Twenty-one chapters and this still isn't the last one! I hope this doesn't cause any confusion; if it does I'm entirely to blame :o)This chapter and the following one contain the original ending, and chapter 23 will bethe alternate ending. Thanks to Jade and SnowDragon89 for your lovely reviews...I hope to have the final chapters ready as soon as possible!
S'lata!
Gnomes :o)
Home is a place you only begin to appreciate when you leave it and come back to it again. When Ginny slammed back unto English soil, and took a proper look around her, she felt like she was being covered in a layer of protective comfort she'd unknowingly missed all summer. Like a shot of good rum, it quickly warmed her up and made her ache for the bottle- that is, ache for The Burrow. The Burrow.
Mr. Pilwickle, always obliging, insisted on paying the Knight Bus double-fare to drop her off right in front of her house.
"I would accompany you personally," he apologized. "But I must be off to the Ministry, there's simply no time to spare. Do say hello to Molly for me."
So Ginny climbed the stairs of the Knight Bus preceded by Stan Shunpike, who practically dropped her her luggage when he heard her family name.
"Choo know yer brother Charlie was wiv me at 'ogwarts! Blimey, 'n yer his li'l sister!"
"I'm not little," she replied, yawning.
The ride home was surprisingly peaceful. Ginny was so exhausted from her long trip that she slept soundly, a feat that most witches and wizards find impossible manage without earplugs or enchantments. She awoke to Stan's voice above her bed.
"'Ere we are, 'ome sweet 'ome! 'Least for you, anyway. We've reached The Burrow!"
Ginny's things consisted of her backpack and a small suitcase, but Stan insisted on carrying her things off the bus. After she'd thanked him, he said cheerfully, "Tell Charlie I say 'ello!" and the Knight Bus (BANG!) roared off. As the dust settled, Ginny could make out the dear lopsided structure surrounded by tall, weedy grass, and small, giggling creatures with potato-like heads hurrying through it. Strange, that her family had not come out to greet her. But then she had come early, nearly two hours before the expected time. Hearing voices coming from the back of the house, she headed in that direction, luggage in tow.
As she drew nearer she realized her brothers were playing Quidditch.
"Ron, stop being afraid of the Quaffle!" came Fred (or George)'s voice.
"I'm not afraid of it! Maybe if you'd quit aiming the bludger at me I could try to score!" Ron shouted back.
"But you're my favourite target!"
Someone laughed just then, and Ginny froze. She recognized that laugh. She had dreams about that laugh. Harry was in her backyard. The cozy, warm feeling was gone, replaced by a paralysing fear that glued her feet to the earth beneath her. Gnomes and various insects scurried past her legs, but Ginny couldn't move; she couldn't even blink. She remained hidden by a squat, gnarled tree in front of her. Her mind wasn't functioning; it merely played the same words over and over again: Harry is here. Harry is here.
"Not again!" Ron groaned.
Ginny watched the Quaffle soar past the "goal posts" (trees) and land right beside the gnarly tree.
"Ickle Ronny, what are we going to do with you?" Fred/George said in a deep, patronizing tone.
This was not what Ickle Ronny wanted to hear, and he and the twins began to argue over who should be the one to fetch the ball.
"Shut up, all of you, I'll get it," Harry volunteered.
Ginny's eyes widened in horror.
I'm just having a nightmare, that's all this is.
A mosquito bit her on the arm.
Alright, a very realistic nightmare.
She looked down at her legs.
MOVE!
Apparently, thought a crazed Ginny, my legs don't understand English. They had turned wobbly, as if jinxed, and refused to budge. Holding her breath, Ginny watched in dismay as Harry flew to where she stood helplessly rooted to one spot, looking as though she were trying very hard to be a tree. She watched as he moved in on the Quaffle, and almost there, spotted Ginny and proceeded to topple off his broom.
He was back on his feet in a second, staring at her incredulously, as if she were an odd sort of ghost. Ginny's legs sprung back to life. She bent over her bag and fumbled with the knot around the Firebolt. The more entangled it became the redder in the face she got, and when she finally pried it loose and faced Harry she was as scarlet as a remembral.
"I-I," she stammered, holding it out with both hands. "I reckon you'd prefer using this one."
Harry took the Firebolt wordlessly, continuing to stare at Ginny, his mouth slightly ajar. Was it shock? Anger? Ginny couldn't tell.
"I took care to make sure nothing happened to it," she blurted, her entire body on fire. "And I had it polished before I left. Peter did it, he's the best in town, ask Ryan or anybody..."
"Harry, 'you talking to yourself again?"
Ginny glanced up to see Fred coming towards them, followed by George and Ron.
"Yeah," put in George. "Who you-"
The three brothers stopped dead in their tracks as they spotted their sister.
"GIN!"
Ginny doubtlessly preferred her brothers' reactions to Harry's. They whooped excitedly and surrounded her, all hugging her at once until she casually mentioned she'd run out of air. All the while, a mute Harry hung in the background, surveying the happiness but not contributing to it.
"Mum! MUM! Come see who's here!" Ron bellowed.
An instant later Molly Weasley was in the yard ( Literally. She apparated).
"What's the matter? Who got hurt?" she looked around wildly, her eyes landing on her youngest child. Ginny's heart skipped a beat.
"GINNY!" she shrieked, embracing her tightly.
The reunion was more emotional than either mother or daughter had anticipated. Although Ginny had been away for so long, she felt perhaps closer to her mother now than she even had. An unspoken understanding had somehow been created between them during her absence, and now that she'd returned, the difference was tangible.
While the two dried their tears, Fred turned to George.
"Can't you just wait till Dad gets home." He clasped his hands together with a great sigh, fluttering his eyelashes and pretending to get teary-eyed.
"Oh, be quiet, Fred," his mother scolded. She looking fondly at Ginny. "You came in early, dear," she told her daughter, escorting her back to the house. "Gaddy had informed us you'd be here in about two hours time."
"Yes, I was supposed to be," replied Ginny, shooting a quick glance at Harry (who seemed to be studying her, which made her nervous), "Only his business in Frankfurt took less time than he'd anticipated."
"Such a good man, that Gaddy," gushed Molly. "Taking care of our little Ginny."
Ginny opened her mouth to object but her mother was quicker.
"Only look at you, dear! I daresay you've grown at least two inches! And so grown up, hm, boys? Doesn't your sister look grown up?"
"Yes, Mum," the Weasleys chorused.
"Oh, just wait till your father gets home!"
Mrs. Weasley turned the knob of the door and ushered Ginny inside.
Home, Ginny thought, the warm feeling returning. There was no magic like it, though she missed Aus with all her heart. She stepped into the kitchen.
"SURPRISE!"
No, it couldn't be. (Yes, it was.) Perhaps it was a coincidence (No, it wasn't.) or maybe just a miracle that practically her entire neighbourhood, including Hermione and Crookshanks, had piled into her house in order to surprise her. Some had streamers in their hands, some held semi-arranged plates of cookies, some blew birthday trumpets, and others held 'Welcome Home, Ginny' signs, or simply shouted it.
Ginny scarce had a chance to react before being encircled by neighbours coming forward to greet her, hug her, and ask her questions about her trip. Some had come out of curiosity, some to voice their disapproval (mothers of children who held Ginny up as something of a hero), but many had participated in the fortnight-long search for her and were eager to see Ginny safe and sound. Someone turned on the Wizard Wireless, and the music gave the party an official 'commencement', Ginny being the junior hostess and star of the day. In between the millions of questions and compliments ("I don't think I ever saw you with your hair down...looks great!") Arthur Weasley came from work.
Ginny excused herself to the Stibbler twins (who wanted to know the best route to Africa), and ran into her father's arms. For a minute neither spoke, being too overwhelmed to do so. Finally, Arthur bent down and gently kissed his daughter on the forehead.
"You really shook up this sleepy place," he told her in a husky voice.
There were too many people, too much attention being placed on her for Ginny to get the opportunity to check up on Harry, who was nowhere to be seen (though her brothers came and went, loading plates with the various delicious pastries laid out). It seemed she had spoken to everyone except the one person she wanted. Even a highly irritated Percy came downstairs to say hi (How can anyone write an exposé on Wand Fraud with this infernal racket? Oh, welcome back, Ginny."). As the crowd started to depart, Ginny began to hear herself think again, and took Hermione aside.
"Tell me honestly. How did Harry react when he found out I took the Firebolt to..you know?"
"Well, I wasn't with him at the time," Hermione said slowly. "But honestly, Ginny? I'm afraid he hasn't been the same since. Ron and I tried to tell him you would take care of it, but he was so...so adamant in thinking the worst. He seemed a bit recovered after we were told you and the Firebolt had gotten there safely, but, I can't recognize what it is. He's just...altered, somehow."
I've caused him permanent damage. Brilliant.
Ginny had never felt so unbelievably selfish in her life (hm...this possible rivalled the time she had to speak to her mother after she'd run away). How could she not have realized what the loss of his Firebolt would mean to him? How could she have thought a note saying, "I'll take care of it" would keep him from worrying endlessly about it? To her community she was a hero. To herself, she was an heartless, self-indulgent guttersnipe.
"I'd like to give out the presents now," she croaked. Hermione gave her an understanding hug.
Giving out the presents made her feel slightly better. Her father loved the Opera House souvenir and immediately began tinkering with it, as her mother turned pink when she beheld the cover of the cookbook. "Yes, well," she said, suddenly flustered. "He really does seem to be, ahem, quite knowledgeable and sensitive to the culinary arts..." Fred and George immediately went to test their new Quills on Percy (and give him his pin), Ron nearly hugged her again and invited Hermione upstairs to listen to his new CD, who did so right after thanking Ginny for the book ("My parents said we might go there for Christmas, this is perfect!") which left Harry's present unopened.
"Has anyone seen Harry?" Ginny asked weakly.
"I think I saw him on the front porch, dear," her mother murmured, already poring over her new cook, I mean, book.
Trembling, Ginny picked up the gift and headed for the door. Almost outside, she heard her mother giggling ("My, isn't he clever!") Ginny put her hand on the doorknob, something she had not done in nearly two months.
Here goes everything.
