Chapter Nine: Things Finally Happen.
"Obliviate."
The word registered and rattled around for an eternity that spanned a hundredth of a second--Obliviate--Obliviate--Obliviate. She ducked just in time.
"Ginny!" exploded Bill, sounding halfway frustrated and halfway proud.
"I'm a Seeker, remember? Quidditch reflexes," she said, rolling over on the ground. "Don't do that again!"
"Gin, I've got to--Dumbledore's orders!"
"Bill?" It was Fleur, opening the door, fully clothed. "What ees going on?"
"It's my little sister," Bill explained. Ginny could almost see Weasley courtesy turning on in his head, overriding the situation. Plus, she was family. "Ginny, this is Fleur Delacour. Fleur, this is my little sister, Ginny."
"Enchantée," said Fleur, dropping a little curtsey. "But what ees she doing here?"
"Sorry to intrude," said Ginny, who wanted more than ever to just get back to bed and leave them to their war tactics discussion. "I'll just--er--go to bed, then, shall I?"
Bill reached out and grabbed the sleeve of Ginny's nightshirt. "I can't let you go when you know what we're up to--what if..."
"What if what?"
Bill and Fleur exchanged a look. "Why don't you come down to the kitchen with me and we'll talk," he said.
"You're doing what?"
"Shh! Don't wake Mum up!"
"But--but you AND Dad?"
"Yes! Now do you see why I can't let you tell anyone? They might figure it out--I mean, if a curse breaker is working with a French witch who has ties to the French ministry and is the granddaughter of their best Soldat de la Luminiere... especially when that curse breaker's father is a Muggle fanatic and loyal to Dumbledore..."
"But I don't want you to Obliviate me," she said stubbornly. "I won't tell, you know I can keep a secret!"
"Ginny, I have to, I don't have any choice. Especially now that you know everything--and you're already a prime target--" he bit off his words. "I shouldn't have said that, I should not have said that!"
"I'm a prime target?" she asked, disbelieving.
"Ginny, you had the power to convince Harry to return from his coma--and Voldemort induced that coma!"
Funny, Ginny thought, that more and more wizards were saying "Voldemort" nowadays. She thought it was definitely a good sign.
"That takes power from you and trust from Harry. Plus he saved your life, which is itself another powerful magical debt--although I suppose you repaid it with this," he mused. "Anyway, the point is that everyone knows Harry cares about you, and if there's anyone he'll want to kidnap, it's you."
It was as though she'd been Stupefied. "Kid-kidnap?" she croaked. Images of dark pipes and Moaning Myrtle's bathroom invaded her vision. She shook her head to clear it.
"Yes! Kidnap, and torture!"
She shuddered, remembering the Cruciatus Curse. Did he know about...? She asked.
"Yes, Dumbledore's already told me about that--it puts a wrench in the works, Harry being so distant, but that makes you even more at risk--Dumbledore thinks Voldemort will use Harry's apathy against him."
"How is Voldemort getting all this information?" she asked, and immediately answered it herself. "Malfoy."
"Yep."
She ground her teeth. "So that's what he meant when he said I should watch out."
"He told you to watch out?"
"Yes--came up to me after Potions--the fifth years have it after us on Fridays, he was there early, I guess--and started saying all sorts of half-threatening things to me."
"What did he say?" Bill pulled out a quill and piece of parchment from the drawer by the sink.
"Umm--I can't really remember--but I think it was something about how everyone's talking about me, that our family can't afford it, and something about Percy."
"Percy?" Bill looked up questioningly. "That's odd..."
Ginny suddenly remembered it. "There's a letter I got from Percy a few weeks ago--I ran Aparecium on it, since it sounded strange, and there was all this stuff he'd erased. He sounded so blind, Bill, so trusting in Fudge--I'm scared for him."
"Do you have it with you?" Bill asked urgently.
"No, it's at school..."
"Well, send it to me when you get back--maybe it'll fit our puzzle."
Ginny nodded.
"Back to business. Ginny, I'm really sorry about this, but I have to put a Memory Charm on you. A strong one, especially now that you know all about this."
"But Cruciatus can break Memory Charms!" Ginny was fishing about for reasons to keep her memories. She felt important now, knowing things.
"Only in certain ways..."
"They broke Bertha Jorkins'!"
"Damn," he said, smiling slightly. "I was hoping you wouldn't remember that."
"But what's the point, Bill, if I'll still spill, only later and with more pain?"
"The point, Ginny, is that under Veritaserum you can truthfully say that you don't know anything. We're going to have a civil war on our hands, along with Voldemort's terrorism," he said seriously, "and I don't want you to be a pawn." He stared at the teacup in his hands, now half-filled with cold tea, and drained it in one gulp. "Hideous," he croaked. He looked her in the eye. "Please, let me do this. It's Dumbledore's idea, if that gives you any consolation."
Ginny had never trusted Dumbledore the way everyone else had--for some reason the fact that he hadn't been more forceful about making Harry tell what was going on in her first year, the fact that he'd tossed off Percy's concerns as slow adjustment, meant that he didn't seem omniscient to her. Powerful, intelligent, resourceful, yes. Omniscient, no.
"It isn't," she said softly, and closed her eyes.
"Morning, Ginny!" said Bill cheerfully as she walked into the kitchen at one p.m. "Sleep well?" He grinned cheekily.
"Shut it," said Ginny. "You two were up until five in the morning, making all that racket, doing-"
"Doing what?" asked Fred.
"Ooh, Billy Boy, what were you doing?" asked George.
Bill thumped George hard on the arm. Fred hissed in pain. Ginny stared at him.
"New experiment," said George cryptically.
Bill drained his cup of milk.
"Out!" shouted Mrs. Weasley, emerging from the pantry. "I need to make dinner! The Grangers are arriving in just four hours! Unless, of course, you want to help..."
They left, Ginny clutching a piece of cold toast.
Christmas Eve dinner with the Grangers started out in the only way it could: Mr. Weasley cornered Mr. Granger about drilling teeth at five p.m., and had moved on to the subject of disposable diapers about an hour later.
"Ingenious," exclaimed Mr. Weasley. "Wizards simply banish the poop into an appropriate can--much cleaner."
Mr. Granger nodded, clearly relieved that at least he wasn't alone with this man.
"Tell me, how many did you go through each day when you were raising Hermione?"
"Oh, about ten. Sometimes more, when she was being fussy."
Hermione went scarlet. "Dad!" she wailed.
Ron guffawed.
"Dinner!" Mrs. Weasley called.
Hermione made her escape.
Still chuckling, Ron followed her, with everyone else behind him.
The dining room table had been stretched and moved out into the living room to accomodate them all, but it was still cramped. Ginny found herself bumping elbows with Fred on her right and Harry on her left. It wouldn't have been so bad, except that Harry was right-handed, and she was left-handed.
"Sorry," she muttered after the fifth time she made him drop his fork into the mashed potatoes.
"It's not your fault," he said; it was the first response she'd gotten out of him all evening.
"It isn't yours, either."
"It's all my fault," he muttered.
"What is?" she asked, spooning some more peas onto her plate. Around them, Mr. Weasley was asking Mrs. Granger how she did laundry, while Mrs. Weasley was laughing at some story Mr. Granger was telling them. Judging by Hermione's scarlet face and Ron's grin, Ginny figured it was an embarassing baby story. Fred and George were whispering to each other, and Bill was eating--just eating, every particle of him focusing on the poor forkful of pheasant he had just speared. For some reason, Ginny wasn't surprised that Bill would be so happy to see decent food.
"Everyone's going to war over me," he said very softly. He held up his fork and looked through the tines at her. "I can't do anything about it--Dumbledore's locked me into the school and everyone assumes I'm okay with it, that I'll sit back and let them all protect me."
"Mum, we need more cider!" called Fred suddenly, holding up some empty bottles.
"I'll get it," Ginny said. "Harry, come with me--the keg's heavy."
Harry followed her meekly out to the kitchen.
"Have you ever wondered why everyone protects you? Have you?" she asked angrily as they went into the dark pantry. "Lumos."
"I'm famous Harry Potter," he spat.
"Yes, precisely. You're famous Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived."
"But it doesn' t mean anything! My mother saved me, I didn't do anything! I'm just an ordinary wizard that everyone's out to kill because my mother was a powerful witch!"
"No, Harry, you're more than that. Here, take the other end." They hefted the keg and began carrying it out into the open kitchen. "You're a symbol of hope."
"Of what?"
"Ouch! That was my toe!" Ginny exclaimed. Harry had dropped the keg in surprise.
"Sorry! Are you okay? Gods, I mess everything up," he moaned, burying his face in his hands.
"I'm fine." She actually rather thought he'd smashed a toenail, but this was more important. "Look, you're a symbol of hope to all of us--a symbol that Voldemort was killed once, that he can be killed again. Maybe not right now, but someday. You're a reminder that he's not all powerful, and that's really important to us. All of us."
Harry gazed at her over the keg of cider. "No one's ever told it to me that way," he said finally.
"Well, they should have."
"Actually, Dobby did once," he said, slightly bemused. "What was it? Oh, yes--" He put on a house-elf's squeaky voice. "'Harry Potter survived, and it was a new dawn, sir, and Harry Potter shone like a beacon of hope...'"
"Who's Dobby?"
"The Malfoys' old house-elf-"
"How did you ever meet the Malfoys' house-elf? And what do you mean, their old one?"
"Didn't I ever tell you about how he was trying to save me from the Chamber of Secrets?"
"No!"
As they refilled bottles of cider, Harry explained to her about Dobby coming to Privet Drive, stopping the barrier at King's Cross letting them enter, the Bludger that had broken his arm, and all the hints that Dobby had tried to drop- especially about the diary.
"You freed him?" Ginny finally asked, incredulous. They leaned against the counter, the bottles and keg of cider forgotten nearby.
"He works at Hogwarts now--gets paid. He's the driving force behind Hermione's little crusade."
"Spew?"
"'It's S-P-E-W!'" he exclaimed shrilly.
She giggled, then sobered. "We should get back to dinner," she reminded him, bending to gather some bottles.
"Wait."
She straightened up to ask, "What?" but his lips were pressed over hers before she could speak. It was a nice kiss, more tender than passionate, but it warmed her to her toes.
They broke apart. "What was that for?" she asked, unable to hold back a smile.
"For waking me up."
It wasn't until bedtime that she realized he didn't just mean the Pensieve.