm sorry."
"It's okay, Gin, I'm just glad you aren't hurt."
A few more minutes passed in silence. "Harry," Ginny began. "I've missed you."
She heard Harry exhale heavily. He put his hand on her shoulder and pulled her close to him, hugging her tightly. She put up no resistance, but put her arms around his waist, burying her face in his robes. "I've missed you too, Gin. It's been a long couple of weeks for both of us, I think. I can't… I can't begin to tell you the things that have been going on in my head. I've been here at Hogwarts for nearly two weeks, in peace and quiet, and I still keep thinking about them, over and over again."
"Who, Harry?" she asked, pulling away and looking him in the eye, their faces mere inches apart.
"The Deatheaters," he pronounced solemnly. "The people I killed. I… I've always wanted to be a hero, Gin, to save the day. I knew I would have to fight, and I guess I even knew I would have to kill. I could never have imagined what it would be like, though. Every morning, I have to wake up and face myself, knowing that people are no longer on this Earth because of me. That's hard to accept."
Ginny did not respond, not knowing in the least what to say. She looked at him for a moment, regarding the flickering emotions on his face. She could tell that he was trying to be strong, trying to accept his new place in the world, and having a hard time with it. He looked like he wanted to cry, and wanted to shrug it all off at the same time, and ended stuck somewhere in between. Finding no words of comfort to offer, she embraced him again, squeezing him as hard as she could.
"I, um, I'm sorry about what happened to Charlie," he said after a moment. "I wish I had been there."
She let go of him again, fixing a hard look on him. "Why, Harry? So you could have died, too? If you were there, you would have just joined in the fight, and been killed. No one survived the attack, except me and Jimson, because we didn't get into the fight."
Harry pondered this. "Maybe so. It just kills me that, well, that you were in trouble and I couldn't be there to help you."
Oh, foolish Boy. You can't save everyone, Harry. Not all the time.
"How have you been, Ginny? You know, since?" he asked in a gentle tone.
Horrible. "I've been getting by," she said with a sigh. "I've been trying to make sense out of the whole thing, and I just can't. I've been looking everywhere for some solace, some way of making it better, and I haven't found that either. I went to see Professor Trelawney tonight, Harry. I asked her about what was happening, where it was all going… I asked her how many more loved ones I would lose. She couldn't tell me. She didn't know, Harry. You and Ron and Hermione are always going on about how she's such a lunatic, that she doesn't know anything. She gave me some crap about the difficulty of the inner eye, and proposed we consult the tea leaves."
"Yeah, she's nutters all right," Harry said with a small laugh.
"That's just it Harry. One minute she's making tea, talking about Grims and the alignment of Neptune, and then suddenly she stops, dropping her teacup and going all stiff. And then she starts speaking in this possessed voice, like she's no longer there at all."
Harry went completely silent. "Yeah, I saw that once, too. In our third year-"
"In your third year," Ginny corrected him.
"Yeah, you're a year behind me, aren't you?" Harry laughed sheepishly, and Ginny's heart surged with inexplicable emotion. "I keep forgetting that. Anyway, I saw her give a real prophecy once, the night Wormtail escaped. And it all came true… What did she say, Ginny?"
Ginny had been preparing for this question. She had spent most of the last couple of hours there in the dark, going over and over Trelawney's Prophecy in her head, until she had memorized it all.
"Dark Days have come upon us all," she pronounced solemnly. "Muggle and Wizard alike. Calamities will abound as the shadow of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named passes over the land. This darkness will be thicker, more complete than ever before, and the blood of Heroes will flow. Hallowed institutions of old will burn to the ground in the wake of this fierce storm. Death has visited the House of Weasley once already, but will be back again in force. The Boy-Who-Lived will turn his wand to no avail against his mortal enemy; the Dark Lord may only fall to the Only One He Ever Feared."
Harry sat in silence, appearing troubled by the words.
"Harry, I'm scared because you're going to try to stop him one of these days, and you're going to be killed," Ginny sobbed, not previously aware that she was even crying.
Harry grabbed her head in both hands and turned it to face him. "Just let me worry about that, alright Gin?"
She looked into his eyes in the dim green light, felting herself warm up inside. She remembered vividly her last trip to the Chamber of Secrets. She had been weak, her life drained away by some incarnation of the Dark Lord. Harry had come to her rescue then, when even her brother Ron had been trapped behind a rock wall. Harry came alone, and faced down that version of the Dark Lord, as well as a basilisk, just to save her, nearly at the cost of his life. She knew that it was that moment that had turned her childhood crush into absolute devotion.
And now, over four years later, they were alone again in the Chamber of Secrets.
"I think it's time we revived an old tradition," Harry said then. "Dumbledore's Army."
Ginny was a little surprised by this declaration. "But why? Umbridge is gone, and we have a DADA teacher that will actually teach us now."
"Snape? Yeah, maybe. But the DA isn't about who the headmaster is, or what we are learning in our classes – it's about preparing us all for the war ahead. Trelawney was right about one thing, at least – these are Dark Days indeed. It may very well be up to us to turn the tide against evil."
She nodded. "Harry, I… I don't think I'm ready for it."
Harry brushed the back of hand against her left cheek tenderly, regarding her with a most delicate look. "Don't worry Ginny. Whatever happens, I will never let them hurt you."
There had always been a little voice at the back of her head, egging her on. Whenever she was alone with Harry, the voice would act up, encouraging her to act on her longstanding crush in a way he could not fail to notice. Kiss him! Kiss him! Kiss him right now, you fool! Kisshimkisshimkisshimkisshim! For once, Ginny listened to the voice, and leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his quivering lips.
For a second, the world froze. The Chamber of Secrets vanished, leaving only perfect darkness in its place. Her friends in the school above ceased to worry about her, ceased to exist. The Dark Lord's reign of terror screeched to a stop. Faces, names, places all melted away for one beautiful moment.
Harry pulled back from her and they regarded each other in silence. The perfect moment had passed. Time began flowing smoothly again, and they were just two confused teenagers again, huddled together in the dank stone chamber.