Chapter Eight: TimePasses and Nothing Big Happens. Yet.
Ginny's return Tuesday morning was punctuated by whispers in the hallways, curious looks, and flurries of gossip as she and Harry took seats as far as possible from each other at the breakfast table.
When she'd returned to the Common Room the night before, Harry was nowhere to be found. Fred and George, blessed brothers, managed to engage her in a game of their newest joke: Exploding Snape. The cards didn't just blow up in front of you, they left a thin film of oil in your hair and shouted, "FIVE POINTS FROM GRYFFINDOR," as they singed your eyebrows. She felt quite steadied by the time she had to go to bed.
Classes were another thing. Everyone wanted her to tell them what happened--since Harry was obviously awake and back in classes, too, she'd been successful. For a while she just said, "I don't want to talk about it now," and pointed out that she needed to get to class, or that it was the middle of a lecture, so she could get away with that. But even her professors were treating her with curiosity. Dumbledore must have managed to tell them some version of events that made both Flitwick and Bernie Rudolph, the old Muggle Studies professor, ask her gently after class if there was anything she needed. Their niceness was even more wearing than the ugly looks she was getting from a few other students.
The Slytherins in particular seemed annoyed. Draco Malfoy tripped her on her way to lunch. "Sorry, Weasley, didn't see you--must have been dreaming!" Ursula Gantry, her own year, "accidentally" spilled her ink bottle all over Ginny's Muggle Studies homework--fortunately, the Rudolph told her that she could redo the essay whenever she was ready. But it had been a four foot essay explaining her theory of why cars were the preferred transportation mode for so many Muggles, and she wasn't sure if she even remembered her thesis statement.
And Cho simply pretended she didn't exist.
She was cornered after lunch by a group of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, mostly third and second years:
"Come on, Ginny, what happened?"
"Dumbledore's not telling us anything--just that you got him out..."
"He looks so tired--"
"C'mon, Gin, tell!"
"All right!" she sighed. "I went down into the Pensieve--he was dreaming, but I can't really remember details, just images, like things from school--and we talked. He didn't believe that I was real, but I convinced him to come back with me. That's it, really," she shrugged. "It wasn't a big deal, honestly."
The group looked disappointed at the serious lack of wizard duelling, and straggled off to class.
"Highly edited, that was," said a soft voice in her ear. It was Harry.
"I--I didn't want them to know all the details..." she stammered.
"'The devil is in the details'," he said. "It's a muggle saying."
He turned to go. "Wait!" she cried out. He stopped, but didn't turn.
"I don't want to talk about it, Ginny," he said quietly, and left.
Harry became more and more distant over the next month. Ron and Hermione, who had reached some sort of mutual understanding that they were in love but still found the other annoying, tried to bring him out of his shell, but couldn't. Even Fred and George were unable to do anything. Harry simply went to his classes, did his work, and went to bed.
And he dropped off the Quidditch team. "I need to study for my O.W.L.s," he told Ron, handing him his Quidditch robes.
Ron, who was still quite clueless, was thoroughly disappointed. "But you're the best Seeker we've ever had, Harry! We can't lose you!"
"I can't do it, Ron," said Harry. "Use Ginny, she's good." And he left to go to the library.
Ron turned to Ginny, who'd been watching the conversation from a corner of the Common Room. "Hermione's finally gotten to him, I guess," he said.
Ginny wanted to punch him, but settled on a grunt.
So Ginny added Quidditch practice to her list of things to do. She liked Quidditch, of course, but it felt strange being on the team without Harry there. She'd always fancied herself as becoming a Chaser or a Beater when the original group--Fred, George, Angelina, Katie, and Alicia--left, and a lot of positions opened up. It wasn't right, Ginny felt, to be hovering over the pitch where Harry used to fly, watching for the Snitch. She was good, yes, but Harry should be there. He lived to fly.
The first match with Hufflepuff was over almost before it began--Ginny caught the Snitch before the Hufflepuff Seeker, poor thing, even turned around to dive. A hundred and eighty to zero. She felt sick afterwards.
Halloween came and went, with nothing special happening for once. A feast, some homework, and the next day of classes.
That weekend, they all trooped down to Hogsmeade. Harry almost managed to get himself left behind, but Hermione told him that it was too early to study for the O.W.L.s and Ron promised to buy him a butterbeer, and hex him if he didn't go. So Harry went.
Ginny and her friends trailed behind them. Mela and Zoe were going on about some Ravenclaw boy in their Defense Against the Dark Arts class, while Colin and Ingrid teased them mercilessly. Ginny let the conversations wash over her as she watched the trio in front of them.
Ron and Hermione were walking on either side of Harry, almost like an escort. It was clear from their head movements that they were trying to start conversations with him, but he simply shrugged, or shook his head, and they would fall silent. When they reached The Three Broomsticks, Harry shuffled over to a booth, sat down, and gazed around. His eyes caught Ginny's as her group found a large table for themselves. There was a flicker of something--sadness? regret?--but then they went blank, and she saw him thank Ron for the butterbeer.
"Ginny, want anything?" It was Ingrid.
"Uh--sure, a butterbeer, whatever."
"You doing okay, Gin?" asked Colin.
"Yeah, I'm--" she wanted to say "fine," but couldn't. "I'm just worried about Harry," she admitted to him quietly. Mela and Zoe were still talking about boys--Ginny thought this one was the Hufflepuff in Charms with the blue eyes. She leaned over to him. "Come talk to me in the library tonight, okay?" He nodded, clearly excited.
"Is it about--y'know--that night?" he asked.
Ginny nodded slightly, and turned to thank Ingrid for the butterbeer.
Confiding in Colin certainly made her feel better. He promised not to breathe a word of it--his abilities to keep a secret, once completely nonexistent, were now quite formidable. He traded silly gossip, like how Stuart Ackerley turned his owl blue once, or that some Slytherin had walked in on McGonnagall in a bathroom stall. But he'd keep mum if she asked.
November came and went--Snape gave a particularly nasty test on antidotes, Flitwick taught them Summoning Spells, and Hagrid was reported to have hatched a cross between a dragon and a dog--it breathed fire, but had fur, and was "only" six feet long--for now.
Around the first week of December, Ginny looked up in the Great Hall to see Errol fluttering haphazardly toward her. Oh, dear, she thought, trying to clear a space for him to land. Hastily moving the milk jug, the bowl of eggs, and the platter of bacon, she thought she'd succeeded--but he managed to land face first into Neville's bowl of porridge, two places down.
Neville moaned at his oatmeal-splattered robes. "Sorry, Neville," she called out. "It's for me."
"If I'm late to Potions, Snape'll give me detention, and it'll be all your fault," he grumbled, getting up and leaving the table. He passed her the letter, which had a few spots on it, as he left.
The letter was long and rambling, and Ginny munched on her toast as she read through the latest of her father's escapades, that Percy was warming up a bit to Arthur, and that Bill was going to be coming home for Christmas, bringing a guest. The last paragraph, though, made her choke:
Let me know if you're coming home for the holidays, too, so I can clear up your room (Arthur's been storing some things in there). And talk to Harry and Hermione to see if they want to come--since Percy's room is free, we'll be able to have you all over. Love, Mum.
She didn't want to talk to Harry--Ron could handle Hermione--but she had to. Weasley courtesy dictated no less.
And there he was, just on the other side of where Neville had been, pushing eggs around his plate. "Harry," she called down the table at him.
He glanced up at her. "What is it?" he asked, sounding bored.
"My mother's invited you to the Burrow for the holidays. Are you going to come?"
He shrugged. "Sure, I guess."
Well, that was an anticlimax.
"And I want each and every one of you to prepare a two roll research paper--NOT an essay, this should be well thought out and cited properly!--on the effects of slow-acting venoms when improperly countered. Dismissed."
The class stifled groans as Snape let them go on the last day of term. "What's biting him?" asked Colin as they left the Potions dungeon.
"He's been so much nastier than usual since Ginny--" Ginny shot Ingrid a look. "Since that thing with Harry."
"Well, everyone knows he hates Harry, and that he hated Harry's father," put in Mela.
"You think he wanted Harry to stay dead?"
"Colin! That's not nice!" said Ingrid.
"Wouldn't you like to know," drawled a voice nearby.
"Malfoy."
"Weasley." He smirked. "Everyone's been talking about how famous Harry Potter owes his life to you, Weasley. Did you know that?"
Ginny glared at him. "So?" Beside her, she could see her friends gripping their wands.
Malfoy smirked again. "I'd be careful if I were you, Weasley."
"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Zoe.
"People are noticing you now, Weasley--not just your brother, the friend of famous Harry Potter. They're talking about the love of Harry Potter, the girl who convinced him to live, Weasley. And your family can't really afford it, can they? Although I hear Percy's doing well--according to my father." Having said his piece, Malfoy smirked and walked away.
"Weird," said Ingrid.
"Definitely," agreed Mela.
"That git," said Zoe, whose wandgrip was still tight.
"You don't think he's threatening you, Ginny?" asked Colin worriedly, as the others drew ahead..
Ginny shook her head confidently. "I think he's just being arrogant and trying to make fun of my family," she said.
But his words had struck deeper than that. Once again, she worried about Percy. His latest letters had been disturbing.
Ginny--
They've promoted me, finally. I'm Fudge's personal assistant now. I hope Father's proud of me.
I worry about him--obsessed with Muggles, ignoring the real issues at stake today. All this terror Dumbledore's started, what with the rumor of You-Know-Who back again. I work closely with Fudge, and we're having a lot of Howlers about damaged property--people wanting reimbursement for things that have been destroyed--and everyone's claiming to see the Dark Mark. It's ridiculous!
Anyways, I can't say much--classified Ministry business, of course, but do write back. I might stop by for Christmas dinner. Will Hermione be there?
Your brother,
Percy.
Ginny reread the letter after dinner that night, struck by something odd, though she couldn't tell what.
"Veritas," she murmured, touching the tip of her wand to the parchment. The parchment glowed green, then subsided. Nothing wrong there--he wasn't lying.
"Pathos Aparecium," she tried next. Words formed at the bottom of the page: Arrogant and righteous, but affectionate. Truly concerned about someone's welfare. Nervous.
Nervous. Now that was interesting. Why would Percy be nervous? Probably about Dad.
One more spell, then bedtime. Just to see if he'd erased anything while writing. "Aparecium." Words rearranged themselves--it was a much longer letter now:
Ginny--
Thank Merlin, they've promoted me, finally! I'm Fudge's personal assistant, now. I hope Father's proud of me--he always seems to be, but lately he's been secretive, especially around Fudge. I shouldn't tell you this, but Father's job is at risk because of his behavior. Fudge is trying his best to keep track of everything, which means having access to all the files, but Father refuses to give his codes.
I worry about him--obsessed with Muggles, ignoring the real issues at stake today. All this terror Dumbledore's started, what with the rumor of the Dark Lord back again. I work closely with Fudge, now, and we're having a lot of Howlers about damaged property--people wanting reimbursement for things that have been destroyed--and everyone's claiming to see the Dark Mark. It's ridiculous! Just like the Quidditch World Cup, all over again. At least Fred and George aren't putting "fertilizer" in my inbox. They need to grow up, or something serious could happen to them.
Anyways, I can't say much--classified Ministry business, of course, but do write back. I might stop by for Christmas dinner. I will not stay in that house for the holidays, or else we'll have a real war on our hands. I heard Mother invited Harry and Hermione. Will Hermione be there?
Oh, and about Draco Malfoy--his father's been helping us sort through letters requesting reimbursements, since he knows so many people--and Lucius, who really does so much for our society, has told me that Draco has mentioned you fondly many times in his letters.
Your brother,
Percy
Ginny stared. Something was wrong here. And some things were clicking into place.
If Fudge was trying to get at Dad's files--but why would he need to? Misuse of Muggle Artifacts? Ginny couldn't see any reason why Fudge would even care about Dad's work. And that talk about Fred and George--something serious could happen to them. She shuddered. Hopefully Percy had erased that when he realized how scary it sounded. And the other little things he'd erased added up to a very different picture of Percy's mindset at the time--and how could he be warming up to Dad, according to Mum, if he held him in such disdain? Hopefully, it was just a case of overwork. Hopefully.
The Burrow was covered in snow when Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny arrived. They'd had to catch a taxi from King's Cross in London, and they were very tired when they arrived in the village. Thankfully her parents were there to help carry trunks, or she'd have collapsed from exhaustion.
Harry and Ron were sharing a room, as were Ginny and Hermione again. Bill was in Percy's room, and his "guest" turned out to be Fleur Delacour, from the Tri-Wizard Tournament. The twins had volunteered to let her stay in their room, but her mother, unsurprisingly, had put her foot down and erected a Privacy Tent just off the living room. Two flights down from where Bill was staying.
Fleur and Bill could both climb stairs.
Ginny groaned as she heard the creaks, yet again. Third night in a row! Hopefully, they'd be going down to Fleur's tent, instead of staying Percy's room--that way, she wouldn't hear the muffled noises filtering up. Why wouldn't they just cast a Silencing Charm!
But it seemed they were staying in the room, and Fleur was giggling softly. Ginny sighed, knew she would hate herself for this, and got out of bed. Hermione was such a heavy sleeper that Ginny's "oof!" when she stubbed her toe on the girl's cot didn't wake her. No wonder she was sleeping through it.
She tiptoed down the single flight of stairs between her room and Percy's. The giggling was louder from the stairs--and she could hear words, now.
"So, I told him, he'd have to make me leave." Giggle. "And then he said, in this growly voice, 'You mortals, you are arrogant and weak.' And I took out my wand, did this"--Fleur giggled--"and he vanished." Bill snorted. "Apparently he'd forgotten about wizards and banishing charms. So I grabbed the vase and ran for it. Good thing, too, since his buddies came after me, and I only lost them at the door to the pyramid."
At least it was decent talk. She'd heard that one before, about the ghoul in Cairo.
"Vairee funnee, Bill," said Fleur, with a tinkling laugh.
"Anyways, though, I wanted to ask if you read that letter Dumbledore sent you." Bill's voice was suddenly serious.
"Oh, non I deed not get one," replied Fleur. The giggle was gone.
"Someone must have intercepted it, then. Anyway, Dumbledore says it's only a matter of time before he goes for Harry again--and he thinks it won't just be Harry. He's scared for all the students, especially on the Hogsmeade weekends. After Christmas, there'll be some Aurors around the school--not Fudge's Aurors, but those loyal to Dumbledore. I don't know how your French Ministry is taking this--"
"Zey know he ees back, oui, but zey are not acting." Ginny heard a disdainful sniff. "Zey think it ees only ze British who are in dangair."
Bill cursed.
"But zey have put more guards around Beauxbatons, and have eemproved ze--how do you call zem--Defense Against ze Dark Arts lessons."
"Well, that's something," muttered Bill. "Will they come to our aid if we need it?"
"I am not sure. Eet seems zey will, but zey do not want to be so--obvious. We are too close to Russia." Ginny shifted uncomfortably on the landing, and the floorboards squeaked. Her heart hammered as footsteps approached the door, which flew open before she could even begin to run for it.
"Ginny!" exclaimed Bill. "What are you doing up so late?" He had closed the door behind him, so Ginny couldn't see Fleur.
"I--uh--that is--"
"Spit it out," he said, not unkindly.
"I heard noises when Fleur came into your room again and was coming down to tell you to shut it when I heard what you were saying and it was so interesting I had to listen," she said breathlessly.
"Oh, Ginny--how much did you hear?"
"After the story about the ghoul--it was the one in Cairo, right?--everything."
"You shouldn't have heard it, Ginny." Bill was pulling out his wand. "I really don't want to do it, but it's Dumbledore's orders if we're overheard."
"Wait--!"
"Obliviate."
Author Notes: I stole Exploding Snape from someone--please, own up, so I can commend you! Thanks to my first reviewers: mochabinkie, celestine de karamel, Michael M, Katherine K, Sunshine Stargirl, TrixieFirecracker, Antigone Q, GinnyPotter, Arctic-Aurora-Dragon, met19, Garnie-chan, BookMaster 3000, Jayme05, darkcherry, Neni Potter, Little Skittles, Darcel, and fishy. Special thanks to those of you who post multiple reviews! Nice to know you're out there, reading each new chapter.