CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Charlie
Harry's carefully trained, swift reflexes allowed him to grab hold of Ginny's shoulders before she could tear blindly into the kitchen. He pulled her back, pinning her firmly to his side with a strong arm.
"Wait!" he hissed, stopping her instinctive struggles with a commanding shake. Ginny stared up at him in disbelief.
"It's my brother, Harry!" she protested, glaring at him vehemently. Behind the fevered desperation in her eyes, flashing fire, Harry could see traces of fear and a plea for compassion. This was a man's situation, and his turn to be strong.
"I know!" he replied, forcefully. "But how the hell do you suppose he got in this state? It could be dangerous. Trust me, Gin."
Ginny yielded to his sudden firmness, and remained still while Harry cautiously crept into the dark room. Hermione's sobs were dying out, and Harry listened intently for any sound of movement in the little house. He skirted the walls silently, his wand gripped in his hand like a revolver, watching the door into the hall. As he forced it open, bracing himself for what he might find behind it, Bill skidded to a stop beside him.
"You take this floor, Harry," he murmured, quickly. "I'll go upstairs."
Harry nodded, pressing his back to the wall. Bill disappeared swiftly, stepping over the broken shards of a glass vase on the carpet.
The whole house was pitch black, and deadly silent. Every door Harry flung open revealed an empty room. It wasn't until he returned to the hallway, satisfied that no-one was lurking in the shadows, that he noticed more streaks of crimson blood across the floor and on the doorframes, a hideous reminder of what was lying in the kitchen at that very moment.
A few moments later Bill reappeared.
"Nothing," he said, grimly. "They've gone, whoever they were."
"I don't think anyone was in the house," muttered Harry, glancing at the bloodstained walls with distaste. "Look. He must have staggered through the front door and crawled as far as the kitchen before he collapsed."
"Dear God, what the hell are they trying to do to this world?" Bill's voice was low and husky, his eyes flashing brilliantly as Ginny's had done. His fist slammed violently into the wall with an irascible shout. "DAMN them! Damn them to hell!"
He turned on his heels and dashed back into the kitchen, Harry hot on his trail.
"Anyone there, boys?" came Mr Weasley's voice from the darkness.
"No. They've gone," answered Bill, brushing past his father to head outside to double-check.
Mr Weasley murmured a spell, and a dozen candles burst into light all around the room, revealing the true horror of the scene.
The twins and Lee gripped Alicia and Angelina forcibly by the arms, steering them quickly outside so they did not have to see. They did not return.
"Is he - is he dead?" whispered Hermione, tearfully. She didn't raise her head from Ron's shoulder.
"I don't know," he answered, gravely
"Get her out of here, Ron," said Mr Weasley, laying a sympathetic hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Take her upstairs."
In a single, fluid movement, Ron lifted her into his arms, carrying her past the macabre sight on the floor and up the stairs in the hall.
Mrs Weasley fell to her knees with Ginny beside Charlie's body, turning him on his back.
"Oh, my God!" breathed Mrs Weasley, her hands flying to her throat in shock at the sight of his stained face, white as a sheet beneath the dark smears of blood.
"Molly, get up at once!" ordered Mr Weasley, pulling her roughly to her feet. "Percy, take her into the lounge now!"
Percy did as he was bidden, holding his weeping mother firmly by the shoulders while Fleur leant her support on Mrs Weasley's other side.
Harry dropped down beside Ginny, who was anxiously feeling Charlie's neck for a pulse.
"Is he alive?" he whispered, hoarsely. He didn't want to know the answer.
"Yes. I can feel a beat. It's faint, but it's there. Help me get his cloak off."
A simple severing charm broke the bonds. Harry flung the cloak aside while Ginny tore open Charlie's shirt to find the source of the seeping blood.
A long, deep gash across his shoulder had hit an artery. Harry drew his breath in sharply, amazed at Ginny's methodical calmness as she ordered warm water and a towel to be procured. It took several anxious minutes for the flow of blood to be stemmed, after which Ginny took up her wand and deftly repaired the damage bit by bit. It seemed like an eternity to Harry as the tiny threads wove in and out, but it couldn't have been longer than half an hour. Ginny leaned back at last, brushing the back of her hand across her damp forehead.
In the meantime, Mr Weasley's vanishing spell had removed all traces of the crimson pool that had trickled across the floor.
"Will he be all right?" Bill asked, closing the back door behind him as he re-entered.
Ginny nodded. "He's lost a lot of blood. He needs rest. We should get him to bed."
Bill and Mr Weasley conjured an invisible platform beneath Charlie which raised him several feet into the air. Carefully they moved him out towards the hall and the stairs. Harry closed the door behind them.
He turned to Ginny. She had raised herself awkwardly to her feet and was gazing back at him with exhausted eyes.
Harry was just in time to catch her as she collapsed.
***
He heard her whisper his name. Automatically he tightened his hold on her, gathering her close to him to reassure her.
"It's OK, Gin. It's all over."
She let out a long sigh, running her fingertips along his collarbone.
Trying to ignore the shivers her gesture created beneath his skin, Harry shifted her weight slightly to view her face.
"Come on, sit down."
A kitchen chair was already pulled out, and he lowered her into it carefully, kneeling beside her on the floor. Her head fell into the groove between his neck and shoulder.
"Are you all right?" He felt stupid asking it, but he knew Ginny well enough to expect a denial of any frailty.
He felt her nod against his shoulder.
"What you just did, Gin - it was amazing!" he said, softly. That was, in fact, one enormous understatement, but his heart was still beating so fast after all the emotions that had torn through his system during the past hour that little logical thought was possible.
She smiled.
"Where did you learn to do that?"
"I didn't, really," she replied. "I've always been able to treat minor injuries and things, even before I started at Hogwarts. I suppose instinct just took over."
A shudder rippled through her body, and Harry did not pursue the subject. It wasn't the right moment for talk.
Gently, so she wouldn't be startled, he did what he had been longing to do ever since she had fallen against him, and pressed a kiss on her forehead, conveying so much more than words ever could. At the touch of his lips on her skin she seemed to melt into his arms again.
"I'm glad you're here, Harry," she whispered, her fingers reaching up to his shoulders. "I always feel safe with you."
The irony of her words was vaguely amusing as well as subtly painful. Harry doubted that anyone in the world could ever put her in more danger than he could.
The door opened again, and Mr Weasley returned, dropping wearily into the chair opposite Ginny's. He didn't look at them.
"Your mother's calming down a bit," he said, dully. "What do you say to a small dose of something to knock her out for the night?"
Ginny raised her head from Harry's shoulder. "As long as it's very small, I don't see a problem." She sighed, slowly disengaging herself from Harry's arms. "I'll make her some tea. In fact, I'll make a pot. I think we could all use something hot."
She got to her feet, smiling gratefully at Harry.
Harry raised himself into the chair she had vacated, dropping his head into his hands. Suddenly he felt achingly tired, and every single muscle in his body was stiff and painful. Mr Weasley let out a long breath, and then got to his feet and opened the back door.
"Fred, George? You there, boys?"
An affirmative response echoed from the bottom of the lawn where they had taken the girls.
"Come in, please!" called Mr Weasley. "I want you where I can see you, just in case."
Harry barely noticed them all file in, shooting a dozen questions at Mr Weasley in vociferous voices.
"Is he OK, Dad?"
"What happened?"
"Were they in the house?"
"What did they want with Charlie?"
Mr Weasley called for silence heatedly. "Ssh, all of you! Do you want to upset your mother even more? Yes, Charlie will be all right, but we won't know what happened until he's fit enough to tell us, so I suggest you all keep your questions for a more appropriate time." He glared at the twins, whose belligerent responses were cut short by Ginny's timely intervention.
She slammed the heavy pewter teapot on the table, along with a selection of mugs, frowning at her brothers.
"One cup each," Mr Weasley said, "and then bed for all of you."
Evidently the sense of their father's words had an effect on the twins, and they bit back the objections they so clearly wanted to express.
"We won't sleep, you know," muttered George, sullenly. "Not if there's an army of ruthless killers on the loose."
Mr Weasley did not have the strength to rebuke him, so Ginny obliged with a furious stab of her fingers in George's chest.
"Don't make this worse for him!" she hissed. "Can't you see he's distraught about Charlie?" She thrust a mug of steaming tea into George's hand, and leaned up to kiss his cheek. "Try and get some rest. We'll worry about this in the morning when everybody's calmed down."
George considered skeptically for a while, but eventually he smiled and returned Ginny's kiss.
As the twins shepherded Lee and the girls upstairs, talking earnestly in low voices, Ginny passed a cup to Mr Weasley.
"Thankyou, my dear," he said, with a sigh. He caught her hand and gave it a squeeze. "We'd all fall apart without you, you know."
Privately, Harry thought Ginny deserved a great deal more praise than that for what she had done that evening, but he had neither the energy nor the inclination to voice his opinion. His head was aching, and there were other things on his mind.
"Go to bed, Dad," Ginny was telling Mr Weasley. "Bill and Harry have checked. Everything's OK. They aren't here."
Mr Weasley shook his head. "No, can't go to bed. Must go to the Ministry. Dumbledore will need to be told about this."
"Dad, it's the middle of the night!"
"Morning will be too late, Ginny," he replied, taking a long gulp of tea as he rose to his feet. "The Order needs to know now."
"But we don't even know what happened here, sir!" Harry said, suddenly.
Mr Weasley shrugged. "I think one could make a pretty shrewd guess. Don't worry about it, Harry. I think you'll all be safe here tonight, but I have to make sure that The Order is ready for action just in case they try again."
Harry and Ginny exchanged glances.
"We'll be OK, Dad," Ginny said at last.
"You'll do something about your mother, won't you?"
Ginny nodded. "I'll give her something now."
"Good girl." Mr Weasley leaned down and kissed her forehead tenderly, before catching up his bag and cloak. As Ginny left the room with her mother's tea, Mr Weasley placed a hand on Harry's shoulder.
"Take care, Harry," he said, softly. "I don't think you need to worry, but be on your guard just the same."
"I will, sir."
"Good man." Mr Weasley paused in the doorway, turning to look back. "You'll look after them, won't you?"
Something unspoken but profoundly clear passed between them just then - a telepathic bond of men which they both understood and accepted. Mr Weasley was charging Harry with protecting his family, trusting his skills as an experienced fighter. Harry was accepting the charge with a confidence that belied his inner uncertainty.
He nodded calmly.
Mr Weasley smiled, letting the door click shut behind him. A faint crack from the patio outside told Harry that he had Apparated, leaving the fate of his household in Harry's supposedly capable hands.
He felt a surge of pride to be trusted so implicitly, when his track record of getting himself into extraordinary danger was so firmly against him. A pride which began to rapidly decrease as the usual doubts set in -