Chapter Seventeen

Six Months Later

!The Serpent Has Struck!

He Who Must Not be Named. A name that strikes fear into the hearts of witches and wizards throughout Britain struck the heart of our world yesterday, with the destruction of Diagon Alley. The Alley, second oldest wizarding populace in the country has been left in smoking ruins and cinder blocks as He Who Must Not Be Named swept through his aisle of death with his Dark Lady beside him. Aurors of the Ministry of Magic, and members of the Order of the Phoenix met the dreaded pair and their followers in a counter attack that had witnesses quaking in their boots. Losses on both sides have been taken into account, as well as the innocents that shed their blood upon the cobblestones of the Alley making the death toll of sixty eight; the highest toll of the war so far.

It is believed that Miss Ginerva Weasley, youngest daughter of Arthur Weasley; led the brutal attack on the Alley and was sighted casting Unforgivable Curses upon the innocent fleeing the scene.

'I could hear her as I ran!' speaks frantic Delilah Worsley, 'she was laughing as she cast the Cruciatus Curse on children! Despicably evil! Almost as malevolent as You Know Who himself!'

Ginerva Weasley has been sighted during many of these assaults on wizarding Britain, taking death and destruction in her path. Many have drawn wands with her over the past few weeks as He Who Must Not be Named attacks have become more and more frequent, and all have who have drawn wands, have fallen; including her own brother Percival Weasley as he duelled with her to protect a Muggle family three weeks ago in central London.

The death of her brother appears to have had little effect on the youngest Weasley as she was seen duelling her former love Harry James Potter at the attack.

'It was horrible,' says Jeanine Hocks, 'he was screaming at her to stop and come back to him; she just laughed and laughed. . I don't think he even cast one curse at her, every spell was defensive against her attacks.'

This reporter had learnt through anonymous sources that Mr Potter still believes his beloved Ginny Weasley still resides within the mind of a treacherous killer and torturer. It saddens her, and her readers, that the Boy Who Lived seems destined to never find love; merely lose it.

Harriet Sways, article rated 4 stars!

Harry threw the copy of The Witches Words, across the room and rose from the dining chair at the old scrubbed table. That damn Harriet Sways was making him out to be a stupid, heart broken young man that was unwilling to strike a woman that resembled one he once loved; and she was fucking right. Striding to the kitchen cupboards he withdrew a bottle of Firewhiskey and a glass before returning to the table and glancing at the photo of Ginny on the front page of the Daily Prophet. Her red hair was whipping across her face and her eyes sparkled with laughter; if it wasn't for the corpses surrounding her and the blood spattering her robes, she would be beautiful. Sighing heavily he uncorked the bottle and poured himself a glass of Firewhiskey. He surveyed the glass for a moment before adding a little extra from the bottle and setting it down on the table with a loud clunk.

'Happy Valentines, Gin,' he said sadly, toasting the photograph of her before downing the glass whole. 'Six months,' he murmured, as he poured himself another glass, 'six months.'

She had missed Halloween, Christmas, New Year and now Valentines Day. He couldn't help cataloguing the holidays she had now missed; not that there was much to celebrate with the amount of death within the Order. Losing Percy had been hard on everyone, especially the Weasley's, who had never truly reconciled with him before his untimely death. Harry had arrived just in time to see him fall. To see Ginny standing on her dead brothers body shrieking curses as Bellatrix Lestrange defended her from behind. Next had been Angelina Johnson, lost at the attack of the city of Edinburgh which was now the home of the Dark Lord and his forces. What chance did they have against an army of Giants? He threw his new drink down his throat to quench the image of Angelina being pulled from her broom and ripped in half. His hand shook slightly as he poured another glass. After that they had lost Dean Thomas in the same attack, killed by Dolohov with the Killing Curse, Ron had nicked him with a flagrante curse, causing him to catch fire as Dean fell to the floor.

They were losing the war, slowly but surely. They had managed to find one Horcrux, the locket. Kreacher had located Mundungus Fletcher just in time, and taken it from him before it had been sold on and lost forever. As he raised his glass to take a sip the new scars on his hand cause by the Fiendfyre curse they had used to destroy the locket, shone in the candlelight. Of course that was before Ginny had gone to Voldemort and told him everything they knew. The day after Ginny's flight, Voldemort had broken into an orphanage in London and Gringrotts Bank, taking with him small items and nothing more. Two more Horcruxes were now in Voldemorts possession, as well as the snake Nagini. He swilled the whiskey round in his glass. There was no way he could think of a way to get in and out of Edinburgh alive; along with three bloody Horcruxes. He sighed and raised his glass, swilling the liquor at the bottom before taking a fresh sip.

'Drinking again?' a voice from the doorway said.

Harry didn't reply, he merely drained the last droplets from the bottom of the glass and summoned another silently at the same time. He caught the clean glass as he finished his own, placed them both on the table and poured an equal amount of whiskey in each before sliding it down the table.

'Don't mind if I do.'

The glass was picked up and seconds later plonked back down across from him and the vacant chair across from him was filled by his best friend and new drinking buddy.

'How many's that now?' Ron asked, nodding at the glass in Harry's hand.

'Second,' Harry replied, looking down into the liquor avoiding Ron's gaze.

'Mate, how many?'

'Fourth,' Harry replied reluctantly, 'tough day y'know?'

Ron sighed and lent forward with his glass clutched between both hands.

'Harry, you need to stop drinking so much.'

'You drink as much as I do,' Harry said. Ron didn't seem to have a reply to that, and so instead had a drink from his own glass.

'So, what's today's pity party about?'

Harry silently dropped the Daily Prophet in front of Ron as an answer. Ron was silent for a moment as he gazed down at the image of his little sister cursing innocents. Ron had a drink from the glass before replying.

'You know that's not really Ginny, right? What I mean is, it's like she is possessed, Ginny is still in there, somewhere.' Ron said earnestly.

'You think?' Harry said dully, 'after what she's done, why would the real Ginny fight so hard to come back?'

Ron drained his glass for a moment, thinking, before he slammed the empty glass back onto the table.

'For you, mate.' He said simply, before rising and leaving Harry alone with his bottle and a sadistic photograph of Ginny.

He gazed at the photograph for a moment before abruptly standing and throwing the paper into the fire. As he watched the flames eat up the photograph of Ginny, he felt as though he was watching Ginny burn; this was his way of saying goodbye.

'Potter, what are you doing now?' the unsympathetic tone of Hart's voice rang throughout the room, 'you missed training this morning; where the hell were you?'

'Here,' Harry replied dully. He didn't move an inch; he had never noticed the scratching on the wall above the fireplace before.

'Right.' Hart said.

Harry heard him stump across the room towards the kitchen cupboards and begin opening them, looking for a snack.

'So, are you just going to stand staring at that scratched up old wall all day, or do you plan to do something with your life?' Hart asked conversationally as he opened and shut cupboard doors, 'aha! I knew she couldn't hide them forever.'

Harry heard the crunching of an apple being bit into and almost smiled in spite of himself.

'Well? Are you going to do something or just sit here and feel sorry for yourself? Never have the life you could have?'

Crunch.

'What is the point of this Potter? Who are you helping?'

'Nobody,' he replied quietly.

'Sorry?'

'You heard me,' he said, speaking to the wall.

'Damn right I heard you,' Harts voice seemed uncomfortably close, and Harry found himself swallowing in trepidation. 'The Chosen One? Please, all that would choose you right now would be the Heartbreak Hotel.'

'Shut up.'

'Why? Because I am telling you what you need to hear? Instead of pussyfooting around you, like every bugger else.'

Harry felt his back pressed against the wall as Hart span him round and shoved his face into his.

'Now you listen to me, Potter,' Hart spat, glaring into his eyes, 'I spent my summer training you and your friends to take on the bastard that ruined your life and what do you do once everything goes to pot? You crawl into your little hidey hole and drink yourself into oblivion whilst your girl is out there fucking the Dark Lord.'

He opened his mouth furiously and pushed back against Hart.

'You will listen to this Potter,' Hart growled, pushing him back into the wall. Harry gazed at him defiantly grinding his teeth together. 'You are being selfish, narcissistic and just plain pitiful; the man I trained is gone and a boy is in his place. So your girl has turned dark, your not the only one it's happened to; you need to get over yourself and do what needs to be done, or this war is heading the same way as your love life. Understood?' Hart let go of him roughly, 'now get upstairs and shower Potter. Whilst you're in there, it might be a good idea to reflect on what decisions you're making.'

Harry began to stride angrily towards the door with Hart close at his heels. At the threshold he stopped.

'She isn't my girl Hart and she never will be again. It's time I accepted that.' He threw back over his shoulder.

'Well said Potter. Hold strong to that and you will stay focused enough to kill the evil bastard.' Hart placed a strong hand on his shoulder, 'then you can fall apart after I kill her.'

Harry turned to face Hart bewildered. Hart raised one eyebrow in reply.

'Who else was going to take care of her? You?' he asked harshly.

'Yes.' Harry said swiftly.

Hart's eyes widened slightly.

'I have to be the one to do it. I owe her that much.'

Then he turned and left the room. To face a colder, harder outlook on the world that had always dealt him the worst hand.