CHAPTER FIVE

"Closed?" exclaimed Ginny, gaping at the latest edition of the Daily Prophet. "How can they close it?"

"What are you on about?" Said Ron sleepily as he took a seat at the kitchen table. Ginny thrust the paper at him and moodily folded her arms across her chest. Ron's eyes widened as he scanned the front page. "This is a joke, right?"

"What's the matter?" asked Hermione, entering the kitchen and bending low to wrap her arms around Ron. She caught a glimpse of the paper and looked as though she might cry. Mrs. Weasley then entered the kitchen, tying an apron around her waist and busying herself at he stove.

"I expect we should be heading to Diagon Alley soon." She said with a small yawn.

"There isn't a need." pouted Ginny. "The Ministry has closed the school." Her mother whipped around, the food on her spatula flying about the room.

"They've what?"

"Closed Hogwarts…" said Ron as though his mind wasn't really processing it.

"Our…our education…" muttered Hermione, plopping limply into a chair beside Ron. "What are we going to do with our lives if we can't finish school?" Silence and dread hung over the room as they all took in what was going on.

Ginny didn't know what she was going to do with the next two years of her life. What was she supposed to do all day if she couldn't be at school? Surely no one could find the time to give her lessons, and she would have to turn out a house maid or a stay at home mother. She had wanted great things from her life, but with two years of her education missing…what was she to do? She got up from her chair and went to her room silently.

She had half-expected this to happen; everyone had. And perhaps if everything else wasn't so gloomy these days, this news wouldn't be such a tremendous blow. But she had been looking forward to a time where she could occupy her mind with studies instead of constantly thinking of Harry, what he was doing, where he was, what he had accomplished thus far, if he was still alive…surely she would eventually go mad.

Ginny sighed and plopped down on her bed, pulling a small box out of her bedside drawer. She rifled through the papers until she found the small strip of parchment which bore only three words: "I love you." It was addressed to no one, and had no signature at the bottom. There was no indication of where it had come from and had been delivered by and unfamiliar owl. But she had known who it was from the moment she had received it a week prior, and cherished it more than almost anything else.

Hearing loud voices downstairs, Ginny got up and moved to her door, opening it and walking to the top of the stairs to listen.

"We've got to go now, Mum, there's nothing else to keep us here!" she heard Ron shouting. She tensed slightly as a sickening feeling swept over her.

"You haven't received word that he needs you, so you're not going anywhere, Ron, and that's that!" Ginny began to quietly make her way down the stairs.

"Why shouldn't we, if we know where-" Seeing Ginny, Ron broke off in mid-sentence and shook his head, a look of utter rage upon his now very red face. It took a moment for this to sink in, but then-

"You know where he is?" she said in almost a screech. "You know where he is and you haven't told me?"

"Ginny, you know why." said Hermione quietly, placing a hand on her shoulder. And she did know why, it just hurt that everyone thought she was so childish…

"It's not as if I'm stupid enough to go and look for him."

"Well he doesn't seem to think so." Said Ron before anyone could stop him. "In every letter he's written to us he's made it clear that he doesn't want you to know-" Mrs. Weasley smacked him sharply across the back of his head.

"Every letter? He's written to you more than once?" Hermione and Molly glared at Ron. Ginny looked around at them, suddenly aware of how immature they all thought she really was. Even Harry seemed to be thinking so.

"Ginny, I know what you're thinking," said Hermione with a hint of what might be fear in her voice. "And you're wrong. He just wants to protect you, that's all."

"Oh, but not you lot, right? You get to go and find horcruxes whenever he needs you to, get to be at his beckoned call, get letters from him on a regular basis… So I suppose that means he doesn't care whether you're protected?"

"It's different." Said her mother sharply, pursing her lips. "They're of age. You know why it's different."

"Well that doesn't make it any more fair, does it?" she snapped, turning back up the stairs and slamming her bedroom door behind her. She plopped moodily onto her bed and glared daggers at the ceiling, remaining there for the rest of the day.