Chapter Six: Letters, Awakenings, and Confrontations
Hogwarts – September 24th, 1997
Harry was spending time at the Hufflepuff table for breakfast, sitting amongst a group of fourth year boys, when Hedwig fluttered down to him amongst all the other morning post owls. These days, Harry receiving mail was a rather common sight - between his correspondence with the three Tonkses and the occasional note to Remus or Kingsley, Harry was almost always reading something at breakfast and no one took much notice.
Harry however took immediate notice of the handwriting the envelope was addressed with. While it didn't belong to one of his normal correspondents, he recognized it immediately having seen it quite a bit over the last few weeks.
For some reason Mackenzie had decided to write him a letter.
Looking around at the Ravenclaw table Harry quickly spotted the dark-haired girl staring intently at her breakfast. After a few moments of hoping that she would look up so he could catch her eye, Harry decided that she must have seen Hedwig deliver her note and was now avoiding looking at him.
With nothing else for it and his curiosity spiked, Harry turned back around in his seat and pulled out the message from his ward.
Dear Harry,
Everybody was writing to their parents again and I decided that maybe I could write you a letter. I hope that's okay.
I want to say thank you. But more than that. And I know you said that I could tell you anything, but every time I try I just can't. Maybe a letter will make it easier.
I've always been alone, even at the orphanage, I never really had any friends. There weren't a lot of other kids there and most of them are younger than me. And those that were my age teased me because I wasn't wanted. My dad abandoned me there, he left me at the orphanage after my mum died. Mr. Filch said that he told them that he didn't want me anymore.
At school I was always picked on because I didn't have a lot of things and always had to borrow pencils and paper. I didn't have very nice clothes and I was always scared and really shy.
And there were all the strange things that happened. Whenever I was upset, things broke or moved or did something they shouldn't. And I didn't know why but everyone knew I was causing it and that I was the freak. And I was so scared and alone all the time.
Then I got my Hogwarts letter and I thought that everything made sense or would soon and that I would finally find somewhere that I fit in. Somewhere that I wasn't just a freak. And when the professor came I was so happy because there was a scholarship and I could actually come to Hogwarts and learn magic.
Mrs. Walton took me to Diagon Alley and it was so amazing. Mrs. Walton was always really nice to me and I think she understood how alone I was, even with the other kids. We had a really great time exploring the shops and getting my supplies. But then I realized that things wouldn't get better and that even at Hogwarts things would be the same as it was. You see, the scholarship only covered the cost of school itself and the orphanage was supposed to buy my supplies. But the orphanage doesn't have a lot of extra money, certainly not enough to buy new sets of things. Mrs. Walton tried her best to get everything, but even getting things old and used, there wasn't enough money to get everything.
I cried when we got back to the orphanage. I couldn't sleep at all because even though I was going to a new school with other kids like me, I was still going to have old supplies and was going to have to borrow what I needed from other students and everyone would tease me, just like always.
By the time Mr. Filch took me to the train station I was ready to give up and just go back to my normal school. I didn't have a nice trunk or nice robes and he wouldn't stop yelling at me and we couldn't find the platform and I just wanted to go back and hide in my room.
But then you came and found us. And you told off Mr. Filch and you signed the custody papers and helped me onto the train. You took care of me and held me, even when I couldn't stop crying. And you kept helping me. Even after I got sorted into a house different than yours, you came in the middle of the night to help one of my friends. And I have friends now, and you help them too and all the first-years. And then you bought me all the things that I needed for school. New things and clothes, and I've never had any that fit this well before. And you introduced me to your family and they were just as nice and great as you are.
And you've done so much for me and it's only been a few weeks since school started, but I've never been so happy before. Ever.
No one's ever helped me before, not like that. So thank you.
Love,
Mackenzie
Harry's heart ached as he read the somewhat messy, but greatly improved script. The letter had several strikethroughs and words crossed out where Mackenzie had changed her mind on what to say. What was worse to him were the small smudges of what Harry was certain were tears dripped onto the page. It was all he could do to not stop reading and go pull Mackenzie into the warmest hug he could.
It was a surprisingly long letter. While he and Mackenzie had spoken quite a bit in the short time since they'd met, it wasn't often nearly this heartfelt. Harry certainly didn't often find himself in such emotional turmoil or at such a loss for words after speaking with his ward.
Harry glanced back towards the Ravenclaw table where he knew Mackenzie was sitting. Or at least had been sitting, as her place was now occupied by an older student. A quick glance about the rest of the room told Harry that she wasn't in the Great Hall any longer. All the better, he thought with a shrug, as he had no idea what to say to the girl when he did find her.
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It actually wasn't until he was on his way to lunch that afternoon before Harry spied the familiar brown locks amongst a cluster of Ravenclaw and Gryffindor first-years moving down the hall.
"Miss Williams! A moment please?"
The group of students stopped and turned at the sound of his voice. Many of them waved or called out greetings to the Head Boy, who jovially waved back.
"You lot staying out of trouble, then?" Harry asked with a quirked eyebrow.
"Yes, Harry." The familiar chorus from the first years still managed to get a smile out of him. They really were a good bunch of kids. He did notice that Mackenzie, who'd worked her way out of the group and towards him, hadn't said anything and seemed to be doing her best to avoid catching his eye.
"Good. I need a couple of minutes with Mackenzie, the rest of you off to lunch. We'll both be there in a minute or to."
"Bye, Harry!" A number of voices called out as the group resumed their way to the Great Hall. Harry spent enough time helping out the younger students that it wasn't an odd sight to see the Head Boy speaking with one of them, especially Mackenzie who he spoke with quite often. No one paid the pair any mind as he gently steered the younger girl out of the flow of students and into an alcove that would afford them some privacy with the help of a quickly cast charm.
Harry'd spent most of the morning and all of his spare energy thinking about the letter his ward had written him. Even now as he turned towards her and crouched down so their faces were level, he had all manor of things he wanted to say but wasn't certain what would be best.
I should have owled Aunt Andi.
And then, after a moment of silence between them, Mackenzie finally glanced up and as soon as their eyes met, Harry knew exactly what he should say to her.
Nothing.
Instead he simply opened his arms, allowing her to surge forward into them, and hugged the girl in a way that told her that he was there now and would continue to be there. That he would be her best friend or her brother or even a father, if that was what she wanted.
Because Harry knew all about loneliness. He understood that it was a horrible thing.
So much of what she'd written in her letter to him could have just as easily been written by him and his own experiences at her age. He understood what it was like to not have friends, to be made fun of for second-hand clothes that didn't fit, to be ridiculed for things outside of his control. He understood what it was like to grow up alone and then have hope for a better future that started with the words "We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry".
And just as he'd told McGonagall that first day of classes in the beginning of September, he would do whatever he could to make sure that no one had to suffer as he'd suffered at the Dursleys.
Harry attempted to convey all of that and more through the simple act of holding Mackenzie tightly in his arms. The only response to her letter he felt worthy enough to give was to offer something that he himself had only ever received from his godfather - comfort and affection, given mindlessly and without question.
It turned out that was all the response the young girl needed. She held onto him just as tightly and wept quietly into his neck, releasing emotions that had been building for weeks and months and years.
It took some time before Mackenzie calmed enough to loosen hers grip, but Harry didn't mind, and he didn't let the girl go either. He wouldn't ever turn the brunette away, not after learning at least a bit of what her life had been like, and he wanted Mackenzie to know that. It was a full ten minutes after Harry had pulled her away from her friends before Mackenzie finally calmed and stepped away from her guardian. She kept her face directed down at the ground, blushing with embarrassment, and quickly began wiping the tears from her face with the sleeve of her robe
"Hey now, none of that." Harry quickly conjured a tissue and gently tilted her head back up towards him. Maintaining eye contact and as warm a smile as he could, he began lightly wiping her red cheeks, mindful of her puffy eyes.
"You never have to be embarrassed around me, okay?" Harry received a hesitant nod in confirmation that Mackenzie had heard him but neither spoke again for another few moments. Once he'd gotten Mackenzie cleaned up as much as he could, Harry vanished the tissue before giving her a bright smile. "There now, that's much better. Pretty as a button you are."
Harry chuckled as Mackenzie shyly glanced back at the floor and her cheeks reddened again, but he quickly grew serious. He waited until she looked back up at him before speaking.
"I wanted to say thank you, Mackenzie, for your letter." Mackenzie looked startled at his words and opened her mouth to speak before he continued. "It took a lot of bravery to write down how you were feeling and send it to me. I'm very proud of you."
Mackenzie's expression broke and it looked as though she might cry again. Having experienced the emotional effects of being told someone was proud of him himself just recently, Harry didn't hesitate to pull her back into his arms.
"I can't tell you how glad I am that I found you at King's Cross. I'm just as glad that I've been able to make you so happy since then, and I want you to know that I will continue to do my best to make you as happy as I can from here on out." Harry gently pushed Mackenzie away so she was at arms length and made eye contact again. "I know that suddenly having someone looking out for you can be overwhelming, but I want you to do your best to let me know if there's anything you need or if there's anything I can do to help you. And if you don't want to talk to me, you can always send an owl to Uncle Ted or Aunt Andi or even cousin Tonks, okay?"
After receiving another nod from Mackenzie, Harry pulled her into one last hug before standing and stretching out his knees.
"Ugh, I'm getting too old; my knees just aren't what they used to be." Harry's efforts at breaking the serious mood were met with a snort and he tossed Mackenzie a smile. "What say you we head down to the Great Hall before we miss lunch?"
Mackenzie smiled and nodded, and then in a quiet voice added, "Thank you, Harry."
"You're welcome, Mackenzie. Always." Harry smiled and led the girl back out into the deserted hallway.
Or at least he had thought it would be deserted by now, with the majority of students in the castle at lunch. But the pair had barely made it a few steps when Harry spied someone watching them from an intersection not far away.
It took him a moment to recognize who it was, but as soon as he did, Harry's steps faltered and he subtly reached for his wand.
"Need something, Mr. Nott?"
Harry's emotionless voice was in great contrast to the warmth it had been filled with a few minutes before. He continued to stare at his Slytherin classmate as Mackenzie stopped next to him, looking from one seventh-year to the other.
Nott simply sneered in response to Harry's question, eyes flicking from the Head Boy to the confused first-year. After a moment of tension filled silence, Nott spun and walked down the hall away from the Great Hall. Harry watched him go until he was out of sight, an uneasy feeling in his stomach.
The Slytherin students had been odd this year. Several of the older students (including Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, and oddly enough Greg Goyle but not Vincent Crabbe) had all been found dead with the Dark Mark, killed after Voldemort had attempted to preserve his life over the summer. Others, such as Crabbe, Pansy Parkinson, and quite a few would-be sixth years, had either been held out of the school by their parents or by the Ministry investigating their alleged crimes.
That would all be fine with Harry except it left him to worry about a third group of Slytherins – those who had supported Malfoy or the Dark Lord but still returned to Hogwarts. Luckily this group wasn't very large, but did include Theodore Nott.
Harry had been warned several times by several people to keep an eye out for those who would want to retaliate against him for his defeat of Voldemort and the subsequent death of the marked Death Eaters. Finding Nott watching him and Mackenzie in an empty hallway did nothing to ease his mind. Harry knew that the boy couldn't have heard anything with the charms he'd cast, but he still didn't care for the way Nott had been eying him and his ward.
Harry was pulled from his dark musing by said ward as she pulled on his arm. "Harry? Is everything alright?"
Harry was about to speak when his stomach grumbled breaking the atmosphere. They both chuckled and he began leading them towards the Great Hall, thoughts about suspicious Slytherins pushed to the back of his mind but not forgotten.
"Everything's fine, Mackenzie. Let's get some lunch before we're too late."
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Hogwarts – October 15th, 1997
It felt to Headmistress McGonagall that every time she got on top of her work, something else came up to replace what she'd just finished. Today was no different as she once again found herself working through what seemed to be a veritable hydra of parchment work. She was doing her absolute best not to continuously check the time, but she was well aware that the morning had all but passed and that the lunch hour was quickly approaching.
Honestly, she had no idea how Albus had handled it all.
As though thinking of the former headmaster were some sort of cosmic signal, a soft snort and a sputtering cough suddenly broke the near silence and the soft scratching of quill-on-parchment that filled the room. It only took Minerva a moment to sweep her eyes about the room, seeking out the disturbance before she turned around to find the portrait of Albus Dumbledore hanging above and behind her desk in the process of waking up.
"Oh, Albus, you're awake!" The headmistress was well aware that a magical portrait was only an impression of its subject, but she still couldn't help the warmth that blossomed in her heart at the thought of being able to converse with her old friend. The headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts had always taken great pains to teach their portrait selves as much as they were able and Minerva was looking forward to being able to benefit from Albus' vast experiences.
"Minerva?" Dumbledore seemed surprised to see Minerva and blinked a bit as he took a wide look around the office before his gaze came to focus on his former deputy headmistress. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh, Albus…" Minerva began slowly. "I'm afraid that you've passed away. I was appointed headmistress after your… loss. You do remember I was deputy headmistress, correct? I've been told the final memory integration can be disorienting."
"Yes, I remember, of course you were." The portrait of Dumbledore blinked a few times before taking an unneeded breath. "It's just that I'm surprised to see you here. I'd been expecting Severus, to be honest."
Minerva's lips thinned and she couldn't help a soft huff of derision at hearing her former colleague's name. "Yes, well, you almost had the right of it. There were whispers amongst the governors hinting that he would be made headmaster – where their sanity went I haven't the slightest idea. Luckily Mr. Potter put a stop to that."
"Mr. Potter?" The portrait said in surprise, its attention suddenly very focused. "What has young Harry done, Minerva?"
Dumbledore's portrait was startled at the abrupt change in the current headmistress' mood. It was as if a switch had been flipped and rather than glowering, Minerva was suddenly near ecstatic.
"Oh it's wonderful, Albus! It's all over – Harry did it! You-Know-Who is finally gone for good!"
Dumbledore's eyes widened as his jaw dropped – shock, surprise, and a hint of disbelief all clearly visible on the painting's face. "What? But how? So soon? How long has it been since I passed?"
"Yes, it happened back in July – on Mr. Potter's birthday, actually – it's mid-October now. But I think that I'd best leave telling the story to him. Just give me a moment Albus, and I'll go fetch him. He should be at lunch still."
And without another word, the headmistress rushed out of the office and down the spiraling staircase.
There was hardly a moment of silence, however as the other portraits of past school heads took this opportunity to great the old headmaster. It has been almost half a year since any of them had seen the portrait of Albus Dumbledore awake and they were all happy to welcome him back into their company.
"Welcome back, Albus!"
"Hello, dear, good to see you."
"It's a shame things went the way they did Albus, but it's good to have you back."
"Yes, yes. Thank you." Dumbledore said distractedly, waving his hand dismissively. The portrait was having a hard time catching up with events as it understood them. It seemed like there was one shock after the other since waking. First Minerva was in charge of Hogwarts rather than Severus like the living Albus Dumbledore had predicted. And then there was not only the news that Voldemort had already been defeated, but also that Harry Potter seemed to be alive and well.
Which was impossible. The portrait knew how the living Albus Dumbledore had hoped the resistance against Tom Riddle would go, and in the end it should have resulted in both Voldemort's and Harry Potter's deaths. The horcrux in Harry's scar should have guaranteed that.
Before the portrait was able to think much more of the troubling topic, however, the office door was again pushed open, but rather than the aged headmistress, a young black-haired figure made its way through. As Harry Potter stepped into the office and up to his portrait, Albus couldn't but help notice that the boy seemed much healthier and happier than he'd ever appeared in any of his living subject's memories.
"Hello, professor." Harry started with a wide smile, clearly happy to see his old mentor. "Professor McGonagall said that you'd woken up. How are you?"
"I am well, my boy, I am well. Although I must admit…." The portrait trailed off for a moment as its brows creased together in contemplation. "I must admit that I am surprised to find you here in the castle rather than seeking out Voldemort's horcruxes."
It was Harry's turn to crease his brows in slight confusion. "I thought Professor McGonagall said she told you that Voldemort's gone. There's not much of a need to find the horcruxes now that they don't have bits of his soul in them."
"I'm not sure I understand, Harry. I'd thought we were in agreement on the key role the horcruxes served in providing Voldemort his immortality." The former headmaster had leaned well forward within his frame by this point, and Harry found himself a little surprised that the artist hadn't captured the way that the living Dumbledore's eyes had always twinkled.
"Yes, well, sir, that was before I went to Gringott's." Harry spent the next few minutes explaining what had occurred at the bank on his birthday, specifically highlighting the stripping of Tom Riddle's magic. "And then it was actually just a few weeks ago that the Goblins found Helga Hufflepuff's cup – it was in Bellatrix Lestrange's vault of all places if you can believe it. I've inherited it after she died because Sirius made me the new head of the House of Black. I'll tell you I'm glad it worked out the way it did because I wouldn't fancy having to try to steal it. But in any case, the Goblins found it and when I asked they said it was clear of all curses and harmful magic in general. I'm thinking of donating it to the school at the end of the year – once I'm well and gone – along with the sword as a founders exhibit or something."
"I see." The portrait said slowly as Harry finished his explanation. As far-fetched as it seemed, it was beginning to sound as though Voldemort had indeed been vanquished. The living Dumbledore been almost certain in life that Helga Hufflepuff's cup had been made into a soul-container. All of the evidence he'd collected over his time studying Tom Riddle pointed towards it. And for it to not be… had he been wrong about the objects Voldemort pursued for his horcruxes?
These thoughts led the portrait back to the one soul-container he was almost absolutely certain about. Looking back at the clearly pleased boy standing in front of him, the portrait attempted to bring up a rather sensitive subject.
"Harry, has Professor Snape spoken to you about Voldemort's horcruxes?"
"What? Snape? Why would… wait – he knew about…?" The blood quickly drained from Harry's cheeks, leaving him pale and wide-eyed. "Oh Merlin, you mean you actually told Snape about the horcruxes? He could have ruined everything!"
"Professor Snape, Harry. And yes, I gave him some information that he was to pass to you after my death. I am surprised he has not brought it up with you."
"Professor, I don't know how to say this, but Snape was the one who killed you, sir. I was there when it happened. He hit you with a killing curse." Harry said cautiously, clearly uncomfortable with having to share this particular piece of news with the portrait. Harry paused a moment, during which Dumbedore gave no indication of reacting to the explanation of his death, before continuing. "And I'm not sure what you wanted him to tell me sir, but he certainly never contacted me after he fled Hogwarts. I'm not even sure where he was when he died."
"What?" The portrait said, shock clear in his voice and features. "Severus is dead?"
"Yes, sir. I thought I'd said that - all the marked Death Eaters were killed by Voldemort when he was stripped of his magic. Moody thinks it was Voldemort's last-ditch effort to survive by using his followers' magical abilities, but we really don't know. Did you study the Dark Mark and how it worked?"
Unfortunately, any hope Harry had on getting more information on the Dark Mark and its possible role in the death of Voldemort's followers seemed misplaced as everything seemed to have caught up with the portrait of Dumbledore and the wizened painting simply sat in its chair staring off out of his frame.
Harry waited in silence for a few minutes, but once it looked like he might end up being late to his next class Harry began gathering himself to leave. After another few minutes Harry bid his late headmaster goodbye and waved to several of the other portraits as they acknowledged his exit. In his haste to make it to class, Harry completely missed the portrait of Albus Dumbledore narrowing his eyes in deep contemplation.
Harry wasn't able, however, to miss the eyes of the redheaded ex-girlfriend waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs.
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"Harry, can we talk? Please?"
Upon further reflection later that evening in the privacy of his own bedroom, Harry would end up congratulating himself on withholding the groan that almost slipped out as he saw Ginny waiting for him at the bottom of the Headmistress' office.
As it was, it was very close thing.
"I'm not sure if now is the best time, Ginny, I need to get to class. Can we talk later?" Harry gave her the best smile he could as he attempted to slip past her. In all actuality, Harry had known that this conversation was coming. Even if he hadn't, the multiple attempts Ginny had made to corner him over the last few weeks would have made it obvious. Knowing something was coming, however, didn't mean he had to accept it, and Harry was just as hesitant to talk it out with Ginny as he had been at the beginning of September.
"Harry! You've been saying that for two months. I'd really like to talk with you, you know, like we used to."
It was something in her voice as it trailed off that forced Harry to stop and look back at his ex-girlfriend. She was still standing where she'd been when he came down the stairs, arms hanging limply at her sides – not at all the 'hands-on-hips with toe tapping' that Harry would have expected from the fiery red-head. Worse was the slight tearing of her eyes and her overall expression of confusion, desperation, and misery.
Harry had been avoiding this whole conversation in order to not hurt her, but it seemed that in doing so he'd just made everything worse. He wasn't trying to be cruel, he just wasn't sure what to tell her.
After another half-minute of thought Harry gave a sigh and nodded his head before turning back in the direction he'd been going. "Alright, come on then, I still need to be on my way to class."
Ginny quickly caught up, but if either of them thought the other was going to start the conversation, they were wrong and the two walked in silence for several minutes. Harry was attempting to find something to say in order to break the heavy silence when Ginny gave a rather exasperated huff.
"I waited for you. All summer. And I was willing to wait for as long as you were gone. But you're back now. You-Know-Who is gone. I thought you said we could be together when you got back. Why are you still making me wait?"
With a sigh, Harry ran one hand through his hair and then down his face. This was why he'd been avoiding this conversation for so long. He just wasn't sure what to tell her. They'd barely seen each other over the summer and hadn't spoken hardly at all since the end of the previous school year. And looking back, Dumbedore's funeral felt like a life-time ago. Harry had a hard time picturing himself during June, before the fear and stress of July and the hectic month of August. And then there was of course September and everything with Mackenzie. He just wasn't the same person as he was back then – as short amount of time as it had been.
"I… I don't think you should wait any longer, Ginny."
Ginny perked up immediately and Harry winced at her brightening expression, realizing she'd misunderstood. She must have seen something on his face as she stopped suddenly and grabbed his arm.
"What does that mean, 'I shouldn't wait any longer'? What are you saying, Harry? I don't understand."
Harry allowed his slight momentum to swing his body around the arm she'd grabbed so that he was facing her. With a deep breath he gathered what courage he could and looked the poor girl in the eyes.
"I'm sorry, Ginny. I don't think we can get back together again." Harry watched on as Ginny seemed to freeze and stare at him blankly. After a moment it became clear that she wasn't going to say anything, so Harry cleared his throat and continued speaking. "I don't think that I can go back to how things were, Ginny. Things changed over the summer. I changed. I have… other things to worry about now."
Harry continued to watch on as Ginny simply stared at him, showing no reaction but to allow her hand to slip off of his arm. After a few minutes Harry began to shift his weight from foot to foot, his eyes flicking around the corridor, trying to find something to look at other than his shell-shocked ex-girlfriend.
"Look, Ginny, I have to get to class. We can… talk more later, if you want… or something." Harry took a deep breath and again ran his hand through his hair before turning to make his way to his next class.
As though her mind suddenly kicked back on, Ginny gave a small start before narrowing her eyes at Harry's retreating form. He'd only made it a few steps when her anger-filled voice reach his ears.
"It's that girl isn't it? That first year Ravenclaw."
Harry stopped and turned, confusion clearly written on his face. "You mean Mackenzie? What about her?"
Ginny let out an odd cackle and Harry physically leaned back at the coldness of it.
"What about her? What about her?" Ginny spat out. "Don't act thick, Harry. Did you think you could hide it from us? We know all about how you're grooming her."
"Hide what? Grooming her? What?" Harry felt as though the conversation had taken a sharp turn and he no longer had any idea what was going on. The expression on Ginny's face was the ugliest he'd ever seen and Harry forced himself not to take a step back. "Ginny, I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Oh, I'm sure." Ginny again gave a loud, mocking laugh. "You're such a pervert. Are you sleeping with the bitch already?"
Time seemed to stop as the words left Ginny's mouth. The world around the pair of students was suddenly filled with contrasting dichotomies. Harry's eyes widened before narrowing. He seemed to simultaneously hiss while sucking in air out of shock at Ginny's vitriol. The temperature of the hallway plummeted to the point that surely frost would appear on the worn stones, just as Harry himself became a searing nova of anger emitting heat to rival the sun.
"What?"
His voice came out in such a hiss that Harry couldn't be certain that he hadn't slipped into Parseltongue. He wasn't even certain that he could still speak the language now that Voldemort was dead and their connection broken. Regardless, Ginny flinched back, eyes wide either at the tone of his voice or at the force of the magic boiling in the hallway due to his anger. In either case, Harry found that he couldn't will himself to care.
"How dare you? How dare you call her that? How dare you suggest that I… She's only eleven for Christ's sake! I can't…"
Harry stopped abruptly, his eyes closing and body straightening as he attempted to reign in his anger. After a moment in which Ginny simply continued to stare wide-eyed, the oppressive feeling of angry magic began to settle down. Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, Harry opened his eyes and looked at his ex-girlfriend with such coldness a shiver actually made its way down her spine.
"I can't believe you said that, Ginny. I can't believe you would even think that of me. Do not speak to me again."
And with that, Ginny watched on as Harry turned his back to her and walked away.
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AN: I'm not entirely sure why, but I really struggled getting the second half of this chapter written down and for the longest time it simply would not flow. Expect minor revisions to these scenes as I post new chapters. I'm sure at some point I'll be happy with it. Eventually. Maybe.
Again, the first part of this chapter draws a lot of inspiration from a different fic that I've read. This time I drew upon segments found in u/Maken's (/u/1084227) story called "Harebrained Heritage" (/s/4015965) – a rather odd story with a variety of different elements. Read it over if you have time, but be warned, it's rather… odd and certainly not appropriate for children.
The last scene of this chapter, the Ginny/Harry confrontation was originally going to be the opener to the next chapter and was not included in the first couple of renditions of this chapter. However, the scene ended up concluding on an emotionally heavier note than I had predicted, and I feel as though it does a better job concluding a chapter than opening one – so here it is.
Also – a special shout out to "PinkEll304" for getting me to write another chapter or so for Forging Futures. I hope you enjoyed the Ginny/Harry scene, PinkE.