Ginny Weasley and the Hidden Gift
Ginny woke up in a flash, her sheets and bed clothes sticky with perspiration. The same dream had plagued her sleeping hours for many weeks, and with it came the feeling of helplessness and the inescapable, rapid emotion of anger. Anger at herself and anger at Dumbledore but most of all she was angry at the one person for who it was forbidden.
She screwed her eyes shut, mentally urging with all her will, for the lingering images to disappear. She didn't want to be reminded of her mother's face, slack and grey with shock and she didn't want to hear the stifled, late night cries of her brothers, who were normally so brave. But most of all she didn't want to feel the heavy weight of guilt that came from her selfish thoughts; the wish that everything would go back to normal, the way it had been before...
She let out a weary yawn and moved robotically towards the mirror. She absently surveyed her reflection, her face was paler than it had been and her eyes were heavy with ugly red blotches underneath; but other than that she looked the same. The same Ginny Weasley who had ran behind the train almost seven years ago, the same Ginny who had sent a valentine card to the famous Harry Potter and the same Ginny who had faced death eaters in the department of mysteries. Am I still her? She wondered to herself Will I ever feel like her again, like myself. Will things ever be ok again?
"Are you all right Gin?" asked a voice quietly. Ginny looked at her brother, without turning around. Side by side their reflections seemed wrong, both too ghostly and blank. She nodded slightly, to which Ron responded with a mirthless smile,
"Sorry, stupid question"
In some ways their father's death had been hardest on Ron and Ginny, the youngest of the Weasley family. They had not known the true nature of Arthur's mission, they had had no time to come to terms with the fact that their father might not return; that their last goodbye would truly be that.
"You should get dressed and come down. Mum's made breakfast..." Ron suggested, looking at his sister in concern.
Ginny staring vacantly in the depths of her own brown eyes, muttered "I'm not hungry"
Her brother, frowning slightly, placed his hand on Ginny's chilled shoulder, "You really should eat something Gin, keep your strength up"
"I'm not hungry" she repeated, annoyed.
"Come on" Ron said with a sigh "You've eaten hardly anything and said even less since...Dad wouldn't have..."
"Dad's dead" Ginny interrupted sharply, turning around to face her older brother. Ron stepped back, as if realizing this for the first time, before saying softly, "I know"
"No! I don't think you do" Ginny spat out angrily "I can tell. Every time the door opens you think it's going to be him. You look up expecting him to walk through the door carrying a stupid bloody muggle gadget and tell you that it was all a hoax! That he was a safe all along and it was all a big misunderstanding!"
Ginny's eyes were blazing and her small hands balled up in tight fists.
"But it won't happen Ron!" she stated fiercely "No matter how much you want it, or how much you cry and wish it to happen, IT WON'T!"
Ron looked injured, like each word was a physical blow, but when he spoke his voice was harsh, "How can you say that! Of course I want him back! Don't you? Don't you care? Don't you care Ginny?"
Ginny made ready to fight back, made ready to scream at the top of her voice, "of course I do!" but something stopped her. Some invisible muzzle blocked the words racing out. Instead a strange voice said bitterly, "He's dead, what does it matter" It was a long time after until she recognized the voice as her own.
Ron stood staring at his little sister in disbelief, wondering where the sweet thing he had once known had disappeared to. But he didn't feel angry at her, if anything the urge to protect her only increased. No, his anger was directed to another place, at another person. He vowed in that very moment that he would take Voldemort life; somehow, even if it killed him, he would find a way to avenge his father's murder and give his family the justice they deserved.
With a quite, loving tone Ron said, "I'll see you downstairs Gin" before leaving the room and his sister alone.
The early morning light began streaming through the small window, bathing her room in a natural, sunny glow. Ginny groaned, pulling the scruffy sheets over her head, creating an artificial night. She felt her lids growing heavy and her body becoming strangely sleepy. Closing her eyes, she vaguely remembered it was morning, but that thought was soon lost as slumber quickly overtook her.
"Gin, can you hear me?"
Ginny looked up; not daring to believe her eyes, she whispered in confusion "Dad?"
Arthur smiled, tears forming in his own blue eyes "Yes Gin, it's me"
Ginny croaked and gazed unbelievingly at her father. He looked the same as ever with his kind smile and diminishing bright hair.
"You're alive" Ginny gasped; hope high in her voice.
Arthur bowed his head and said mournfully "No honey I'm not. But I'm here to warn you..."
His daughter, barely concealing her disappointment, asked "Warn me? What do you mean? And where are you?" she cried "I don't understand"
Arthur moved closer towards his youngest, wishing to comfort her but knowing it was impossible.
"I haven't much time. You have to listen to me, Voldemort will want to find you and use your gift. You must not let him"
"What gift?" Ginny interrupted "What gift?"
Arthur continued hastily, "You must not let him use you Ginny. You need to discover your powers and use them against him .Help Harry and Ron to destroy him. Now I must go..."
"No" Ginny shouted, "NO! Dad don't go. I don't understand. We need you here. I need you"
But Arthur was already fading away into nothing.
"Be strong" he said before leaving without a trace.
If Ginny had awoken minutes later and remembered this dream encounter, then perhaps things would have turned out differently. But if you're at all familiar with life, you'll know that things don't come that easy. Maybe in some alternate reality a different Ginny Weasley awoke that morning with a fresh understanding and purpose. Perhaps she went on to confront her demons and live out the rest of her life happily. But as was said, that was a different girl, in a different place. As for our Ginny, her path was to be quite unlike.
Remember me when I have gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you planned
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late then to counsel or pray
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve;
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than you should remember and be sad