Eleven: The price of war
Inter arma enim silent leges – Marcus Tullius Cicero
Another D.A. meeting, another new array of curses. Padma had spent many a night camped out in the restricted section, and it had yielded a tome that definitely should have been removed from the library altogether. The only explanation for why it hadn't, must have been its age. Covered in three layers of dust and hidden behind two rows of books, there had been one book called Words of Power. And it had delivered.
Yet even as they practiced these latest spells and the room flashed with spellfire and raw power unleashed, Ginny wondered. As good as it felt to practice these spells and as powerful as these new incantations made her feel, it did raise the question of whether they were necessary.
Strength is always necessary.
Did they really need to know yet another way to kill someone? Had the Order needed to kill non-combatants? Who could even tell what was necessary anymore in a war?
The victor. He decides.
As she dwelled on it all, Astoria took up position next to her, arms folded in front of her as they watched the display. "Hmm," she said simply.
"Hmm?" Ginny enquired, as any good friend would.
"It's just… Don't take this the wrong way," Astoria said, looking apprehensive.
"I won't Tori." She placed a hand on her friend's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. It was obvious her friend was thinking about their falling out earlier this year, when Ginny had used a dark curse on Nott.
"Don't get me wrong, I'm all in favour of expanding our repertoire. And it's definitely entertaining to see all the different ways Susan can decapitate a dummy. But is it necessary?"
"I was thinking the same thing," Ginny conceded as she handed her friend the snippet she'd gotten from Harper, a tremor to the gesture that for once she couldn't entirely blame on her scars.
Astoria's eyebrows rose. "His wife? But wasn't she like Narcissa Malfoy? Horribly but harmless?"
"I'm not sure I'd call Narcissa Malfoy harmless," Ginny pointed out.
Astoria wrinkled her nose at that. "True. The point still stands."
"It does. I don't know. I can only imagine the Order striking out like that, but for them to go after…"
"Innocents?" Astoria proffered.
"Noncombatants," Ginny said, not quite willing to bestow that level of absolution upon a Death Eater's wife. "Well, it just seems atypical. Dumbledore would never have done it."
"And the current Order?"
"I'd have thought they wouldn't. But perhaps I was wrong," she said, staring into the distance, wondering if Harry was watching them prepare for war. For the first time, the thought didn't fill her with warmth. His gaze wasn't reassuring, but reproving. He wouldn't have taught these spells. Nor would he have stood for murder. And yet, here they were.
And he isn't. Easy for the dead to be sanctimonious, Tom whispered.
Like you? She thought back and was rewarded by a gentle laugh.
"I hope you're not wrong," Astoria said. "You know how I feel about hurting the wrong people," Astoria said.
"I do," Ginny agreed, remembering the flak she'd gotten for using Rookwood's Transmogrifian Torture on Nott before. She'd felt horrified then. And yet, when they'd cornered her this morning, a part had been willing to do what was necessary. If she could even call it that.
She closed her eyes, resisting the urge to cry or scream. "I hate what this war is doing to us."
"I know. I wish we could just march out there with conviction, stunners and a phoenix song," Astoria sighed. "But I keep thinking about what Black said.
"Sirius?" Ginny asked, wondering what of Sirius' ramblings in the cave could—and should—have stuck.
"How he was done with stunners," Astoria clarified. "I thought that was a horrible, callous thing to say. And yet… with all those Death Eaters roaming the halls. With Rookwood torturing students to make a point. With Voldemort tightening his grip…"
"It begins to sound reasonable," Ginny said. "And as the odds get worse and worse, you need to feel more and more powerful. As they threaten you, you grasp for something to feel safe again. Anything."
"Yes," Astoria admitted in a small voice. "Was that how it was for you after the Department of Mysteries?"
She blinked, only now realising what they'd stumbled upon. Had that been why she'd begun practising all those spells?
Of course. But it's adorable you thought differently.
Astoria took her silence for assent. "I feel it creeping upon me too. During Easter… did you go to Diagon Alley?"
Ginny shook her head. Her whole family had proclaimed it a needless risk. She'd grumbled, but accepted the truth of it.
"I did. It was awful. Boarded-up shops, terrified customers and an all-pervasive gloom, as if Azkaban had come to us. And that's the future, or at least the beginning of it."
"Unless we stop it. With Gryffindor's sword and a phoenix song."
Something exploded in the distance.
"And Susan's spellwork," Astoria added, earning a chuckle from Ginny.
"I wish I could have spared all of you this," Ginny said, thinking of what McGonagall had told her at the start of the year. She now understood her Professor's weariness even better than before.
"Same. Yet here we are, fighting the Second Wizarding War."
Ginny wasn't sure when the War had become the First Wizarding War, and whatever this was had become the Second Wizarding War. Or when a Death Eater's death had become worthy of celebration. But as she watched the D.A. practice and thought of a year ago, when they'd all stared wide-eyed at Harry's patronus and struggled with their own, she knew that such innocence would never be theirs again. When Voldemort's return could still be denied, and their greatest concern had been standing up to an evil DADA teacher.
#
Snape held a speech the next morning. Of Rookwood's earlier outburst and the immolation of a hundred owls, he made no mention. That would have meant acknowledging anything out of the ordinary could happen at his Hogwarts. He did, however, spare a few new words of introduction for the latest addition to the table, an absolutely ancient woman who peered at them through thick glasses.
"It is my great honour and pleasure to present to all of you our Transfiguration Professor ad interim, Lina Anghart. Please give her a warm applause."
Even as a smattering of applause ran through the hall, whispers instantly drowned it out. Everyone was far too busy speculating about the new Professor. Ginny didn't think she was a Death Eater. She looked old enough to have been around for the First Wizarding War—even Grindelwald's war, really—but her name had never made the papers. So either she'd been even better than Lucius Malfoy at bribing, or Snape had found some poor old woman who had missed all about the last few months and had no clue what she'd gotten involved with.
Still, possibly demented or not, Anghart's first class proved she knew her stuff. She moved surprisingly spry for an old woman and seemed to know all about Transfiguration, even if her approach to teaching was unorthodox and downright chaotic. No students were hurt—badly—but their failed attempts at turning furniture into pigs had left several chairs in splinters.
Still, it had been refreshingly silly. For one hour, Ginny had felt like a child again. For that at least, she owed Anghart. She even thought fondly of her, at least until the old professor asked for her to stay behind. Somehow, that happened to her a lot this year.
"Yes Professor?" she asked when the last of her fellow students had left the classroom, Colin casting her the concerned look she'd come to associate with him by now.
"I misremembered, didn't it?" Anghart asked Ginny, her voice suddenly a far cry from the tremulous old voice she'd used to address the class with. It sounded surprisingly familiar, really. "Pigs are .T. level and not O.W.L. level. Bugger," she cursed, kicking one of the few remaining chairs and then nearly tripping as her foot got caught in it. "Bugger!" she repeated.
"Professor?" Ginny asked, even more confused by Anghart than she had been by Lockhart.
"Oh, right. This face." Anghart shook her head and it morphed in front of Ginny, the face becoming a blur as if unsure who it belonged to, before settling on a familiar face. "Wotcher, Ginny," Tonks greeted her with a smile.
"Tonks?" she whispered.
"The one and only." She looked far chipper than she had back at 12 Grimmauld Place and more like Ginny had always known her, admittedly with more bags under her eyes. The perpetual gloom that had surrounded her, suddenly seemed like nothing more than a bad dream.
"Should you show your face like this though?" Ginny asked, looking over her shoulder.
"You're beginning to sound like Mad-Eye. But don't worry. I put up wards, charms, the whole shebang. We're safe."
"And what are you doing here? Not that I'm not happy to see you," Ginny was quick to add.
"Keeping an eye on you, Hogwarts and Snape," she declared cheerfully. "Also, teaching Transfiguration. I've always wanted to teach." She made a sweeping gesture at the classroom, knocking over an inkwell that promptly spilled on what Ginny suspected had once been the Hufflepuff second years' homework. "Bugger. But my mum taught me a spell for that. Reslis." She jabbed her wand at the parchment. It promptly obliged by catching fire. "Double bugger." She quickly shoved it in the bin and poured water over it, clearly not willing to risk another spell.
"So Lina Anghart doesn't exist?" Ginny asked.
"Oh she exists," Tonks was quick to say, "but she's been hiding out in a shack in Wales for years now, trying to write the definitive treatise on Transfiguration or something. We checked in with her. As long as McGonagall writes the foreword for her treatise, it's all good." Tonks leaned against a nearby table, looking like Crookshanks after he'd caught Scabbers. "Merlin, I've missed Hogwarts. I mean, it could do with a change of management, but still, it's Hogwarts."
Ginny frowned at that. She was glad Tonks was here and in a better mood too, but it did seem strange she was so upbeat in light of the recent assassinations, as well as the reign of terror that hung over the school. She made it sound like it was just Umbridge all over again.
"Do you know anything about those assassinations in the Prophet?" she asked, glad to finally have an outlet for the question that had been burning a hole in her tongue and stomach all day.
Tonks' expression soured at that. "I'd hoped you'd missed that."
"So it's true?" she stammered, not even trying to hide her shock.
Tonks looked away, the earlier life bleeding out of her as her pink hair changed to a muted brown. "I'll have you know it wasn't my idea. And we didn't intend for Nott's wife to get caught in the crossfire."
"So we're murdering people now," Ginny said.
Tonks turned on her, eyes blazing. "No. We're fighting a war and that means collateral damage happens."
"Is that what Scrimgeour called it?" Ginny pressed, resisting the urge to start shouting.
"Mad-Eye said so. He told me it wasn't my fault!" Tonks yelled, getting in Ginny's face, her earlier mask of gaiety sliding off.
"You…" Ginny opened her mouth and closed it.
"It wasn't my fault," Tonks repeated as she stumbled back, close to tears as she leaned on the desk.
Ginny placed a hand on her friend's shoulder, hating the gesture for how inadequate it was. "Tonks, I'm—"
"It's war," Tonks repeated, looking at her own hands in horror. "You'd know that too, if you didn't spend all your time hiding here at Hogwarts."
Ginny withdrew as if struck. Had Tonks really said that? Was that how they viewed her time here? Her desperate search for Horcruxes under the eyes of sociopaths like Snape and Rookwood was nothing but a lark? A happy Hogwarts holiday? Never mind that she had no idea what was happening out there. Never mind that the only thing keeping Rookwood and his Death Eaters from ravaging her mind were Yaxley's tenuous promise, and Snape's equally mercurial protection. Never mind that half of Slytherin house wanted to curse her every time she walked by. Never mind that she was trying to lead the D.A. Never mind… never mind…
See, this is why I hate people. They never understand. But I do. I understand you Ginny.
"Ginny," Tonks tried. The regret was audible in her voice. Too late for that.
"So that's why you're here? A well-deserved holiday after killing some Death Eaters and their family?" Ginny asked, not recognising the cold tone as her own. "Enjoy it, Professor," she snapped as she stormed out. Tonks didn't follow.
#
She went to the top of the Astronomy Tower, like she always did. Ginny sat on the ledge, her feet dangling over the edge as she gazed into the darkness. The stars blinked happily at her, unmoved by the horrors of war and the fate of wizarding Britain. Maybe someone else was on the other end of those, also staring at the stars and hoping that there was a world without bloodshed in it. A place rich with justice, hope and beauty. Love.
I'm glad you're here, Gin.
"But where are you, Harry?" she called out.
The stars didn't answer. They just kept blinking, brilliant and cold and pitiless.
Of course innocent people died. Voldemort saw to that. But she'd hoped that their side at least could be different. Could be better. That even as she wielded dark curses, her soul would remain pure. That one day all of this would be over, nothing but a bad dream. That she'd be able to close her eyes and fall asleep instantly, instead of finding all her fears and desperations haunting her. It began to sound a lot less likely with each passing day.
Tonks wouldn't know peace, that's for sure. She'd heard it in her voice. When this war was over, Nott's wife would stare at her whenever she closed her eyes. Ginny didn't even know her name. She bet Tonks would know it, though. Would agonise over it.
She regretted lashing out at her. Of course Tonks hadn't meant for it to happen. Of course she felt horrible about it. And of course, such things happened during war.
But she shouldn't have spoken so disparaging of Ginny's time here. What she did here mattered too. Was also a part of fighting the war.
"I matter."
The stars blinked back at her.
"Of course you do." Astoria had found her like always, sliding down next to her. "When you didn't show up for dinner, I suspected you were brooding again."
Despite it all, Ginny laughed, though it was a wet sound. "I don't brood."
"Right, right. Then what is this? Pouting?" Astoria teased, draping her arm around her and pulling her in close. "Ruminating? Philosophising?" With each word, Astoria pulled her a bit closer to the point that Ginny was breathing more robe than cold night air.
She tried to break free, but Astoria's grip was surprisingly strong for a girl so frail.
"Stop struggling, or we'll fall off," Astoria laughed.
"You're the one strangling me, Tori," Ginny protested.
"All a matter of perspective," Astoria laughed, not letting up. It took Ginny another full minute to break free, both giggling by the end of it.
"Thanks, Tori," she told her friend.
"Anytime," Astoria said, straightening her own robes. Then she gave Ginny a pensive look. "Want to talk about it?"
"The Order did kill Nott Senior's wife. Theodore's Mum," she said, the words disappearing into the darkness.
Astoria stiffened next to her. "Oh Merlin."
"It was an accident, or so Tonks claims. But still. It feels wrong."
"It does," Astoria said.
"These aren't times for stunners. Nor for innocents either, it seems."
I thought they were noncombatants, Tom mocked her.
"No, no they aren't..." Astoria agreed.
They both gazed out at the fields. In the distance, she could see the lights of Hogsmeade shimmer. It was a warmer light, one of life and hope. Yet many of its inhabitants would be afraid tonight as they locked their door with key and charm, as afraid as they had been yesterday and would be tomorrow. Afraid of what might come for them, or what they might need to ignore to keep themselves safe.
"Things will get better. Even when it doesn't seem like it," Astoria told her, giving her shoulder a squeeze.
"For some, at least," she replied, thinking of Harry, Ron, Hermione, Luna, Nevill and Charlie. And Tonks and the Nott family.
A cold voice interrupted them. "For some, indeed. Not for you, Weasley."
A/N: Early post due to holiday plans. Sorry not sorry for the cliffhanger