Hey friends and enemies, here is chapter 8! Hope you enjoy it. As usual, likes, comments, suggestions, reviews, follows, etc. are appreciated.

Chapter 8 An Okay Day

Ginny Weasley was okay.

She was lying in a hospital bed surrounded by her friends and family. How could she not be okay?

She watched Madam Pomphrey speak to her parents, "-but she will survive."

If she was guaranteed to survive how could she be anything but okay.

I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay. She had thought this repeatedly all afternoon.

The nurse spoke gently to her. She would have to remove the arm. Her magic had reacted poorly to the keys within her arm. It resulted in what the nurse described as "cell death". And so, the arm… had to go.

But she would live. She'd be okay.

I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay.

Her mother told Ron off for his part in their adventure. He shouldn't have risked his life or brought her along. But she spoke nothing but soft words to her. This was good wasn't it? She was getting out of punishment.

She glanced over at the other beds in the room. Seamus was sleeping, Dean at his side, doing homework (knowing Dean, likely for both students). Harry and Neville were also sleeping. She had heard from the adults that none of the three sleeping were severely injured. She watched Hermione, Ron, and Luna head to the Great Hall to grab food for everyone.

She glanced at her left arm. It was turning darker by the hour. It was almost disturbing to watch, just like watching yourself die. She could feel a strange coldness in her arm but somehow it wasn't painful. In a way she was almost glad to be rid of it.

Madam Pomphrey handed her a dreamless sleep potion and spoke more about the procedure. Ginny managed to understand Madam Pomphrey's main message: "It will be easy, without any pain."

I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay.

She drank the potion.

Her eyes closed.

Break.

Her eyes opened. Had the potion not worked? She should say something before Madam Pomphrey starts-

She looked down at her arm, or least where it had been. It was gone. Completely gone. Her mother, tears running down her face, grasped her shoulder and spoke reassuring words of comfort.

Not wanting to panic she shut her eyes and focused on her breathing.

I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay.

She looked around at the concerned faces that surrounded her bedside. She noticed one was absent.

"Mom," she croaked, throat dry from lack of use, "where's Harry?"

Her mother moved aside slightly to reveal Madam Pomphrey tending to someone across the aisle. "He's still in bed sweetheart, Madam Pomphrey is checking to see why he hasn't woken up yet". The fear must have been obvious on her face, because her mother continued, "But don't worry! He'll be okay, Dumbledore said that he even looked stronger than before…." She trailed off but didn't elaborate further.

Her father cut in with the obligatory, "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay," she responded back, sensing this exchange may become repetitive in the coming weeks.

A feeling that was confirmed when the others came back with food. But she smiled and ate. She told them it was okay, she even joked about it not being her wand arm anyways. She stole glances across the aisle where Harry was still sleeping. Was he alright?

Break.

Hours past and her friends and family left. Her mother had told them that "Ginny would come home tomorrow to begin Christmas Break early and start on her recovery". She had nodded. Some time away would do her good. Maybe. Madam Pomphrey agreed to release her in the morning, and so Ginny stayed in the hospital wing as her friends went back to their dorms. Well, except for Harry, who slept on and on.

The lights that Madam Pomphrey had dimmed brightened suddenly, and she looked toward the open door to the hospital wing.

There stood Professor Dumbledore, in a set of bright purple robes and a matching wizard's hat. His eyes twinkled as he gestured at Harry, "I see you haven't taken any of Harry's sweets."

She smiled her first real smile that day. "Madam Pomphrey scares me a bit," she replied back. He sat in one of the chairs around Harry's bed, and then chuckled before grabbing a box of Every-flavour beans from Harry's bedside table, "I'll take her wrath if she finds out."

He patted the chair next to his, and she awkwardly rose from her bed and sat beside him. Now closer to Harry, she was able to see what her mother had failed to describe; Harry was looking healthier than he had ever before. The shallowness of his face was gone, and he was no longer a small bony boy. He had grown a least half a foot, and muscles had become visible even while resting. She blushed slightly at this before focusing on the big question.

"What happened to him?"

Professor Dumbledore considered the question while opening the box of sweets.

"I think a better question would be what happened to Professor Quirrell," he replied finally. He looked at her and continued on, "do you know what Professor Quirrell was after when he went through the trapdoor tonight?"

"No, sir." She said, shaking her head.

"He was after the Philosopher's Stone, an incredibly powerful magically artifact that can grant immortality," he said, nibbling on a funny grey bean before popping the whole thing in his mouth. "Hmm, black pepper."

She frowned, "But he failed. Or else Harry would be…." She couldn't finish the sentence.

"Yes, both he and Lord Voldemort failed tonight." He said with a small smile, she flinched and narrowed her eyes more.

"You-know-who was here? But I thought he was dead. Harry killed him…" she argued weakly. You-know-who couldn't be alive. Harry was supposed to be safe now. She shook her head. "Well, at least he's dead now for sure."

Professor Dumbledore shook his head, "Unfortually, I have a feeling that Lord Voldemort isn't truly dead. There are rumours of dark magic that make me suspect his spirit lingers. My question isn't if he'll return, but when."

She nodded and continued to stare at Harry's unconscious face. He needed protection. Why wouldn't anyone protect him?

"You should get some rest, Miss Weasley" Professor Dumbledore said patting her arm gently. She nodded again and watched him depart from the hospital wing, realising that he had never answered her question about what had happened to Harry.

Madam Pomphrey heard the door close and saw Ginny sitting out of bed. "Bed now, young lady!" she said shooing her to her own cot. She helped her with the blankets before turning down the lights and storming off to her room, muttering about disrespectful students.

Now with nothing to distract her, Ginny lay back in her bed, focusing more and more on her lack of limb. It was almost like she could still feel it there. Her brain knew what it would feel like to open and close her hand, so she could feel that but knew that there was nothing there.

It was all very confusing.

It was fine though.

She really only needed one arm to do magic and write.

She'd be okay.

With the darkness of the room came dark thoughts though, and tears welled up in her eyes. You need both arms to ride a broom. You need both arms to play quidditch. Ever since she had first stolen her brother's broom, she had wanted to play quidditch professionally. She had told Ron once, and her twin had been nothing but supportive, making her a Chudley Cannons card with her name and favorite number on it (#6).

But it was all gone now. Her plans were gone.

I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay.

She closed her eyes and whispered, "I'm not okay."