Chapter 4
After Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew had left the assembly, they hurried upstairs. Having a rough idea where James had gone to, they didn't need to search for a long time. They found their friend near the Hogwarts Lake. He was sitting on a bench and staring at the water. They stepped closer, yet James didn't stir. He didn't seem to perceive their presence.
Remus sighed sadly.
Since Lily had vanished, the woman, whom he had loved more than everything else in the world, James had changed completely. Someone who had known him in Hogwarts wouldn't recognize him anymore, if he met James now. Since that fateful day, James had never laughed nor smiled. Any zest for life he had lost.
Remus sat down on the bench next to James and while riveting his eyes also on the lake, his thoughts wandered back to the past.
They had been so happy when they had graduated from Hogwarts; four friends who had believed that they could do everything they wanted and that they could take the world by storm. Together they had moved into Godric's Hollow, a little house that James' parents had given to their son at his graduation.
Without realizing how dangerous it would get, they had begun the training for Aurors, even Peter – something that had surprised everyone, including himself. Being Aurors had been an aspiration they all had shared. It was a respected position and the magnificent uniform had surely led to them choosing this profession as well. Their desire to have adventures had played a role, too. Of course, they had been against the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord, but they had not taken the war very seriously, at least not in the beginning. Life had been great for them then and they had enjoyed it to the fullest extent possible.
Two years after they had left Hogwarts, James had married the love of his life Lily Evans. While they had become Aurors, Lily had decided to be a healer.
A few weeks after James' and Lily's wedding they had joined the Order of the Phoenix. They had finished their training and suddenly the war had become deadly serious. The realization how naïve and careless they all had been, had been a painful shock.
Godric's Hollow had become their refugee. There they had been able to forget the dead and tortured people and all the terrible experiences that gave them nightmares for a while; there they had despite everything yet found certain happiness.
But as James' and Lily's parents had been killed at an interval of a week sorrow also had come to Godric's Hollow. His own family had been found dead, too, not long after. It had been a hard time. But they had had each other. Everyone had been able to rely on the others. They had supported each other. When they just hadn't been able to bear the war anymore, they had gone to the garden of Godric's Hollow and had tried to still see a sense in the fight against Voldemort, a fight that demanded more and more victims with each passing day.
It had been Lily who had always encouraged them, Lily, who had not given up hope even in the darkest hours. It had been Lily who had made Godric's Hollow truly a home for them all. Until the day she had disappeared and everything had changed.
After a hastily gobbled down breakfast they had said goodbye to Lily and had gone to the Ministry to return to their duties as Aurors. At that point in time no one of them could have foreseen that they would see Lily for the last time. When they had returned to Godric's Hollow hours later they had found the house empty. At first, they hadn't been worried because it often happened that Lily had to work until late at night.
Sometime after midnight James had apparated to St. Mungo's and had discovered, to his utter horror, that Lily had never showed up for work.
Back in Godric's Hollow James had turned the entire house upside down. A message they hadn't found, instead they had discovered that Lily's suitcase, her favourite clothes and other personal belongings of hers had been missing as well. Though in the whole house there hadn't been any indication of force or an attack, James had been convinced that Lily had been abducted by Death Eaters.
In the same night James had alerted the Order of the Phoenix.
Albus Dumbledore, however, hadn't shared James' opinion. According to his estimation Lily had willingly left the house. He hadn't wanted to hear anything of James' plan to attack the Dark Lord's headquarters. All attempts to persuade the leader of the Order otherwise had failed. Albus had remained firm and had incurred James' hate with his refusal. Up till now, James hadn't forgiven his behaviour then.
If Remus was honest, he had understood Albus' argumentation. To attack the Castle of Death would have been pure suicide and yet...
Would there have been the tiniest chance for them to rescue Lily, he would have come along.
Since he, too, had never believed for a second that Lily had gone away on her own free will. She had loved James. She would have never left him. Apart from that she had always told them if she had gone somewhere. Such a thoughtless behaviour would have never fit into her personality.
Admittedly Lily's missing things and the non-existent signs of an attack clearly indicated otherwise and Remus also had never been able to explain how Lily should have managed to take her clothes with her if she had been abducted, but to believe something else would have seemed to him like a betrayal of Lily. Somehow nothing had make sense then. Even today they still didn't know what had happened. And probably they never would find out.
In his desperation James had gone to his archenemy from their school times Severus Snape and had asked him for help. As he had told them days later with dark shadows under his eyes that he hadn't found Lily in Voldemort's dungeons, James hadn't wanted to believe it, had even beseeched Severus to take him along to the headquarters.
Severus had only looked at him silently. That Lily was very likely dead, he hadn't said. He hadn't needed to.
For a brief period of time they had been afraid that James would commit suicide, until they realized that James would never do that as long as he had a notion of hope that he would discover the truth someday and perhaps find Lily again. So long as he didn't see her dead body he refused to believe that his Lily was not alive anymore. None of them had had the heart to tell James how unlikely that was.
The years had passed and they had learned more or less to cope with the loss of Lily. But James had not given up his hope. Remus' gaze flickered to James, who still was staring motionlessly at the water and knew that his friend would continue to hope till the end of his life.
He gazed over to Sirius and Peter and wasn't surprised to see that both were lost in their own thoughts. It was always the same. When James was thinking about Lily and lapsing into his worrisome wordless rigidity, they would sit silently together with him.
In the beginning they had tried to talk with him and to comfort him. They had soon realized, however, that their efforts had been pointless. Each of their words was meaningless for James, when he was aching for Lily.
And so Remus, Sirius and Peter sat together, again, on that warm summer day and remembered a young red-haired woman with brilliant green eyes.
But each one in a different way...
The Weasleys had hardly stepped into the living room as Ron already ran towards his parents and brothers and assailed them with questions. The afternoon had seemed endlessly long. Though his anger at his parents who had forbidden him to come along to the Order assembly, because he was supposedly to young, had still not subsided, this was not important for the time being.
Since his parents appeared to not be able to, Bill undertook it to tell his youngest brother the news. Silently, Ron listened. Each word hit him to the core. His sister was the mistress of the young Lord!
He looked into the pale faces of his brothers, gazed to his mother, who soundlessly cried and knew that it was the truth. Overcome by pain and feelings of guilt Ron closed his eyes.
In the meantime, Arthur Weasley mechanically put an arm around the shoulders of his wife. All the time he had been calm on the surface, but he found it harder and harder to suppress the storm that was raging in him. The feeling of helplessness threatened to suffocate him. Molly's crying became unbearable.
Without casting a glance at his family, he left the living room with fast strides and went in the garden. There he marched straight to the old brittle oak and slammed his fist against the tree.
Years ago he had shaken his head at James Potter when he had meant to attack the Castle of Death.
Arthur's laugh sounded bitter. What an irony! What a fool he had been then! Now he understood James, understood it in a sharp intensity he never thought would be possible. For his daughter he would risk everything, would he willingly put his life on the line.
Even a thousand dark wizards he would attack to save Ginny. Desperately he stared at his bleeding hand. Would there be anything he could do!
James Potter! He would visit Potter. Perhaps he could do something after all. If he would manage to persuade James to help him, they could perhaps organize an attack against the headquarters of the Dark Lord. Surely James would still be ready to risk everything to find his wife.
A tiny spark of hope rose in him. He stood up and apparated to Godric's Hollow.
The loud tapping jolted Hermione Granger out of her thoughts. Startled, she jumped up from her armchair, seized her wand and spun around. But it was only a little familiar owl. The happenings in the train must have affected her more than she had thought.
Angrily she tried to chase away the memories. She went to the window and let Ron's owl in. Ron's letter was short, but he had written so illegibly that it took a while for her to decipher his handwriting. Hardly having read the last word, she sank on her bed. The parchment fluttered to the ground.
Shocked she stared at the letter, but made no move to pick it up.
Ginny! Even if the relief that her friend was still alive had blocked out all other feelings in the first moment, now cold fear seized her. Would she see the red-haired cheerful girl ever again? Hermione shuddered when images of a tortured Ginny flashed through her mind. She bent down, picked Ron's letter up, and made a quick decision. She would go to the Burrow. Ron needed her. Knowing him, he would probably blame himself for Ginny being now at the mercy of the young Lord.
Hermione stood up and left her room. Though her parents wouldn't be very happy about that, Hermione hoped that they would understand her nevertheless. She would not be capable of leaving Ron alone in his desperation and sorrow. Her presence might not be of much use, but at least she could be there for him.
When it was getting colder and the sun disappeared behind the clouds, Ginny left the balcony and went inside again. She cast a glance at the many books, but momentarily she was truly not in a reading mood and so she just sat down in one of the armchairs. She drew her knees to herself, flung her arms around them and tiredly closed her eyes.
The loudly shut door caused Ginny to flinch. Nervously she looked to Harry. Though his face was expressionless, he seemed to be angry. The meeting with his father must have gone not to his satisfaction, she thought.
Observing his abrupt movements as he threw his cloak over the back of the next best armchair and ordered a house-elf to bring supper, Ginny could have cried. How should she now work up the courage to ask permission to write a letter?
Ginny was so occupied with forcing herself to make a decision that she scarcely noticed what she was eating. Do it finally, she told herself. This morning at the lake you would have asked him as well, after all. Yes, but there he wasn't angry. She could not be certain of his reaction.
But Harry didn't pay any attention to her. He didn't address her at all. Instead he stood up and stepped to the window. His behaviour and the thought of her family caused her at last to take a deep breath and to ask:
"Harry?"
He turned around and looked at her.
"Yes?"
"Could I…could I write a letter to my family, please?"
Ginny nearly stumbled over her own words, but she managed to sustain his piercing gaze.
The attempt to read in his face failed miserably. But then Harry nodded slightly.
"If you want. There, at the desk, you find parchment and quills."
While Harry turned again to the window, Ginny still remained sitting for a moment, completely taken by surprise. That Harry would indeed give her his permission she had not dared to hope. After fetching parchment and a shining black quill, she returned to her seat and began to write. Ginny was so absorbed in writing that she didn't notice that Harry turned around once more and was silently watching her.
Even if Harry could rather guess Ginny's smile than see it, he didn't rue his decision. Perhaps she would be really able to help him. If he had someone he could trust, it would simplify so many things. But could he trust Ginny? And would he be able to?
Unwillingly Harry shook his head. Though he knew this girl that had shaken him out of his lethargy only for one day, he just couldn't stop thinking about her.
What an irony of fate it was that Ginny was now in the same position in which his mother had been so many years ago. And yet it could not be compared. Harry knew that Voldemort would have never allowed his mother to write a letter. The memories that suddenly assaulted him, swept him away. He closed his eyes and leaned against the wall, while images of his mother rose in him.
He saw the sparkle in her emerald eyes when he had been able to write his name for the first time. How proud she had been of him! She had jumped up and had swung him through the air. He saw them both in their secret rose garden, saw a little raven-haired child that excitedly showed his mother which new spells he had learned; remembered how she had hid from him and how she had run with him through the park.
He remembered cold winters, in which she had showered him with snow; evenings where they had sat in front of the lively flickering fire and he had been listening, fascinated, to her stories.
He could almost hear her bright laugh, thought to feel her arms around him, hugging him tightly.
All the years he had managed to bury the memories deep in his soul. But now he was seized again with the indescribable pain that had put his childhood to such a sudden end.
And though each moment of this one day, when he had lost his mother forever, had engraved itself forever on his soul, he had successfully avoided remembering that day so far, but yesterday had changed that.
A sob threatened to arise in him.
Breathing became difficult, icy coldness surrounded him. And he knew that he had to distract himself. Quickly, before he wouldn't be able to suppress the memories and feelings of guilt anymore. He would not think of this day. He couldn't.
"Have you finished your letter?"
Harry's sharp voice caused Ginny to look up. As he came towards her, she stood up and while handing the letter to him, she froze. How could she have been so careless! Harry would surely read her letter and she had written that Professor Snape was in danger.
But Harry made no attempts to unfold the parchment. Instead, he marched to the window.
He ripped it impatiently open, leaned out and emitted a brief whistle. Shortly afterwards, a black shimmering phoenix flew inside and landed gracefully on Harry's arm. Bewildered, Ginny watched how Harry gave her letter to the magical bird and fleetingly stroked over the shining feathers. Phoenixes were so rare that it came up to a wonder to see one. Albus Dumbledore had been the only one so far whom she knew to possess a phoenix.
Harry's phoenix trilled softly and flew again out in the park. While Harry was closing the window, Ginny riveted her eyes on Harry. She still couldn't believe that he hadn't read her letter. When he turned and looked at her, she quickly lowered her gaze. Perhaps she had written the truth after all. Either way, her family would get her letter and they would know that she was all right. Ginny raised her head and smiled at Harry.
"Thank you," she said softly.
Harry nodded and stepped towards her. As he bent down to her, she didn't back away from him.
Restlessly, Bill rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. It was already late, but he just couldn't fall asleep. His thoughts wouldn't leave him alone. His family was breaking before his very eyes and there was nothing he could do against it. The evening had been dreadful. Not long after their return from the Order assembly his mother had broken down. While Charlie and he had taken care of her and brought her to bed, his father had left the house without so much as saying a word. He hadn't returned yet.
Bill could only hope that he wouldn't do anything rash. Gradually his anger on his father abated and was replaced with deep worry. If he would only know, where Arthur had gone to!
Never before in his life had he felt so helpless. Again he saw Ron's face in front of him when he had told him what they had discovered from Severus Snape. He knew that Ron blamed himself for the happenings, but he hadn't been able to bring himself to speak with Ron and to make him realize that he wasn't responsible for Ginny's abduction.
Abruptly Bill sat up, and realized that he blamed himself. And that was the reason which hindered him to speak with his brother. Though his mind was telling him that there had been nothing he could have done to prevent the attack, his feelings were saying otherwise. He was the oldest. For as long as he could remember, he had looked after his younger siblings and had done his utmost to protect them from all dangers.
It was this pressure, this uncertainty as well as their feelings of guilt, which probably every one of them carried around, that slowly destroyed them. The fact that it was ridiculous to have any feelings of guilt didn't play a role. They all knew that they couldn't have done anything, but since when was an emotion reasonable?
The twins, who usually were inseparable, had fiercely quarreled with each other already twice. Percy, too, behaved strangely and Charlie wasn't the same anymore as well.
Bill rolled to the other side and looked at Charlie. It seemed that he was sleeping. Bill knew his brother well enough, however, to see that it was a deception. Bill wanted to say something, but no sound wanted to pass his lips. Even if he had known what to say, it wouldn't have changed anything. There was no comfort for them.
Nor could they do anything to rescue Ginny. The realization was bitter. They would never see Ginny again and Billy knew that Ginny's abduction would break his family.
All the years they had survived. The war had not managed to bring them to their knees. Together they had defied all horrors of war. Until now. To know that Ginny was in the power of the young Lord and that they could do nothing to help her was driving him mad.
But as much as it hurt, he couldn't refuse to see the reality. It was impossible to openly attacking the Castle of Death. His little baby-sister was lost. The only hope would be Severus Snape's reports.
Absentmindedly Albus Dumbledore looked through various papers, which were lying in disarray on his desk. The Order meeting had worn him out more than he wanted to admit to himself. Still he could see Molly's face, felt the accusing glances of the remaining Weasleys and of the parents of the other dead and missing students.
James' outburst of fury didn't stop to bother him, too. His words had hurt him much.
It wasn't true that Lily's disappearance hadn't mattered to him, nor had her fate left him cold, as James was claiming. He had been very fond of Lily. She had been one of the brightest students Hogwarts ever had had and later one of the most capable members of the Order.
As Lily had disappeared without a trace, he had been worried, of course. But everything had indicated that Lily had left Godric's Hollow willingly.
He could only speculate about the reason that had led her to do this. She had been a healer. Every day she had been confronted with atrocious things, had often worked until complete exhaustion. Perhaps she had wanted to escape all this, perhaps the heavy burden of responsibility she had borne in the Order had become too much for her.
Albus didn't know it. But he hadn't seen the necessity to send a whole bunch of people to search after a missing member while everyone had been needed – and was still needed – to fight against Voldemort and his many followers.
Even if he should have been mistaken and Lily Potter had been indeed abducted, it wouldn't have made any difference. As regrettably it was, he could not have spared anyone of his allies to search for Lily.
A war simply demanded sacrifices. And might it be cruel to sacrifice one person to ensure the survival of others, it was a necessity in time of war. At least, it had been and still was his belief. But James didn't want to understand this.
Tiredly Albus ran a hand over his forehead and thought of Severus' report. The fact that the young Lord had finally appeared was worrying him deeply. Now all doubts were cleared up. The young Lord hadn't any scruples to torture innocents and probably to kill them as well. He was a worthy heir of Voldemort.
Though Albus hadn't really expected something else, the prospects of having to fight also against the young Lord in the future, who didn't even need a wand – according to Severus – prophesied a dark future. Voldemort held all the cards.
In addition he was more determined than ever to destroy the Order of the Phoenix.
With a sigh Albus remembered the list that Voldemort had demanded from Severus. At the meeting they hadn't found a solution on what they should do and if he was honest he didn't have a suggestion either. Defeated and hopeless the old wizard stood up, stepped to the window and stared up to the full moon.
The way in which the young Lord was kissing and holding her had something desperate. As Ginny realized that his touches were gentle despite his obvious restlessness, she gradually relaxed. To her astonishment she even returned his kisses.
Later, as they were lying silently next to each other in the large four- poster bed, Ginny wondered what it might be that so much tormented the young Lord.
"Tell me about your family."
Ginny turned around. But it was too dark in the room. She could not see Harry's face. Though she didn't understand why he suddenly showed interest in her family, she didn't see any point in refusing. First hesitantly, then more and more fluent she began to tell him.
Tears welled up in her eyes. How much she missed her parents and brothers!
"Ginny, don't cry."
Harry softly touched her cheek. For the first time his voice had sounded affectionate. Ginny raised one hand and laid it on Harry's.
"Will I ever see my family again?"
In the same instant she became aware how absurd it was that she asked the young Lord of all people such a question.
"I don't know, Gin," Harry said at last and drew her towards him.
While lying in his arms, Ginny wondered about his reply. Did this mean that he would perhaps help her to escape? Neither had he said no, nor had he become angry. She remembered how he had called her and she had to smile at her new nickname.
All of a sudden she realized that she didn't fear Harry anymore. Perhaps she would really be able to bring him to help her. Yes, perhaps she would even see her family again one day. She looked at Harry and felt peculiar warmth rising in her.
"Who is your mother? Does she live in the castle?"
Harry froze. His grip became painful. Then he let go of her all of a sudden, threw the blankets aside and with two steps was at the window. He drew the curtains aside and ripped it open. Silvery moonlight streamed into the room.
Ginny sat up, wondering what she had done wrong.
"Harry?"
"She died when I was seven," Harry said tonelessly.
Ginny clapped a hand to her mouth.
"Oh, Harry. I am so sorry."
Harry spun around. Startled, Ginny flinched back. His eyes were blazing dangerously; his hands were clenched to fists. The air around him seemed to vibrate.
"No! You don't understand it! You understand nothing! Nothing!" he shouted.
He grabbed his robe and hastily slipped it over. Storming out of the room, he slammed the door behind him with such a force that Ginny thought the door would leap out of its hinges. Distraught, Ginny stared at the now closed door. She trembled. For a moment she had been scared that he would hit her.
She wrapped herself tighter in the blanket and flung her arms around herself. Harry's fit of rage had terrified her. That had been completely inconsistent with his ordinary cool behaviour. Only a few hours ago she had still believed that Harry would not lose his self-control so quickly. But now she had to realize that her judgement of the young Lord wasn't accurate at all.
On one side, cruel and cold, he wasn't afraid to torture, but on the other side he had been gentle to her and had given her hope that she would survive. Ginny looked to the window and riveted her gaze on the full moon. If she would, at least, understand it!
Sure it was sad, if a child lost his mother so early, but it didn't explain Harry's reaction at all. She remembered how he had literally frozen in her arms. Her suspicion that something was really wrong here hardened. What had really happened here so many years ago? Did those occurrences that had happened then even hide the explanation for Harry's strange relationship with his father?
The longer Ginny pondered about this the more likely it seemed to her. It hadn't been only blind anger that had been mirrored in his eyes. Pain and desperate helplessness, she had also seen. Just as hate, she suddenly thought and shuddered.
If she only knew what was tormenting him, if she could only help him! The thought gave her pause. Confused, she shook her head.
She stood up, stepped into the bright moonlight and gazed out of the window. Where might Harry be now?
Did you lose your mind? Why are you worrying about him? Did you forget who he is? What he did to you? Probably he will bring you back to the dungeons tomorrow and will forget you there!
With much effort she silenced the persistent voice in her. She didn't want to believe it, refused to even consider this possibility. But the anxious feeling remained.
What, if Harry wouldn't forgive her?
Wrapped into the blanket, she sat on the windowsill. She was far too shaken to being able to sleep now. Again she saw Harry's eyes, blazing with fury, felt his hand gently wiping away her tears. Tiredly she leaned against the wall. The pictures mingled.
What did she mean to Harry? And which role did she play? Was she Harry's prisoner? His victim? His lover?
