Twenty-six: Secrets of the old year
DUMBLEDORE FALLS IN DEFENCE OF MINISTRY
Not even a Ministry controlled Prophet could soften the blow. Percy revealed Scrimgeour and most of his advisors had spent a whole hour trying of ways to spin it. In the end, they realised it was futile. Dumbledore was gone and the whole wizarding world was holding its breath to see what Voldemort would do next. What had seemed like an overextension at first, an overzealous assault on the Ministry, had turned into a last minute victory.
But the Ministry persisted. Scrimgeour passed emergency law after emergency law and no longer spoke of certain victory, but of eternal opposition and moral duty. Of defiance in the face of darkness. Rumour had it that Scrimgeour had personally ordered the execution of all captured Death Eaters. At this point, it was difficult to say for sure, but all they knew that one day, Avery was no longer on the Prophet's list of top ten wanted Death Eaters. The Carrow twins' demise she learned of via Percy, who had circled the announcement of their burial for her in the Prophet.
Ginny wasn't sure if that could prevent the fall of the Ministry, one the Order already seemed to consider a certainty. Shacklebolt spoke of infiltration, Moody of incompetence and Percy of people pushed to their breaking point. But as the end of 1996 approached, it still held. Whatever losses Voldemort had sustained during his previous assault, it had been enough to grant them at least a momentary reprieve.
DUMBLEDORE TO BE BURIED ON HOGWARTS GROUNDS ON FIRST DAY AFTER CHRISTMAS BREAK
Four days of relative peace, four days of Ginny dreaming about four Horcruxes who would perhaps never be found, least of all the one Dumbledore had promised her as a gift for the New Year. And as long as they remained, the war could never truly be won. Ginny didn't know what to do. Surely, Dumbledore must have told someone else. Surely, this couldn't have been intended to be her burden?
New Years' Eve was an even more muted affair than Christmas had been. Percy was trapped at the office, Charlie had disappeared two days before together with Hestia Jones and Fred and George had begged off early, citing exhaustion. Her mum and dad hadn't lasted much longer either.
As it was, when the clock struck eleven, only Ginny, Bill and Fleur remained around the kitchen table, staying awake more out of some sense of obligation than any desire for festivity. Bill had been nursing the same bottle of butterbeer for an hour now with heavy-lidded eyes. Fleur had spent the whole night engrossed in some French wizarding novel Ginny had never heard of.
It was difficult to believe that somewhere, at the Ministry's New Year's Eve gala people were laughing and celebrating. In the shadow of a fallen giant or not, the party continued, with a light show and live music. She wondered if Astoria would still be going, and just how many people would only attend because they were too scared to spend the evening alone in the darkness. Maybe that was why she hadn't gone to sleep yet herself, too afraid of the shadows of her dreams.
"Bill, I need your advice," Ginny said finally.
"What about?" he asked, eyes suddenly alert again. "Is it about a boy?"
It sounded so hopeful that Ginny almost made up a story of a passionate teen romance, just to see her oldest, wisest and, if she was being entirely honest, favourite brother happy again. To take his mind off the worries of the war, instead of adding more. But after four days of fretting, it was driving her insane. She couldn't tell Astoria, least of all via a letter. She couldn't tell her mum or dad; they already bore the burden of trying to keep six children alive during a war. She couldn't tell Scrimgeour, not with his cabinet in disarray and important positions filled more and more by people not up to the task as their original holders perished or succumbed to the pressure. But maybe, she could tell Bill and his fiancée. Level-headed Curse-Breaker Bill. Triwizard champion Fleur, one of the two still left.
"What if Dumbledore had entrusted me with a secret…" she let her voice trail off. Across the table, Fleur closed her book and studied her with visible interest.
"I'd keep it," Bill said instantly.
"And what if it was really important?"
"All the more reason to keep it," Bill said.
"Maybe. How important is the secret?" Fleur interrupted, speaking for the first time in what must have been three hours.
"The type that could decide the war," Ginny said, with some hesitation.
Bill frowned. She could see the gears turn inside his head, trying to figure out if his sister was exaggerating, or sincere. Ginny had hoped they were beyond that, since last June.
Fleur regarded her just as intently, only she seemed to reach a conclusion much faster. She took her wand and tapped it against her novel.
"Fleur!" Bill hissed, shocked.
Ginny didn't understand his reaction. Until the cover of the book began to shimmer, its pink cover turning black, French words replaced by English. Secrets of the Darkest Art.
"Are you familiar with this book, by any chance?" Fleur asked. Ginny nodded.
"Why in Merlin's name are you familiar with that?" Bill asked, sounding angry with her for the first time in her life.
"Dumbledore told me," she said and she could see Bill's desire to start shouting. Perhaps it was only Fleur's pale hand on his that stopped him.
"In that case, I think you should tell us what he told you," Fleur said gently.
"Dumbledore-" Bill began.
"Dumbledore believed in hoarding secrets and scattering information. That hasn't won us the war. Perhaps it's time for a different tactic," Fleur suggested.
And so Ginny told them of a young Tom Riddle and his desire for trophies, of a soul in a diary left to a trusted protector and of a ring hidden in a shack. And finally, she told them of six that had become four. Through it, Bill and Fleur listened and nodded along, sometimes in recognition, sometimes in concern.
"Merlin, Ginny, you shouldn't have been exposed to all this," Bill said. "What was Dumbledore thinking?"
"It's war, Bill. Nobody gets to stay innocent, in case you've forgotten," she said, brushing back her hair in the way she knew drew people's attention to her scars.
"I know that, but this? Merlin, you're too young."
"Bill," Fleur reprimanded him, "you're beginning to sound like your mother."
It was clear that Bill wanted to say more, but Fleur's look shut him up. It looked dead useful, and Ginny wondered if she could learn it too.
"When did he tell you?" Ginny asked. Bill sighed, resigned to his little sister being a part of the war after all.
"In September. He asked both of us to come to Hogwarts in the deep of the night and then in his office, he told us about Horcruxes and how he suspected one might be hidden at Gringotts. Ever since, Fleur and I have been going through inventories and vaults when the goblins aren't looking. It's been slow work," he admitted.
"Unsuccessful work," Fleur added. "It's taken us four months to check the Rookwood and Dolohov vaults and those weren't even the largest or best-protected vaults. I have no idea how to even get into the Malfoy or Lestrange vaults without a goblin."
"We can probably exclude the Malfoy vault. I doubt he'd give two to one Death Eater," Ginny said.
"Agreed. But that still leaves the issue of the Lestrange vault. And what if it's in some minor vault? Maybe one opened by Voldemort himself under a false name?" Bill asked. "We could spend a lifetime looking for it then."
"If that's what it takes," Fleur said, a note of sadness mixed with determination in her voice.
"And then there are still three left. I wish Dumbledore had told me more about that clue of his," Ginny sighed.
"Search his office when you get back. Tear it apart if you have to. There might be a clue," Bill said. "But otherwise… I don't know."
"Was this why the Minister wanted to speak with you on Boxing Day?" Fleur asked.
"Yeah, but I didn't tell him anything," she said.
"Good," Bill said.
"Should we tell more people in the Order?" she asked.
"No," Bill said.
"Yes," Fleur said at the same moment. They exchanged a look and something told Ginny this wasn't the first time they had had this discussion.
"This is too big for the three of us," Fleur protested. "Especially without Dumbledore."
"Dumbledore disagreed. Besides, what's to say he didn't tell other people? He had a plan, he must have. We can only disrupt it by making a lot of noise. What if we tell the wrong person and Voldemort finds out?"
"I trust the Order," Fleur said.
"Harry's parents trusted Peter Pettigrew," Ginny interrupted. "I'm not saying we can't tell anyone, but we need to be really sure; Sure enough to risk the outcome of the war."
"We could tell the rest of your family," Fleur suggested.
"No," Bill and Ginny chorused.
Just the thought of involving the rest filled her with revulsion. Charlie, already fighting his way across Europe. Fred and George, moving in the shadows while trying to keep the whole of Britain laughing. Percy, stumbling under the weight of a whole government. And Mum and Dad, keeping all of them afloat. None of them deserved more of a burden. Maybe that was why Dumbledore had handed out secrets so carefully, giving each only as much as they could handle.
But who then? She could see the question form on all their faces. Before, she'd have said Harry, who had always been on the front line. But who now? Moody, veteran of two wars and a hundred battles? Kind Professor Lupin, expert on all matters dark? Tranquil Kingsley, Auror and at the heart of the Ministry? She trusted all of them. As the Potters had trusted Pettigrew.
How about your good friend, Professor Snape?
They were still thinking when the clock on the table creaked and Charlie's dial fell off.
It had been a routine assignment, Moody came to tell them the next day. Just a stakeout like they'd done a hundred times. What had been different this time, he didn't know yet. All they knew was that when he got to their safe house for the change of guard, a Dark Mark hung over it. Inside, he found Charlie and Hestia dead. The whole place had been torn apart. They hadn't gone quietly, he told them. As if that was supposed to console them somehow.
Mum had gone white as a sheet and then had disappeared to her room. Dad had remained at the table, clutching Charlie's dial and looking like he wanted to glue it back onto the clock. Bill and Fleur had gone to tell Fred and George. They didn't return until well into the afternoon and when they did, she could smell the alcohol on the breath of all of them. Mum would have sniffed in disapproval, but she was still hidden in her room.
And Ginny, she got out her broom. Charlie had loved to fly too. She flew as high as she could, until the cold stilled even her trembling right arm. But even this high with her thoughts dulled by the frost, there was one thought that would not let go. Charlie, her wonderful brother. Charlie, who had dreamed of dragons as long as she could remember. Charlie, whose wounds she had only treated a few days ago. There was an symmetry to it though. Four Horcruxes remaining, four brothers left.