This Chapter is a bit longer than the last two. And darker, too.
Enjoy Reading!
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VENOMOUS CURE
Chapter 3: Before Dawn
Ron and Hermione, their hands entwined, shared silly grins as they had sneaked out a little while ago to one of the secluded spots by the vast timbers near the far end of the Burrow border. From their vantage point, they could spy the front entrance, but the view of the road leading to the kitchen back door was obscured. Thus, they missed Harry's arrival and his swift dash inside after his encounter with Dumbledore. However, Harry's sudden burst through the front door, akin to a speeding bullet, and his sprint towards the small graveyard atop the hill certainly captured their attention.
Ron sprang to his feet, Hermione trailed closely behind him, concern mirrored in her eyes. As they approached, they found Harry huddled against Fred's gravestone, his body wracked with profound, gut-wrenching sobs that seemed to echo through the quiet graveyard.
Witnessing Harry in such raw agony shook Ron to the core. It was a depth of pain he had never seen his best mate endure, not even in the aftermath of Sirius's death. Yet, to witness Harry's anguish over something entirely beyond his control left Ron feeling helpless and frustrated. This couldn't go on any longer; it had to end. Now.
"Haven't you had enough?" Ron's voice carried a raw edge, his frustration palpable as he approached his friend with steely resolve. But Harry remained unmoved, his anguish unyielding.
"Ron, what are you doing?" Hermione's voice came urgent, her eyes pleading for restraint.
"No, Hermione!" Ron's retort was sharp, his patience worn thin. "This is getting out of hand.. we didn't go through bloody hell and back for him to act like this!"
"Ron, please! Calm down!" Hermione's gentle touch on Ron's arm was a plea for reason amidst the storm of emotions.
"I am calm... I thought he'd come around if I just gave him some space, but can't he see that what he's doing is only hurting us?!" Ron's voice trembled with a mixture of frustration and sorrow, his back turned to Harry as if unable to bear the sight of his friend's pain.
"He doesn't mean to be like this, Ron!" Hermione's voice quivered with empathy, tears glistening in her eyes as she watched Harry's anguish unfold. Her heart ached for the closest person she had to a brother.
"Mum is barely keeping it together these days." Ron's words spilled out in a torrent of anger and worry. "She doesn't deserve to be worried about losing another son!"
Harry wailed pitifully as if in agony. He started hitting his head with his fists dismally and it seemed to convey a depth of despair that left Hermione with a sinking feeling in her gut. It was as if Harry was trapped in a torment beyond his control, oblivious to their presence amidst his anguish. This went beyond mere guilt; something was fundamentally wrong, and Hermione could feel it in her bones.
"Dad is putting on a brave face, but you can tell he's hurting," Ron's voice cracked with emotion, the weight of his family's suffering hung heavy in the air, "And don't let me start with George, he's so bloody lost." He paused for a bit, "Out of all of us, Ginny is the strongest," he admitted, a note of admiration coloring his voice.
Abruptly, a dry, almost sardonic laugh escaped Harry's lips, sending a chill down Hermione's spine. She glanced alarmingly between her boyfriend and Harry, a knot of unease forming in her stomach.
"What in Merlin's fuck is your bloody problem?!" Ron's voice thundered, his anger erupting like a volcano, his face flushing crimson in a mix of frustration and disbelief.
Uncle Vernon's face is nearly purple with fury as he storms into Harry's bedroom. His fleshy hand grabs Harry by the throat.
"You listen here, boy! I have had enough of your freakish nonsense! Year after year, we provide food and shelter for nothing in return. You are a useless burden, just like your freakish parents! I'll just have to teach you to be more grateful!" He yells at Harry, with a vicious look on his face.
Harry is flung to the floor, assaulted by a blur of punches and the room quickly fills with noises—of fists hitting flesh, bones cracking, and grunts as Vernon lashes out full force.
Harry lay sprawled on the ground, his laughter echoing like the manic cackle of a madman. Hermione's heart raced with urgency; the situation was escalating dangerously. With practiced discretion, she reached for her wand, swiftly disarming both Harry and Ron. Ron shot her a brief glance of acknowledgment before refocusing on Harry.
Harry finally went deathly silent.
His gaze remained fixed on the open sky above, yet his eyes seemed to stare through it, unseeing and distant.
Harry wheezes, attempting to take a shaky breath. He does nothing but hold in screams as Vernon starts whipping his back, relentlessly. He bites down on his lip harder, drawing blood. He refuses to make any noises and gives his uncle any further satisfaction.
So he just lays there instead, curled in on himself, and waits for the beating to end. There was no use in fighting back. He learned forever ago that only made it worse. With no other option, he retreats into his mind, secretly begging for death. Death sounded peaceful and absolute.
Ron advanced towards Harry threateningly, prompting Hermione to desperately tug at his shirt, clinging to him in a bid to halt his aggression. For a fleeting moment, Ron paused, his resolve faltering under Hermione's embrace. It was then that Harry finally turned his head towards them, and Hermione gasped at the haunting intensity in his eyes.
As Harry's gaze locked with Ron's, he uttered a feeble whisper that pierced the tense silence louder than his previous wails, ".. kill me already, Ron."
"Oh, Merlin," Hermione gasped, breaking into a sprint back towards the Burrow. It became rather evident that Ginny needed to talk to Harry as soon as possible. She raced up the stairs, moving as swiftly and silently as she could, before bursting into the room.
Ginny lay in an uncomfortable position on her bed, but Hermione couldn't dwell on it. Without delay, she shook Ginny awake.
"Wha-" Ginny was startled by Hermione's urgency, "Hermione? Is everything okay?"
Ginny's attention was immediately drawn to Hermione's sniffles and the absence of privacy charms around her bed caused her to go very still.
"Listen, Ginny, it's serious! They're about to fight... Please, we need to act fast!" Ginny could feel the tension radiating off her friend, who seemed on the verge of trembling.
"Calm down... What are you talking about?" Ginny internally sighed with relief, but her head started screaming at her to go and thoroughly clean herself. She ignored it for now.
"It's Ron and Harry. Come on!" With a firm grip, Hermione pulled Ginny out of her room and then into the night outside.
"Hermione, what's happening? Please, tell me." Despite her itching desire to just rush off and take a shower, Ginny tried her best to keep pace with Hermione's urgent strides.
As they reached the top of the hill, showering was the last thing on Ginny's mind. The sight that greeted them was chilling: Harry lay on the ground, blood trickling from his nose, while Ron hovered over him, his fist slowly unclenching, his expression ominous. It was bad.
Ron noticed them and quickly got to his feet. Harry's gaze fell on Ginny triggering a wave of nausea that he couldn't suppress. He was once again struggling with a sick, repulsive feeling that gripped his stomach. He leaned over and retched, unable to resist the sudden onslaught.
Ginny dashed over to his side and reached to help him sit up, but he flinched and turned away from her touch. Confusion etched across her features as she hesitated, trying to understand his reaction, but Harry refused to meet her gaze.
Ron silently motioned for Hermione to follow him, and they began to make their way back toward the Burrow. His voice was tense as he called back to Harry, "I never want to see you like this again, Harry! You bloody died... No one should expect more from you!" He glanced at Ginny and added, "Could you please patch him up?"
Ginny nodded reassuringly, "Yeah, sure. Don't worry."
Ginny's voice reached Harry's ears, but all he could hear were the echoes of her heartbreaking screams and the tormenting words Riddle had forced her to utter. He shivered involuntarily, overcome with the desire to vanish, yet he remained immobilized without his wand since Hermione had taken it.
Ginny expertly waved her wand, swiftly cleansing Harry's shirt and face. As she leaned in to examine his nose more closely, she couldn't help but notice him turning away from her again. A fleeting thought crossed her mind, 'Probably embarrassed,' she mused with a sad smile.
If only he knew what he meant to her. If only he realized that he was the driving force behind her resilience, the reason she continued to fight and persevere, even in the darkest of times.
Ginny shook her head and sighed, "Well, at least he didn't go for the eyes."
Harry sucked harshly for air, his gaze fixed elsewhere, his silence punctuated only by strained inhales.
"I suppose he wasn't aiming for big damages, then," Ginny remarked, attempting once more to tend to Harry's nose, but he turned his back on her, stubbornly. "Harry, would you please look at me?"
"Please, stop..." Harry's broken plea caught Ginny off guard. His voice trembled with such vulnerability that sent a shiver down her spine. His fingers clawed desperately at his shirt collar, leaving behind red marks on his fragile skin.
"It's okay, I know you're probably a bit embarrassed, but -"
Her words trailed off as she noticed his trembling back. Tears silently streamed down his face, his silent anguish piercing her heart. At that moment, Ginny's own heart shattered into a million pieces, overwhelmed by the depth of Harry's pain.
"I don't know what's wrong," Ginny began, her voice laced with uncertainty, "but..." She hesitated, shaking her head in frustration. "No, scratch that. I do know what's really wrong, Harry. It can't be easy to accept that you had nothing to do with it..." Her voice faltered, overwhelmed by the weight of the situation. "God, this is so... I mean, you keep blaming yourself when the only one to blame is probably dead-"
Abruptly, Harry turned to face her. He was still trying to control his emotions but he refused to meet her eyes. "What do you mean... probably?" His question was directed towards the sky as if searching for answers beyond the stars.
Ginny gazed at Harry, taking in his disheveled appearance: his broken, bleeding nose, his red and puffy eyes, his tousled hair standing in all directions. A bittersweet sadness engulfed her heart. She had witnessed Harry's tears before, but never in such an intimate setting.
Her desire to alleviate his pain consumed her. She longed to wrap him in a comforting embrace, to hold him close to her chest and shield him from the world's cruelty. Yet, she restrained herself, unsure if her presence would provide the solace he sought.
Ginny exhaled nervously before responding, "Well, I believe he's gone. Really. But sometimes I just..."
Harry interrupted his voice surprisingly firmer, "You can't be sure he won't return again like he did last time. Is that it?" He recalled that besides Ron and Hermione, no one knew the details of Voldemort's demise yet. "He's dead, Ginny. He's never coming back. I made sure of it."
Ginny nodded, her thoughts briefly drifting to Ron's cryptic words about Harry dying earlier, though she couldn't grasp their meaning. Harry appeared alive and well before her, dispelling any doubts she may have had.
"Look, I need to fix your nose, or else you'll be famous for the broken nose instead of the stupid scar, and we don't want that, do we?" Ginny's attempt at humor fell flat, but she hoped it would lighten the mood.
Harry nodded once.
"Okay," Ginny whispered, her voice gentle. "It's going to hurt for a split second, but make sure to hold still, okay?"
Harry nodded stiffly again and she cleared her throat waving her wand, "Episkey!"
Harry didn't even flinch. He stared at the midnight blue sky for a bit more, lost in thought. Ginny was exceptionally composed beside him. He marveled at that, wondering how she could exude such calm and strength after everything she had endured tonight. He had only witnessed a fraction of her ordeal, yet it left him feeling shattered as if he could never be whole again. Then, a sudden thought threatened to unravel him once more.
'What if it has been going on since the Chamber?!'
Harry sat up, his hands covering his face, overwhelmed by the disturbing thought that had invaded his mind. He desperately sought confirmation that it couldn't possibly be true. 'It can't... be?'
The weight of it all bore down on him. He felt like it was just too much... The fact that Ginny was in love with him suddenly made perfect sense. After all, he had been the one to save her in the Chamber of Secrets.
The Chamber of Secrets... The name never sounded more fitting. Big, dark, and ugly secrets indeed.
Harry cursed the day Ginny had set foot in that accursed Chamber. Despite ultimately vanquishing Tom, he couldn't shake feeling like he was the one who had been defeated. He had no clue what Tom had subjected Ginny to before his arrival to rescue her. Harry felt a surge of madness as his mind conjured endless, increasingly horrific scenarios. Each thought was more disturbing than the last, leaving him grappling with a sense of helplessness and despair.
"Do you feel better?"
Ginny's hesitant question pulled Harry out of his tumultuous thoughts. Despite himself, he looked directly at her. He gasped as a vivid image of her blossomed in his mind's eye: her glorious red hair splayed across her pillow, her hands inching slowly under the covers toward her wide-open legs. Shocked, Harry quickly whipped his head away averting his gaze, his heart pounding, breaths coming in short, hurried exhales. He sought solace in the safety of the sky above.
"Harry, you don't look well. Are you alright?" Ginny's concern pierced through his turmoil, drawing his attention back to the present moment.
Her voice sounded extremely worried, which only intensified Harry's internal struggle. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, willing himself to calm down. With deliberate effort, he took an empty, shallow breath, focusing on regulating his racing heartbeat. Slowly, he composed his features, masking the frown that had undoubtedly etched itself onto his face.
"Yes, I'm okay. Sorry for making you worry," Harry assured her, his voice strained with the effort of appearing composed.
"It's alright," Ginny replied softly. "I guess everyone is entitled to a bit of a breakdown. You most of all."
Her sincere words resonated deeply with Harry, stirring a surge of gratitude and vulnerability within him. Without thinking, he hastily blurted out, "Did you ever have a breakdown after those nightmares, Ginny?"
He felt Ginny's gaze on him and reluctantly turned to meet her eyes. She appeared taken aback, obviously caught off guard by his question.
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Ginny had gotten so used to observing people, learning how to act in certain situations. It was instinctual, a form of self-preservation.
She knew how her mother was feeling extra happy if she spent a longer time in the garden. She could always tell what kind of mood her father was in when he got home from work. He kept playing with his mustache when he was particularly frustrated or angry. She even knew how to get along with her brothers a long time ago to avoid being singled out or noticed too much. But her ability to understand Harry Potter surpassed them all; a quick glance at his face revealed his mood and feelings, it came as a second nature, a talent refined over years of observation.
And now, Sitting in close proximity to him, she couldn't ignore the depth of his suffering. The urge to embrace him was overwhelming, she never yearned more for it. Never longed more to lend him what little strength she thought she had and offer whatever solace she could muster. Yet, she begrudgingly withheld herself, simply inquiring, "Harry, you don't look so good, are you alright?"
Silently observing him as he struggled to regain his composure, Ginny couldn't help but feel a sense of familiarity. How many times had she found herself in a similar battle for self-control? It was a bit unsettling yet oddly comforting to see Harry grappling with his emotions in the same way she often did. In some twisted sort of way, It was as if she found solace in knowing she wasn't alone, somehow.
"Yes, I'm okay. Sorry for making you worry."
"It's alright, I guess everyone is entitled to a bit of a breakdown. You most of all." Ginny tried to convey her solidarity without stumbling over her words.
And then, just out of the blue, Harry asked her the last question she ever expected out of anyone, let alone him of all people.
"Did you ever have a breakdown after those nightmares, Ginny?"
A sudden wave of nausea washed over Ginny, causing her to stare at Harry with wide eyes, a million thoughts racing through her mind at breakneck speed. His gaze met hers, and time seemed to slow as an ominous feeling gripped her. Something was foreboding in his eyes. She just kept staring at him, her vision unfocused, unable to process the weight of his question.
'Why would he ask... Does he know about... What's happening...' Questions started hammering away relentlessly at her mind. Hyperventilation seized her, her limbs started shaking involuntarily as she descended into a a scary, familiar state, and she awfully dreaded what came next. She didn't want to be here right now... She can't let Harry see her like this. With immense effort, Ginny tore her gaze from him, focusing elsewhere as she struggled to breathe. Darkness encroached upon her thoughts, and she shook her head frantically, denying its advance. 'No, no, no..' Hugging herself tightly, she rocked back and forth, seeking solace in the rhythmic motion. She desperately searched for a way to handle the situation, an escape of some sort, but her panicked brain refused to cooperate.
"Ginny?" Harry's voice was disturbed and tinged with concern, his movements shifting into a sitting position as he got closer to her. His hands hovered helplessly near her, without actually touching her.
As Ginny struggled with her chaotic mess, a realization dawned on her and she knew deep down inside her bones the reason for Harry's breakdown. He knew. She remembered now, the forgotten privacy charms left uncast tonight. Of course, Harry would be the one to hear her. It was inevitable since his insomnia had often kept her mother awake, fretting over him. She squeezed her eyes shut but quickly discovered that it was the wrong thing to do. Tom's haunting visage loomed before her, waiting. He beckoned her into the darkness.
'Hello again, Ginevra.' He welcomed her with a cruel sneer.
"Go away!" Ginny whispered fiercely at Tom. As she opened her eyes, however, it was Harry's anguished face that greeted her instead of Tom's evil one, and she lost it.
"Oh, God. Please, Ginny.. just stay with me. Don't listen to his voice!" Harry's tearful plea tore at her insides like a poisoned dagger. The fact that he knew hurt more than she could bear. He had been her beacon of light in a deep and cold ocean of darkness, but now she feared her darkness started engulfing him too without any hope of ever letting go. Had she suffered years of torment in the pit of hell for Harry to join her there eventually? Did she endure all that torture merely to drag him into madness alongside her in the end?
"No, you can't know about this!" Ginny shouted in fury, her head shaking with vehement denial. "Not you. Not after everything!"
As she moved to reach for her wand, fully intent on erasing his memory of this wretched night, Harry gently grasped her wrist. A rush of sensation coursed through her, igniting her skin with tiny goosebumps and setting her nerve endings ablaze. She closed her eyes instinctively but regretted the action immediately.
'Look at you, little Ginevra,' Tom's voice echoed relentlessly in her mind. 'Melting from a single grasp!'
In a desperate, futile attempt to shut his insidious, vile words away, Ginny wrenched her wrists from Harry's gentle hold and covered her ears, hoping to drown out the malicious taunts. Harry watched her, his eyes reflecting unspeakable panic.
'You're yearning for his touch, like the nice little whore you are!' Tom's mocking voice persisted, tormenting her mercilessly.
Ginny didn't want to hear this. Not in Harry's presence. With swift determination, she rose to her feet, clutching her head in anguish as she fled toward the nearby trees. To her dismay, Harry rose as well, trailing after her.
Ginny glanced back at him with pleading eyes and he halted short in his tracks, "Don't follow me, Harry. If you know what's best for you!" She implored in a warning tone. He hesitated, but then his expression morphed into determination and she added, "I don't want to apparate away, Harry. Not like this. But I will if I have no other choice." Ginny snarled her voice laced with anger and desperation.
"You can obliviate me. If that's what you want." Harry called out, his voice an odd mix of strength and resignation, "But you should be aware that what I will be feeling after won't ever be as simple as the usual confusion that follows obliviation. I'll continue to feel... awful, and I won't have a clue why, Ginny. It will screw me up and drive me insane." He paused briefly before cautiously moving closer to her, " You can go ahead and do it anyway because I won't stop following you. I won't pretend that I don't have a bloody clue about what you're dealing with."
Harry was standing right behind her now. Ginny could hear his labored breathing. She longed for the ground to open up and swallow her whole, offering an escape from this unbearable moment.
'He's interesting, this one. I can see why you're so disgustingly smitten with him,' Tom's voice murmured, oozing with disdain. 'But I don't like this, Ginevra.'
To Ginny's horror, she felt the dreaded sensation of the damned torture curse enveloping her body in a brisk, electrifying wave. Gritting her teeth against the searing pain, she fought with every ounce of her being to resist the urge to scream, but it was futile. With a primal roar, she crumbled to the dirty ground, a broken and writhing mess.
"Ginny!" Harry cried out, collapsing beside her.
He hesitated for a split second before he gathered her convulsing body to his chest, holding her tightly. She trembled with excruciating pain, and Harry felt utterly helpless, unsure of how to ease her agony. It was terror in its purest form, and he could do nothing but hold her and pray for it to end.
"Tell me what to do, Ginny! How can I stop this? Oh, Merlin.. please!" his voice was trembling with desperation. Watching Ginny endure such agony surpassed even his own limits, it was above his ability to bear and he thought he could bear a lot. 'Not this, never this!' He thought miserably, holding her even closer, feeling as though he were teetering on the edge of madness.
As the agony of the curse intensified, Ginny's heart sank at the sound of Tom's cruel voice echoing in her mind once more, 'The poor boy thinks he can stop it. Well, he certainly can, wouldn't you agree, Ginevra?' You must give him a chance. You already let the other one try, but he sadly came up with little temporary success,' he mocked with a laugh. 'This one is different. He can do more. He already feels so guilty he won't even mind. Everyone loves to fuck a little whore like you, Ginevra.'
Ginny gave up. The tears ran freely down her pale face, her sobs echoing in the darkness. The curse still held her in its grip, every fiber of her being trembling with torment. Her entire body throbbed with electrifying tension, every nerve alight with the worst excruciating kind of pain. If she had even a shred of strength remaining, she would have continued to scream until her lungs gave out. As it was, she resorted to writhing on the floor, her mouth open wide in a horrific silent scream... It stopped abruptly and minutes passed before her tears dried on her cheeks. Her eyes now strained and burning up with the rest of her body darted to the east. She knew her torture was going to be over soon.
Harry was talking to her, Ginny noticed the gentle movement of his lips forming words of solace, his emerald eyes two green pools of sorrow and desperation. He held her tightly against his chest, cradling her with a tenderness that made her feel fragile, like a precious infant. Watching Harry's frantic gestures, Ginny couldn't shake the feeling that she was being delivered some kind of unfair punishment as her heart bled for him with sympathy.
'You are still maintaining hope for him. How pathetic.' Tom stated coldly, 'It has been years, Ginevra. He never once even glanced at you. How is it that you're still so damned naive, how?'
"Please, stop talking.." Ginny whispered brokenly.
'Oh, Come on Ginevra... Where's your sense of humor? Why don't you go and tell him about the seal in your tiny uterus so he can, you know... break it?' Tom's voice dripped with malice, 'Oops, I forgot, he needs to be in love with you for that to be achieved. Which, let's face it, is never going to happen now. You're tainted and dirty,' he chuckled viciously. 'Well, at least he can give you a bit of relief, anyway. He certainly looks desperate to help. You wouldn't mind now, would you? You're quite literally craving him. All the time. Like the little slut you are.'
Ginny felt her insides churn with revulsion, her organs rebelling against their confinement. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs to drown out the vile words assaulting her ears. Pressing her hands against her ears in a futile attempt to block out Tom's nasty words, she could sense Harry's body vibrating with suppressed rage as he held her tightly. He kept kicking the ground with his feet restlessly while sobbing in helplessness.
'Oh. Do you think he doesn't know how to do it? Should I offer him a demonstration?' Tom said in a venomous tone, 'But I guess he already saw everything earlier, wouldn't you agree?'
The sudden movement caused a surge of nausea and dizziness that overwhelmed her senses. She fought desperately to stay upright, but her strength faltered and she couldn't help but slip beneath the surface no matter how hard she paddled to keep afloat. She collapsed to the ground, consumed by vertigo. Bile rose thick and hot, in her throat, and Ginny instinctively turned away from Harry's view, shielding him from the sight. On trembling arms, she retched. Her body convulsed as she repeatedly heaved the contents of her stomach, gagging her in its wake.
Ginny was keenly attuned to Harry's presence, feeling the heavy burden of his silent anguish as though it were woven into the very fabric of her being. Despite her recurring desire to drift into nothingness or to just go drown in her comforting numbness, she knew that she couldn't just leave him. This was Harry, her anchor, and unwavering commitment. Her heart, ever the unyielding reminder, relentlessly refused to entertain the notion of abandoning Harry in his despair, no matter how much she was sacrificing herself as a price.
Ginny used her wand to freshen up a bit, disregarding the rules prohibiting underage magic outside of school. In the presence of the adults filling her house, the risk seemed insignificant and she honestly couldn't care any less about that now. Ginny knew she was stalling but she couldn't help the unease that creeped over her. Summoning her composure, she turned to confront Harry, only to find his intense gaze fixated on her and she felt like squirming out of her skin in discomfort.
"Do you feel alright?" Harry's concern echoed as Ginny approached him.
She shook her head, her quivering voice betraying her unease, "No, I don't think so. I feel rather unwell."
"Do you want to head back?" Harry offered.
Ginny declined with another shake of her head. "But I'll sit right here if you don't mind." She settled under a nearby tree, hugging her knees tightly in a futile attempt to hide the fact that her body was still visibly spasming and twitching with leftover tremors.
"Of course," he replied, keeping a concerned eye on her as she was still terribly as pale as a ghost.
A deafening, uncomfortable silence enveloped them, stretching out for what felt like an eternity. Ginny gazed ahead into space with dread, her thoughts swirling as she pondered what to say next. Suddenly, Harry's hesitant voice broke the tension.
"Is he—" Harry's words faltered, his discomfort palpable as he struggled to find the right way to phrase his question. After a moment of awkward fidgeting, he pressed on, "Is he gone now?"
Ginny nodded, her body trembling slightly as she attempted to form a coherent response. "He... Well, I..." Her words stumbled out and she was flailing miserably.
Seeing her distress, Harry intervened gently. "It's okay if you don't want to talk about it, Ginny."
But she shook her head. "I just never expected that I would ever have to talk about this."
'Well, not with you anyway.' She left that bit unspoken. "It's over now. He is gone," Ginny added softly.
"Ginny, I need to ask you something, but I need you to promise to be honest with me," Harry's tone was serious, his gaze unwavering.
Ginny sighed loudly, "Harry, I know it looks-" But her words were halted by Harry's interruption.
"It's just... I know it'll hurt more if you lie or try to hide it for my sake. So please promise me?" Harry's plea was earnest, his concern evident in his tone.
Reluctantly, Ginny acquiesced. "Okay, I promise."
"Has this been going on since the Chamber?" Harry's question cut through the air, his eagerness to know evident.
"Yes, but it's-" Before Ginny could fully respond, it seemed like Harry wasn't able to listen to her.
That was just about all Harry could take. It was the breaking point for him. Mentally and emotionally drained, he felt sick. The events of this wretched night ruined him.
Harry's emotions built up—and, with them, Harry felt his magical control slipping away, unleashing a torrent of power that felt like flames and lightning coursing through his veins and dancing along his skin. He desperately tried to calm himself and push his magic back down, but it was hard. His magic only surged stronger, burning hotter inside of him. His vision started to blur and he staggered, collapsing to the ground. The last thing he saw, as he fell into the encroaching darkness, was Ginny's concerned face rushing forward to him.