Twenty-two: Six

Dumbledore's response was nigh instantaneous. A brilliant silver phoenix burst into life in front of her and told her with Dumbledore's voice she was welcome to come to his office as soon as it suited her. Ginny stood there, enthralled by the Patronus, almost as beautiful as Fawkes himself. She extended her right hand and watched the phoenix study it with unjudging curiosity.

Only then did she have time to marvel at Dumbledore's swift response. Either she got lucky, or he must have expected her to succeed and awaited her message. His confidence made her feel warm and then used. Had he counted on Ginny using her personal experience to get to Slughorn? It made her wonder if he saw them all as pieces on a board and if so, if she could fault him for it.

She rose, still a bit unsteady on her feet from Tom's assault, and moved towards his office. She probably looked awful right now. Although Astoria had applied makeup more liberally, Ginny hadn't been able to resist the mascara, for which she was now paying the price.. As it turned out, that had been a mistake. But she hadn't expected to end up crying at a Christmas party. Merlin, she'd cried in front of Slughorn. A good thing it was almost Christmas break, maybe it would be less mortifying to see him again. Then again, he'd also cried. She wasn't sure if that made it more or less awkward.

But there was plenty of time to worry about that later. Right now, she needed to get to Dumbledore. Ginny lifted the hem of her dress and sprinted, her ballet flats echoing across the hallway as they skipped across the stone. She was out of breath by the time she reached the gargoyle.

"Cauldron. Heh. Cakes," she panted out, leaning against its head as she caught her breath. If the gargoyle minded, it kept its own counsel and shifted aside.

She ascended the stairs at a more stately pace that suited her dress better, but she was quite confident she was still blushing when she stepped into Dumbledore's office. Despite the hour, the Headmaster looked as awake as ever, clad in aquamarine robes and several books spread out across his desk.

"Miss Weasley," he greeted her, sending the books flying with a gesture. "You have it?"

"I do," she said, holding up the vial. Dumbledore seemed at a loss for words, staring at the vial with a smile that gradually took over his face.

"Excellent," he said and then paused, as if only now taking in her appearance. "Are you all right, Miss Weasley?"

"Intense night. I'm fine, Professor," she said, putting the vial on his desk.

"That is a beautiful dress, if I may say so," Dumbledore said.

"Thank you, Professor. Shall we look at the memory?" she asked, not entirely successful at keeping the impatience out of her voice. While she appreciated the compliment - even as she tried not to think about what it meant to be complemented on her style of dress by Albus 'you can never go wrong with fuchsia and periwinkle' Dumbledore - she had cried and nearly died to get this memory. The least he could do was put it in the stupid Pensieve.

"Of course," Dumbledore said, pouring the vial's contents into the stone basin. "After you, Miss Weasley. She took a deep breath - no matter how often she'd done it, it still felt like diving - and leaned forward.

"Seven?" she stammered the moment she resurfaced.

"Seven pieces, six Horcruxes," Dumbledore agreed mildly. "I must admit, I had suspected as much. A powerful magical number, seven, and in accordance with Tom's penchant for symbolism."

"We need to find six Horcruxes," Ginny whispered, the momentousness of the task giving her vertigo.

"But we know, and all thanks to you, Miss Weasley. You did exceptionally well. If it means anything to you, I am very proud. And I am sure Harry would be as well."

"Thank you, Professor," she managed to say. Would Harry be proud? Or would he be too horrified himself by the number? Six, how could they find six Horcruxes that could be hidden anywhere?

"And do not forget, we have already eliminated two," Dumbledore said. "And leads on two more. Not to mention I have some other suspicions that I will follow up on this Christmas. While I will not present you with a destroyed Horcrux under the Christmas tree, I may be able to give you one for the New Year," He continued lightly. "Now, I think it is high time you got some well-deserved sleep."

Ginny cast a look at the clock and barely managed to suppress a horrified noise. It was already past midnight. The train back to London left in the morning and she still had to pack. Admittedly, she should really have done that before the party, but by then she'd been too much a ball of nerves to do anything even remotely productive.

"Professor, may I ask one more thing?" she asked, hand already on the doorknob.

"Even two, Miss Weasley," Dumbledore said.

"Will Professor Slughorn get in trouble for this?"

"No, Miss Weasley. We all make mistakes and his, while foolish, is hardly the greatest I have ever witnessed."

"Good," Ginny said and then disappeared down the stairs.

Somehow, Ginny and her luggage made it all onto the train in time. Astoria was tapping her foot impatiently when the harried redhead and her bulging trunk tumbled into the compartment. It didn't help that she nearly keeled over when trying to stuff it in the rack above them. Astoria caught it right before it crushed her foot and together they shoved it in.

"Really, Ginny, what do you have in there? Mine's half the size and I'm quite sure I have everything and then some," she said, gesturing at her own beautiful black trunk, the epitome of clean and efficient packing.

"Mum asked to bring a few bricks back from Hogwarts. We're looking to build a new shed," she deadpanned as she installed herself on her seat. Astoria had taken out a black velvet blanket and sat all wrapped in it, her head only just sticking out.

"You're cold?" Ginny asked, mildly surprised. While not as warm as during the summer, the Hogwarts Express was well-heated all things considered.

"Always in December," she said.

"You didn't look cold in your dress yesterday."

"I cast warming charms," she said. "So how did the thing with Slughorn go?"

"Good. I got what I needed."

"Dumbledore happy?"

"Yeah," Ginny said and Astoria nodded, wrapping the blanket a bit tighter around her.

Slowly, the train began to roll out of the station. Ginny got out her Transfiguration homework, while Astoria had a Potions text propped open upon her lap, trying to turn the pages without having to remove her arms from the warmth of the blanket.

"Is that a Slytherin thing?" Ginny asked eventually. Astoria looked up, visibly confused.

"You're going to have to be more specific. My tie? Yes. This blanket?" she said, spreading her arms to exemplify it and nearly knocking her book out of her lap. "No."

"No, you not pushing me about my talk with Slughorn. I'm not used to that. My brothers were never content with a finger, always taking a hand and all other extremities. No such thing as secrets among Weasleys, as George is fond of saying," she said, smiling.

"Oh… That. No, that's a Greengrass thing I suppose," Astoria said. "Mum never was big on sharing secrets, dad was never big on asking after them. I guess it caught on. Do you want me to push you more?" she asked, tilting her head. "I could try if you wanted."

"No, no, please don't," Ginny chuckled. "It's a relief, really."

"I can't imagine growing up with six brothers," Astoria said and then paled, looking like she'd said something wrong.

It took Ginny a heartbeat to realise. Six brothers, or five. To her, it would forever be six. Six brothers. Six Horcruxes. The numbers threatened to overwhelm her and Astoria began to look more and more worried as her silence continued.

"It's quite something," Ginny finally said, smiling wanly. "Never a dull moment when all of them were still around. As the only daughter, I at least had some privacy, though I had to put up quite the fight to keep it. Fred and George weren't big on rules. Or locks. But Percy usually made for a more tempting target. How was it growing up with a sister?"

"Awful," Astoria said. If she had noticed Ginny's deflection, she didn't show it. "Daphne and I are different enough not to get along, but just similar enough to always get in each other's way. Dresses, dolls, dad's sparse affection, you name it and we probably pulled one another's hair for it. Everything's a competition and as the older one, of course she has to win. I'd hoped Hogwarts would offer a reprieve, but no. Slytherin for the two of us," she sighed. "So now we're still competing."

"Yeah, I got that impression," Ginny said. It had reminded her a bit of her interactions with Percy, the veneer of hostility smothering most affection. At least that was gone now, replaced by an, admittedly awkward, affection.

"I suppose the war's just another competition for us," Astoria mumbled. "And, to be honest, sometimes I do hate her. Like, really hate her. When she giggles at Zabini's jokes or sneers at you. But for every memory like that there is one of her hugging me when I was crying, her teaching me how to apply eyeliner or that time in third year when she almost blew Harper through a wall for jinxing me. And when all the bad has been matched with the good, there's still a lot of good left. Doesn't mean she isn't being stupid right now though, but that's just as much the world's fault as it is hers." Astoria said, casting her eyes skywards. "Merlin, having a sister's complicated."

"That goes for siblings in general," Ginny supplied. "Ever wonder what it would have been like to have been an only child?"

"Regularly," Astoria admitted with a laugh.

"I try sometimes, but it's just such a foreign concept to me," Ginny said, just as a cold breeze ran through the compartment. Someone had opened the door.

In the opening stood Nott, leaning against the frame with a smirk on his face that he must have learned from Malfoy, the one to imply only he was in on some sort of hilarious joke. His eyes shifted from her to Astoria and then back. It made her skin crawl.

"What do you want?" Ginny asked.

"Why would I want anything?" Nott asked, all false innocence. "I just wanted to wish you both a Merry Christmas. Peace on earth and all that," he drawled.

"Yeah, Merry Christmas to you too, Nott," Ginny said. "I hope a reindeer eats your Christmas dinner and your tree topples over."

"Thank you, Weasley," Nott said. "The same to you. Who knows, maybe by the end of this year, you'll know what it's like to be an only child… or an orphan."

"Get out," Astoria snapped, slipping out of her blanket and drawing her wand in a single heartbeat.

"Easy, Greengrass," he said, eying her with mild distaste. "I was just speculating. I wouldn't dare to threaten Weasley. She's been known to curse people who do."

"I'm not the villain here, Nott," Ginny said.

"Aren't you? None of us have forgotten what you've done, Weasley. The Dark Lord won't appreciate it either," Nott threatened.

"Get out, Nott. I won't warn you again," Astoria said stiffly.

"As the lady commands. Merry Christmas, girls," he said, the compartment door slamming shut behind him.

"Creep," Astoria hissed and then saw Ginny's downcast expression. "You okay?"

"Do you think he meant that?" she asked."

"What, his threats? Come on, this is Theodore Nott we're talking about. I doubt he's even seen You-Know-Who and I doubt his father's one of his favourite Death Eaters either. From what I've heard, he's a bit of a dunce."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Ginny said, remembering how Nott senior had been the first to go down. "It's just, well, it would be very much him to attack on Christmas. No better way to inspire fear."

"True," Astoria said, pursing her lips. "But if he goes after anything, it's probably Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade."

"Merlin, when did that get reassuring?" Ginny sighed, feeling very tired suddenly.

"Sign of the times, I suppose," Astoria said, gazing out of the window at the snowy Scottish lands. They at least were still untouched. Unharmed. Unblemished. Ginny wondered how long that would last.

Three steps on the platform. That was how far she got before her mum swept her up in a hug, holding her like she couldn't quite believe Ginny was still there. Before, she would have been embarrassed, but now Ginny hugged her back just as fiercely. When they had said goodbye on the platform on September first, neither of them had known how and if they'd see each other again. But this Christmas holiday, they'd at least have together.

"I missed you, mum," Ginny whispered, a lump in her throat.

"I missed you too, darling," she replied, slowly letting go. Ginny could feel the reticence.

Her dad stood behind her a bit awkwardly. Ginny could see his desire not to embarrass his daughter war with his desire to do the same as mum. Ginny decided she'd make it easy for him and hurled herself around his neck. Her dad stumbled a bit, surprised by her vigour.

"Hi dad," she whispered.

"Hi Ginny, it's good to have you back," he said, before slowly disentangling himself and pulling her towards the exit.

Only now Ginny noticed she'd been one of the few to linger. Most had already hurried off, not spending a second longer than needed in King's Cross. Even with an Auror presence that must have been at least tripled since September, people were ill at ease. Suddenly, the Prophet's headlines seemed a lot more real. Even Astoria was nowhere in sight anymore.

"It's been bad out here," her dad admitted, interpreting her looks correctly. "We'll explain more at home." He looked around a bit furtively. "How was Hogwarts?"

"Your letters sounded… optimistic," her mum supplied. "And if that's how you feel, great. But you know you can be honest with us, right?" she pressed as they stepped through the barrier.

Ginny sighed. While still better than the normal trips back, ones usually characterised by a long scolding of Fred and George, she did wish the interrogations could have waited at least a little while. But then again, with the concern that visible in her parent's eyes, it made sense. They must have been worried for so long.

"I'm fine, really. It's not easy, we knew it wasn't going to be easy, but it's been better than I'd expected."

"Your health's been okay? Quidditch not too demanding?" her mum asked.

Ginny thought of shaking hands, of scars shifting and burning, of feeling so exhausted she could barely move.

"I'm fine, really. Nothing to worry about," she said, earning her a noncommittal hum from both of her parents. "I'm careful, really," she said, trying not to think about nights practicing spells long after everyone else had turned in, of one final round of Quidditch practice in the hope of never having the shakes again.

"And… the people?" her mum asked.

"Decent, for the most part. A few jerks. Mostly Slytherins. But I'm not alone," she said.

"You mentioned the Greengrass girl. I can't say I approve of her father," her dad said. Coming from him, she knew that was a strong condemnation, as strong as he'd get without speaking of Death Eaters or Umbridge.

"I don't think she is either," Ginny said, unable to hide her annoyance.

"Or her mother," her mum chipped in.

"And her sister isn't great either," Ginny said, deciding to beat them to the punch there. "But Tori's been really great. I'm not sure if I'd managed without her. Please, just trust me, she's the good sort."

"Tori?" her dad repeated, sounding mildly amused and a lot less worried all of a sudden. Apparently, dangerous Slytherins didn't have nicknames.

"That's what Luna called her as well," Ginny said, and just like that, she had her mum as well. Any Slytherin who was friends with Luna had to be the odd duck out, the Andromeda Tonks kind of Slytherin. "is the rest at home?" she asked, changing the topic just to be sure.

"They will be. Percy's still at the Ministry. Scrimgeour seems to have taken a shine to him," her dad said with a hint of disapproval.

"The Minister?" Ginny echoed, surprised that Percy had somehow survived Fudge's fall from grace, but even more surprised that he hadn't bragged about it in any of his letters.

"The Minister, and he works far too long hours. It's a good thing we put food in front of him, otherwise he might forget. He's lost at least five pounds since September," Mum said anxiously.

"And the rest?"

"They'll get here close to Christmas. Fred and George have their own place now, as do Bill and Fleur," her dad said, even as her mum harrumphed slightly. That cold war clearly wasn't over yet. "Charlie… Charlie is still abroad but he promised to make it here for Christmas."

"Is he alright?" she asked.

"Last we heard, he was fine," her dad reassured her. "He's just incommunicado a lot."

"He was never very good at keeping up with his correspondence to begin with," her mum added. "But really, he's fine. Dedalus Diggle is with him and for all his flaws, Dedalus is very sensible. Now, grab my hand," she said, extending hers. Ginny took it and wished she could already follow Apparition classes this year.

After six seconds of feeling like she was being pulled through a far too narrow pipe, she landed on her feet in front of the strangest and most lovely building she'd ever seen. She was home.