Twenty-four: Godric's Hollow
All five of them had been buried at Godric's Hollow. Weasleys usually were buried closer to home, Longbottoms had their own family tomb and no Granger had ever been buried at a Wizarding cemetery, but they'd all decided that Harry belonged with his parents, and the five of them belonged together.
Five tombstones in an innocent white marble, Harry's in the middle. The flowers were not as numerous as during the summer, but still outdid any other plot. The odd multi-coloured wreath at Luna's grave told them Xenophilius had already come by.
Five golden fires in a bell jar still burned as brightly as the first time she'd come here, Dumbledore's contribution, a perpetual flame for each of the them. A sixth stood in her room back in the Burrow. It had been accompanied by a small note, telling that not just the fallen deserved to be recognised and mourned.
Her whole family was gathered around the five graves. None of them spoke, their breath condensing in the cold. Ginny kept rereading the life dates over and over again, the different days of birth, that same date of death. 18th of June 1996.
"Could I have a moment with them?" she asked finally.
"Of course, dear," her mum murmured, planting a kiss on her forehead before she left.
She waited until the others were well at the other end of the cemetery and then crouched in front of the graves. Running her hand through the snow, she wished she had something to give, to leave with them.
"Hi everyone, " she said, her voice soft, "sorry it's been so long. It's… It's been strange at Hogwarts. I keep expecting to find you all waiting just around the corner. But I guess I know where to find you, and where not. It just sucks. The world out there is growing darker without you all. Sometimes, I wonder-" she hesitated but the graveyard was empty. Nobody but her friends would her thoughts she hadn't dared to voice until now. "Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn't have been better if it had been any of you, instead of me. But…" Ginny bit her lip. "Well, I'm trying."
"I, uhm, started the D.A. again. I hope you guys don't mind, but I needed it. A lot of people did. And not just because Snape's teaching DADA," she said, smiling wanly as she could almost hear Harry's outraged cries.
"And, well, Dumbledore's teaching me as well. No straight answers, just riddles. And… and Horcruxes," she breathed out, barely daring to voice the word. "We can't kill him you know, not yet. Voldemort. Not until we find these awful magical artefacts and it just leaves me dizzy, the momentousness of the task." She closed her eyes. Six people, six horcruxes. The way it should have been. "At least Harry already got one," she managed to say, forcing herself to stand up. "I'll find a way, I promise."
She brushed her hand past each of the tombstones, hoping to feel something more. But in the end, it was just her on the cemetery. Her and cool marble. With a sigh, she returned to her family. If she tried hard enough, she could almost picture the five of them walking next to her. Almost, but not quite.
When they returned from the cemetery, five people were waiting in front of the Burrow. Four of them she had never seen before, though their Auror uniforms reassured her at least somewhat. The fifth, his robes billowing in the cold wind, she was far more familiar with, his face a regular feature in the Daily Prophet. Rufus Scrimgeour looked different in the flesh. More weathered. His face was a map of lines and wrinkles, a display of what awaited anyone with the passing of time, if they were lucky. His hair, a few snowflakes clinging to it, had been tawny at the start of his career, now it was rapidly greying as well.
Scrimgeour detached himself from the group and approached them, his walking stick sinking into the snow but his feet almost floating over the surface. His uneven gait reminded Ginny of a hurt predator's, limbering towards their prey. Her dad readied himself to meet the Minister, but Percy stopped him.
"I'll handle this, dad," he said, pushing back his glasses. "He's probably here for me. He sounded more hopeful than convinced.
"Percy," Scrimgeour greeted him, tucking his stick under his arm.
"Minister. I'd hoped you asked for our address so you could send a Christmas card," Percy replied.
Scrimgeour dug into his coat and produced a rather cheap card depicting an overly jolly Santa and a possibly drunk Rudolph the reindeer.
"Merry Christmas, I don't trust owl post," he said, pushing the card in Percy's hand. He tried to move past her brother, but Percy moved with him.
"Can I help you, Minister?" he asked mildly.
"No, you are on holiday. I would, however, like to briefly speak with your youngest sibling," Scrimgeour said, his eyes falling on Ginny. She met his gaze head on.
"Absolutely not," her mum interrupted, coming to stand next to Percy.
"Madam, I am the Minister of Magic. I promise you that she will be safe with me," Scrimgeour said.
"And I am her mother," her mum said.
"Mum, it's fine," she said.
"You don't have to, Ginny," Percy reminded her.
It's fine," she repeated. "Shall we take a walk, Minister?"
"A walk sounds delightful," Scrimgeour said.
As they walked away, she could feel her family's eyes on them. Scrimgeour took a moment to study his surroundings and, after what he had no doubt deemed an acceptable delay, cleared his throat.
"A very charming home you have, Miss Weasley."
"Thank you, Minister," she said.
"I am glad we can finally talk. I have wanted to do so for a long time," he said.
Ginny looked at him, mildly surprised. Harry had been a desirable figurehead, and in a way it made sense that the D.A. had rallied around her. But what did she have to offer? As a figurehead, she'd only remind Wizarding Britain of the Ministry's earlier failure to protect them. Hers was the face of loss.
"However, first there was your recovery and then the walls of Hogwarts sealed you off from the outer world," Scrimgeour continued, pausing and gazing in the distance. "And I think we both know how well those walls guard their secrets, do we not?" Ginny just knew that somehow, he knew what had happened in the Chamber of Secrets.
"As you say, Minister," she said, trying to keep the dismay from showing. Somehow, she'd always believed no one but those few who had been in McGonagall's office that day knew the truth. Unaware of her inner turmoil, or perhaps simply not caring, Scrimgeour continued.
"As you are no doubt aware, the war is exacting a heavy toll on all of us. I try to keep us all safe, but we both know that that is impossible," he said, eyes lingering on her scars. "I will, however, ensure that Voldemort does not win." He did not show the slightest bit of hesitation as he spoke the name, which made Ginny like him a bit more. "That makes it all the more frustrating that we face such inner strife."
"Inner strife, Minister?" she asked eventually when it became clear he was waiting for her reaction.
"I speak of your headmaster, Miss Weasley. Headmaster and officious leader of the, shall we say, underground resistance against Voldemort. Underground resistance you are well familiar with. And while I understand his reticence - my predecessor was a fool - the time for division is past. The times are too dire for that." Ginny nodded, still not sure where the Minister was heading.
"I must admit, you strike a different tone in your speeches, Minister," she remarked, remembering the Prophet's headline on Christmas Eve all too well, where Scrimgeour had promised safety and victory.
"Quite. But between us, there is no need to mince words, is there?" he said as they'd come to a halt at the far end of the Burrow's garden. "Which is why I wish to make a request of you, Miss Weasley. I understand Dumbledore has taken you into his confidence," he continued and once again, Ginny wondered how he knew. "Isn't that so?"
"I have spoken with him," she agreed.
"And would I be correct in saying that whatever he has discussed, concerns the war?"
It was so tempting to tell Scrimgeour everything. To speak of Horcruxes and let the Ministry find the remaining four. Surely they would had more means than a consistently more tiring Dumbledore? But then she remembered the tales of her parents of how permeated the Ministry had been by Death Eaters in the past.
"I think that is something between me and Professor Dumbledore, Minister," she replied.
"I would argue that there is no room for secrets between allies in a war," Scrimgeour said.
"But there is room for discretion," Ginny said.
A flicker of annoyance passed over Scrimgeour's face, but was quickly replaced by the mask she knew so well from the Prophet's pictures. His grip tightened on his walking stick as they began to circle back.
"Discretion is important, I agree. Rest assured that I would not only be forever grateful for whatever you would feel comfortable sharing, but would also treat it with the utmost circumspection," he said, before lapsing into silence.
They were nearly back at the house before he spoke again."I heard there have been some issues with resolving the inheritance of Mister Potter. As Minister of Magic, I could easily remedy that. It would be so much better if Mister Potters wishes were honoured, wouldn't it?" he asked.
"Is that a bribe, Minister?" she asked, fighting the urge to hex him in what would no doubt be a headline worthy case of underage use of magic.
"Not at all," Scrimgeour said smoothly. "Just a favour between friends. Because I think we could be friends, Miss Weasley." Suddenly, Ginny felt like she was at a Slug Club meeting. "Consider it. My door will always be open to you," he concluded before returning to his escort and Disapparating with a loud 'pop', leaving a seething Ginny behind.
The door of the Burrow opened and a worried Percy walked towards her, holding two mugs of steaming tea.
"I had no idea he'd be coming here today, Ginny, I swear," he said.
"I know, Perce." Ginny accepted one of the mugs.
"If you want, I can poison his tea tomorrow?" he offered, sipping from his own and grimacing. "Careful, it's still very hot."
"Maybe. Do you know Corban Yaxley, Percy?" she asked.
If she hadn't known her brother so well, she would have missed the look of surprise and concern that passed across his face. It was only there for a second before he hid it with another sip of tea.
"A bit, we are distant colleagues. How do you know him?"
"Slug Club Christmas party. Apparently, he and Slughorn know each other. Though I doubt he's an Alumnus, a bit too old for that."
"Yes, quite," Percy agreed, staring into the distance. "Steer clear from him in the future, Ginny. He's a dangerous man."
"He's a Death Eater?" Ginny asked. Percy shrugged.
"I don't know. But even those on our side can be dangerous. What did the Minister want anyway?"
"Information about my meetings with Dumbledore," she muttered.
"I suspected as much," Percy admitted, looking at his mug.
"How do you know about them anyway?" Ginny asked, arching an eyebrow.
"Scrimgeour mentioned it in front of me before," Percy said. Ginny got a sinking feeling.
"But you didn't tell the rest of the family?"
"Not my secrets to share," he said simply. "Did you tell Scrimgeour?"
"No," she said, shaking her head.
"What are you talking with him about anyway?" Percy asked casually, leaning against the window sill.
"Careful, you'll end up covered in snow." She chuckled when Percy cursed and began brushing off the snow. "But I'm afraid I can't tell you, Perce. I've been sworn to secrecy."
"Fair," he said. "I guess that's the name of the game nowadays. Nobody knows in the Order what the rest is doing. Only Dumbledore has an overview. Just be careful, all right?" He ruffled her hair.
"You too," Ginny said, wondering if her brother had ever ruffled her hair before. "I'm glad you came back after last year."
"Me too Ginny, me too," he said, smiling wryly. "Come, let's go back inside. It's getting cold."
A/N: Been a while since I said this, but it's still as true as ever. Thank you so much for your reviews and the kind words and sharp insights that come with them