I Wished For You Once
Chapter Seven
Ginny barely noticed that winter had arrived until a fortnight later, for on top of the schoolwork that she had amassed over the last three months—professors were intent on keeping the fifth-years busy for their O.W.L.s—Katie Bell had scheduled Quidditch practices the week before the Christmas vacation. Ginny thus made up her mind to prove to her teammates that she was still worthy of her position in their team. She trained harder, spending hour after hour in the Quidditch pitch four times a week during the fortnight that preceded the vacation.
Despite all these, what preoccupied Ginny the most was the letter she had been expecting from her mother. Mrs. Weasley didn't reply to hers in those two weeks. The first thought that always came to Ginny's distracted mind was that her parents were in trouble—but logic stated that they couldn't be, or else Dumbledore would have called her and Ron's attention. Perhaps it just wasn't safe to send letters yet. That was what her mum had told her and Ron before they went to Hogwarts last September: when there were no letters, it just wasn't safe yet.
Why, though? What are they up to now? Ginny asked herself, as she had countless times since she learned that the Order of the Phoenix was recalled more than a year ago. Never had she found out the answer. All she knew was that they were fighting You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters.
Ginny looked up at the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall on the Saturday morning when the Gryffindor team would start Quidditch practice again. Owls were beginning to swoop down to those whom they were delivering letters and packages. Indifferently, she saw a barn owl fly towards Hermione, a copy of the Daily Prophet tied on its leg; Hermione untied it and gave it a Knut.
Hermione let out a gasp. "Oh my—Harry, look at this!"
Harry looked up from his breakfast and squinted at the news. He suddenly stood up and leaned closer. Ron did the same.
Ginny stood up and joined them. She took one look at the headline and the picture beneath it, and exclaimed, "They are?"
"What is it?" Neville asked.
"'Three Death Eaters sent back to Azkaban'," Ginny read aloud, hearing her heart beat a little faster. "'Algernon Rookwood, Walden Macnair and Frederick Jugson, Death Eaters who participated in the mass Death Eater breakout last August, were apprehended early today by Ministry Aurors.'"
The other students started receiving their own copies of the Prophet and were chattering excitedly about this new development. Ginny went on reading Hermione's copy silently, pausing every now and then on statements that jumped out to her.
The three were caught during a raid of an Unplottable area camouflaged as an abandoned Muggle wear-house in Wales...
Rookwood, Macnair and Jugson are sentenced to life imprisonment in the maximum security prison within Azkaban...
Without the Dementors guarding the fortress, escape seems more likely...
The Ministry is still on the lookout for the other Death Eaters who had escaped Azkaban...
The Ministry, Ginny repeated herself. She would bet a thousand Galleons that the Order had helped the Ministry in the capture, if not doing it themselves.
Ginny stared at the picture of the three Death Eaters being led, not too easily, out of something that looked like a dark courtroom. With a shudder, she realized that she had seen those faces before in person. These Death Eaters had been there with the six of them, chasing after them...shooting curses at them while she and the rest ran. Then she broke an ankle…it had been there in the Department of Mysteries not too long ago. It had been just last June....
"Well, this is good news, isn't it?" Neville finally said quietly, propping his Prophet on his goblet.
"Strange, though," Hermione said, looking a bit stunned. "I didn't think Fudge was serious when he said that they had an idea about what the Death Eaters were up to."
"You mean you have no idea who really was behind the arrest?" Ginny asked Hermione.
Hermione looked at Ginny and nodded in comprehension. "Now that you mention it..."
"What's a wear-house?" asked Ron.
"A big building where Muggles store stuff," Harry muttered, sounding oddly detached.
Ginny looked at him out of the corner of her eye and wondered how Harry would take it. It was good news, yes; but what if he remembered what it had been like being down there, as she just had? How would it affect him?
Harry was still staring at the Prophet in a frown when an owl dropped a letter on Ginny's plate. Ginny's stomach did a cartwheel. It was from her mum.
She tore the envelope open and read.
Ginny,
Everything's ready for Christmas. Harry's coming with you, isn't he? Ask Hermione if she also wants to stay here a few days before she goes on vacation with her family. Give my love to Ron. I miss you both.
Mum
Simple as that, as if nothing had happened. Ginny knew otherwise, of course. She received a letter because everything was safe again.
Well, at least she sounds fine, Ginny thought. But before she could feel liberated from worry, Katie Bell stood up.
"Quidditch practice," Katie announced at the Gryffindor table. Andrew Kirke and Jack Sloper stood up, both cramming a piece of toast into their mouths. Natalie McDonald followed them out of the Great Hall.
"Well, come on," said Ron.
Ginny's stomach redoubled its efforts in churning its contents. She suddenly forgot about the letter and the news. Jane's reassuring pat on the back didn't help at all.
I can't mess up today, Ginny thought. I can almost be as good as I'd been before Malfoy hexed that Bludger at me.
Ginny, Ron and Harry made their way to Gryffindor Tower to get their gear, and then headed to the Quidditch pitch. Despite the snow brought in by the blizzard the week before, the day was sunny, and Ginny had to squint against the sunlight.
"You all right, Gin?" Ron asked.
"Yeah," Ginny said immediately.
Harry gave her a pat on the arm with the end of his Firebolt. "I think you'll do fine."
Ginny tried to smile, but found that she couldn't even pretend to. "I have this strange feeling that something horribly wrong will happen today."
It later turned out that Ginny had the right to feel uneasy. As they neared the Quidditch pitch, they heard voices raised in anger. Ginny, Harry and Ron looked at each other, then ambled briskly towards the pitch.
Ginny instantly saw that something was wrong. Katie was there on one end of the pitch, talking to Natalie, who sounded angry. Jack and Andrew stood behind Natalie, and beside them, looking warily out of place, was someone Ginny never saw in the Quidditch pitch, except during the first Quidditch tryouts last September.
Charles Weston.
Ginny's heart sank.
"Hey!" Ron yelled, running towards the small group. Ginny ran beside him. "What's going on?"
Katie wheeled around. Upon seeing Ginny, her expression changed.
Ginny looked at her, then at Charles Weston, who suddenly looked down on his feet. She hardly dared believe it. Katie couldn't do that. She just couldn't.
"Ginny," Katie said, looking genuinely apologetic. "Look...I'm sorry I had to do this, but this is for your own good."
Something painful blocked Ginny's throat. "No," she croaked. "Katie—you can't do this—why didn't you even warn me?"
"I made the decision last night," Katie told her. "Madam Pomfrey told me it would take you a few more weeks to recover, and the match against Ravenclaw will be on early February—"
"And I'll be perfectly fine by then!" Ginny couldn't help herself this time. "Katie, you can't take me out of the team!"
"You're what?" hollered Ron, dropping his broomstick.
"You're what?" gasped Harry at the same time, putting himself beside Ginny and right in front of Katie. "You're not letting her play anymore?"
Katie took a deep breath while keeping an authoritative eye on Harry. "Yes, I am."
The ache in Ginny's throat became a stinging in her eyes.
I'm out of the team. I'm out of the team, a voice in her head repeated over and over again. I'm not playing Quidditch anymore. Something told her that she should assert herself, as she always had, but her voice failed her at that very moment.
"What is this?" Harry demanded. "You're changing players and you didn't even tell us beforehand?"
Katie held up her hands. "Now, Harry—"
"Isn't this a team or not?" Harry retorted, taking a step closer at his captain.
"This is a team!" Katie shot back angrily. "And as your captain, I'm the one responsible if any of you get hurt. I had to do this for the good of this team!"
Harry's voice rose with every exclamation. "She's been improving! She's been practicing hard all these weeks just to stay on the team and help us win!"
Despite herself, Ginny found herself grabbing Harry's arm. "Harry—"
Harry faced her. Ginny involuntarily took a step back as, even for a second, she forgot about her own misery. Harry's eyebrows were drawn, and his mouth was curled into the worst grimace that she had seen on him in a while.
The tears were dangerously close now. She felt torn—she couldn't stand being thrown out of the team, but she couldn't let Harry make the team suffer for it.
"Harry, it's okay," she managed to choke out. "Don't do this—it's just about me—"
"Just about you?" Harry yelled furiously. "Everything you love is being taken away from you! And that's fine with you?"
And with that, a tear slipped onto her cheeks. She pressed a hand on it and forced herself to calm down, at least until she was alone.
"It's not everything, Harry," she whispered painfully.
Harry stared at her, and as he did, she almost saw the anger dissipate from his face. Ginny felt her heart ache as she noticed the change, and suddenly realized something. Of course. Harry understood all about getting kicked out of the team. He understood all about having everything he loved being taken away from him....
Harry took a few deep breaths, his anger seemingly subsiding, and turned back to the rest of the team.
"How about a vote?" he asked them. "Those who are in favor of Ginny staying, raise your hand."
Harry raised his. So did Ron, whose face was set.
Harry stared at Jack and Andrew. The two Beaters looked at each other—but did nothing.
Harry stared at Natalie. If she had sounded angry when they arrived, she looked defeated now.
"I—I'm sorry...but maybe Katie's right," she said quietly, glancing at Ginny with an extremely unhappy expression on her face. "She's just worried about you."
Harry lowered his hand and slumped his shoulders in defeat.
Ginny looked at Harry, and another tear escaped from her eyes. She wasn't even crying because of Quidditch now. How could anyone be affected because of her, the way Harry was right now? How could Harry even care so much, and in many ways?
After a long, excruciatingly quiet moment, Harry raised both palms up. "Fine," he said to the team, beaten. "You win."
With that—without even looking at Ginny—he picked his Firebolt off the ground and walked towards the changing rooms.
Everyone's eyes followed him. Ginny thought of walking away unnoticed—but Ron was too quick for her. Standing beside her, he hesitantly put a hand on her shoulder.
"Ginny, don't cry," he said quietly, awkwardly.
Ginny shook her head and bit her lip hard. Don't cry, she heard Ron's words repeated in her head. It wouldn't do to cry again. Not without Harry anyway. She almost laughed at the irony of it, of all that had happened since that Quidditch practice last November. Back then, Harry, in all his sulkiness, reproached her for being late for practice. Now she wanted him back. She wanted to cry on him….
Ginny heaved a sigh. "Okay," she said in a shaky whisper. "I'll go. I...I'm sorry I can't do what you all expected of me."
"Ginny—" Ron started, tightening his grip on her shoulder.
"I really tried, though," Ginny interrupted him.
The tears were coming again, and before she could let them overpower her, she gently nudged Ron's hand away, grabbed her Cleansweep, and half-ran back to the castle.
Ginny found Harry that midnight sitting alone on an armchair in the Gryffindor common room. Or rather, she saw the top of his head behind the back of the armchair. His back was on her; he was facing the dying embers in the fireplace.
But it's him all right, Ginny thought. No one could mistake the black hair.
There on the bottom of the stairs, having come from her dormitory, Ginny heaved a huge sigh. How could she let Harry know how much she appreciated him right then? How could she tell him that whatever his reasons were for being so caring towards her, she was already grateful just for having him?
She started thinking about going back to her room, but remembered that she couldn't sleep. She had been thinking about Quidditch. She had been reliving the feeling of playing Quidditch in her head, knowing that she wouldn't be playing it again for a long time. She had come down because...she needed someone to talk to.
She wanted to find Harry.
And he was there.
Ginny took a deep breath. "Harry?"
Ginny saw Harry's head jerk. She waited.
Harry didn't turn around.
Ginny wrung her hands in front of her. She hesitated, then, "Harry—about Quidditch."
Ginny waited again. Harry still didn't act like he was going to face her.
All the better, though, Ginny thought. She didn't think she'd be able to say what she wanted to if she had been facing him.
"Harry—I just...wanted to...thank you for all your help. We—we know I steadily improved and I can fly in a straight line from one end of the pitch to another again—"
Ginny suddenly stopped. She had started to ramble—why couldn't she get rid of that habit?
But still, Harry didn't seem to move.
Ginny took another deep breath. "I—I'm sorry that helping me wasn't any help to the team...but I just wanted you know that I'm really grateful for it...even if it's just for me alone. Don't...think that all your efforts in helping me went to waste... 'cause they didn't. If it isn't important to the team, it is to me."
Ginny thought Harry had lowered his head.
Then she said the words that she really longed to say as early as that morning in the Quidditch pitch.
"I couldn't have done it alone, Harry. 't have done it without you."
Harry didn't move. Ginny bit her lip, clutching the handrail so hard that her knuckles went pale. She only told him the truth. Would that push him away?
But before she could utter another word, another voice—a deep, resounding, familiar voice—spoke.
"I see. His heroics work, after all…don't they, Ginevra?"
Ginny's eyebrows snapped together as her eyes widened.
"Couldn't have done it without Harry Potter, Ginevra? I think so, too. But you're on your own now, and he can't help you…"
No. No way. Not again! Not tonight—!
The person on the armchair stood up, and Ginny saw that the one whom she had thought was Harry was actually taller than him. This person was more broad-shouldered and had wavy hair. He would have looked handsome…but Ginny knew…
He faced her.
"DAMMIT, JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!" Ginny cried as Tom Riddle advanced towards her. "LEAVE ME ALONE! LEAVE ME ALONE, TOM!"
"I won't, my dear," Tom Riddle said in a mocking undertone that sent a harsh shudder through Ginny. "You had given yourself to me…remember?"
"NOOOOO!" Ginny screamed, trying to step back—but instead of the stair step upwards, her foot hit open air.
NO! NOT AGAIN!
All the air went out of Ginny's lungs in a whoosh as she fell. Down, down, she fell, blackness shrouding her…
…In another place and time, from a strangely separate part of her, she felt a sharp stinging on her face. She groped about as she fell, knowing that wherever that place was, even if it hurt, it had to be better than this.
And when she reached it, she elicited a loud gasp from deep in her chest and sat up on her bed, her nightclothes drenched in sweat.