HARRY POTTER AND THE UNFORGIVEN
A Sixth Year Harry Potter Fanfiction
BY
Jayiin Mistaya
"Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus."
...never tickle a sleeping dragon
COPYRIGHT DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to Harry Potter. Those rights are held, exclusively, by JK Rowling, and any other entities, corporations, subsidiaries, or groups not named here possessing legal rights to the aforementioned books and/or trademark.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: The third letter interlude. Enjoy!
Thanks to everyone who has been reading, even if you haven't reviewed, and especially to those people who have me on author alert or favorites.
More information on Harry Potter and the Unforgiven can be found at my website, which is linked in my Author Profile.
Feedback of any kind is always appreciated.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:Thanks to Elusive Evan for making me continue to post this.
LETTERS III
Ginny was fairly sure she was going to end up regretting all of her late nights, but late night was the only time Owl Post came from or arrived at the Burrow and she wouldn't be caught asleep if a letter from Harry came. She'd overheard members of the Order talking, and if they could, they were going to intercept letters to and from Harry.
Over my dead body. He deserves some privacy. For that matter, so do I.
The youngest Weasley was sitting on the tiny ledge outside her window, waiting. This time, at least, her patience had a reward. Hedwig landed next to her, and dropped the letter in her lap. The snowy owl hooted mournfully, looking as despondent as Ginny felt.
"I know. I miss him too. But don't you dare tell anyone."
She wondered if Harry had conversations with Hedwig like she did. The owl was better company than most of her family and all but a couple of members of the Order.
She climbed back into her room and lit a small candle by her bed. The flickering orange light made Harry's dark green ink appear black, but his handwriting was surprisingly clear, which meant he had spent some time writing his reply.
To her surprise, the letter wasn't written on parchment, but on white paper much thinner than parchment, with pale blue lines running across the page, and a red line creating a vertical column on the right side. She'd never seen paper like it.
Ginny,
You didn't make me upset with anything you said. I wish more people would be honest with me instead of tiptoeing around and not telling me things all the time. Half the reason I get upset when people tell me things is because I should have been told those things a long time ago! How can I know what to do when no one will tell me what's going on? Either with Cho Chang or Hermione or Ron or anyone!
So before that rant goes all over the place and I throw all kinds of stuff that's not your problem at you, I just want to say again to please be honest with me. Tell me what you think, what you feel, what you want from me. I can deal better with that than I can with guessing. Trust me, I'm stupid when it comes to people. I'm almost always wrong. (Then again, to hear Hermione and Ron, I never figure anything out until it's time for me to do my 'saving people thing.') Only I haven't been very good at that lately.
That's probably why I've never thought about things like you do. I've never thought about being judged for my actions or my words. Growing up, neither mattered. It only mattered who I was, which was defined mostly by who I wasn't and who my parents were. In a way, I never got over that. I still think of things that way. You're a Weasley, which means you're one of the good guys, one of my friends. Even Percy is still a Weasley in my head. He's not working for Voldemort, he's only doing what he thinks he's supposed to do. Which is what all of us are doing, really. In a lot of ways, Snape and the Dursleys are the same. They blame me for being born, for being me, and punish me for it. It's nothing I had control over, nothing I can fix. And sometimes, if it meant people would just leave me alone and let me be, not torment me for being born or for being me, then I would gladly be someone else.
If your theory about being judged by your actions is right, then you're not being judged right if people judge you based on what you did while possessed by Tom Riddle. Those actions weren't Ginny, they were Tom Riddle. The actions that were Ginny are actions to be proud of. Resisting a powerful dark wizard that's defied death, to the point of almost being able to tell people what was going on, or to break away from him. Don't think that 'almost' means something bad, either, Ginevra Weasley! Dumbledore was able to 'almost' defeat Voldemort. I was able to 'almost' throw Voldemort out of my head. 'Almost' means something when you're playing in his league. It's like one of us almost beating Victor Krum to the Snitch or something.
I don't think judging people on just actions is fair either, because words and actions that don't match can be just as bad or worse than judging them on words or on actions they didn't take. Look at Lucius Malfoy. He said 'I am not a Death Eater' and he gave money to good causes and claimed to have been acting under the Imperius Curse. But he comes from a long line of dark wizards and is the head of a family renowned for their collection of artifacts relating to Dark Arts.
I don't know. That not knowing is the biggest part of the fear Voldemort likes to create, what he created before and what he wants to do again.
I know why people didn't believe me. If they believed me, and Voldemort was back and coming after me, then that means I was no longer a savior, but a hope. A savior is someone who has already done the deed. A hope is something that can be killed. I don't want to be people's hope. It's too big for me. But I am, because my mother sacrificed everything for me.
Love, Dumbledore said. Love is what protected me from him, turned the Killing Curse back against him. But I don't understand love very well. I couldn't figure out love with Cho Chang...if I can't figure out love, then how can I ever understand what my mother did for me?
I think in the end it's a good thing that Cho and I didn't work out. People like you, Ron, Hermione...you'll fall in love, get married, have children. I don't think that's what's in store for me. Maybe I've heard too many of Trelawney's predictions, but I think that what I am now, what I do now is what I am and will do for the rest of my life.
If I didn't make you want to hit me, write me back. It's good to hear from people, and Ron and Hermione aren't writing. Again.
Harry Potter
P.S. Go shopping. Spend some of my money. All of you Weasleys, and Remus Lupin if he's there! I have too much of it. You deserve it.
I'm okay. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it! (The letters help keep me okay, so...thank you for writing.)
And thank you for the glove. It's helped.
Ginny closed her eyes and rested her forehead against her bedpost. How can he think some of those things?
As worried about him as she was, there was a glimmer of hope and excitement. Harry Potter had opened up to her, trusted her. And he wanted her to write him.
How did he figure out I sent him the glove?
End Chapter
Revised 12-25-07
