As Befits a Gryffindor
Disclaimer: All people and places are the creation and property of JK Rowling. Nearly all of the dialogue is lifted verbatim from "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix" by the same. The title of this chapter is taken from "The Raven" by Edgar Allan Poe.
Once Upon a Midnight DrearyShe was flying. Even though she'd been doing it since she was six, flying was always seemed like a new and exciting adventure for Ginny Weasley. Whenever she climbed onto a broomstick, it was a new adventure, a new chance to taste the winds. It was that way now, and it had been that way a few hours before when she had tried out for the position of Seeker on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. That had probably been the worst time she'd ever had flying. For one thing, it was in the middle of December, and it was freezing cold. For another, she had never flown with anyone watching before, much less in front of the appraising eyes of Angelina Johnson, the half neurotic Gryffindor Chaser and Quidditch captain, to say nothing of the rest of the team (or what remained of it) and everyone else who had come out to try out. For all the audience she did have, though, the ones she had most wanted to be there were nowhere to be found. But then, Harry and her brothers were smarter than to give that foul hag Umbridge any grounds for accusing them of defying their Quidditch ban. All in all, it made for a very stressful environment to fly in.
This, on the other hand, was absolutely perfect. The air was warm and the sun was shining. The entire Slytherin Quidditch team flying around her and shouting "Impedimenta!" as they tried to curse her off her broom was a bit distracting, but she dodged them with ease. All of Gryffindor house stood in the stands, cheering her on, while a crowd of Slytherins tried to sing that foul song, but only ended up croaking like toads. And her Mum was there, and her Dad, and Bill and Charlie, all of them so proud of her, cheering her on. And she was happy, happy to be flying, and even happier to be a credit to her House and to her family.
But then, as if to end a too perfect day, Percy flew forward and cut her off. Filled with anger at the sight of her (in her mind) disgraced older brother, she considered ramming him. Suddenly, he said, "Ginny Weasley, wake up this instant!"
Needless to say, this did nothing to lessen her anger. "Can't you see I'm already awake, you stupid prat?"
He spoke again, but this time with Professor McGonagall's voice. "You'd better not be, Miss Weasley, or it'll be ten points from Gryffindor."
Her eyes flicked open. She was in her room in Gryffindor Tower, and Professor McGonagall was standing over her, looking even sterner than usual. "Under the circumstances, you get off with a warning," she said, "Now hurry up and get dressed while I wake up your brothers, and be down in the Common Room in not less than three minutes."
"Why? What's going on?" Ginny asked, now fully awake, but Professor McGonagall was gone. With no other explanations forthcoming, she simply did as she was told. She made it downstairs with a minute to spare, but it took half that for her head of house to emerge from the boys' dormitory, pushing the bleary-eyed twins forward with great urgency. "We're going to the Headmaster's office," she said, shepherding the three of them briskly to the portrait hole. "Mr. Potter had a vision of some sort. He says he saw your father being attacked, and he may be seriously injured."
Perhaps it was the shock, or just their sleep deprived state, but neither Ginny nor the twins could think of anything else to say as they hurried through the empty halls of the school. By the time they had reached Dumbledore's office guardian and McGonagall said the password ("Fizzing Whizbee") and they started up to the office proper, Ginny had recovered enough to be both confused and afraid. When they entered the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore himself had his back to them. Both Harry and her brother Ron, however, turned as they entered. Both looked fully awake, but pale and weak from shock. This only deepened her feeling of terror and her desperate need to know what was going on. "Harry, what's going on? Professor McGonagall says you saw Dad hurt—"
"Your father has been injured in the course of his work for the Order of the Phoenix," Professor Dumbledore interrupted. "He has been taken to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. I am sending you back to Sirius's house, which is much more convenient for the hospital than the burrow. You will meet your mother there."
This did very little to reassure her, but before she could demand a better explanation, one of the twins asked, "How're we going? Floo powder?"
"No," Dumbledore answered. "Floo powder is not safe at the moment, as the Network is being watched. You will be using a Portkey. We are just waiting for Phineas Nigellus to report back…I wish to be sure that the coast is clear before sending you."
She had opened her mouth to ask who Phineas Nigellus was when a burst of flame distracted her. When she looked up to see, however, all there was was a golden feather. She recognized this immediately as a phoenix feather, probably belonging to the same bird that had borne Ron, Harry, then-Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, and herself out of the nightmarish Chamber of Secrets two years ago. Somehow, the sight reassured her, and calmed her nerves. Though she was still very frightened, and desperate to know what was going on, she was now more able to think clearly.
Dumbledore caught the feather easily. "It is Fawkes's warning," he said, "She must know you are out of your beds…Minerva, go and head her off—tell her any sotry—"
She was distracted again by a movement in the corner of her eye. A wizard with a forked beard and dressed in silver and green had just walked into one of the portraits (presumably his own, given the large Slytherin banner in the background.) "He says he'll be delighted," the wizard said, obviously not much interested in what was going on. So this must be Phineas Nigellus, she thought, trying to suppress her anger at the long dead headmaster's lack of concern for her father's well being. "My great-great-grandson has always had odd taste in houseguests…"
"Come here, then," Dumbledore ordered. "And quickly before anyone else joins us. You have all used a Portkey before?" They nodded, and grabbed hold of the kettle sitting on his desk. "Good. On the count of three then. One…Two…Three—"
She felt the familiar jerk as the Portkey pulled them all forward like fish on a line. Now this was a kind of flying that she never enjoyed. Luckily for her, it was over in moments, and they touched down in the basement of the Black house. Sirius himself hurried forward, looking even more disheveled than they did. He offered her help getting up in the form of a hand. "What's going on?" he asked. Ginny wrinkled her nose. He'd been into the fire whiskey again, she thought. "Phineas Nigellus says Arthur's been badly injured—"
The mention of her father's name and condition brought Ginny's mind abruptly into focus. "Ask Harry," said Fred.
"Yes, I want to hear this for myself," said George. Agreeing whole-heartedly, turned to look at Harry. He was biting his lip, as if giving very careful thought to his words.
"It was— I had– a kind of— vision…" he began. He then launched into the story of his dream, or vision, in which he had seen a huge snake attack her father, and how he had seemed to be so badly injured. She noticed that Harry never met her gaze or that of the twins in the course of his whole story. He was keeping something back. She stared at him for a while, trying to figure out what it might be, when Fred broke the silence.
"Is Mum here?" he asked Sirius.
"She probably doesn't even know what's happened yet," he replied. "The important thing was to get you away before Umbridge could interfere. I expect Dumbledore's letting Molly know now."
Her panic returned abruptly. "We've got to get to St. Mungo's," she said, spitting out the first idea that came into her head. She looked around, thinking fast. "Sirius, can you lend us cloaks or anything-- ?"
"Hang on!" he interrupted. "You can't go tearing off to St. Mungo's!"
"Course we can," Fred retorted, "He's our dad!"
"And how are you going to explain how you knew Arthur was attacked before the hospital even let his wife know?" Sirius demanded right back.
George backed his twin. "What does that matter?" he said, but Ginny knew it was a good point. She thought fast.
"Somebody else could have told us," she offered. "We could have heard it somewhere other than Harry…"
"Like who?" Sirius interrupted again. She tried to come up with a good answer, but he plowed on. "Listen, your dad's been hurt while on duty for the Order and the circumstances are fishy enough without his children knowing about it seconds after it happened, you could seriously damage the Order's…"
But the twins were hearing none of it. "We don't care about the dumb ordered!" declared one. "It's our dad dying we're talking about!" said the other.
"Your father knew what he was getting into," Sirius argued back, "and he won't thank you for messing things up for the order. This is how it is—this is why you're not in the Order—you don't understand—there are things worth dying for!"
Surprisingly, this helped to steady Ginny once again. Yes, there are things worth dying for, she thought. Dad's hurt, and badly, but only because he was doing his duty as a member of the Order. And as a Gryffindor. And as a Weasley…
The twins and Sirius argued for a bit longer, but Ginny was calm. When Sirius suggested they should stay put until they heard from Mum, she recognized immediately recognized the wisdom in it and sat down. The others, slowly, followed her lead, steeling themselves for a long night of waiting. Sirius got them all drinks, and Ginny sucked at hers quietly, putting her thoughts in order.
She had no idea how long they had been sitting there before Fawkes the phoenix appeared again in a burst of flame, only to disappear a moment later, leaving behind a rolled piece of parchment and another shimmering feather. Ginny continued to stare at it as George read the letter aloud. "Dad is still alive. I am setting out for St. Mungo's now. Stay where you are. I will send news as soon as I can. Mum." Silence. "Still alive…" he said. "But that makes it sound…"
He didn't finish his sentence. He didn't have to. Ginny looked around at her siblings. Ron was still in shock. Fred was reading the letter, having snatched it from George's hands. George himself just stood there, still as a statue. Harry, meanwhile, looked strangely detached, lost in his own thoughts, but his hand was shaking badly. Sirius just stood back, giving everyone in turn the same concerned look.
There was nothing to do now but wait. Ginny knew that she would get no sleep that night. When Sirius suggested they go to bed and wait for news in the morning, she didn't even dignify the statement with a response. Instead she curled up and prepared herself for the long night.
She stared into the fire, and tried not to think. She tried not to let the red of the flames remind her of her father's hair, which he had passed on to her and all of her siblings. She tried not to remember him smiling when he taught her to fly, or laughing as she got back at the twins with a particularly nefarious prank, or holding her close when she was sad. Like he had when she was just a little girl with a scraped knee. Like he had when Ron had gone to Hogwarts and left her alone in the house. Like he had that night in the Hospital Wing, after Harry had rescued her from Tom Riddle, and the terrible nightmare that was the Chamber of Secrets.
The Chamber. At this thought, her eyes returned to the golden feather Fawkes had left with the letter. It reminded her of the haunting song she had heard, which had given her hope even while she was in Riddle's dark clutches. It reminded her of the sight of Harry when she had awoken, exhausted, injured and covered in blood and slime, but still oddly reassuring. And holding that wonderful sword. Gryffindor's sword.
Gryffindor. The golden feather flashing in the fire's crimson light made her think about her House. Gryffindor. The Lion's House. Gryffindor. The House where only the truly noble and brave were allowed. Gryffindor. The House which had held every member of her family for the last three generations. Her House. Her brother's House. Her mother's House. Her father's house. And never was there a Gryffindor braver of nobler than my Dad, she thought. And even if we lose him, even if the next time we see him is in a coffin draped in crimson, we'll know he lived a most noble life, full of the greatest of deeds, and that he died doing the same.
The thought brought tears to her eyes, but she found great courage in it. I pray you'll come back to us, Dad, she thought. And I pray that someday, somehow, I'll be able to make you proud. To be brave and noble, like a true Gryffindor. Like a true Weasley.
Time seemed to stand still. The tears that had gathered in her eyes fell down her face, one by one, but they only ran like rain across a rock face, and her eyes were dry when she turned to see her mother walk in the door at ten past five. Fred, Ron, and Harry stood as she walked in, but Ginny remained in her seat, full of courage, ready to hear the worst. But her mother smiled gently. "He's going to be alright," she said quietly, clearly ready to collapse from exhaustion. "He's sleeping. We can all go and see him later. Bill's sitting with him now, he's going to take the morning off work."
Harry just stood, still lost in a reverie, but clearly relieved. Ron laughed, the only way he could think of to relieve the terrible emotional pressure. Fred collapsed into his chair and quietly cried, all the anger, fatigue, worry, and relief finally melting through his stony defenses. George stood for the first time in hours and hugged his mother, seeking his own relief in the comfort of her arms.
Ginny followed him. Only a few hours before, she would have come for the same reason, as a child, needing her mother's reassurance. But the night's vigil had changed her, imperceptibly. She did not go to take comfort. She went to offer it. She felt her mother's arms shaking slightly as they encircled her, weak from the sleepless hours of fear and worry. She stood firm, a pillar of strength, well beyond tears and worry now. All that remained were relief, and the courage that had sustained her long enough to get it. And as she felt her mother's tears splash onto the top of her head, she only squeezed tighter, trying somehow to transmit a little of her extra courage to her. Such is my duty, she thought, as a daughter. And as a Weasley. And as a Gryffindor.
A/N: just a bit of an inspiration I got while rereading that section of OotP. I've set it up as a one shot fic, but am tempted to expand it a bit to include the rest of Christmas, or maybe even the whole year. Read and review and give me more opinions. Look for replies to your reviews over at my other story (Birth of a Monster: Diary of TM Riddle.) And while you're over there, you might as well read that one too shameless plug Hope you enjoyed it!