Chapter 2

Six months later

''And- and this is where you lived!''

Ginny Weasley, fresh at now nearly nineteen years, nodded slightly. She looked very pretty, her red hair, now a gentle auburn, in a long messy plait down her back, her powerless eyes a soft brown, her freckles standing out beautifully on her pale, delicate skin. She looked out of place, standing there in The Burrow's garden, holding a bag and looking lost and more like a Muggle than ever. Mrs weasley stood, plump and kind, with her lips trembling, knowing that her daughter would never remember the good times they'd had.

''Are- What are those?'' Ginny asked fearfully, shrinking back from a creature that had just appeared. It was only two feet tall and had an ancient, carved face, a smooth, almost concrete white beard, beady eyes, and short, stubby hands and legs. It was a gnome but of course Ginny didn't know that.

''A gnome, dear,'' Mrs weasley answered softly, poking the gnome away with a stick she had found on the ground. ''Only a gnome. Come in and we can have Lunch.''

Ginny glanced behind her at the gnome for a moment before following her mother back into the topsy-turvy house, tightly holding her backpack to the chest. The living room was small but cosy, with fluffy armchairs and a large, roaring fireplace. Pictures of the family hung on the walls and Ginny spotted one of the whole weasley family and was instantly drawn to it. It was a watercolour painting, featuring everyone, including Audrey, Angelina, Hermione and even Harry. She stole a shaky glance at the tall handsome young man who had messy black hair that only partly covered the lightning bolt scar on his white forehead. Round-framed glasses covered his sparkling emerald eyes. The eyes were what made Ginny look. They were alive with so many different emotions. There was even a sparkle of genuine grief in them and she felt something she'd never felt before.

''That's Harry,'' Mrs Weasley said quietly. ''He lost his parents when he was a baby.''

''Yeah, I know,'' Ginny replied softly. ''One of the healers at St Mungo's read me Harry Potter: Wonder of the Wizarding World.''

''How- how far did you get?'' Mrs Weasley asked, wondering whether her daughter knew about her relationship with the boy who lived.

''Oh, Healer Sedgewick only read a few random chapters. Just the bits about how he defeated Voldemort-'' Mrs weasley winced, ''Oh, yeah, he told me nobody really said the name.''

''Don't worry, dear,'' Mrs weasley said, bustling off to the kitchen and adding over her shoulder, ''You sit down! I'll just have the food ready.''

Ginny looked around the room. She felt as if she had been submerged under water, suffocated with the knowledge of what she now knew, however little it may have been. She wasn't a witch anymore, at least she knew that. She couldn't do magic. The thought of that wasn't exactly comforting but she felt a little better since she knew that if she could do magic she would have been way too overwhelmed. There was an album on the coffee table. Sitting down gingerly, Ginny picked it up nervously. At her touch the book sprang open to the first page. There were two pictures there. One was of a little boy with long red hair whose mouth was opening with silent wails as the plump Mrs Weasley held a scissor threateningly at the little boys overgrown hair. Ginny watched as the scissor sliced it before turning the page. The album was filled with pictures of the family as they grew older. One of the pictures fluttered down. Ginny caught it before it reached the ground and looked at it. It was a very small picture, a muggle one, of Harry potter and her, Ginny Weasley, from the shoulders up, smiling and hardly a few inches between them. Ginny's eyes narrowed and she immediately knew there was something her family wasn't telling her and she vowed to find out. She put the picture in the empty oval shaped locket she carried everywhere and quickly replaced the album just as her mother's voice called:

''Ginny! Come into the kitchen!''

Ginny stood up and slowly walked in. Her whole family was there. She hadn't met everybody yet and was quite overwhelmed with the size of the family.

Bill and Fleur were there, holding there two month old baby, Victoire Apolline. Bill looked exactly like how Ginny had seen him in the album; tall and ruggedly handsome with a scarred face and long ginger hair in an easy ponytail. Fleur was tall and stunning, her hair streaming down her back, the colour of moonlight, her eyes flashing an icy blue. Victoire was small and already had hair exactly like her mother's, but with her father's twinkling blue eyes, softer and of a lighter shade than Fleur's.

Charlie was there too, still unmarried and unbothered. Percy stood next to him, tall and lean, his eyes blue and his hair red, still wearing wire-rimmed spectacles. Audrey was standing next to him, his wife, her brown hair smoothed back into a knot at the back of her head, always friendly, forever helping.

George was there. He had gained some muscle and his fierce, fiery red hair was lighter and stood in spikes. His face was slightly tanned now and still as freckled as ever, though his bright blue eyes had darkened with grief and tears, anger and hate. Angelina was tall and pretty, her hair in the usual braids, forever working to help her fiance.

Ron was there too. He was only a year older than Ginny and he had visited her in St Mungo's thrice a week. He was as awkward-looking as he had been eight years ago. He had turned nineteen in March, though now it was December. His girlfriend, Hermione, was also a good friend of Ginny's. She had bushy brown hair and dark eyes, softened with years' worth of grief.

And Harry Potter. Ginny froze when looking at him. Harry was tall, just like his picture, and looked exactly like the picture. His coal black bangs fell over his forehead and you could see his infamous lightning bolt scar, so much lighter, through cracks of his thick hair. His face was pale and he wore round framed glasses over emerald green eyes. The eyes were more alive in life than in watercolour. They seemed wracked with pain, however, and he looked lost. Ginny could feel a feeling she had never felt before rise in her middle and unconsciously touched her locket with her fingers.

''Harry Potter,'' the young nineteen year old with the jet black hair said, clearing his throat and offering his hand with a sad sort of smile.

''Ginny,'' Ginny answered, shaking harry's hand. ''Did we know each other?''

It was an innocent enough question, at least to Ginny, but everyone else panicked inside. Harry felt like his heart had been torn from him, thrashed and stepped on, and been offered back with Ginny's innocent, friendly face. He wanted to tell the truth but he knew that she would never love him again. So what was the point?

''Yeah,'' he said. ''Yeah, we knew each other, um, pretty well.''

''Yeah, right,'' Ginny answered, blowing out her cheeks and feeling slightly awkward as she seated herself at the table.

''Food's ready!'' Mrs Weasley sang, waving her wand so that the dishes flew to the table and stopped any further opportunities of conversation.

The next half hour was spent in eating lunch, conversing and getting to know Ginny. Harry kept out of these conversations, instead opting to listen and eat, politely refusing and accepting whatever he wanted to. Ginny, from where he was sitting looked curiously at him. Every time he looked at her, she felt a wave of recognition and memory but it would vanish instantly. It was like a dream she was allowed to touch, look at and do anything she wanted with but she could still not quite hold it. A memory that would always slip from her nimble fingers. Something that was in her mind, that she could think about but not quite remember.

She went for her afternoon nap after lunch. And when she hugged Harry, when she wrapped her white arms around Harry's middle, a picture, a memory, of her standing somewhere dismal and wet while Harry seemed to be pleading with her, flashed into her mind with the strength of a lightning bolt. A picture of her lifting up a stick- why?-

But then Harry ended the hug and left. As Ginny settled down in her pyjamas, her hair loose, to go to sleep, she thought of the memory, the stick, Harry's pleading face, and fell asleep in a whirlwind of wonder.

Hi! Please tell me what you thought of this chapter!

Scrappy8- Thank you! You seem to have gotten the feelings I hoped you would!