Chapter 3

A New Task

Ginny and Hermione remained silent until they passed the shining golden gate leading to the Entrance Hall. Witches and wizards were all around them, waiting, talking, or queuing for the fireplaces.

"Where are we going?" Ginny asked, finally breaking a somewhat tense silence between the two of them.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Hermione said with shallow smile. "I figured you already had some place in mind. I was hoping you'd actually tell me, since it sounds like I won't have Ferdinand Harrington to let me in on the secret this time."

"I didn't— It wasn't supposed to be a secret," Ginny replied quietly. "It wasn't an easy thing to do. I spent a lot of time thinking about it."

"Apparently," Hermione added in an annoyed tone. "It couldn't have been easy to set up two appointments on the same day. Well, congratulations. You've successfully pulled one over on me and most of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"I didn't mean to—"

"Of course you did," Hermione continued. "You knew what we'd say. And on today of all days. What do you think he—" Hermione cut herself short and looked away. There was another awkward silence while Ginny forced herself to relax and not get angry. Hermione eventually turned back and gave Ginny an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. I... Well, they did hire you, didn't they?"

"Yes," Ginny answered with stiff nod. "I suppose I should thank you for the mediocre recommendation."

Hermione glared back at her. "Yes, well it might have been a lot better if I knew you were trying to get a job in the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

"Why should that have mattered?" Ginny said with a huff. "They were so desperate they would have taken anyone. All you had to do was assure them that hiring me wouldn't be the biggest mistake they've made in ten years."

"Yes, but if I'd known —if any of us had known— that you didn't want to be an Auror, we might have been able to get you something better than some assistant position in the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

"I didn't want to work anywhere else," Ginny declared. "I... I think I want to do a bit of traveling for now." Hermione stepped closer to Ginny and stared into her eyes.

"Traveling," she whispered, "or searching?"

Ginny frowned and stepped away from her friend. "I don't know what you're talking about," she answered dismissively.

"Of course you do," Hermione countered. "Let's not talk about it here, though. Will you join me at my flat?" Ginny nodded, but Hermione gave her a dubious look. "You will?"

"Yes, Hermione," Ginny said with frustration. Ginny closed her eyes, focused on the little flat over Diagon Alley and after a brief squeezing sensation, opened her eyes to see Hermione's small but comfortable flat around her. She was one of only a very small number of people who were allowed to Apparate directly into the flat. Others had to Apparate to the Leaky Cauldron and walk. A few seconds later, Hermione herself popped into the room and let out a short sigh of relief upon seeing Ginny there.

Ginny looked away, not wanting to argue about Hermione's reaction. The flat wasn't terribly different from the last time she saw it. It had always been a conglomerate of tidiness and haphazard piles of miscellaneous things.

The flat was at the top of one of the taller buildings surrounding Diagon Alley. As a result, it was relatively quiet, except during rainy days, where the constant patter of rain became almost as annoying as the small leaks which seemed to defy all attempts at repair. When it wasn't raining, the low, peaked ceiling gave the place an atmosphere that felt almost as if you were standing in a shrunken cathedral.

Ginny walked about, trying to find something else to talk about. Hermione was still standing and looking at her expectantly. The main room seemed to have been tidied recently, so there was little for Ginny to discuss. Giving up, she found a comfortable looking chair and sat down.

"Would you like something to eat?" Hermione asked.

"Er... I'm not terribly hungry. Maybe some fruit or toast."

Hermione nodded and disappeared into her small kitchen. Ginny could hear some rummaging in cabinets followed by a few quick spells. Hermione emerged from the kitchen carrying a small tray with toast and sliced apples. Floating along behind her were a pair of mugs of butterbeer.

Hermione took a seat facing Ginny and started to eat a piece of toast. Ginny reached for the butterbeer instead. After a few hours of talking, her throat was starting to feel a bit dry. As she reached to place it on a table which wasn't really all that nearby, her eyes caught something that didn't really belong. Between the table and a set of shelves filled with books lay a pair of slightly worn trainers.

Ginny grabbed them and held them up for Hermione to see. "These look like Ron's shoes."

Hermione looked almost frightened. "Oh! Well, er... I didn't— Well, I did... I—" She paused to compose herself. "Yes, they're Ron's, of course. I'd forgotten they were there."

"You'd forgotten?" Ginny asked with a slight smile, glad that she was no longer the center of conversation. "You knew they were here at one time, but it's been so long that you forgot?"

"Well, yes, I guess," Hermione stammered. "I mean, well... no. Ron forgot them, obviously, but—"

"How did Ron forget them? You'd think he'd have noticed leaving without shoes, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, of course," Hermione replied, exasperated. "He left an extra pair here a while ago, just in case, you know..." Hermione stopped and her eyes narrowed as she looked back at Ginny. "Quit that," she scolded. "You're changing the subject. We're supposed to be talking about why you took that job."

Ginny frowned and tossed the trainers onto the floor. "I'd rather talk about all the other things Ron's left here, just in case."

Hermione ignored the comment. "You know you're like a sister to me. I don't really care where you work, so long as you're happy. I know it's been hard for you. If this is what makes you happy, then I'm not going to stop you. But you must see why I'm worried. If you're doing this for some other reason, if you plan on using this job to try and look for—"

"I know what I'm doing, Hermione," Ginny interrupted as she tore a piece of toast in half.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Hermione replied. "You need to listen to me, Ginny. I know how you feel." Hermione walked over and crouched in front of Ginny. "I really do. I've felt the same way. You must let go. He's gone. You have to accept that and move on."

Ginny felt her throat tightening. She blinked away the blurriness in her eyes and stared back at Hermione. "He promised me he'd come back when he was done."

"He did what he had to do. You knew that. He did it to save us."

Ginny forced herself to swallow. Her eyes were still locked on Hermione's. Should she tell her? What would she say? She'll say I'm imagining things, Ginny thought. Still, there was no one else she would trust over Hermione.

"I've seen him," Ginny announced in a raspy voice. "I swear I have."

"You just want to see him," Hermione explained. "Don't do this to yourself. Harry's gone. He cared for you very much. He wouldn't want this." Hermione's eyes jerked to the side for an instant and when they turned back to Ginny, her mouth was falling into a frown.

"Look, I need to be off. They'll be expecting me back at the Ministry. Today's been bad enough already and I don't want to have to explain anything else." She stood up and gave Ginny a sympathetic look. "Will you come by for dinner? Please? I may not cook as well as your mum, but I know you don't want to go home tonight anyway. I promise I won't try to talk you out of anything." Ginny nodded silently.

"Alright. How about six o' clock?" Ginny nodded and gave her a weak smile. Hermione smiled back. "Feel free to stay here as long as you like. I'll see you tonight." With one last smile, Hermione closed her eyes and Disapparated with a light pop.

Ginny was left with even less to occupy her mind now. She stood up and paced around the small flat. She was unsure of what exactly Hermione had planned for that night. She'd seemed jumpy and somewhat tense. It sounded as if her day hadn't gotten any better since that morning. Just as Ginny found a stack of old issues of the Daily Prophet, she heard a tapping at the window.

A quick glance revealed exactly what she'd expected: A ministry owl carrying a large, official-looking roll of parchment. She calmly opened the window and took the roll from the owl, who promptly turned and flew off.

The message was just as uninteresting as she expected. For the size of the roll, it had been surprisingly brief. She had been hired as an assistant to Mrs. Reading, and was expected to report back to the Department within an hour. She rolled the parchment back up and took a deep breath. She might as well start as soon as possible. With any luck, she'd be able to leave well before six o' clock. She'd hoped to be able to run an errand before she joined Hermione for lunch.

As the clock on the far wall passed five o' clock, Ginny looked up from the book in front of her to see Mrs. Reading silently scratching away at some parchment in front of her. She'd made absolutely no move to stop, and had not so much as glanced at the clock since Ginny had started reading. If Ginny was supposed to be her assistant, it seemed reasonable to expect that she would have to stay here until Mrs. Reading left.

With a sigh, she returned to the book. The book was enjoyable in much the same way as tending flobberworms: It seemed completely pointless, completely boring and yet still managed to hold your attention enough to keep you from thinking about anything else. It was an old book, but it was in excellent condition. It was titled The History of International Quidditch Regulation and considering the subject matter, it was easy to see why it wasn't terribly popular.

She couldn't force herself to actually find any interest in the dry recounting of arguments between the German and Spanish national teams in 1929 or the boycott of the World Cup by the Balkan teams in 1951. None of it seemed to be useful at all. Many of the rule changes described had been superseded four or five times. Despite the enjoyment she got from Quidditch, the book seemed to be little more than a journal of pointless squabbling between arrogant wizards.

"Am I expected to remember all of this?" Ginny finally asked.

Mrs. Reading jerked her head up from the parchment in front of her. "What? Oh... Oh, no, of course not," she said with a quick laugh. "I figured it was a good place for you to start, since, well, you'll be speaking with the people who will be writing the next chapter, so to speak. It's best you know how it started."

"How long will it take me to finish it?"

"How long? Oh, I don't expect you to finish it," she answered. "To be honest, I didn't really expect you to truly read it. Now, there is some amount of useful information in that book, but on the whole its best lesson is that these things revolve around a group of pompous wizards arguing about very little. Once you've got that, there isn't much more point in reading."

"I think I've been there for an hour," Ginny said flatly.

"Right. Then feel free to leave. Tomorrow will be more research, I'm afraid, but we'll find a way to get you out of the office soon enough." She paused to look at the clock. "Oh, dear. I've kept you much longer than I planned. I'm terribly sorry. Go, go. I'm sure there are plenty of people you'll want to talk to ."

With a friendly wave, she said goodbye to Ginny and returned to the parchment in front of her. Ginny shrugged and quietly left. She wished Mrs. Candlewright a pleasant evening and made her way to the lifts. A minute later, she was joining the stream of wizards passing through the gate into the Ministry's Entrance Hall. She had forty minutes until she'd agreed to meet Hermione. That should be plenty of time. She had something she still needed to do today. She found an open spot in the hall, stopped, concentrated on her destination, and vanished.

The house looked the same as it always had. Several people had considered trying to clean up its appearance, but no one ever got around to actually doing it. Instead it seemed that everyone simply wished to forget about it. There was no one left to claim it. It was just another derelict home of a wizarding line that had vanished.

Ginny searched the street for some time before making any move. Once she was satisfied that no one was really watching, she calmly crossed the street, walked to the front door, turned the handle and silently entered Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

The house was warm and somewhat musty, but comfortable for the most part. The portrait of Sirius' mother was silent and frozen in a grimace. It had been that way for a year. Whatever had been done to it seemed to be permanent. As Ginny walked toward the kitchen, torches on either side of her flared to life, illuminating the corridor. When she reached the door, she froze.

She could hear footsteps coming from the other side. Pulling her wand, she flattened herself against the wall and extinguished the closest pair of torches. The footsteps approached the door, then stopped and slowly walked away. Ginny could feel her heart pounding. Had someone broken into the house? How could they? The wards were supposed to keep everyone away.

A horrible thought entered her mind. Bellatrix Lestrange had never been found. What if she found this place? Could she claim it? Ginny tried to reassure herself that if that had happened, she never would have been able to enter. It had to be an intruder. Someone must have made it past the wards. Gripping her wand, she vowed to do the only thing she could: defend Grimmauld Place.

With one swift movement, she lunged for the door and wrenched it open. The dim light of the room cast shadows everywhere, but in the center of all of it, an indistinct shape stood at the near end of the table, shrouded in shadow. Ginny rushed forward and aimed her wand directly at it.

"Kreacher isn't afraid of the little blood-traitor's wand," it croaked at her.

Ginny aimed her wand at the fireplace and a moment later a large fire was roaring, bathing the room in bright, flickering light. Standing nearby and gnawing on some old bread was Kreacher the house-elf. He was looking at Ginny with intense hatred.

"What are you doing here?" Ginny asked firmly.

"Kreacher is a house-elf. This is a house. Perhaps the vile traitor has spent too much time with Mudbloods. They have weakened her head."

"Leave, Kreacher," Ginny ordered, "I'm not here to listen your mindless ramblings."

He glared at her. "She addresses Kreacher as if he was her servant. What a horrible day that would be," he mumbled. "Kreacher does what he wants. The little one cannot tell Kreacher what to do. She is not his mistress. This is not her house." His eyes narrowed as he stared at her. In a louder voice, he said, "She doesn't belong here. She must leave."

Ginny walked over to where Kreacher sat and stared at him defiantly. "If I don't belong here, then make me leave."

He hissed at her but did nothing. Slowly he climbed down to the floor and threw the bread into the fire. "Filthy blood traitor. She knows too much. She knows what Master told him before he disappeared. She doesn't belong here. She only comes to torment Kreacher and defile the great house of his old Mistress. Oh, she'll be a cruel mistress someday. Kreacher sees it already."

He gave her a look of barely restrained fury and then simply disappeared with a light crack. She'd known for some time that Kreacher still lived in the house. She'd been there many times over the last year, but had only seen Kreacher three times. His mood hadn't seemed to have improved in the least over the that time. However, whatever Harry had told him before he left had worked. Kreacher kept the house much cleaner than it had been when Ginny had been living here with the Order of the Phoenix.

She walked about the kitchen lighting more torches. A quick check of the cupboards confirmed her previous observations. Beyond simply cleaning the house, Kreacher had also been keeping the place stocked with a respectable amount of food. Of course, it seemed he'd also been eating a good deal of it.

For a while Ginny simply sat at the table doing nothing. She wasn't sure just why she felt the need to come here. There really wasn't anything any more special about this day than the previous one, or the next. Harry hadn't returned on any of the days before this, why would he return today?

Maybe Hermione was right. Maybe she should let go. Maybe she shouldn't have come here. What good could it do? Each time she came here, she never left feeling any better. It always reminded her of that first night she spent in the kitchen, waiting for him to return. She'd waited until she'd collapsed the next morning. It'd been a horrible summer, and she'd barely endured her final year at Hogwarts. Coming here now just reminded her of all of that.

And yet, she knew in her heart that she would always return here. There was something about this place that still gave her some comfort. Nothing else gave her quite the same feeling. The house had been Harry's. He'd commanded Kreacher to take care of it, and he'd made sure that Ron, Hermione and Ginny would be able to use it if they needed to. It was the last gift he'd given her, and she didn't want to ever throw that away.

She only had half an hour before she was supposed to meet Hermione. It wouldn't give her much time, but it should be enough. She had an idea. If it worked, it might raise her spirits a little bit.

She rummaged around the cabinets for a while, trying to find enough of the ingredients. Her mother always made it look so easy. She couldn't find a bowl quite large enough, but a flick of her wand changed that. The focus required to charm two bowls to mix themselves was a good distraction from her past thoughts, and the results were indeed cheering her up. After the clever use of a Hover Charm in the fireplace and some quick cleanup, Ginny was left with what looked to be a perfectly good, if rather small, chocolate cake.

From another bowl, she spread a slightly messy layer of white frosting over the small cake. It was hardly larger than a tea saucer, but the process was more difficult than Ginny had expected. When she was finished, she realized it was already six o' clock. She ignored the rest of the mess she'd created. She simply didn't have much sympathy toward Kreacher at the moment.

She walked quickly to one of the cabinets and opened it. Inside were a number of extra robes and other clothes that she'd stashed there for the occasional times she would stay there to escape the rest of the wizarding world. She dressed quickly and carefully, hoping that Hermione wouldn't be able to tell she hadn't been home. She tossed the old robes into the cabinet and then shut and locked it. She walked back toward the door to the hallway, but stopped upon seeing the cake again.

It was just sitting there, plain and unadorned. It looked almost depressing. Ginny pulled her wand again and concentrated for a moment. With a swish of her wand, the frosting turned a deep but soft shade of green. She searched the room quickly and pulled down the smallest candle she could find. She gently placed it in the center of the cake, and lit it with her wand. The flame jumped and danced about playfully. Ginny smiled at her work.

"Happy Birthday, Harry Potter."

She turned and walked off, leaving the candle burning. It just didn't feel right blowing it out. As she reached the door, she heard a creak on the stairs. She pulled out her wand again and jumped forward to where the staircase joined the hallway.

"That cake is not for you, Kreacher," she growled at the elf standing at the foot of the stairs. "I'll be back for it later. Don't you dare eat it."

Kreacher returned a look full of loathing and disgust. "Kreacher wouldn't dream of eating anything created by horrible traitorous brats."

Ginny considered returning to the cake and finding some charm that might repel Kreacher, but thought better of it. She didn't have time. Kreacher would do what he wanted, and he was probably telling the truth in this case. He wouldn't want to take the risk that the cake might somehow contaminate him.

Ginny made her way to the front door and quietly walked out of the house. Once outside she quickly walked across the street and ducked into the alleyway between two tall, old houses. She did one last check for any Muggles who might be watching, and then Dissapparated.

When Ginny arrived at Hermione's flat, she found her pacing about and looking more than a little worried. She refused to explain what exactly had been worrying her, but Ginny could tell that Hermione's day had been even worse than hers. She wondered what exactly could have happened to make that be true.

Whatever the cause for her mood, Hermione quickly hid it and returned to the kitchen where she seemed to be happily finishing the preparations for dinner. She refused to answer any of Ginny's promptings about the cause for her anxiety. and instead insisted that it was nothing and that she'd simply had a bad day.

This explanation was enough to convince Ginny that there really was much more to that day's story than she was being told. She was equally convinced that Hermione had no intention of revealing any of it. Ginny had just as little intention to speak about her day, and reluctantly joined Hermione at the small wooden table.

The meal was just as awkward as she had expected. With neither of them willing to discuss their days, they were left to lamely discuss the next most important thing they shared in common: Ron.

Hermione nimbly dodged a series of questions revolving around the existence of Ron's shoes and a pair of spare robes in her flat, and retaliated by asking Ginny where she had been earlier that week when she and Ron had tried to find her to tell her about the celebration Fred and George had planned for Weasley Wizarding Wheezes' third year in business.

Of course, Hermione probably knew exactly where Ginny was, and Ginny was pretty certain that Ron spent more time at Hermione's flat than she spent at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Under normal circumstances they might have been willing to share such things with each other, but after Harry had disappeared that summer, she found spending time with Hermione uncomfortable.

On the surface, she was the same Hermione as always. If you looked a little deeper, however, it was apparent that something had changed within her. She was more closed off, more reserved, but at the same time more prone to speaking out against things she felt were done unwisely. Ginny knew it was this new behavior that had prompted her invitation to dinner. She could see the questions and reprimands lurking behind Hermione's eyes.

When they both finally admitted to themselves that they weren't actually going to eat any more, they silently removed the food from the table. When it was gone, Ginny found Hermione watching her intently. She could have left without needing any further explanation, but that would just put off the inevitable. Instead, she walked into the living room and silently sat down on the couch. Hermione followed her and took a seat in a nearby chair. The sat for a moment, silent and waiting for the other to make the first move.

"What happened to change your mind?" Hermione finally asked. The words spilled out of her mouth as though she couldn't hold them back any longer.

"I'm not going to change it back," Ginny answered, anticipating the path the conversation was going to take.

"I wasn't going to try to convince you to," Hermione replied sincerely. "I just want— I'm curious to hear why you did." She was looking at Ginny oddly, as if she wasn't sure it was actually her friend in the room with her.

"Charlie," Ginny said in a low voice. She somehow felt it important that someone know the truth about it. However, the truth didn't seem to comfort Hermione at all. Ginny continued, hoping to help her understand. "The Aurors— I— I just don't know what to think about them anymore."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked with visible concern.

"They didn't even try to save him," Ginny explained. "There was something off about how they behaved. They were cold, almost aggressive. I guess I never noticed." Ginny paused and looked at her feet. "They looked like the Death Eaters."

"What are you saying, Ginny?" Hermione asked. "Are you saying they're all corrupt?"

"Why didn't they try and stop the Death Eaters? Isn't that what they are supposed to be doing? Was one stupid wand worth the lives of two wizards and a handful of escaped Death Eaters?" Ginny responded. "I could never do that. If it hadn't been for the hoods and masks, I'd have a hard time separating the Aurors from the Death Eaters."

"And all Aurors are the same? What about Tonks and Shacklebolt?" Hermione asked. "Are they no different?"

"No," Ginny answered quickly. "That's not what I said, Well, if you believe Luna, there's a group of Aurors who've formed their own little club, and they don't seem to be following the Ministry's orders."

Hermione frowned upon hearing Luna's name. "You know you can't trust the Quibbler."

"Right, then. I'll just believe that the Aurors have started competing with the Death Eaters," Ginny said sarcastically. "They both seemed to have the exact same objective, and just as much care for anyone that got in the way." Hermione was staring out the window. Her jaw was set and her eyes were completely still. Ginny felt guilt creeping up her spine.

"I just don't know what to think right now," she said quietly. Hermione still didn't respond or make any motion. Ginny looked away, feeling almost embarrassed. "I was going to stop by and talk to Luna tomorrow evening," she said, if only to fill the silence. "There's usually some small bit of truth to all her stories. I thought I might be able to find something useful in whatever it is she's heard." Hermione closed her eyes and turned from the window.

"Ginny..." Hermione said, then paused to rub her eyes. "I can't let you do that," she finished in a pained voice.

"You— What?" Ginny stammered. "What makes you think that you can tell me what I can't do?"

"I showed you the Spectrecorder," Hermione explained as she stared at her feet. "You weren't meant to see it. If I hadn't broken the rules, you wouldn't be doing any of this."

"You mean I wouldn't know the truth!" Ginny replied in outrage.

Hermione glanced at Ginny, then turned away and shook her head. "No, I mean you wouldn't believe the lies I showed you."

Ginny's jaw dropped. "How could you—"

"I swear I didn't know at the time," Hermione apologized. "I didn't see it the first time either, but when I showed it to you I noticed some odd things." She spoke in an almost panicked pace, as if she thought Ginny might run off before hearing it all. "I noticed something odd about one of the Aurors. I'd seen him before, but he wasn't an Auror. So I figured that he was just an Unspeakable who'd joined the fight. They always have their identities hidden or removed. I came in late one night to look at it again and found out they'd done much more than that. There were no Aurors there, at least not fighting. The pair stunned by the fireplaces were probably Aurors, and I'm certain the ones who found Charlie were Aurors as well. But none of the rest of them."

This caught Ginny's attention immediately. They weren't Aurors? Were they in costumes? Or had the Ministry completely replaced them? How many other wizards had been replaced?

"What about Charlie?" she asked desperately.

Hermione's face softened. "No. No, I'm afraid he was real. All the Aurors you saw, the one's who felt off to you, they were... Well, they weren't Aurors. They were something else."

Something about how Hermione said it felt suspicious to Ginny. "Something else?" she asked. "What do you mean? Are they vampires or something?"

"No, no," Hermione said quickly. She looked around the room quickly, as if the lamps might be spying on her. "There isn't much I can say for certain, but perhaps the Quibbler isn't quite as far from the truth as it normally is." She dropped her voice and leaned closer to Ginny. "There is a group of wizards about that doesn't take orders from the Ministry. They're vigilantes of some sort, I'd guess. When the Death Eaters broke into the Department of Mysteries, these vigilantes were there with them, but they were trying to stop them. They killed two Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries, one just outside my door."

Ginny tried to remember what she'd seen in the Spectrecorder again. That might explain some of their behavior.

"So they were dark wizards?" she asked.

"Oh, no. Not at all," Hermione replied immediately. "At least, not at all like the Death Eaters. From what I've heard, they've done some things that don't sound very good, but they fought the Death Eaters, and I'm certain they were there to stop the Death Eaters from stealing the wand."

"Why the secrecy then?"

"We don't know what they are, but we do know who a few of them are," Hermione explained. "I've only heard rumors, but it sounds like there are a couple of Aurors as well as the son or daughter of someone in the Minister's office."

"What do they want?" she asked.

"No one really knows what they want. Maybe they don't even know. All anyone knows is that they weren't helping the Death Eaters and they were willing to do almost anything to stop whoever took the wand."

"They sound alright to me," Ginny replied.

"It's more complicated than that," Hermione replied in a warning tone. "They're dangerous, Ginny. They're unstable."

"What do you mean? They're unhinged?"

"No, the Death Eaters are predictable. We know what they're up to. We know how they will act," Hermione explained slowly. "These... other wizards, they do things that don't make sense. One day they're helping the Ministry, and the next they aren't. They do things without any reason. They're unpredictable. They're unstable. They act almost like mercenaries, but no one has heard of any way to buy them. I wouldn't rely on them to help anyone."

"Charlie did," Ginny argued. "He must have known about them. When the thief showed up, he called them instead of the Aurors."

Hermione jerked upright in her chair and stared at Ginny in fear. "Listen to me, Ginny," she said seriously. "You're not the first one to notice that. This is a very perilous subject. I wish I could tell you more, but no one will tell me anything more. I know what you're thinking. I know what you want to ask. There are very dangerous wizards searching for the same answers you are."

"You're saying that I shouldn't try to figure out why my brother was killed?" Ginny asked defiantly.

"I'm telling you that if you find out, there will be a number of very powerful wizards searching for you," Hermione corrected her. "I understand why you want to know, but you have to trust me. It's not worth finding. Let others look for it. When I hear anything, I'll let you know."

"Oh, I'll just go about my life then, right?" Ginny snapped. "I'll just sit around and wait for everyone else to find out what's going on. I'll hide from anything that might be dangerous and hope that everyone else will make sure everything gets fixed." She stood up and glared at Hermione. "That worked smashingly last time, didn't it?"

Hermione looked appropriately ashamed. "I understand, Ginny. I can only imagine what that was like, but please listen to me. This is a different situation. There's something more happening. I'm telling you you'll put yourself in danger if you go looking for your answers."

"Then I'll be in danger," Ginny replied numbly. "I don't care anymore. What else do I have?"

"You have your friends," Hermione answered. "You have me."

"Do I?"

Hermione stared at her for a moment before nodding. "Yes." She frowned and sighed. "Go on then. Look for your answers. I'll do whatever I can. Just promise that you won't be completely reckless."

"I won't," Ginny said with a slight smile, her first genuine show of happiness all night. "Not completely, at least." Ginny looked away. It felt better knowing that she wouldn't have to keep secrets from Hermione. She had something to focus on now. Something to help her take her mind off all of the other things which had been consuming her. There was still one last thing to do, though. "I think I should be going," she announced softly.

"Look, I'm sorry about today," Hermione apologized. "I know how hard it must have been, I had wanted to make it easier and instead... well, I'm sorry. I guess it's still too soon for me as well. You can stay here if you like."

"No, I think I'll be fine. Thanks, though."

Ginny stood on the pavement in front of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place for some time, simply looking at the battered house and trying to work out her own thoughts. She wasn't giving up. She'd promised herself long ago that she'd never give up on him. She was just focusing on something a little more pressing. She may not have much time to figure out what had happened to Charlie. There would be plenty of time when she finished that.

She wasn't giving up.

She took a deep breath and crossed the street. After quickly entering the house, she headed directly for the kitchen. In her head, it seemed like a silly gesture, but her heart told her that she would feel better having done it. She needed to leave this place as she'd found it. She had no idea when she would ever be returning.

Once she reached the kitchen, however, she wished she'd never come back. In the center of the table was a single plate with a number of crumbs scattered about it. The candle had been extinguished and lay stuck to the table in a small pool of hardened wax.

"I should have poisoned it," she said aloud.

"Kreacher!" she shouted to the ceiling. "If I ever see you around this house again, you'll find out just how horrible of a mistress I could be!"

She vanished the plate and candle and left the old house. She wouldn't be needing it for some time, not until she'd figured out why Charlie had been killed. She turned back to look at it one last time as she prepared to Disapparate. "Goodbye for now," she whispered.

She wasn't giving up.

She closed her eyes and tried to convince herself of that. With a pop, she vanished.