The Distance to Here
Chapter 11
A/N: SORRY SORRY SORRY! Apology is at the end.
This chapter is very much Weasley-centric. We were going to have Hr/Dr in this, but the opening, everyone lets out their anger scene was at Laura's house and I wrote this chapter all by myself, so the Hr/D stuff that I wrote depended upon the other scene, which a) isn't complete and b) I don't have with me. I love you all, please read. Oh, and special apology to "kateydidnt", who seemed already pretty ticked off last time we updated.
"It's all gone? Everyone is dead?" The cold voice pierced the darkness. Avery spoke up.
"Yes, my lord. Nothing is left there but ashes. We shot the Mark into the air, and now everyone will know who the real power is- who will win this war." Even with his confident words and manner, Avery trembled under the gaze of the man standing before him.
Voldemort smiled thinly and Avery bowed low. Swooping suddenly over to the opposite side of the circle, the scarlet eyes traveled to a striking woman with a cold and proud stance.
"Ah, little Miss Weasley. Did you enjoy yourself, tonight? I thought it might be to your taste, knowing that practically your whole family would be there."
Now was the time, she knew. She would expose the errors of her fellow Death Eaters, and gain favour in Voldemort's eyes.
"Yes, my lord, but I am not certain that my family were the ones to die tonight." Ginny almost met his eyes, but stopped at his chest. Her chin was raised and she stood tall beneath her hood. Voldemort's eyes flashed.
"How can this be?" he breathed. His nostrils were beginning to flare, a sure sign of his displeasure.
"The others failed to notice in their planning that that Aurors can keep their wands at all costs. I'm fairly sure that Harry- Harry Potter- would have Disapparated the Weasleys, and anyone else he could. Before Disapparating himself, obviously."
There was muttering all around the circle, a shifting along its circumference. Ginny raised her head a little higher. This would be Ginny-the-Death-Eater's time to shine, she reminded herself.
To everyone's surprise, Voldemort began to laugh.
"You bewilder me, Miss Weasley," he chuckled, a chilling noise that gave Ginny goosebumps. "It appears you are more useful than I had anticipated. Who knew a Weasley could be this intelligent?" Ginny flushed with anger, but it was hidden beneath her hooded robe.
"You have impressed me," he continued. "In future you will be given more important tasks to perform. And speaking of important tasks," he said, voice dangerously soft, "how is your assignment coming?"
The Occlumency that Harry had taught her automatically activated itself, as Voldemort met and held her eyes, boring into her skull.
"Not as well as I could have hoped," she pretended to admit. "But I assure you that I am hearing new reports every day. I have re-established contacts all over England. He was in Soho for quite a few days. Soon he will be within our reach." Ginny realized that she was borderline babbling.
"Well," Voldemort said, with venom in his voice, "be sure that it's very soon." A slight snickering noise was coming distinctly from Lucius Malfoy's part of the circle. She knew that she had played right into his hands. If Ginny did not come up with a form of success to present to Voldemort, and soon, then he would re-delegate the task to Lucius. Draco's father would no doubt be more vigilant than she had been so far.
Voldemort moved back into the centre of the circle, and began to speak to the Death Eaters as a group. They met in the wood outside the Malfoy Manor now, as Voldemort stayed there. Raids were occasionally conducted at the Manor, but Voldemort was uch more powerful than the ordinary Magical Law Enforcement officers, and he was never discovered. After another hour of uncomfortable standing, listening to Avery's gloating minute-by-minute account of the fire, they were dismissed.
Ginny Disapparated to her small, dingy flat in Hogsmeade. It was above the Hog's Head, and it was useful and serviceable, especially considering the clientele that frequented the pub. She went down to get a drink and see if she could overhear a few conversations. However she was the only person in the bar, and after finishing her Firewhiskey, she stalked back up to bed.
Lying on the fold-out couch, she lay thinking and wondering about what had befallen her. In school, she had been a lot like the twins, but more subtle. No one had ever suspected her, and she had gotten away with pretty much everything. It also helped that Ginny was one of the best liars that Hogwarts had ever seen. Only Dumbledore had been able to see through her façade. She had graduated with top NEWTS in Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Potions, and Herbology, and with Harry's help had undergone some Auror training in secret. She was very powerful. But sometimes she couldn't help but think that it was a waste.
All of the training, all of the power, and the only thing she was doing was setting a building on fire, killing the people she was trying to protect. Dumbledore had promised her that it was only temporary, that once she helped to defeat Voldemort she could become an honorary Auror. She would join the ranks of heros who had helped fight for Wizarding freedom throughout history. But just then, it was hard to think about all of that. People's lives were in the balance.
~*~
The Daily Prophet published an article about the Ministry fire on the front page. Havoc was spread all over the country by noon. Wizards everywhere were panicking, asking questions relentlessly. Howlers, owls and visitors pummeled the Ministry. Staff were scared, grief-stricken and stressed. Most of the Department Heads had not come into work, and so Ron, Arthur and Amelia Bones, who had not attended the function and had come into work completely ignorant, organized people by taking charge of several Departments at once. They then came together, making a list of the people who had gone to the function; their names, position and status. Most people were unaccounted for, and they also soon realized that many more were missing than had been at the function the previous night. Ron was left muttering in disgust at the cowardice of Minishtry workers.
At one, he finally decided that as much as he would have liked to, he could not keep the public in the dark for much longer. Squaring his shoulders, he went through the stone fireplace in the Department common room, and emerged in the Atrium.
No sooner had he whooshed out of the fire, dusting the grey soot off his brilliant hair, than reporters from every magazine and newspaper in existence came crowding towards him.
"Mr. Weasley, who is the culprit?"
"Mr. Weasley, did you catch him?"
"Is there any concrete evidence?"
"Mis-ter Weasley," said a voice, booming out over everyone else and overpowering the throng, "how did you get out of the hall? My sources tell me that you and your entire family escaped alive. Were you aware of any such threat on the Ministry? Why were you so irresponsible to neglect to inform the proper authorities?"
Grimly, Ron stood his ground in the face of the barrage of implied accusations. He knew it had been coming.
"The Ministry," he began, reading his prepared statement, "has not, as of yet, captured the culprits of this terrible tragedy. I am relieved to inform you that the Minister of Magic is alive and well. Some senior members of the Ministry were able to escape, but the deaths of many good witches and wizards means that the Minister will have to be making changes within the staff." He went on, ploughing through the outburst accompanied by this declaration. "We will be posting a list of the deceased in the Daily Prophet tomorrow. A memorial service will be held on Shrieking Hill in Hogsmeade on Tuesday. We would like to remind all citizens to stay calm, to retain their vigilance, and to report any information they may have about this terrible incident. Thank you." He turned to go, but the voice boomed out again.
"Mister Weasley, who do you suppose is behind it all?" Wearily, Ron turned back towards the largely-built man with dark hair and deep, brilliantly black eyes.
"What's your name, sir?" The big man grinned, eyes shining like ebony.
"Derek Boyden, pleased to meet you," he said politely. He seemed to emanate authority and power.
"Derek, who do I suppose is behind every attack on the Ministry? And by the way, I am the proper authorities." Ron Weasley stalked back to the fire and stayed in the confines of his office for the rest of the day.
~*~
Ginny was tossing and turning, eyes alternately shut tight and wide and staring. In her small, dingy apartment, she felt as if she was suffocating. The quilt on her bed was a straitjacket. Fro several hours she had been trying to force herself to sleep, with no luck whatsoever, for every time she closed her eyes and willed herself into unconsciousness, the sounds and images returned to the forefront of her mind so vividly it was as if she had re-Apparated to the scene of the fire.
It was almost light out when she finally drifted into a troubled doze.
~*~
Screams filled the air, piercing the darkness like a whip-crack. From where she was standing, the building was partly hidden from view, but already the building began to give off a warm, ethereal glow. The heat was rising, it wafted towards Ginny lazily, basking her in its comfort. A sheen of cold sweat glistened on her forehead, combined with the rain that had, only a few minutes earlier, begun to fall. But this fire was waterproof, resistant to the downpour beating desperately against it.
The screams grew louder, higher, more panicked. Men were shouting now, too, they must have begun to realize that there was no escape. They were doomed. A steady beating had started on the windows and doors. It now grew erratic; it mirrored the beating of Ginny's heart as she waited. She was bound by Voldemort's orders to stay and ensure that the task was complete. She was bound by pride to restrain from throwing up.
The scent of burning flesh reached her nostrils, assailing them with the pungent stench of death. Ginny's stomach began contrcting painfully. The screams were subsiding now, transforming into pained moans and wrenching sobs. Several were still not resigned to their deaths, and shrieked for mercy. The sounds of it stabbed the air relentlessly, piercing at Ginny's heart as with a hot blade. Their dying cries rose over the roar of the rapidly spreading fire, gobbling every man and woman inside the doomed building.
She couldn't help it. Turning behind a tree, Ginny vomited; retches and dry sobs drowned out by the sound of the crackling fire. How vindictive it was, how unprejudiced it was in its malignancy. The more she listened to the shrieks of the dying, the more she became afraid.
Ginny's eyes shot wide open.
What if's began shooting through her mind, bouncing around and snowballing each other. What if Harry hadn't gone with Cho to the stupid function? What if he had consented to hand in his wand, even though Aurors are authorized to keep their wands at all times? What if had not found Ron in time? What if Fleur and Bill had died, their child left parentless?
Exhausted with fear and melancholy, Ginny sank back into her pillow. She wasn't so sure anymore that it was all worth it, that she was doing any good for her friends and family. Doubts and questions plaguing her mind, she drifted back to sleep. She would not remember her dreams by the time she woke, and it was probably for the best.
A/N: Well there you have it. I'm so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, sorry. I have about another half a chapter written, so it'll only take about two and a half weeks to get up the next one. HAHAHA. No, I'm kidding. You should all hate us by now, but if you do, at least review to let us know! SORRY SORRY SORRY! I love you all, by the way.