YOU CAN'T GO HOME AGAIN
July 07, 2000 – July 09, 2000
The night crept by dragging grief in its wake. At one point, rain fell like tears from the sky, as though the sky cried Molly's own tears.
"I think I might be insane," she confessed to her husband around four in the morning. Her fingers fumbled with the bedclothes, and silent tears streamed down her face. Molly had never been one to cry quietly. Her emotions had almost always been a flash in the cauldron: tempest-tossed and then soon over.
Even when her brothers had died, it hadn't been like this. But as much as she had loved Fabian and Gideon, Molly had found fierce, abiding love for her children as she and Arthur built their family with loving joy. Now that love had transmuted into grief, having no other outlet.
"I don't think you're insane, Molly," Arthur said quietly, reaching for her hand in the dark and clasping it tightly in his own. "Unless we are both afflicted." He drew a deep, shuddering breath. Molly turned slightly and buried her face in the crook of his neck. "I know I don't… cry like you do," he added, his voice tinged with guilt. "But I—"
"I know," Molly said. Arthur was steady and calm – outwardly. But Molly had loved this man for the majority of her life, and she knew that a part of him had steadily been demolished with each passing year in the long war. It was over now. He Who Must Not Be Named was dead, his ashes scattered to the wind. The Wizarding World was healing.
But the Burrow was silent and grim.
And Arthur doesn't ever go out to his shed and tinker with those blasted Muggle contraptions, Molly thought. He hasn't called me Mollywobbles since the twins were stolen from us. And when he touches me, there's almost a reluctance and guilt, as though we ought not to make love.
There were many flavors of sorrow, Molly knew now. There was the sorrow of having both her twins die, and losing forever the chance to watch them become the men she knew they would: bright, merry, and determined to fill the world with laughter. She had lost other children, too, but not to death.
Percy had never forgiven them for being right. Arthur saw him at times in the Ministry, and their solemn, proud boy would not unbend enough to give more than a nod of greeting. He had always been the quietest of their children, and now he was silent.
There was one bright spot in the last year: Ginny had finally come home. Home to England, but not to the Burrow. But even that was tempered by the awful feeling that Molly had failed her. I should have known, Molly thought. I should have known my only daughter well enough to know that she wouldn't abandon her family out of a pique of rage. But she had never thought, never considered there were more malevolent reasons for Ginny's long disappearance.
"Off exploring the world!" Molly said out loud, voice catching. "How could I have been so blind? Of course she'd defy us and…" There was no need to explain to Arthur her thought processes. He knew her as well as she knew herself; besides, this was not the first time Molly had said these words.
"I failed her," Arthur said.
"We failed her," Molly argued firmly.
It was heartbreaking to think that Ginny had been so alone for an entire year. She had been on the brink of death, and Molly had thought her selfish and childish. Instead, Ginny had been the one to help Harry save Ron's life, and had nearly lost her own in doing so. Poisoned.
Ginny had never come right out and said that she blamed them. Not explicitly. But Molly would never forget the terrible, vulnerable look in her daughter's eyes when she said I thought you would come after me or try to find me. Molly had gone after Percy once and had been refuted. Not wanting to endure that again, she had failed her daughter.
Molly listened to the rain beat against the Burrow, and wondered how they had come to this. The Burrow of yesterday had been such a joyous place, filled with the laughter of children and a cozy kitchen and Arthur's absurd collection of Muggle artifacts. Now the very same home that she'd taken such great pride in seemed heavily weighted with Molly and Arthur's grief. It pressed all around her, suffocating her.
"I think we should move," Arthur said suddenly.
"Move!"
"No, I know we need to move." Her husband sat up in bed, determination etched on his face. "The Burrow"—his voice cracked—"just isn't the same anymore. We need a fresh start. We can't keep living like this. It's too much for us – for me. The children… aren't here anymore," he added gently, looking over at her.
Molly thought of the empty rooms in the house. She had never been able to change anything about them. Percy's room was still tidy; his quills and ink bottles and spare parchment were still in the battered little desk he'd spent so much time hunched over. Ginny's room, with the view of the orchard, had not been changed one whit; Molly had thought to ask her if she wanted her old posters and things, but had never managed to get the words out. The twins' room was barely fit for habitation, with its scorch marks and containers strewn all over the place; but that was the way her wild boys had liked it, and Molly couldn't bear to change it. Even Ron's room - her son so bent on revenge against those who had harmed his family that Molly was afraid she was losing him too – was still its riotous shade of orange.
"You're right," Molly sighed, barely audible to her own ears. "You're right. We should move. We will."
Arthur made as if to get out of bed; the daft man seemed to think he should start packing now. Molly laid a hand on his arm.
"Not yet," she told him. "Let's wait."
"Molly, we should move now," Arthur said urgently. "Because… because what if we can't later? We'll just be – be stuck here."
"We'll move, I swear it," Molly said. For once, her tears had dried, and she felt more determined than she had in a long while. "But Arthur… we should have one last summer here. For the children."
The ones we have left.
Molly didn't say those words. She didn't have to. Both of them knew they were there. Arthur lay back down and pulled her into his arms, hands gently moving over her body. Molly glanced up at him once, some minutes later. His jaw was tight and his eyes squeezed tightly closed. At the end he whispered her name over and over and over again like a prayer, and she thought she saw tears forming on his lashes.
One last summer, Molly thought. And then we'll move and move on and keep moving forward until this bitter grief has lost its edge.
At last they fell asleep, nestled next to each other the way they had done for thirty years. Molly's dreams were frightening, horrible things. Unseen monsters chased her into a dark room, trying to tear something from her. She woke up some time in the late morning, clutching Arthur's hand. Her eyes were sandpapery. Molly had stayed up much too late for it to be a good morning. The back of her throat tasted coppery, as though she had bitten her lip in the night.
She heaved herself out of bed, and into their tiny bathroom to brush her teeth. I look a fright, she thought.
Last night had been terrible.
Molly lay back down next to Arthur and closed her eyes, determined to get a few more hours of sleep before they… started their project…
She woke again at dusk. Arthur handed her a cup of hot tea before she'd even opened her eyes. "We were going to have one more summer," Molly murmured.
"Hmm, dear?" Arthur said.
Molly had a cobwebby type feeling in her head, and she took a long gulp of the tea, hoping that might clear it. "We were going to have one more summer before we move," said Molly.
"Move? Leave the Burrow?" Arthur looked round at her in surprise.
"Was that part of my dream?" Molly asked. "I had a terrible nightmare, you know, of this terrible creature…"
"If you want to leave the Burrow…"
"No, I don't think I do," said Molly, shaking her head. "I think that must have been part of the dream." Leave the Burrow!
They were quiet for long moments, sipping their tea, thinking their thoughts. Molly could not shake the feeling that she had forgotten something vital, something important, and that it had to do with her little girl. "Ginny," she sighed.
"I keep hoping she'll come home," said Arthur. He had not even skipped a beat, as though they had both been thinking of her at once, and in exactly the same way. They'd been so worried about her, joining the Aurors, after her year abroad. Molly wished she'd just come home. Leave the dangerous work for her brothers… they'd been part of the Order, after all…
Something jolted in her stomach. Her hands trembled, and she nearly spilled her tea.
"All right, Molly?" Arthur asked gently.
"Just… that nightmare," she said.
Neither one did much talking after that. The feeling of weirdness did not go away, even as Molly went down to the kitchen to prepare dinner. It was nearly ten before they ate, but neither were too concerned about that. "Wasn't last night lovely?" Molly finally broke the silence. "Harry and Ginny, together! We should… have them over… maybe for her birthday? Or his?"
"That sounds wonderful, dear," said Arthur, "But why are you crying?"
Molly, who had not known that great big tears were slipping down her cheeks, shrugged. "It's a little emotional, seeing your little girl with a man…"
"Ah, yes," said Arthur, taking a bite of his sandwich. "That it is."
Arthur and Molly cleaned up the kitchen, and went back to bed, settling in with a book and a knitting project. "I do hope I won't have another nightmare," Molly said, a few hours later, when she was finally feeling like she ought to be able to sleep.
"Just hold my hand," Arthur advised.
And she did.
When Molly woke up the next morning, she'd quite forgotten the unease and uncertainty of the day before.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
July 10, 2000
"You have a couple of choices," Tonks breezed into Harry's office. "Well, Ginny has a couple of choices."
She sat at the edge of his desk and gave him a direct look.
"I appreciate the fact I still have a job," Harry began earnestly. It was true. He did not want to give up being an Auror. Ginny did not want to give up being an Auror. Harry would do it for Ginny, but damned if it would be hard to find a different job.
"There are not only mitigating circumstances — Ginny being a member of — a member of the Order," Tonks tripped over her words. "Sorry. Ginny was a member of the Order, there's a standing invitation for any Order member to join the Aurors."
Ah yes! Harry had forgotten that detail. Not that he had done very much thinking over the long weekend with Ginny...
"She has the choice. I can send her straight to London to partner up with someone, or she can stay here. She can stay as a student, or we could promote her to a sort of... junior position to you and Ron."
The latter seemed like the best choice to Harry, but... "Shouldn't Ginny be here for this? It's her choice, isn't it?"
Tonks blinked and shook her head slightly. "Sorry, Harry. It's been a long few weeks. Of course Ginny should be here..."
"She should be here any minute," Harry assured her.
And she was. Harry watched her stride in. She was confident, Ginny was. He'd been enjoying that side of her all weekend. Harry barely paid attention to what the two witches were talking about... it didn't concern him, not really... he wanted to think about Ginny, and how she'd been riding him on his sofa not even four hours previously.
"Thank you, Tonks," Ginny was saying. "I appreciate the chance..."
"—you know, we banned relationships because there were too many instances of power dynamics being harmful for the trainees—"
Harry leaned his head back, and relived a particularly heated encounter.
"—I do think that's the best option, I'm not sure if I'm completely ready to be in the field—"
Harry snorted. Ginny was ready for anything. She was brilliant, Ginny. But he could see the appeal in staying. Merlin knew, Harry wanted Ginny to stick around.
"So that's decided?" Tonks asked. "You'll help Ron and Harry?"
"Yes," said Ginny.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
10 July 2000
Percy Weasley woke up slowly, and in a great deal of pain. With shaking hands, he reached for his wand. There was no way to tell how long this spell had lasted—usually, it lasted a day, but Percy was in much too much pain for it to only have been a day. "There may be some pain, lad," Moody had said. Percy choked on a laugh. Some pain.
More like blinding, searing pain from which the only escape was unconsciousness. He muttered the spell that would clean himself up. It did awful things to his intestines, it did.
And it had seemed like such a good idea at the time...
"It's safer for you, for your cover, if you don't tell them," Moody said gruffly, his glass eye whizzing in its socket. Percy could not stop looking at it.
It had taken hours of talking before Percy had got Moody persuaded that he was sincere in his desire to join the Order. And it made sense that Percy could not go running off to the Burrow to see his Mum and to apologize to her. That could come later, after they won.
"In fact, I have the perfect job for you," said Moody. "I've been researching ways to better protect the Order, and I've found a... charm that would do it, but I needed — someone to house the charm..."
Percy felt a pang of apprehension. A charm needed a living host to maintain it? That sounded more like a curse. Come off it, Percival, Percy ordered himself. You're finally going to fight for the right side. Mad-Eye's eye stop whirling, and fixed him in its gaze. Percy had the sudden feeling that it could see straight inside him, past his innards, and right into the shadowy corners where he kept his pettiest feelings.
"I'll do anything," said Percy, humbled.
It was a ritual spell. Again, Percy's mind slid away from the word curse. Moody was the head of the Order. He would not do anything to hurt them... he was trying to protect them.
"All right, swallow this," said Moody. Percy caught a fleeting glimpse of a scroll with a list of glowing names. Including Fred and George.
"Wait, what?" Percy cried.
"Swallow it!"
"But my—"
Moody shoved the paper into Percy's mouth, where it instantly dissolved into a gooey substance that tasted of a thousand different things. It slid down the back of his throat. Percy swallowed dutifully.
"There, now it's keyed to you... keyed to your blood," Moody said, a fanatic gleam in his real eye. "The Weasleys... you're related to nearly everyone in our world. You've just made protecting them so much easier!"
Percy was again reminded of the curses he'd learned about in his seventh year of Hogwarts. They were forbidden now, but wizarding families had used the blood curses through the ages. Steal a member of the family, perform a ritual, and they had sudden control over the everyone related by blood to whomever they held. It sounded... very much like what Moody was doing.
Percy shoved that thought away.
"What of my brothers," Percy said flatly.
"They are, as you see, alive," said Moody, briskly. "They got caught in the Web at St. Mungo's — it scrambled their brains. I found them, but there was nothing I could do for their memories—"
"Surely a healer could—"
"We don't have any healers," Moody said gruffly.
"So you — what? Where are they?"
"I bound them to a carnival that was passing through London," said Moody. "They are fine. They'll be fine until all of this is over..."
"But — everyone thinks they're dead! My family thinks they're dead!" Percy nearly shouted.
"Ah, lad," Moody looked sorrowful. "Sometimes the right thing is the hard thing. And it's not forever. The moment the war's over, finding the twins is the first thing I'll do. The very first thing. Second thing, I'll take the — charm off you. Everyone gets to have their life back after the war."
Percy had gone home not long after that, to his lonely little flat in a small building owned by American wizards. It was a little oasis in the heart of Muggle London. He'd loved it. The ritual had taken a lot out of him, and he'd laid his head down on his pillow, intending a quick nap, but had not woken up for three days.
It was Moody knocking on the door that woke him. "Need to update something," he pushed through the door. Percy was still weak and wobbly on his feet. This sent him to his bum.
Another little scroll was pushed toward him. Percy was dismayed to see his sister's name writ there in glowing, golden letters. "No, not Ginevra," Percy shook his head. "No, I cannot condone doing this to Ginevra. I will not—"
There was a whisper right next to Percy's ear. He tried to swat at it, but his limbs were suddenly so heavy, and he was so drowsy... the sooner he listened to Moody, the sooner he could go back to bed.
"I need someone at Hogwarts," said Moody, as though from a long distance. "She volunteered. She came to me, the same way you did."
"I know she did," Percy said sadly. He swallowed the scroll. "Of course she did. She's seventeen, is she not?"
Moody looked at him sharply. "You make a good point," he said. He paced Percy's small sitting room, muttering to himself.
"Here's what I'll do... just temporary, mind you..."
He placed a small, silver knife against the palm of Percy's hand and cut. A drop of blood beaded on the edge of the knife, and Moody placed the tip of his wand against it. "You will not suspect Ginevra Weasley of being part of the Order," he growled out. "You will not disrupt her missions... you will not go barging off looking for her..."
Percy placed his head in his shaking hands.
"I need you to do one more thing for me, tonight if you can do it," said Moody. He sounded rather more compassionate than he did normally. "Your mum has that fabulous clock of hers... we can't let her see that so many of you are in danger. It would spoil her concentration."
"But your... charm," said Percy. "She can't go running after Ginny, anyway."
"But this will ease her mind... she doesn't even have to know the charm is there, this way, and once Voldemort is defeated, I'll lift that off you, and you'll all be reunited..."
Percy jerked out of his memory, a fresh wave of vomit coming out of his mouth. It was golden, gelatinous stuff. It had the consistency of pudding, but the smell of rotting fruit. As Percy watched, the gelatinous mix smoked and frothed and turned into a scroll.
GINEVRA WEASLEY, it read.
Percy collapsed on the floor in relief. She was free of it. Not all of it, he knew, she wasn't free of the stuff that came after... but some of it. He forced himself to his knees, and methodically began to clean up the sick and the mess he'd been lying in for who knew how long... it happened like this, every time they broke the curse off an Order member. Percy was just relieved this time it was Ginny... she'd been under the curse so long, maybe she'd recognize it in him...
Unable to help himself, Percy whispered, "Come find me."
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
July 19, 2000
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
July 19, 2000
Harry and Ginny lay entwined on the sofa, still sweaty and breathing hard from a particularly adventurous round, when there was a flash of brilliant light, and a Patronus the shape of a wolf appeared next to them. As one, Harry and Ginny grabbed their wands and leapt to their feet.
"—something wrong. Be advised. Meet at Headquarters." Tonks's voice resonated around the room.
Harry grabbed for his underthings and robes, and was finished getting dressed only seconds behind Ginny. "You're fast," he told her approvingly. She flashed a grin at him, grabbed his arm, and Apparated them to the emergency Apparition area on the roof of the Ministry of Magic. They were jogging toward the rooftop entrance when Ron and Hermione popped into existence. Harry held the door for them, and peered off, checking to see if anyone followed. No one did, and he raced after the others, taking the stairs by threes, nearly tumbling, but righting himself at the last moment.
They burst into Tonks's office. Remus was there, looking unusually grave.
Tonks did not give them a chance to catch their breath. "Have you been back to the Burrow since we got the curse broken off Ginny?"
"No," they chorused.
"I haven't been to the Burrow in years," Ginny said slowly.
"And we may have to revisit that," Tonks gave her a sharp look. "Because I think it's curious that you've been back for half a year, and haven't once visited."
"I can't go home," said Ginny in a blank voice.
Tonks rolled her wand between her palms so hard that Harry expected to see flames from the friction. "Merlin. Okay. When Remus and I went to the Burrow, we had a conversation with Molly and Arthur, oh God, it's terrible."
"Of course, the conversation came around to Ginny and Moody's curse, but when we mentioned it, they were confused—"
"What?" said Harry. "What d'you mean, confused?"
"They had no memory of finding out Ginny was in the Order — none at all," Remus said heavily.
Silence. Harry gripped Ginny's hand in his own, and she squeezed back. A thousand thoughts stampeded in his brain. "Memory charm?" he asked.
"What are the parameters?" Hermione asked coolly, at the same time.
"It's not a memory charm," Remus said. "I checked for that."
"They remember everything except Ginny being under the curse. They know she's in training to be an Auror, they know she's with Harry, but their entire... affect changes when you mention Ginny and the Order," said Tonks.
"Much like how Dora would get a — a blank look on her face... before Bill broke the..." But Remus's face fell into a look of horror. "Oh God, we've always tried to believe it was a charm, didn't we? But we know it was a curse... oh, fuck me. It's a blood curse."
Harry and the others had not quite caught on, and were still exchanging befuddled glances. Tonks made a small exclamation. "What?! So that's how he had the oomph to lay it over the entire Order?"
"Were it a Weasley—"
"—they're related to EVERYONE—"
"All he has to do is get a bit of blood from the focus, and make it reverberate—"
Harry's head was starting to pound.
"Are you thinking it's Arthur and Molly?" Hermione asked.
Ginny stuck her fingers in her mouth and let out a shrill whistle. "What the hell is going on?" she asked.
Remus and Tonks, with help from Hermione, quickly explained the mechanics of the blood curse. Harry's temple throbbed even more. So Moody had performed some sort of ritual on a Weasley to turn them into a focus, and anyone related to the focus was doubly affected by whatever spell or charm or curse Moody used on him. "But that sounds like dark magic!" Harry said, aghast.
"The darkest," Remus said grimly. "It's how the older families used to fight with each other."
"I told you!" Hermione burst out. "We never should have done it! We never should have let Moody go that far!"
Ron and Harry exchanged a speaking glance. Harry tilted his head; Ron nodded.
"You're right, Hermione," said Harry.
"Yeah, we should have listened to you," said Ron.
"Oh — you —" Hermione's eyes filled with tears.
"As long time coming as this is," Remus interrupted, sounding amused.
"Hold on, they've never let Hermione get away with an I-told-you-so before, let's give her another moment," Ginny murmured.
Hermione mopped at her eyes. "Well," she said graciously, "What do we do now? How do we break it?"
"We find the focus," said Remus. He frowned down at his hands. "And we have to suspect a secondary focus as well — no, not a person. An object, I suspect at the Burrow. Molly and Arthur are quite — quite buried under the curse, but Ron, you aren't affected much at all, are you? You remember that Ginny was in the Order?"
"No," said Ron, but he frowned. "But every time someone says that — says Ginny was in the Order, I feel... surprised. Every time."
"We're going to have to talk to Bill," said Tonks.
"First, we need to see my parents," Ron said firmly. He started pulling Hermione out the door, and the other couples followed.
"We may even need more curse-breakers," said Tonks. "We've got to find the focus Weasley, and what if breaking the original curse is even harder than when Bill had to break it off Ginny?" She talked as she moved, fast and clumsy. Remus kept her upright as they sped back to the roof. "We can get Tulip and... yes, we need Eleison... I'll floo them tonight..."
Then they were on the roof, nearly to the Apparition point. Harry held out his arm to Ginny—
"Wait, Harry, no! I forgot!"
He gathered his thoughts and pointed them toward the Burrow.
"The curse on Ginny—"
He turned on the spot and disappeared, felt his insides slide through a tube, and popped into existence just outside the gate at the Burrow. For one second everything was fine, and then something exploded next to his ear, Ginny was blown off his arm and away from him. He watched in horror as she twisted in midair, and fell to the ground with a sickening thump.
