GINNY
As painful as it was to admit to herself, McLaggen was a skilled Keeper. The rest of the team knew it too, but none dared to speak it aloud out of loyalty to Ron. Well, none except McLaggen himself.
Pointedly. Loudly. Frequently.
So Ginny was grateful to put the final practice behind them after a week of enduring McLaggen's verbal abuses. She entered the locker room through the door Dean held open to see her team huddled around, whispering intensely.
"What's going on?" she said.
They split apart, revealing McLaggen's broom with several splinters of branches circling around it.
"What happened?!"
The three eyed each other, daring the others to speak up.
"Can't we just 'Reparo' it?" asked Dean.
"It doesn't work on broomsticks, remember?" she said. At that moment, they heard the tap of McLaggen's shower turn off.
"Demelza, Jimmy - you distract him," said Ginny, rushing to assess the damage.
Demelza sounded appalled, "What, in the shower?"
"Dean, get a trimming kit," Ginny instructed, picking up the broom hiding it behind the second set of old lockers.
She came back around the corner to find Ritchie, who had been attempting to gather splinters, had sliced his hand and was now staring wide eyed at the gathering blood.
"Ritch, don't look at -" but she was too late. He fainted.
Ginny knelt down on the floor to put pressure on Ritchie's bleeding hand. She swept the edge of her Quidditch robes over the remaining splinters just as Dean rushed past with the trimming kit.
McLaggen reentered the locker room with Jimmy and Demezla on his heels, to see Ritchie's limp form sprawled across the floor.
"What's going -"
Jimmy panicked, grabbed two Beater's bats and yelled, "CORMAC - Look! " and began juggling. Demelza followed suit, and began clapping along with a large showman's smile on her face.
Harry entered the locker room last, stopping short as his eyes skipped over the scene: Jimmy still juggling, McLaggen with a Weird Sisters towel wrapping around his waist, and Ritchie knocked out cold on the floor.
Ginny fought hard to bite back laughter at his reaction and the ridiculousness of it all.
"What the -"
Then from around the wall of lockers, Dean appeared brandishing the repaired broomstick and exclaimed, "Woah, Cormac, what a gorgeous piece of equipment."
McLaggen's face quickly changed from shock to anger. "Do you know how expensive this is? It's a Vintage Classic AeroFlyer Elite! Only 217 of them were released! Ever!"
"Shocker. 0 to 60 in oh…five minutes," Ginny mumbled under her breath.
Harry grinned down at her. "Who wouldn't want one?" he said, kneeling down next to Ritchie as he took several hazy blinks back to consciousness.
The four of them had not spent this much time together since summer. But on Friday evening, she, Harry and Hermione sat around Ron's hospital bed gorging themselves on Acid Pops and Frosted Mountain Fudge that Fred and George had sent for Ron's birthday.
Since Hermione's Great Surrender, Ron and Hermione had been delicately polite to each other, which earned multiple meaningful glances between Ginny and Harry.
It could almost be a game, Ginny thought. How many times could Ron and Hermione say something that would send her searching for Harry's eyes? Would he look first, or she? Would the others ever notice?
How clever the two of them were, to hold silent conversations around the others. About the others. It didn't matter who. Ron. Hermione. The Quidditch Team. In the Gryffindor Common Room.
She loved the thrill of it, to catch and hold his eyes. Would he look away first, or she? All her observations were now opportunities for shared moments with Harry.
A memory stirred, over the summer during one of their talks when Hermione whispered: "I worry sometimes, when he's so quiet. I don't know what to say."
Ginny knew now that Harry didn't need words. She now noticed the peace, the genuine contentedness that spread across his face when with Ron and Hermione. It reminded her of the feeling she got when returning to the Burrow. Or Christmas morning surrounded by family. Harry might not always need words, but he needed to be the three of them, the trio.
And for the first time, Ginny was grateful that Harry could tell them about the Dumbledore lessons. How cruel, how isolating that'd be otherwise, to have to keep the lessons to only himself.
As for herself, she felt purpose in being there, too. Ready to receive his eye, his smirk, his silent communication she caught while the others missed. She might not know the content of Dumbledore's lessons, but she knew Harry.
"D'you want to come with me to see Ron before the match?" Harry asked them at breakfast the next morning.
"Do you really think you should go, Harry?" Hermione asked. "You might cut it close to the match."
"I actually agree with Hermione on this one," said Ginny. "And tell me you're planning to do something about McLaggen? He's been harassing the team all week."
"Like what?" he asked.
"The leader of the D.A. should be able to think of something," she said, crossing her arms. A smile slid across his face
"I'm not dueling McLaggen, if that's what you're thinking," he said.
"How boring. What's the point of being invincible if you can't hex a git or two?"
Harry snorted. "I'll leave that to you."
"Well just know that if you're late, McLaggen will throw a coup."
"Then I feel sorry for him."
"Why?"
"Well, if I'm not there, you're Captain," he said.
"Actually Harry," Jimmy said, walking up to join them at breakfast. "If it's a coup, then don't we get to decide who's Captain?"
"Well, I'm voting for Ginny," said Demelza, tossing her two dark braids over her shoulder.
"Me too," said Dean, walking up a moment later and kissing Ginny on the cheek.
Since nearly the entire Gryffindor team had formed around them, Harry started his usual debrief but was cut short by Hermione's reminder to go visit Ron in the hospital wing before time ran out.
On their way to the pitch, Ginny and Hermione were joined by Luna.
"Would you like to - erm - sit together, Luna?" Hermione asked.
"Thank you for the offer, although it sounds like you'd rather not," said Luna. "But I can't today. I'll be commentating the match."
Hermione's expression tightened, looking determinedly straight ahead. Ginny smiled unto herself, knowing if Harry was there he'd have caught it too. "That's excellent, Luna."
Ginny met the rest of her team in the locker room. The minutes of the next half hour ticked by, and still Harry was not there.
Every sound caused their heads to snap towards the door. Dean's knee bounced up and down. McLaggen began pacing, slouched over, huffing like a gorilla.
"Where's Potter?" demanded McLaggen for the third time. She half expected to see him banging his knuckles against his chest. "Shouldn't the Captain be here before the rest of his team?"
"Shut it!" she yelled. Then, more softly, "He'll be here."
The possibility of a coup was suddenly looking more likely.
"Alright, team, listen up!" she shouted, clapping her hands and poised to rouse them with a speech just as Harry charged through the door, giving a quick apology.
"Where have you been?" She had followed him to his locker, expecting him to apologize profusely, but instead was confronted with the dangerous combination of a shirtless Harry, green eyed gaze focused intently on her, answering in a whisper only she could hear.
"I met Malfoy," he said.
They were talking about Malfoy of all evil things, but the betraying swoop somewhere near her stomach didn't seem to care.
"So?" she demanded, catching her breath.
"So I wanted to know how come he's up at the castle with a couple of girlfriends while everyone else is down here…"
"Does it matter right now?" she insisted.
"Well, I'm not likely to find out, am I?" he said and addressed the team, "Come on then!"
They marched onto the pitch to tumultuous cheers. Massive cumulus clouds marched lazily across the sky, scattering slanting golden columns of sunlight as passed.
She looked over her shoulder to Demelza and they nodded bracingly just before Madam Hooch sounded her whistle. Ginny kicked off hard from the ground but the usual exhilarating rush of the initial ascent and charge of excitement was missing today. She felt her sweaty hands slip on her broom, giving Smith a split second advantage to gain first possession of the Quaffle.
It was only after Hufflepuff scored first that she was able to refocus herself. She scored once, and assisted Demelza in a second goal. There was a nervous charge amongst the team - Dean was short on the Underhanded Undertake play, Ritchie was outmaneuvered by the Bludger twice. McLaggen's booming voice across the pitch did nothing to ease the tension.
"If you look over to the south side of the pitch, you'll see a cloud shaped as a coiled up serpent. I wonder if that's a bad omen," said Luna. "Oh, but now it looks a bit like one of Florean Fortescue's ice cream cones. They are delicious."
"Seventy-forty to Hufflepuff!" announced Professor McGonagall.
"Is it, already?" said Luna excitedly. "Oh, look! The Gryffindor Keeper's got hold of one of the Beater's bats."
Next Ginny knew Harry was speeding past her in a blur of scarlet, yelling at McLaggen to return Jimmy's club, she cried out a warning but it was too late.
The Bludger hurdled toward him at peak momentum, producing an unbearable sound as it collided with the side of Harry's head, spraying droplets of blood, sending him twisting through the air and dropping like a lifeless doll.
Ginny landed hard and threw her broom aside, coming up beside Jimmy and Ritchie as they lowered Harry to the ground. Rivulets of blood are soaking down the side of his head, ear and neck. She could see a small white section of bone where the skin had broken.
"I'm - I'm so sorry -" Jimmy stammered. "I shouldn't have -"
Ginny collapsed hard on the ground beside Harry and cradled his head from the muddy grass of the pitch. She looked around for help but only saw Jimmy staring at the side of Harry's head, Ritchie had his back turned, having vomited. McLaggen landed beside them, his eyes wide open in shock. Ginny could hear the distant cackling of Smith and Cadwadaller as they scored goal after goal
Luna continued announcing, "And Hufflepuff scores again… and again… and again…"
"McLaggen, you absolute arsehole!" Ginny cried. "Get back to the goal posts! Demelza, Dean, get back on the defense!"
She turned to Jimmy and Ritchie, "It's okay, I'll look after him, get your bat and don't fucking give it to him again. Try to distract their chasers."
Ginny turned to see McGonagall and Madam Hooch hurrying to the spot where she sat, crouched next to Harry's lifeless form. He looked deathly pale. She took his broken, warped glasses off his face and slipped them into her robes.
"Harry?" She whispered, knowing he wouldn't respond. His blood, warm and sticky, now covered her hands and the sleeves of her scarlet robes.
"Madam Pomfrey is coming. How is he?" asked McGonagall with concern. Ginny found she couldn't speak and for the first time realized her eyes had brimmed with tears.
"Don't worry, Miss Weasley. I've seen Madam Pomfrey patch up far worse," said Madam Hooch, summoning a stretcher. Ginny gently laid his head down and allowed them to levitate his body onto the stretcher. His arm slipped off, so Ginny took his hand, cradled his entire arm and laid it carefully across his chest.
"Miss Weasley," emphasized Professor McGonagall a second time, for Ginny had not responded to the first. "Are you okay to continue?"
"Hm?"
"To continue the match!"
"Oh…" she replied, tearing her eyes away from the stretcher as it disappeared from view. She cleared her throat, "Yes, Professor."
"Scourgify!" McGonagall said, cleaning Ginny's hands, but a large portion of her sleeve remained stained with Harry's blood. She gave Ginny a sympathetic look. "You're sure?"
Ginny nodded quickly.
"Make quick work of it, hm?" McGonagall gave her a bracing squeeze of the arm and followed after Madam Hooch.
Ginny was left standing alone on the field, taking shallow breaths. A sudden dizziness threatened to overwhelm her, leaving her hands clammy and nausea bubbling hot in her stomach. Her mind had gone completely blank other than a loud whirring of what sounded like a hundred hornets.
No, not now.
She was no stranger to this feeling. It usually crept up slowly, steadily, growing into pounding waves. Images would splash in her mind of a figure coming out of the diary. Other times, she'd wake up with a start from dreams of random corners of the castle, not knowing how to get back to the Common Room.
At first, after the Chamber, it happened daily. Sometimes multiple in one day. But over the years it became less frequent. Except that week after the Triwizard Tournament. And then again after the Department of Mysteries.
But this time, the feeling was sudden and overwhelming.
A call from the crowd reminded her where she was. That there was a match happening now.
Jimmy streaked past her, narrowly redirecting a bludger from hitting her.
Ginny closed her eyes and inhaled through her nose. Filling her lungs.
Then she imagined exhaling it all.
She rounded on McLaggen, clenching her fists at the sight of him. She marched over and grabbed her broom, kicking off forcefully.
"McLaggen, if you do another fucking thing other than guard those goal posts - or say anything - I'll make sure this is the last time you ride a broom!" She hollered.
"And now Ginny Weasley is yelling at the Gryffindor Keeper. I could see why, it was rather irresponsible of him to knock out his Captain. She and Harry are also very good friends," said Luna into the microphone.
The rest of the match passed in a blur. Ginny now hoped for it to be over quickly, with the least amount of damage to Gryffindor's chances at the House Cup. But every time her eyes caught the stain of blood on her sleeve, her thoughts rushed back to Harry. Lifeless and unmoving.
Hufflepuff had caught the snitch to end the game with a final score of three hundred and twenty to sixty. After shaking hands with them, the Gryffindor team retreated into their locker room to wash up. Ginny was glad to be rid of the scarlet robes, but when she reached into the pocket and realized she still had Harry's glasses. She tucked them carefully in her new change of clothes.
No one had said a word since the end of the match until they huddled in the locker room.
"Is Harry going to be alright?" Demelza asked her. Pulling up her hair into a high pony, Ginny nodded. "It was awful, wasn't it?" said Demelza. The nausea in Ginny's stomach gave an uncomfortable turn. Peakes and Coote looked traitorously at McLaggen. Another moment of silence passed before all hell broke loose.
"What'd you have to take my beater's bat for?!" bellowed Jimmy.
"You kept missing the Bludger! I was showing you how to-" McLaggen responded vehemently.
"Last time I checked you were neither a Beater nor Captain of this team, McLaggen!" Jimmy hollered back.
"Yeah? Well he wasn't doing much captaining, was he? Late to the match and -" said McLaggen.
Jimmy shot up off the bench, Ritchie close behind him and bore down at McLaggen, still sitting on the bench. "We want you off the team! Because of you, we don't have a chance at the Cup!"
Now McLaggen stood, towering several inches over both of them. "How is that my fault! He shouldn't have gotten so close when I was aiming for a - " Dean now stood to step in between the three of them, holding Jimmy and Ritchie back as they tried to grab hold of McLaggen.
"ENOUGH!" Ginny yelled. "Jimmy and Ritchie, calm down! We don't need you two getting injured. And we still have a chance at the Cup," she said, not believing her own lie.
Next, she turned in a slow circle to look at McLaggen. Fury ran through her as she looked into his stupid, stubborn face. She considered using her Bat Bogey Hex on him, but thought better of pulling her wand. Not trusting herself not to accidentally, instinctively use a spell much worse to dismember him. "McLaggen, you're off the team."
"And who put you in charge?"
"I'm the Captain when Harry's out!"
"You Gryffindor women are hysterical," he muttered.
"What. Did. You. Say?" Demelza growled, standing beside Ginny.
"I said, you women are - "
"GET THE FUCK OUT, MCLAGGEN!"
He looked incredulously to Dean, looking for support.
"OUT!" Ginny screamed.
With a great show of theatrics, McLaggen snatched his bag and stormed out of the locker room. Ginny found that she was breathing hard, as if just having sprinted up the path to the castle.
"I shouldn't have handed over my bat to him," said Jimmy several moments later. He dropped his face into his hands, shaking his head.
"We don't blame you, who would have guessed that he'd hit a bludger straight into Harry's head," Dean said. "I mean, what are the chances?"
Ginny bit her tongue. She wanted so badly to be alone, to be done with this horrible match, this miserable day. The continued nausea still bubbled in her stomach and her hands began shaking again. In a low voice, she said, "Good effort everyone. It could have been a lot worse, with McLaggen giving them full access to the hoops. We do still have a chance at the Cup. We'll get Harry and Ron back, and everything will be… okay."
With that, she dismissed the team. They all gathered their things and made for the castle. Their heads hung low as they trudged through the mud with the mood of a funeral procession.
Upon reaching the castle, Dean caught up beside Ginny and reached to take her hand. She snatched it away and stuffed it in the pocket of her trousers. They were now in the Entrance Hall of the castle, the rest of the team having slumped off to dinner. "What? Are you mad at me?" asked Dean.
"I don't know, Dean. I just want to be alone, okay?" Ginny said, coming to a halt.
"Is it about the match?"
"Please Dean, I just want to be alone." Ginny hastened up the stairs, feet automatically carrying her to the Gryffindor Common Room.
She almost made it to the tower before another crushing wave. The force of it almost took her breath away. Looking around frantically, she found a hidden passageway. Once inside the dark, damp corridor, she lowered herself to the ground. Curling up into a small ball, she held her legs close and resumed taking deep breaths.
It was now impossible to hold back the images that appeared in her mind:
Waking up in dark stone passages alone. Standing in front of the mirror, white face, red hands, feathers floating off of her. As much as she scrubbed, there would always be more. Some spot on her robes. Standing in front of a sink, speaking words of a strange language. Tearing through Harry's belongings. Finding the diary - relief and terrible fear. Maybe this time she could control it.
What have you done?
I didn't want Harry to have the diary.
The pages grew warm.
Give the diary back to Harry Potter, Ginny. Now.
No! I won't.
Nothingness.
I apologize for my reaction.
I think I need to tell someone about you, Tom.
Why would you do that?
Because things are happening at the school, Tom and I'm beginning to think it's connected. Every time someone gets petrified, I can't recall where I've been.
Who would you tell?
I don't know, my brother Percy? He's a prefect.
What if he becomes suspicious of you?
Fred and George, then.
They won't believe you. They won't take you seriously.
Ron.
Ahh, but he's left you behind for his friends. They don't want you. You'll just get in their way. And what if he told Harry what you've done? How will he ever like you?
She opened her eyes, staring at the great expansive stonework. The diary was clutched in her hands. Her hands went to her face, whirling around in the unfamiliar cavernous room.
A figure coming out of the diary.
T-Tom?
He smiled.
I want to thank you, Ginny. Without you, none of this would have been possible.
But, you're - alive?
I am now. Or will be very soon, rather.
He approached her. While backing away, she slipped and fell on the floor.
I don't understand.
I am going to kill Harry Potter. It's only a matter of time now. I am going to destroy Harry Potter. Just like he destroyed me.
Harry?
You're very stupid, aren't you?
His face was going out of focus.
Her head lolled to the side. It took a great effort to bring it back up.
Y-you?
Yes, you told me yourself. The heroic Boy-Who-Lived mysteriously took down the greatest, most powerful wizard of all time.
But that was -
I am him, Ginny. I am Lord Voldemort.
She could no longer keep her eyes open, the last thing she felt was a blunt pain on the back of her head where it hit the chamber floor.
She felt as though someone had taken hold of her windpipe. Their hands were squeezing and crushing so hard she couldn't draw breath. As if someone had vanished all the oxygen from the room.
And this is how she sat for what felt like hours. A constant cycle of breathlessness, then feeble attempts to take control, descending into another series of Tom-related images. Finally, she found a rhythm. She found her breath.
Slowly she became aware once more of her senses. Back sore against the stone wall behind her. Head pounding with exhaustion. Unsteady drips of water somewhere further down the secret passageway. There was a pain in her stomach, but distinct from the nausea that remained. She reached into the pocket of her jumper and again pulled out Harry's glasses. One lens had a small crack and the frames had been bent in an odd direction.
"Oculus Reparo," she muttered. They returned to their original form. She ran her thumb across the round metal frames. A meager smile played on her lips. Knowing the state of his eyesight, he'd likely need them when he woke. So Ginny peeled herself off the ground, steadied herself, and exited the secret passageway. Instead of the tower, she chose to make for the hospital wing, stopping only to check her reflection in a bathroom along the way.
"Hey," she replied bleakly to Ron's greeting. Ginny carefully placed Harry's glasses on the table beside him.
"He looks pretty stupid in those wrappings, doesn't he?" said Ron.
"Yeah, we should get Colin to take a photo."
Madam Pomfrey had made the wrapping around Harry's head asymmetrical. His black hair sprouted out the top. His mouth hung half open.
"I heard everything from here, and Hermione just left a bit ago. Looks like McLaggen's off the team," he sniggered.
"We had to stop Jimmy and Ritchie from going after him."
Ron scoffed. "A Lot of good they'd have done. He's the size of both of them combined."
A random thought flitted across Ginny's mind of what it'd be like to see Lily and James Potter bursting through the doors of the hospital wing, like her parents had for Ron exactly one week ago.
Harry's face was still pale, but it was a relief to look without having to look away, particularly without his glasses. She studied the soft grooves of his forehead that lead to the gentle slope of his nose. She lingered at his lips before tracing his jaw down to where she could see his pulse gently pounding away. It was when she reached the collar bone before she realized she'd stopped breathing.
"He's going to be fine, you know that right?"
She pulled her hand away from Harry's, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before the warmth, uncomfortably familiar, spread across her face. She sat at the foot of Harry's bed, angling herself to face only Ron.
His eyebrows were raised, but she was relieved when he didn't tease her. She didn't have enough emotional capacity for that today. Instead, she and Ron discussed Harry's late arrival to the match while she forced herself against stealing glances at Harry.
Her head still felt sensitive, her chest still tight from earlier in the passageway.
"Well, I'm going to get dinner," she said. "Glad to hear you're better too."
"You didn't ask about me."
"All the same," she said, waving behind her. "'Night."