Chapter Eight After the Funeral
After Harry stood and strode down the aisle towards the lake, Ginny sat with her hands clasped together in her lap, frozen in her seat. A few moments later, her attention was drawn to her brother and Hermione as they stood up to follow him. She turned back to the white tomb, silent and alone in her grief until she couldn't look at it for another second. Her eyes flitted everywhere but the tomb, a recent and permanent reminder of Dumbledore's fate.
Above her, white fluffy clouds drifted across the deep blue sky and she involuntarily shivered, even though the day was warm. She pulled her sweater closer across her body. All around her, people were beginning to stand and make their way back to the castle. Ginny turned her head to the lake, wanting to find him, but failing. Never before has he felt so far removed from her and she wasn't sure what he meant by what he said. Did he still want to be with her, but felt her safety was in jeopardy? If Voldemort disappeared tomorrow, would he come back to her?
Fred paused at her row and held out his hand. She looked up him in surprise, and then back down at her hands. With a small, sad smile she slid her hand into his and stood up from the chair. Fred tucked it into the crook of his elbow and placed his other hand over hers momentarily, squeezing gently. She would always remember Fred's kindness to her this day, and the way George came over to her other side, wrapping his arm around her waist. Could it be her older brothers were maturing as their business flourished? They must have realized what it meant to find her sitting alone surrounded by three empty seats. She stared at her feet as they walked across the grounds, the green grass blurring under her shoes.
As they neared the castle doors, Fred paused and said over his shoulder, "Who's that, up there? Standing in front of the windows in the infirmary? Is it a student or a ghost we've never seen before?"
Ginny looked up at thecasement windowsand found Adria was staring out over the grounds. With everything that happened in the last week, Ginny had not had the time or inclination of giving the strange girl above another thought.
"Adria," Bill sighed and her name sounded like a whisper on the wind, Ah-dre-ah. How could just a name spoken out loud speak volumes of pain Bill was feeling? Ginny looked sharply over at him, wincing at the sight of the still fresh marks on his face. "We've forgotten all about her. I've forgotten all about her."
"What this about?" Mr. Weasley said, following his son's gaze up the side of the castle to the windows.
"I've forgotten all about the girl up there. A month or so ago, Dumbledore asked me to help, said she was suffering from a curse, her tongue is gone." Mr. Weasley winced as Fleur tightened her grip on Bill's arm. "I was going to try and break the curse, but with everything that's happened, I've forgotten. I wonder what'll happen to her now."
"Has she been in the Hospital Wing this whole time?" Mr. Weasley asked.
"Well, yes, I guess so," Bill began and Fred dropped her arm from his as he and his twin moved over to their oldest brother and father.
Ginny stopped and stared up at the girl who was gazing out towards the lake. Cocking her head to the side, she turned to follow Adria's line of sight, and wasn't surprised to find her staring at Harry, Hermione and Ron. Ginny looked back up and saw an expression on Adria's face that Ginny could not quite describe. Again, Ginny felt something slither deep in her subconscious and she quickly looked away from the windows. Not here, Ginny frantically thought to herself. She was not going to have another episode here surrounded by her family! She put her hand to her chest and willed her breathing to slow.
Looking up, she caught sight of the three of them walking towards the castle, and Ron was on one side of Hermione, his arm tucked around her waist. Harry was on her other side, smiling sadly at something. Ginny winced as Hermione reached out and took his hand. Sparing one last look to the upper windows, she stiffened to find Adria Thornwood staring down at her. Their eyes met and sourness settled in the pit of Ginny's stomach.
"Are you ready to go, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked, touching Ginny lightly on her upper arm.
Starting out of her reverie, Ginny shook her head, and looked back at the three teenagers heading her way. A few more feet and they would see her standing there. Did she really want to be here when they arrived?
She glanced back up to the windows, and then quickly away, not surprised to find them empty. Did she want to be here as they came upon her, with Harry avoiding her eyes and shifting from foot to foot in awkwardness?
No, she decided firmly, I most definitely do not want to be here to see it. And what if he can meet my eyes after breaking off with me? Because, what if it was just an excuse to do it? She didn't think so, but what did she know? She was not a mind reader, and she had absolutely no idea why Harry made the decisions he did.
Molly Weasley tapped her daughter on her arm. "Well, hurry up back to your dorm and we'll meet you in the Great Hall in half an hour."
Turning with a quickness that startled her mother, Ginny flew up the castle steps and into the cool, dark interior of the school. Stopping once inside, she paused to look over the damage still evident from the attack just a few nights ago. Never before has she felt the emptiness of the entire castle upon her as she did right then. She instinctively knows the school was damaged somehow, and like a living, breathing entity wounded in battle, it now carried scars.
It should have been a dream, a nightmare. There was a Death Eater attack here, at Hogwarts and the headmaster murdered by one of his professors. There was just so many things wrong with the whole scenario! But it was still so terribly hard for her to wrap her mind around her memories of that night because if they weren't safe at Hogwarts then there was nowhere in England for them to safe.
A feeling quite like nostalgia flowed over her as she walked up the marble steps, trailing her hand behind her up the cool to the touch banister. This was never supposed to have happened. She was should have been taking her N.E.W.T.S and spending time with Harry, who was finally after all of these years, her boyfriend. She was supposed to spend her time after term ended writing him long sexy letters while he was at the Dursley's, counting down the days until he would arrive at the Burrow. Her thoughts should have revolved around summer plans, heat and sweat, swimming and sunshine. All she should have been concerned about was lazy days and languid nights laying on a blanket with Harry staring at the stars and doing other things.
No where in her plans should there have been thoughts of horror, fear and war. Death Eaters, Voldemort and Tom Riddle had no place in this world, her world. She was not supposed to be worrying and wondering on how many of her friends were going to die this summer.
She was not supposed to be worrying about Harry and praying he was strong enough to defeat Voldemort.
A lump formed in her throat and Ginny swallowed hard, tasting bitterness. She did not want to cry.
Sunlight streamed through the windows, lighting the dust motes in the air as Ginny walked along the hallways for what she was afraid was the last time. Light and warmth from the sun could not penetrate the chill she felt creeping into her bones. She knew there was a very good chance Hogwarts was not going to open next term and a terrible, overwhelming sadness came over her and tears for the school rolled down her cheeks. The portraits along the walls watched her silently as she passed, every one of them mourning the loss of the school and the Great Albus Dumbledore with her.
The Fat Lady's portrait swung open for her in silence. No passwords were needed today. Once inside, Ginny collapsed in a sitting position on the edge of a couch cushion. Leaning forward, she rested her elbows on her knees and placed her head in her hands. She stared at the floor until her vision blurred and tears dripped down her nose to pool on the carpet.
With all of her strength and courage, she stood from the couch, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands as she turned to look at the circular room she had come to love. Over there was where Harry kissed her for the first time. Right by those shelves by the windows was where she first kissed a very surprised Dean Thomas. There was so much from here she wanted to take with her. She wanted to memorize every single piece of furniture, each piece of Gryffindor paraphernalia scattered about the room.
All four of her dorm mates had left the day before, pulled from the school by their horror-struck parents. How could it be just last week there were girls up here, loudly gossiping and laughing as they threw pillows at one another? This room felt lifeless.
Not wanting to linger any longer then she needed to; Ginny used her wand to summon her trunk up onto the bedspread of her four poster. It sprang open and with a low spoken spell, her clothing flew from the cabinet and into the trunk, neatly folded.
Never was she able to pinpoint exactly when her feelings about her break up with Harry shifted from startled hurt to white-hot anger. Knowing and understanding why Harry felt he needed to break up with her certainly didn't make it hurt any less. Maybe it was the way she remembered Harry getting up and walking away from her, so noble and strong.
More then likely it was the smile she caught sight of when he was unawares which lit the fuse.
Was it her sudden silent knowledge he was allowing Ron and Hermione to join him on his quest to defeat Voldemort? How he was once again overlooking how she held her own fighting the Death Eaters the other night? Or was it more childish, this anger? Did it stem from the fact he was allowing them to comfort him and not her? A flush of embarrassment spread down her body as she remembered what she said about never giving up on him.
Without thinking, she laid her wand down on her bedside cabinet and picked up her History of Magic book from the shelf below the drawer. She tested the weight of it in her hand for a minute, before sending the book flying into the stone wall behind her. A feeling of satisfaction soared through her at the deep thud the book made as it connected with the wall. Grabbing the other books, she fired them off at the wall in quick succession, each whomp the books made reverberating throughout her body.
Once the books were gone, she looked frantically in hiding places around the room, searching for more projectiles to hurl. She wanted more things to throw, more things to break against the wall, and she wanted those somethings to shatter.
It only took a quick beat for the remaining bottle of butterbeer pulled from its hiding place under Abigail's bed to be smashed and foaming against the wall. Gone in a flash were her bottles of perfume. Lying in a heap on the floor under the wall was a puddle of butter beer, the smelly remainders of her potion bottles, along with some glass knick knacks her dorm-mates had carelessly left behind in their haste to leave yesterday. A soft knock came at the door and without thinking, Ginny spun, pulled back her arm and let fly aglass bottlethat exploded against the door.
The knock did not come again.
Breathing heavy, she brought her hands up to her face and pushed the heels of her palms hard into her eyes. Her temper and body exhausted, she looked around the wreckage of the room in silent wonder. There was a sickening sweet combined smell of perfume, butterbeer and potion experiments lingering in the air. Something was trickling down her left temple and she reached up thinking it was sweat and wiped it away, surprised to find her fingers covered with hot, sticky blood. Without thinking, she stuffed her bloody fingers into her mouth and moved to grab her wand. She needed to clean this mess up before leaving because it wouldn't be fair or proper to leave her mess behind for the House elves to clean.
Skirting around the broken glass, Ginny reached for her wand, her fingers brushing the tip and knocking it onto the floor. "Not again!" she said and then cursed loudly as it clattered to the floor and rolled under the bed. Dropping to her knees, she let out a sharp cry of pain and twisted into a sitting position to inspect her knee, where a very large piece of glass protruded from it.
This is my punishment, she thought with a wince she pulled out the glass. This is my punishment for having a temper tantrum like a child. She put her hand over her knee, and pressed down hard on the wound. Sharp pain shoots up her leg and tears of a different kind prickle behind her eyes. Leaning back against the bed, she breathed deeply for a moment before grabbing the pillow behind her and pulling off the pillowcase.
Once the area in front of the bed is covered, Ginny kneels down again, favoring her injured knee. She peers under the bed, swearing heavily under her breath. Her wand is too far for her to reach without lying down and scooting her body under the bed. Breath rushes out of her in a rush as she lies on her stomach, arm outstretched towards her wand.
A rush of dark red flies across her imagination, like a half-formed memory. It made her stop fumbling and pull her arm back protectively to her side. Strange and disquieting thoughts of something not fully realized something scary, something… (Chasing?) her began to race through her mind. Closing her eyes, she mentally cleared her thoughts as she exhaled a deep breath. She pushed herself further under the bed and resisted the urge to sigh in relief as her hand closed around the hilt of her wand.
Behind her there was another sharp knock and the dorm room door opened. Ginny's already on edge nerves gave a heave and her body jerked of its own accord, slamming the back of her head into the wooden boards holding up the mattress. A leather bound book falls from the box springstwo inches from her face as her handwent to the newly formed knot on the top of her head.
Footsteps quickly approach her bed. "What happened in here? Ginny? Ginny, where are you? Are you okay?"
Hermione.
Ginny sneezed from the dust bunnies and wiped her nose absently. "I'm under the bed, Hermione. I'm okay. I'm a little beat up," she said under her breath, "I dropped my wand." She scooted back into the light.
The way she must have looked showed plainly on Hermione's face. "Um. Your mother asked me to come up and let you know we'll be leaving shortly. Are you going to need any help with…with this?" Hermione asked as she looked around the wreckage of the room. "Whatever happened here?" She turned back to Ginny.
Ginny bit her bottom lip until she could feel her pulse beat between her teeth. She was not going to cry. I am not going to cry. She was a Weasley and even though she didn't have much, she did have her pride. "Harry broke up with me."
Hermione's mouth dropped open as her eyes flew up to meet Ginny's. She didn't know. Harry didn't tell her. Ginny tried very hard to smile at her, but quickly turned away to flick her wand and whisper the spell to vanish all the broken glass. With another flick and spell her school books zoomed into her trunk neatly stacked. It only took a moment or two of activity before the room was clean, and her trunk closed and locked. "There isn't anything I can do about the smell, unfortunately, so I guess the house elves will just have to open the windows and allow it to air out…"
Ginny was fully aware she is babbling, but she knows if she doesn't babble she may start to cry and that was Just Not To Be Done in front Harry's best friend. He can never know how much this hurts me, Ginny thinks to herself. He can never know how much he has broken my heart.
"Ginny, I…"
Ginny sat on the edge of her bed and pulled her knee to her chest to examine her wound. It was still bleeding freely and she cursed softly under breath. "Don't Hermione, please," surprising herself at how strong her voice sounded. She summoned a couple of tissues into her hand from the bedside cabinet and held them against her knee, blotting up the blood. "I'll be okay."
"Is there anything I can do? Do you need anything?" Hermione asked helplessly.
"I think I'd like to be alone," Ginny said, not looking up. She threw the used tissue into thetrash binand picked up another, licking it with her tongue before scrubbing it against her temple. "If you wouldn't mind."
"Okay. But if you need anything, Gin, please don't hesitate to ask. If you need to talk, you know I'd never, you know I'd never say anything to Harry, I mean."
Why did what Hermione said sound so final? Ah, because she chose him, Ginny thought to herself. She chose to put herself in the face of unspeakable danger with Harry. How lucky she was to have that choice, my choice was made for me with no thought to how I felt about it.
Ginny looked up at Hermione and smiled tightly, nodding her head. How unfair was it she still wished it was Harry who had come through the door instead of Hermione. She knew the logistics were impossible, remembering the time Ron tried to come up the girl's staircase, but she still felt disappointment at his absence. She wanted to be able to make her own decisions where her life was concerned. It certainly didn't matter to her if Voldemort tried to target her in order to get to Harry. She knew she would've decided to stand beside him no matter what was done or said to her.
Because she was Harry Potter's girl through and through.
But he would never allow her to make that decision, preferring to make it himself. But right now, she had another decision to make and if possible, this one was just as frightening as the other.
Waiting until the door clicked behind Hermione, Ginny stood from the bed and stared at the space in shadow under it. So. There was a book of unknown origin under her bed. How did it get there? Whose was it? Oh Merlin, she thought with a shudder. Please let it just be a book. Please don't let it have its own consciousness. Please don't let it try and kill me. It was under my bed! I've been sleeping on it for years! She pursed her lips from one side to the other and brought her restless hands up to her hair, pushing it from her face.
Tapping her foot as she thought hard, she worried her thumb nail and contemplated the ramifications of just leaving it right where it was. After all, old, musty, unattended books historically did not bode well for her health. Still burning years later from Tom Riddle's deception and betrayal her breath hitched in her throat for a moment as she turned to look at the blue sky through the window.
She may be emotional, she may have the temper of an Irish Hellhound and she certainly may enjoy breaking things when she was angry, but the one thing Ginny Weasley was not, she will admit to herself, is a coward.
"Accio book," she says, and the heavy, leather bound book flies up from under the bed and into her waiting hand. It looked innocent enough, although the leather was stained and cracked in places. She ran a finger down the spine, and flipped the front cover open, noting with a clinical eye it had been hand bound. Expensive book. The pages are yellow with age and feel brittle under the pads of her fingers. Moving to flip through the pages, she looks up suddenly as the dorm room door opens once more.
Hermione poked her head in and gave Ginny a sympathetic smile. "Your parents would like you to meet them in the Hall. They're just about ready to leave."
Ginny nodded her head and stood. Decision made, she waved her wand over the trunk so it sprung open, and dropped the book inside. The lid shut with a solid thunking noise and locked all by itself. Later, when she was feeling stronger she'd tackle the book.
"Okay, I'm ready now."