Eleven: Curses and Keepers

At least Demelza hadn't shied away from her after last night's spectacle. If anything, she looked at Ginny with even more admiration than before. It didn't strike her as fully healthy, but she really didn't want to push her remaining friend away. Besides, she wasn't sure if what she'd done had been wrong. If it had been wrong, why had it felt so good? She hadn't been afraid when casting those curses. She'd been alive. No memories, no whispers, no shifting scars, just magic.

And then Ginny remembered Nott again, and Astoria's disappointed face, and the Death Eaters who had wielded those exact curses. Their wrongness could no longer be denied. But still, it felt so good. Not to mention, there had been Percy's response as well, which had been encouraging, but possibly in all the wrong ways.

Dear Ginny,

Never apologise for defending yourself. While I agree that a different spell would have been better suited, I don't want you to hesitate when you are duelling either, afraid to cast a spell that goes too far. We're at war and you matter more than any Death Eater or Slytherin.

As for your friend, if she is who you tell me she is, she'll come around. It might take a while though, I don't need to tell you it took me far too long. I wish I could offer more comforting reassurances.

Your loving but foolish brother,

Percy

Not even her most stringent brother, the one always quoting rules and procedures at everyone, would condemn her actions - though she knew that was just as much the loss of his youngest brother speaking as Percy himself. Still, it was reassuring. And then she thought of Nott again, or Astoria, or Dolohov, and the reassurances slipped through her fingers.

Ginny hugged herself as she stood there in front of the mirror, naked. The scars were moving again. She could feel it even if her eyes deceived her. They recognised the magic that had brought them forth, and welcomed it.

They only run on the surface, she told herself. Even if Astoria wasn't talking to her anymore, at least she could still hold on to her words. Merlin, she missed her friend. The Patils and Brown were friendly enough, Demelza was great, but none of them were Tori. She had understood Ginny, until she no longer did. She just hoped Percy had been right and Astoria would come around sooner rather than later.

But first there was Snape to confront. Her first DADA class since the incident and she had no doubt he wouldn't spare her. The seconds ticked by as they all sat in class. The classroom felt even darker than usual, as if all the dark artefacts contained within their display cases had been awakened by the spells she'd cast. The black mirror in particular shone even more than usual. As stared at it, she could almost see Nott's trembling form in it.

Just when she was beginning to hope he wouldn't show, Snape marched into their class and carved the word 'curses' into the board with flaming letters.

"Normally, I would address this later in the year. However," Snape began, smiling softly. "Recent events have made them particularly topical." His gaze lingered on Ginny as he stalked the room, setting off around the edge as usual.

"Curses are the most dangerous spells you will encounter in your lives, often unexpectedly. A follower of the Dark Lord may wield them, or a crazed student who shows nothing but disdain for your physical integrity."

Ginny told herself she wouldn't get angry. Snape was just trying to get a rise out of her, now that McGonagall hadn't allowed him to expel her. But she would not give him the satisfaction.

"Curses can make you wish you were dead, inflicting terrible pain or permanent disfigurement. You are familiar with the Cruciatus Curse, but there are several spells that can have equally terrible effect, despite not being, semantically speaking at least, unforgivable. Others will simply kill, ranging from the almost sterile killing curse to a well-aimed and infinitely more bloody cutting curse. And then some will scar," he said, just as he reached Ginny. It seemed almost like a coincidence.

"Of course," he said as he continued his walk. "Scars are not always detrimental. Those with an inflated sense of self-importance proudly display them for all the world to see. Any claim to fame is a good one, so to speak, especially if you are otherwise sorely lacking in talent."

He wasn't just talking about her. He was talking about Harry. Her right hand gripped her wand, even as her left dug into the table. Ginny couldn't curse him. She'd be expelled and for some reason, Snape was still a part of the Order and an instrumental part of Dumbledore's plans. But oh, how she wanted to. She wanted it so badly. And Snape could see it in her eyes, she knew it.

"Fortunately, I will teach you how to defend yourself… If you are in the possession of sufficient intellect of course," he said, his gaze sweeping the classroom, his superior smirk telling them all just how doubtful he considered that. "And if not, you will at least serve as a useful object lesson to your successors, though as we've already had five and a half last June, don't feel obliged on my behalf."

She could not hex him. They needed him.

"Miss Weasley, if you would be so kind to assist in my demonstration? No harm will come to you, I assure you. And even if it does, well, I doubt anyone will see the difference."

She rose from her seat and walked to the front, still clutching her wand. She could not hex him. They needed him. A refrain she kept repeating in her head. But did he need her? His cold eyes told her that was unlikely.

"The normal defence would be to conjure a shield charm. If you would be so kind, Miss Weasley?" he asked. She conjured a shield and was relieved to see it looked solid.

"Now, such a shield will protect you from most curses, provided your opponent is not of superior magical strength," he said, tapping his wand against her shield, sending ripples across it. "It is not perfect, however. The Killing Curse cannot be shielded against. If you are faced with its tell-tale green light, the only defence is to dodge." For an irrational second, Ginny thought he'd demonstrate it on her.

"Even some other curses can circumvent the shield's protection, curving around it or by their nature capable of piercing it. Miss Weasley has recently provided an example of the latter."

The rest of class was no different; Snape seizing upon every opportunity to mock her, even as he kept her there, still manifesting the shield charm. Her arm felt heavy after already five minutes, but Ginny refused to give him the satisfaction of lowering it, even as he kept occasionally tapping against her shield under the guise of pedagogical examples, always looking so disappointed when it was still there. Her arm burned and shook and tears were welling in her eyes by the end of the class, but she didn't relent. It was a good thing she wouldn't have to try out tonight, as she doubted she'd be able to pick up a Quaffle after this, let alone toss it.

She could not help but let out a relieved breath when Snape dismissed the class and she could finally lower her arm. She made for her belongings, but Snape stopped her, eyes glittering black.

"Miss Weasley, had it been up to me, you'd have been expelled. However, Professor McGonagall pleaded your case most vehemently, no doubt because she wishes to see how many students you can lead to their death. Personally, I suspect you may have it in you to break Potter's record."

Ginny didn't answer. She just gathered her things and hurried out. However, unlike Snape's previous taunts, his parting one had lodged itself inside her mind. Is that what she was doing with the D.A.? Making people believe they could fight so they could die like Luna, Neville, Hermione, Ron and Harry?

It felt good to wear her familiar Quidditch jersey again, number five in bright gold on her back and she herself high up in the air. This high up, she almost felt like a Seeker again, the spectators reduced to specks and with a good overview of the aspiring Quidditch players as they took flight and gathered around Katie.

Only when the trials properly started did she float a bit lower. Demelza flew rings around the other competitors that made Ginny dream of their trio being able to rival even the well-oiled machine of Angelina, Alicia and Katie. For seekers, a combination of Chaser rejects and aspiring Seekers tried out and that's how they ended up with Dean Thomas. She hoped he'd be able to look at her directly eventually. For Beaters, Jimmy Peakes and Ritchie Coote made a more than favourable impression, even if one of them almost took her head off when he misjudged his swing. While no Fred and George, Ginny was confident they'd be able to keep her safe most of the time at least, and that was all you could ask for from Beaters.

Only, then they still had to choose a Keeper. McLaggen had already announced to the whole house that these try-outs were just a formality and that he was a shoe-in. Maddeningly enough, his confidence wasn't misplaced. Despite trying her hardest, Ginny couldn't get her throw past him, nor could any of the others. McLaggen saved all five, the others two at most. She already had a feeling of approaching doom when Katie floated over to her.

"Ginny," she greeted her, looking grim.

"I don't want him in the team. He's an asshole," she declared. The Slug Club event had been bad enough, but having practice with him – each week?

"Yes, and the rest was terrible. Like, really terrible. Chudley Cannons terrible."

"Merlin," she sighed, though she knew Katie was right. "Fine. But if he oversteps, I'm knocking him off his broom."

"We'll set out clear rules," she promised.

"I give it two weeks before he breaks them. Three tops," Ginny said. Katie gave McLaggen a searching look.

"Halfway the first match," she said with a grin. "Come on, it will be fine," she promised and then flew off to tell McLaggen the good news.

As soon as Katie was gone, Demelza flew over to Ginny, her hair a mess and her face still sporting the broad grin of Gryffindor's newest Chaser.

"Judging by your grim expression, Cormac's in?" Demelza asked.

"Yes," Ginny huffed, "and if you try to tell me it'll be alright, I'll hex you."

"Oh no, it will be dreadful," Demelza agreed. "But it's good news in a way. With him, we'll never win the Cup. So that means we'll still have something to aim for next year," she said, before speeding off and making some more victory loops. Below, McLaggen's friends were already clapping him on the back.

The sad thing was, Demelza was probably right. Ginny doubted they'd be running around with the Quidditch cup this year on the sprawling green field below. At least they'd won last year, even without Fred, George and Harry. At least she'd been able to help give him that. One final moment of Quidditch glory and a massive middle finger to Umbridge. How stupidly happy she'd been then, to snatch the Snitch away right under the nose from Cho Chang. It had seemed like an important victory then, a way of showing Harry she was infinitely better than her.

And Ron… Ron had been ecstatic. The one game where the stars had finally aligned and his skill had surpassed his nerves. That last catch of him: that was how she wanted to remember him. Hair tussled, cup held in his hand and the crowd bearing him on their hands. He'd been wanting that kind of recognition for all his life, she now realised. It couldn't have been easy, being friend to the famous Harry Potter. And still he'd never hesitated.

Somehow, Ron is still standing. Every spell he parries just increases the frustration already written across Lucius Malfoy's face. Ron's on the other hand, is one of pure focus. The same look he had right before he saved that last throw. Maybe that's how he sees Malfoy, just another Chaser throwing Quaffles. It's the only way to explain how he keeps his cool in the face of such an onslaught. Dad would be so proud if he could see this. Worried, ever so worried, but proud.

He even returns fire, a red stunner whizzing just past Malfoy's face. And Ginny begins to wonder if maybe they can still win this somehow. The other Death Eaters are still nowhere to be seen. It's just Harry, Ron and Hermione versus Bellatrix, Malfoy and Rookwood. Terrifying opponents, but even numbers. If only she could help, but even trying to lift her wand fills her with nausea.

"Weasley is our King," she sang sadly.