Harry stumbled out of the fireplace into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. There was nothing for it. He hardly ever managed to make it out of the floo network on his feet when it was just him, so managing it with an unconscious Ginny in his arms was nearly impossible. He knew Fred or George would have taken her for him, but he wasn't willing to let go of her after having witnessed her reaction to being put down in Gringotts.
The Pepper-Up Potion had given Ginny enough energy to follow Bill and Fleur to the main hall of Gringotts. It may have been enough to get her through their entire journey, except they had been caught up when they ran into Percy. He had been waiting to the side as Mrs. Malfoy berated the goblin at the counter over her appointment being delayed. The concerned look on Percy's face and the relief that crossed it when Bill subtly confirmed that Ginny had already taken care of everything had obliterated any doubts in Harry's mind about Percy's loyalty.
While it had been nice to have that confirmation, it had cost them precious minutes. By the time they arrived at Fred and George's shop, Harry was practically dragging Ginny along in Fleur's wake. If he hadn't been so concerned about his feet showing under the cloak, he would have insisted on carrying her. It seemed that she had been forcing herself to complete the journey to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, because she passed out almost as soon as they crossed the threshold.
The invisibility cloak had slipped off them as he caught her and prevented them from falling. The twins were uncharacteristically serious and nervous-looking when they had arrived, aware that Fleur wouldn't be there if something weren't wrong. In the brief moment that Harry and Ginny had been exposed, they had seen the state of their sister and ushered Fleur, Harry and Ginny into the back. They hadn't asked Harry any questions. Fred had simply said, "We'll come as soon as we can," and sent them on their way without another word.
And now he was tumbling forward out of the fireplace, unable to stop the momentum and panicking about how he was going to avoid crushing Ginny when they hit the floor. He squeezed his eyes shut tight and tried to push his elbows out, hoping to at least keep the majority of his weight off her. There was a loud crack, but no impact. Harry's eyes popped open as he felt their momentum disappearing, followed by an invisible force that gently pushed him back into a standing position. Bewildered, he saw Kreacher standing before them with his hand outstretched and a disapproving look on his elderly elfish face.
"Master must be more careful with Mistress," the elf scolded. Harry gaped at him in astonishment. He hadn't seen Kreacher since they had first arrived, and the change in Kreacher's attitude was beyond shocking. It wasn't that he hadn't believed what Ginny had told him, but he hadn't expected this. He didn't have time to reply before the room was flooded by the occupants of Grimmauld Place.
Mrs. Weasley's face was swollen and red, indicating she had been crying for quite some time. She looked devastated as she stared at her daughter limp in Harry's arms. Hermione stood a few steps back, her hand over her mouth and her eyes glassy, a stricken-looking Ron at her side. A bleary-eyed Tonks was in the doorway behind them all, her hair natural hair rapidly tinting with black and gray as she took in Ginny's state.
Mrs. Weasley was the first to speak, "Is she-".
Harry shook his head, cutting her off. "I need to get her into bed. Ragnok said she should be fine, but she needs rest. We can talk about it later, after she's woken up."
Mrs. Weasley nodded and the assembled group cleared a path for them. She led them up to Ginny and Hermione's room. Harry had a brief thought to protest and insist they go to Sirius's room, but his arms were tired and he had a nervous sort of energy that convinced him it would be wise to put Ginny down before he dropped her.
Harry laid her down gently on the bed that belonged to her, but kept hold of her hand. Mrs. Weasley bustled around him, tucking her daughter in and caressing her face with a gentle hand. She had to lean around Harry as she made adjustments to the pillow and blankets, but he remained unapologetically still, staring at Ginny's unconscious form. A chair appeared behind him - with his attention so focused on praying the girl before him would wake, he couldn't be sure who had placed it there - and he sank into it gratefully, resting his head on the bed in an effort to be closer to Ginny. It made him feel better somehow.
Hermione was the one who voiced the question, "What happened, Harry?"
He wasn't in the mood to explain everything, especially since he knew other members of the Weasley family would be arriving later and he would have to repeat the story, but he knew he owed them some kind of explanation for why he had arrived with Ginny passed out in his arms.
Resigned, he said, "We got it done in time. Ragnok said this was normal, that it takes a lot out of a person." His worried gaze never left her face as he spoke. "That's all I've got to say for now. We're waiting for Ginny," he said with finality.
He felt his ire rise when no one took the hint. Mrs. Weasley had given up trying to reach around him to touch her daughter, but she still fluttered about the room. She was practically vibrating with a nervous energy as she folded clothes, straightened books, and overall fidgeted with the items in the room. Harry kept his eyes on Ginny, but couldn't ignore her completely. It set his teeth on edge.
Tonks must have noticed, because she finally said, "Why don't we go downstairs Molly?"
"What?' Mrs. Weasley asked, sounding offended. "No. I can't just leave Ginny. I have to -".
"Ginny is out for now, Molly," Tonks cut in, her voice surprisingly gentle. "I imagine she'll be hungry when she wakes. Perhaps you could make her something to eat? If there's anything you need, I'll go out and get it for you. Sound good?"
"Right. Yes," she replied shakily. Her voice firmed as she continued, "You're absolutely right. I'll make her favorite. That will help..." She sounded almost manic as she let Tonks lead her out of the room.
To Harry's dismay, Hermione and Ron didn't follow the two older women. He didn't even spare them a glance, however, nor did he bother trying to decipher the whispered argument they appeared to be having. It ended with Ron's huffed, "Fine."
"Harry?" Hermione called tentatively. He didn't respond, but she persisted. "Why are you wearing a Black ring?"
He wanted to snap at her, but held back. Somehow, he felt like Ginny wouldn't approve. He took a deep, settling breath before responding as levelly as possible, "I told you I don't want to talk about it until Ginny can be part of the conversation."
"I know," she said somewhat chagrined. It wasn't enough to stop her from continuing, however. "It's just -."
"That's enough, Hermione," Ron interjected. "I told you, we don't need to do this now. It can - and should - wait."
Harry finally looked at them. Ron was in the process of trying to guide Hermione out of the room, his look pinched and reluctant. Hermione's look was not one of curiosity like he had expected. It was apprehensive. The way she was pushing combined with the fear in her expression suddenly clicked.
"You found something, didn't you?" He asked, just for confirmation.
"We did," she admitted quietly.
She didn't elaborate, nor did Ron. Silence reigned until he couldn't take it anymore. He didn't want to talk, not about the betrothal or anything that happened because of it, not without Ginny, but he wanted to be left alone more than anything. Hollowly, he said, "Just say it, Hermione."
Hermione cleared her throat and began hesitantly, "I did some research this morning, and it looks like Ginny's theory was right. The Blacks do seem to live longer than most when there are no extenuating circumstances." She paused, waiting for Harry to comment. He had no interest in having this conversation.
"After that, Ron and I did some digging in the attic today, and I found a Licorus Black's journal. It mentioned his parents, who were the most recent bonded couple. His father died in a duel, decades before his mum did." The way she paused demonstrated her hesitancy to share what had happened after that.
There was really no point though. She couldn't spare him from the knowledge, not when he really already knew. Harry had felt how connected they were during the ritual; he could still feel the Black magic coursing through him and into her. There was no doubt in his mind that if the connection were broken by death, it would have a severe impact on the remaining party. Even if Hermione hadn't discovered proof of the full extent of it, he knew it. The knowledge was too personal to discuss with anyone but Ginny, however.
She continued on again, seeming to understand he wasn't going to offer a response. "It said she was never the same after he died. It looks like she still had her magic, though the family debated if that was true. Even those in the family that believed she retained her magical abilities couldn't seem to agree on how much of it was left. If she did, she certainly didn't like to use it."
He nodded once, a quick short motion. There was nothing he was willing to say on the topic, not to them at least.
During the ritual he had only experienced a small portion of what Ginny was going through, but it was enough to tell him that if he died, she would undoubtedly feel it. Her magic draining away had terrified him. Until the Black magic had flooded into its place, he had felt an empty space and cold dread that was paralyzing. The sudden influx of Black magic had hardly been more pleasant, the shock of it feeling akin to touching a live wire. It hadn't truly hurt him, but there was phantom pain that he knew meant it was hurting her.
It had been an exhausting experience for him and he hadn't had the worst of it. Ginny's slumber shouldn't have been a surprise really. Ragnok said she'd be tired, he reminded himself. There was something niggling in the back of his mind however that told him something had gone terribly wrong and that it was his fault for letting her perform the ritual at all. You should be lying there, it berated him viciously. He did his best to push it aside, narrowing his focus down to her. He couldn't change what had happened, but he could take care of her now.
Mrs. Weasley tried to convince him to come downstairs for lunch, stating that skipping breakfast was bad enough. Harry had rejected the offer, though it took all his remaining self-control to do it politely. It seemed she understood, because she didn't press him again. She simply brought up a tray and some drinks that had enough for both Harry and Ginny. "Ginny might be hungry when she wakes," she had said when she delivered it, though the weak smile she attempted to give said she didn't believe it herself. Nor did the way she hung about the room for another ten minutes, reorganizing all the items she had tidied not an hour previously, until Tonks reappeared and dragged her out again.
Hours passed in this fashion. Harry refused to leave her side, worry and discomfort growing exponentially and fraying his nerves. He hadn't climbed into bed with her the way he would have liked at first, given that too many people kept coming and going, including her brothers and parents. They may have laid together in the privacy of Sirius's room, but the thought of her family seeing it made him too uncomfortable to consider it. Or so he had thought. Two hours in, his nerves shot from worrying so much and half convinced something had gone terribly wrong - that she wasn't ever going to wake up - he crawled into bed with her. Whatever her family thought wasn't nearly as important as making sure she was okay, and she had handled the magic better when he held her earlier in the day.
Various people popped in and out through the day, each briefly checking on Ginny. No one commented on his position, further highlighting the worry they all felt. They all seemed to understand that Harry wasn't ready to talk yet and left quickly after seeing for themselves that their sister and friend was more or less alright. Even the twins were uncharacteristically quiet and tactful when they arrived. So Harry was left to remain in his spot beside her in bed, her body tucked firmly against his. He played with the fingers of her hand and twirled bits of her hair silently as he continued his vigil over her sleeping form.
At dinner time, it was Hermione who tried to cajole him into eating. He refused once more; it felt wrong to leave Ginny alone in such a state. When Hermione pointed out that he would be of no use to Ginny if he passed out from dehydration and low blood sugar, he called Kreacher and had him bring him bring a plate to the room. Even relying on the elf he hated was preferable to leaving her side. He ate his meal disinterestedly with one hand, taking only small bites and keeping his attention focused on Ginny and looking for signs that something might be wrong.
It was getting on in the evening when the assembled Weasleys all filed nervously into the room with Hermione in tow. Harry's shoulders tensed. No one said anything or even looked at him - they all appeared anxious as they fidgeted and stole glances at Ginny - but he knew they were waiting for an explanation. He tried not to be too angry with the way they had marched in on him and Ginny - they had been far more patient than he would have thought them capable of, in fact - but he had deeply desired Ginny's help providing an explanation. It was her business what had happened in ritual more than his, so it should be her story to tell. While he didn't exactly want to hide anything from the others, he'd seen how she could be selective in the details she shared with them and didn't want to say something he shouldn't.
Harry had never experienced a silence quite that loud before, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything. His eyes never wavered from Ginny, but he could still feel the weight of their collective gaze as it settled on him. They have no right to demand anything, he thought, justifying his silence to himself. The tension in the room rose higher as the silence continued.
Just when he thought he couldn't take it any longer, Mr. Weasley finally spoke. "Tonks is downstairs minding the kitchen in case any Order members should come to call, and Bill sent a message saying he should be here any minute." Desperation started to leak through his tone as he continued. "I know you wanted to wait, Harry, but can you tell us what happened?"
"Please," Mrs. Weasley tacked on, her voice wavering. "Anything at all. Shouldn't she have woken by now?"
Harry crumbled under the pain in her voice. He took in the silent people crowded around the room, their anxious expressions painting a vivid picture of them nervously sitting around the kitchen table fretting over Ginny's state, desperately wanting to know what had happened to her. It struck a chord that made him feel guilty. This was Ginny's mother, her family, and they were worried for her. He was too, honestly, and he had the benefit of knowing what had happened. It wasn't fair of him to withhold the basics.
He decided to start at the beginning, when Bill had arrived this morning. Since Bill had been present for that conversation, it really didn't matter that he hadn't arrived yet.
Forcing his eyes away from Ginny, he looked directly at Mrs. Weasley. There was no judgement in her gaze, only genuine concern for her daughter. Pretending he was speaking only to her made it easier to get the words out.
"It was like Bill said this morning," he began, thinking of their rushed goodbye earlier that day. "We were in a hurry to get to Gringotts." He turned to Mr. Weasley, "We left almost as soon as we got your patronus. It was a good thing too. Mrs. Malfoy was already there by the time we left."
The Weasley patriarch smiled a bit. It was still a sad and worried smile that more closely resembled a grimace, but Harry recognized that man was at least grateful something had gone right. "We're lucky Percy was able to get a message to me."
"We are," Bill affirmed as he slipped into the room. "Gringotts wouldn't have had any choice but to allow it if Narcissa had gotten there first."
The younger Weasley brothers shared uncertain looks. They clearly didn't trust Percy. Harry didn't really blame them, but the genuine emotion he had witnessed on their usually pompous brother's face had been so out of character that Harry couldn't allow them to doubt him any longer.
"Percy is definitely on our side," he said firmly. He looked at Bill, who seconded his assessment. A thought occurred to him. "He has a right to know what's going on too. Ginny has one of those papers. We could give him the secret. Should someone get him?"
"No," Mr. Weasley responded quickly. Harry was actually quite surprised by how forceful he had been and understood Mrs. Weasley's surprise when she let out a strangled noise beside him. He looked at his wife and said placatingly, "Not because I don't trust him dear, but he was still with the Minister when I left work. He went out of his way to tell me he'd be working late tonight. It felt like a warning not to contact him."
Most of the family exchanged uncertain looks, but Bill shook his head. "It wouldn't matter anyway. Fleur was with me when we got here, but she couldn't get up the stairs. Tonks was surprised, but admitted she and Ginny had discussed preventing Dung from accessing the rest of the house. It seems like she decided to block everyone except for us. Apparently, the same thing happened with Neville too."
Harry felt both annoyance at Neville dropping by unannounced and petty satisfaction that he hadn't been included in the group Ginny considered closest to her. This is a family matter, Harry thought. Even though they weren't truly his, Harry still included himself in that mix. Neville isn't one of us. His unkind thoughts were interrupted by Hermione.
"How would she do that?" She asked. "We don't start studying wards in Ancient Runes until seventh year."
Bill nodded. "You're right, except that it's not traditional warding as far as I can tell. From the diagnostic spells, it appears to be elf magic."
Hermione had a disapproving look on her face. Harry knew she didn't like the way house elves were used in general, but he didn't believe Ginny had done anything wrong. The way Kreacher had protected Ginny from injury and scolded him told Harry that the elf cared for her, so she must have been treating him well. Luckily, his friend made no comment on it.
The look quickly faded and was replaced with a pensive expression. She turned her attention to Harry. "He's been following your orders. He called you Master when you arrived from Gringotts. Do you think he'd explain or allow you to add permission for someone?"
"Not sure," he replied. He wasn't even that interested in finding out, but it would buy him time. Maybe Ginny will wake up before then. He didn't truly believe it, but he held onto the hope. In a clear voice, he called, "Kreacher."
The elf arrived with his standard crack, offering Harry a perfunctory bow. His wrinkled face pinched as he looked around the room unhappily. His expression made it clear that he was not fond of being in the company of the assembled crowd, but the fact that he made no nasty comments about anyone spoke volumes about how he had changed.
"Master called for Kreacher," he croaked.
"Yes. Um," Harry paused, feeling slightly uncomfortable commanding the elf, particularly in front of everyone. He was also unsure how to phrase his question. The others all kept quiet and offered no help, seemingly content to let Harry handle Kreacher alone. "Did you ward the house for Ginny?"
Kreacher eyed him for a moment before bobbing his head. "Mistress Ginevra asked Kreacher to protect the house. Anyone without permission can only go in the kitchen and hall," he replied, though he made no move to elaborate.
"Can you tell me who she gave permission to?" Harry pressed.
There was another pause, during which Kreacher seemed to weigh whether or not he was allowed to share such information. Instead of being annoyed at the slow progress of the conversation, Harry was relieved to see the elf's consideration for his orders.
Eventually he nodded. "Those here. The Weasley family. Remus Lupin. Nymphadora Tonks." Though he made none of the usual comments about blood-traitors, half-bloods, mudbloods, or werewolves, his tone was filled with distaste.
Harry nodded, content that he trusted everyone on the list, also grateful that she was being particularly cautious. Had it been him, he probably would have added a few more people to the list. It seemed Percy would be able to join them, but he wanted to add Fleur. She was Bill's fiancee, after all, and was nearly a Weasley.
"Add Fleur Delacour to the list, Kreacher," he said firmly, trying to make it a command.
It seemed that wasn't enough, however, as Kreacher shook his head vehemently.
"That was an order," he tried again.
Still, Kreacher shook his head in the negative, his wrinkled ears bouncing slightly as he did so. He croaked out, "Kreacher cannot do it, Master."
"Why not? You've been following all his other orders!" Ron voiced incredulously. The twins nodded along in agreement.
Kreacher cast a withering look in Ron's direction, but didn't answer the question. Starting to become exasperated, Harry repeated the question, demanding an answer.
The elf looked agitated, but responded, "Kreacher cannot because it was Mistress Ginevra's command. Kreacher must listen and obey only Mistress Ginevra as his mistress. Yous is not a mistress, Master, so Kreacher listens and is 'helpful and polite'. But Kreacher will not interfere with Mistress Ginevra's orders."
Harry slumped back and considered it. It could be that Kreacher didn't want to help him and was being intentionally difficult, but something made him doubt it. To his surprise, he really believed the elf was just loyal to Ginny and carrying out her orders as closely as possible. If that was the case, then Harry wasn't inclined to push him to do otherwise.
He looked directly at the elf and was surprised that the familiar surge of anger he usually associated with the creature had faded throughout the conversation. His feelings certainly weren't warm, but neither were they hostile. He dismissed him with a neutral, "Thank you, Kreacher. You're free to go."
Fred broke the silence, "Well, that was interesting. It seemed like he actually likes her."
George nodded. "Never thought I'd see that. Wonder what it says about her that the little creep respects her?" He asked in mock-suspicion.
Mrs. Weasley made a noise at the back of her throat and turned into her husband. Mr. Weasley silently shook his head behind her. George gave a repentant nod.
Bill interrupted the silent exchange. "What happened with the ritual, Harry? From what I've heard, she should've woken up by now."
Indecision flared within him. What had happened during the ritual was something he hadn't wanted to get into. He skirted the full truth by only admitting, "Ragnok insisted she should be fine, just tired. But… things went a little wonky. Both rings was too much for her and she was fighting the magic. I stepped in," he said simply. He raised his left hand and nodded to the Black ring there. "We're bonded by Sirius's magic, so I figured maybe I could help," he explained with a shrug. "It seemed to work."
They all looked surprised, but no one asked for more detail. Most probably didn't know what to even ask, but Bill gave him a look that said he knew there was more to Harry's actions than that. Harry looked away from him and attempted to cover up the guilt he felt at withholding information. Our connection is private, he comforted himself. To his relief, Bill didn't press the issue. Instead, he asked a question Harry didn't have an answer to.
"Why would she reject the magic?" He seemed to be talking more to himself than anyone else. "If you could handle it based on Sirius's magic alone, then she should have since she's a blood relative, however distantly."
Harry felt all their eyes on him like a tangible weight, pressing on his chest and stealing his breath. They expected him to know. He had no answer to give on that front, but he did know something they didn't: it didn't have to be her.
The most insecure part of him screamed that they would hate him for allowing Ginny to do this when it could have been him instead. He had to tell them though; his conscience wouldn't allow him to keep it a secret.
"It should be me lying there," he said quietly. Unfortunately the heavy silence allowed the sound to carry and everyone heard.
Hermione came up to him and placed a hand on his back. He shrugged her off and she huffed a bit. "Stop blaming yourself, Harry. It couldn't have been you. You need to be a blood relation."
He shook his head impatiently. "That's not what Ragnok said. It said it right there in the will that I was next in line after her. Something to do with the bond," he said tersely. The jumbled feelings of worry, fear, and guilt were making him irritable.
Her heard Hermione exhale a small, surprised, "Oh!" In his periphery, he saw her turn to the others in the room. "Is that even possible?" she asked the group at large.
"It's not common and is usually kept quiet, but magical adoptions have been done before," Mr. Weasley said slowly. He turned to his wife, "Remember that time your mother and Walburga started fighting at her cousin Alphard's funeral?"
Mrs. Weasley's actually smiled a bit, a stark change from the despairing expression she'd been wearing since Harry and Ginny had returned. She replied, "Of course. Mum loved Alphard. Walburga started slandering him during the eulogy, vilifying him for supporting 'mudbloods, squibs, and the like'. Mum lost it. She had shouted for the whole funeral party to hear that Walburga had no room to talk, as her great-grandfather was a muggleborn that was lucky to become a Bullstrode at all." Mrs. Weasley actually let out a short laugh. "Walburga turned so purple that I thought she might stop breathing entirely and drop dead."
Mr. Weasley, looking somewhat lighter at the change in his wife's demeanor, turned back to Harry and the group at large. "Right. According to Lucretia, it's a little known fact that Walburga's great-grandfather was a Bullstrode by name, but not by birth. At the time he was born, the Bullstrode line had produced two consecutive generations of squibs. The Head of the Bullstrode family, the last remaining wizard they had produced, was getting older and knew his line had all but died out magically, so he found a great nephew who was a wizard. Having been born from a squib line to two muggles, the boy didn't have the family magic, but he was a close enough blood relation that he was able to participate in a ritual similar to yours upon the death of the man. The boy had agreed because he was aware that the family was prominent in society and well-off. They had managed to pass it off with no one being the wiser for several generations."
Mrs. Weasley added, "Grandma Prewitt's public announcement at Uncle Alphard's funeral is what lost the Bullstrode's their Sacred Twenty-Eight status. Once it was known that their line was descended from a muggleborn..." With an impatient shake of her head, she continued, "Good riddance if you ask me. The whole pureblood obsession is madness. John and Agatha Bullstrode are a wonderful couple, but he never would have been able to marry a muggleborn like her if they had stuck to the old ways."
"You're right, dear," Arthur said indulgently. He quickly directed the conversation back to their true topic. "The point is that it can and has been done before, so it's not terribly surprising that you could have been eligible. You are distantly related. While you probably aren't a close enough relation by blood alone, the magic of the betrothal would give you enough connections to do it."
Harry's foot bounced nervously and he tightened his grip on Ginny's hand. "It should have been me," he repeated more forcefully this time. "I shouldn't have let her do it."
It was Mrs. Weasley who stopped him from brooding. She came up to him, forcing him to look at her with a gentle palm on his cheek that he couldn't bring himself to ignore. Her brown eyes - so like Ginny's that it hurt to look at them when he couldn't look at the real thing - were soft and forgiving as he met them. She smiled sadly at him.
"You did the right thing, Harry. Even if she would have let you, I'm glad you didn't. Her status as a Black now will protect her from more than you could have." Her hand rose from his cheek to his hair, motherly attempting to brush it into order. For the first time, the comfort he felt at her ministrations wasn't marred by any of his usual unease. He let some of the guilt go as her acceptance settled over him. She continued somewhat apologetically, "Not that I don't care about your safety, dear, but it's a comfort to know that she'll be safe from a few of the worst families now. She'll find a way through this and be stronger for it, just you wait and see."
Harry wasn't the only one affected by her optimism. The expressions of the onlookers around the room shifted from apprehension to confident almost as one. None of them expected it to be easy, but they had seen Ginny go through worse before and come out better for it, and their expressions said they would help see her through once again. It furthered Harry's hope.
Mrs. Weasley didn't see it, however. She looked down at her daughter again and Harry followed her gaze. She reached down and brushed a hand through her hair in the same manner as she had just done to Harry.
Harry looked Ginny over for the millionth time in the seven hours that he had spent beside her. Then he looked around the room once more at everyone. He'd had to use the loo for over two hours now, but had been afraid to leave her alone. The idea was still repellent, but if he left now and she woke while he was gone, at least she'd be surrounded by her family. There's nothing for it, he sighed internally, it's not like Kreacher can use the loo for you.
He did his best to make it quick, discomfort gnawing at him with every step he took away from her. His relief at finally emptying his bladder turned to dismay when she began screaming less than a minute after he left. Hastily finishing, he rushed back to her room.
Every person was still assembled, all oriented toward the bed and watching in horror. They formed a wall that prevented him from seeing the bed, but he could hear Mrs. Weasley's pleading voice as she frantically tried to soothe her daughter. It wouldn't help, he knew; she was fighting against forces they couldn't see or understand. Harry quickly pushed past them all. He just knew he was the only that could reach her right now.
Bill and her father were holding her down while she thrashed and kicked out at them. Her eyes were firmly shut, tears streaming out of them and down her cheeks while her screaming continued until it broke off with a cough. Mrs. Weasley was brushing the tears away and trying to talk to her. Ginny's raspy voice was choking out "no" over and over again through her coughing.
Harry saw red at the sight of her struggling. "What the hell are you doing?" he barked at them without thought as he shoved at Bill.
It was a futile attempt. Bill maintained his grip on his sister's wrists. Bill's face was sad but steady as he looked at Harry, easing the younger boys anger. "We don't have a choice, Harry. She keeps trying to pull the ring off, but no matter what, we cannot allow that to happen. The ritual hasn't finished working yet - removing the ring could permanently damage her magic."
Harry opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off as Ginny's coughing subsided and her voice became clear again.
"Let me go, Tom," she sobbed. "Just let me go," she pleaded brokenly. Then she shrieked, "Stop it! Get it away from me!"
Just like earlier today at Gringotts, he reacted on instinct. As quick as he could manage it without fucking up, he slipped Orion's ring from his finger and onto her pointer finger. Every muscle in his body tensed painfully when she let out another scream that sounded like she was being held under the cruciatus, but he forced himself to keep moving. He swiftly removed Walburga's ring from her and slipped it onto his pinky. It wouldn't go past the second joint, but it was secure enough that he didn't feel like he would lose it. He felt the magic flowing through him increase, confirming his suspicion that Walburga's ring was a stronger focus point. Her screaming cut off immediately and she stopped thrashing, but she continued to sob in her sleep.
Bill cautiously loosened his grip on her wrists and looked at Harry. His expression bore an odd mixture of gratitude and reproach. "That was a risky move, Harry."
Harry shrugged as he took one of Ginny's hands in his, gently rubbing the red skin of her wrist there. Risky it might have been, but she was better now than she had been moments before and that was all that mattered to him. "It worked, didn't it?"
With grudging respect, Bill nodded and Harry turned to Ginny once more. She was still clearly distraught, the tears streaming in unending rivulets down her cheeks, but her mother was no longer trying to soothe her. Mrs. Weasley was now standing in her husband's embrace, sobbing "my little girl" into Mr. Weasley's chest.
Harry took over immediately. She wasn't as bad as before, but she wasn't anywhere near okay. Her words were more mumbled and harder to understand now, but he was certain he heard her say Tom's name again accompanied by a flinch. Her hand spasmed in his. He had to find a way to wake her up.
He lifted her so that she was sitting up with her weight supported against him. Her body wasn't restrained in any way, but the position would allow him to quickly wrap his arms around her if she started fighting him and he had to subdue her. He attempted to wake her one last time by calling her name. When he got no response, he pinched the webbed skin between her thumb and pointer finger hard.
It was a trick he had learned growing up with the Dursleys when he realized that crying would get him nowhere but in trouble. It always helped him get the feeling under control. Even though she was asleep, he hoped the quick shock of pain - knowing how quickly it fled after the fact made him feel less guilty about inflicting any kind of pain on her - would pull her out of whatever was making her cry and wake her up, even if it didn't work to stop the tears.
To his relief, it worked. With a gasp, she yanked her hand out of his and attempted to pull away from him and sit up on her own. His arms tightened around her though and he quietly soothed her. "Shush, it's okay, Gin. It's just me. You're alright."
She turned in his embrace and looked up at him. Frantically, she said, "Harry! Tom - ".
"He's not here, Ginny," he reassured her. "It's just us and your family in Grimmauld Place. Look."
Her eyes widened as they scanned the room and took notice of her assembled family members. They came back to rest on him, the pupils blown wide with fear. Her lips trembled and her voice shook as she gripped him desperately. "They shouldn't be here, Harry. Tom's here. I can hear him. He'll kill them. Please, Harry. I can't - my magic is wrong. I don't - he's taking over again and thenhe'll make me hurt them, just like he wants me to hurt you." She suddenly was fighting against him, trying to get away, "and he will. He'll hurt you. I'll hurt you. The Basilisk, it almost killed you. Go."
Despite the surprising amount of strength she was putting into pushing him away, he held on. "Ginny. Ginny! Calm down," he said, trying to break through the hysteria. His attempts to stop her were gentle, fearing how she had reacted when her parents and Bill restrained her. She only struggled harder, begging him to leave her. Harry thought he could feel her magic building as her panic escalated and feared what kind of accidental magic she might unleash.
Finally he pinned both arms against his chest and held her firmly with one arm around her back. His free hand cupped her face and forced her to look at him. It felt wrong, forcing her like that, but she was in hysterics and likely to hurt herself. If this didn't work, they may have to put her into a magically induced sleep, and the last thing he wanted was for her to be trapped in her mind with the things that were haunting her.
"Gin," he said forcefully, squeezing her around the middle for emphasis. She stopped struggling and looked up at him with wide eyes. "I'm fine. You're safe. The diary Tom and the Basilisk are both gone. Remember? Remember Fawkes? He came and helped," he prodded, trying to orient her to the time and place. "It's not Tom's magic. It's the Black family magic. Sirius… he thought it would protect you." His words had started off strong, but faded into a soft sadness. He hated everything about this, but he didn't have the energy to be angry. Nor did she need to see that right now.
He realized he was still holding her far too tight, and loosened his grip, not wanting to cause her any more discomfort. Her reaction was not what he expected, as her breathing picked up and she gripped him desperately. He could feel her nails through the fabric of his shirt where she was holding on. Taking the hint, he returned to their previous position and was gratified when she relaxed fractionally.
Slowly she nodded. Her pupils were shrinking back to a more normal size as reality began to sink in. There was still a level of fear on her pale face that had him worried though. Her eyes shot sideways for a split second, to the general area her family had assembled, before coming back to him. They were wide and pleading as she whispered, "I feel like I can still hear him."
A shiver went through her as she said it. It reminded him of how cold this room always felt and how she had mentioned that Sirius's room made her feel better. Making a decision, he stood, pulling her with him.
He looked directly at her parents. His tone brokering no argument, he said firmly, "I'm taking her to Sirius's room." The alone went unsaid, but he knew they understood. It was strange to speak to them in such a way - and had the circumstances been different he couldn't imagine doing so - but Ginny's needs took precedence over propriety or their feelings.
Instead of looking offended, they both signaled their agreement. Mrs. Weasley's eyes were red and tears streamed down her blanched face, but she nodded from where she stood tucked in her husband's arms. Mr. Weasley looked sadly at his daughter where she was tucked similarly in Harry's embrace before looking at Harry with understanding and gratitude. "Go," he said quietly.
Everyone stood motionless, shock and sadness hanging in the air as they watched Harry lift an unresisting Ginny and quickly leave the room. If Ginny's brother's or Hermione had anything to say on the matter, they didn't speak it in front of Harry. He would have ignored them even if they had. Ginny's grip around his neck - tight enough to make breathing slightly uncomfortable - encouraged him to move faster.
When they finally arrived, he set her down on the bed. Her arms remained locked around his neck, her face buried in his chest. The position didn't allow him to pull back, but he didn't fight it. For whatever reason, probably the bond and the magic that was finding its way to her through both rings, it seemed of the utmost importance that he not break the physical contact with her.
The room grew dark around them as the minutes passed in silence. Ginny didn't speak, nor did she relax her grip, and Harry followed her example. When true darkness settled, though, Ginny began to tremble. With one hand, he used his wand to light the lamps in the room.
Even though his spell had been spoken softly, she flinched and pulled back. Her arms wrapped around her legs and pulled her knees to her chest. Her side was still resting against his front, but if he pulled back, he'd be able to see her face. He grimaced at what he saw.
Her gaze was unseeing, staring at nothing apparent in the direction of the far wall. The bags under her eyes were deep and colored like a bruise, and the ghostly white color of her complexion made the freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks look more like ink blots than the usual dusting of color. She looked more like she had had a run-in with a dementor than like she had slept for the last seven hours.
She looks like she could use some tea… or better yet some hot chocolate. The thought made him realize that he hadn't seen her eat or drink anything at all today.
"Ginny," he said softly. She flinched again, but turned her attention to him. The distant look there frightened him a little, but he continued. "Gin, I think you should have something to drink. Tea, maybe? Or hot chocolate?"
When she didn't immediately answer and just looked at him with an unsure expression, he continued, "I'm not going to leave you." Relief flashed across her face before giving way to panic at his next words, "I was just going to call Kreacher -".
"No!" She burst out, wide, sunken eyes staring at him in horror. "Please, don't call him. I don't want anyone else here. Please."
Harry wasn't sure what to make of it. Trapped as she had been in her nightmare reality, he hadn't blamed her for how she felt about her family being present. But Kreacher? Her brown eyes were huge as she looked up at him trustingly, however, and he couldn't find it in him to deny her.
"You really need something to eat and drink, though," he insisted. "I don't mind getting it for you, but I don't want to leave you. Will you be alright here alone while I'm gone?" he asked in concern. It was a sure sign that she wasn't feeling herself that she didn't get upset with him for suggesting that she needing minding.
"I will. I promise. I just don't want anyone else here," she answered too quickly, still sounding terrified. Then in a small voice she added, "Maybe you could leave me your wand, though?"
Harry quickly handed it over. She was clearly terrified and if having a wand would make her feel better, he'd gladly part with his for a few minutes. He wouldn't need it here in Grimmauld Place anyway. She took it gratefully. "Thank you," she said quietly, without looking up from the wand.
Reluctantly, he stood to go. His hand lingered on her for as long as possible, until he cautiously pulled away. To his relief, she didn't scream this time, though her muscles tensed and her face twisted. She gave him a little nod of encouragement, but didn't unlock her clenched teeth to speak.
"I'll be back as soon as possible," he said, already making his way out the door as fast as he could.