Chapter 3

Harry looked at Ginny with a tense expression, his gaze involuntarily drifting back to the two grotesque trolls snoring on the floor. The room felt more like a dungeon, with smooth, damp walls and a heavy darkness pressing down on their shoulders. The only sound was the grumbling of the trolls, as if a thunderstorm had taken residence in their chests.

Ginny swallowed with difficulty. The trolls' stench was overwhelming—a mixture of sweat, mud, and something unmistakably like rotting flesh. She did her best not to gag, staring upward at the small black hole in the ceiling that Harry was pointing to.

"There?" she whispered, her voice trembling with barely suppressed panic. "Do you know how high that is? And how… how quietly we'll need to move?"

Harry gave a quick nod, his face resolute. "Do you have a better idea?" he whispered back. His green eyes flicked to the hole and back to her. "We can't stay here. And going back… that's not an option."

Ginny took a deep breath, or as deep as her pinched nose would allow. She glanced again at the trolls, who shifted occasionally in their sleep. The scraping of their claws against the stone floor made her shudder. "How… how are we even supposed to get up there without waking those things?"

Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at a pile of broken planks in the corner of the room. "I think I can make us a step," he murmured, barely audible.

With a soft whisper of "Wingardium Leviosa," he carefully levitated the planks and positioned them a few meters above the trolls, forming an improvised bridge. The movement was slow and deliberate, as if every vibration could rouse the trolls. The planks finally floated into place directly beneath the hole in the ceiling, secured by another softly spoken spell.

"There," Harry said, his breathing noticeably quicker from the effort. "Now we just have to climb up..."

Ginny shot him a fiery look. "You think I'm just going to walk over those trolls like it's a Sunday stroll?" she hissed, her face flushed with tension and anger.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "I'm not saying it's easy. But what's your plan, Weasley? Stay here until they wake up and use us for breakfast?"

She knew he was right, but that didn't mean she liked it. Her fingers tightened around her wand, as if its familiar feel could give her courage. "Fine," she said at last. "But if this goes wrong, I swear I'll hex you before they can."

Harry gave her a faint grin but said nothing.

Slowly, Ginny took the first step. Her feet slid cautiously across the smooth stone floor, and she made an effort to follow the edge of the room to avoid getting too close to the trolls. She could hear Harry following her, holding his breath.

The trolls were still snoring, but one of them shifted more frequently now. Ginny froze when she heard a massive hand scrape against the floor, but fortunately, it seemed the troll was merely changing sleeping positions.

Finally, they reached the improvised step. Ginny held her breath as she climbed onto it, feeling the planks tremble slightly under her weight. Harry gave her a push, and with a final burst of effort, she pulled herself into the dark opening. Her fingers gripped the rough edges, and with a gasping jump, she landed inside the hole.

Harry was just climbing up when a loud snort echoed through the room. Ginny glanced back, her heart skipping a beat. One of the trolls opened an eye.

"Potter," she hissed sharply. "Hurry!"

Harry managed to pull himself up, but not fast enough. The troll that had awakened stared at them with a dawning realization that its sleep had been disturbed. It took a deep sniff and let out a thunderous roar that reverberated through the room.

Ginny grabbed Harry's hand and yanked him into the hole just in time as a massive club smashed against the ceiling's edge. They both tumbled backward into a narrow tunnel as the trolls below roared and began pounding furiously against the walls.

Harry panted and looked at Ginny. "Told you we could do it," he said with a faint smile.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "You call this winning?" She glanced behind them into the dark tunnel. "What now?"

Harry was already sitting up, pulling out his wand again. "Now? We keep going. What else?"

Ginny sighed deeply. Voldemort's next trap couldn't be far away.

xxx

Harry and Ginny shuffled through the narrow, dark tunnel, the echoes of their footsteps the only sounds around them. The adrenaline that had pushed them through the Troll Room was slowly wearing off, and exhaustion was beginning to hit hard. Ginny felt her legs growing heavier, her breaths shallow.

"Potter," she said finally, her voice hoarse. "We need to stop. I… I can't go on."

Harry turned and saw her pale face in the flickering light of his wand. He nodded immediately. "Alright, here." He gestured to a slightly wider part of the tunnel where they could sit without being pressed against the damp walls.

Ginny sank to the ground, leaning her back against the wall. She rubbed her hands tiredly over her face and closed her eyes for a moment. Harry sat next to her, pulling a small, worn pouch out of his pocket.

With a tap of his wand, the pouch expanded slightly. He reached inside and pulled out a bottle of water and a few wrapped sandwiches. "Here. It's not much, but it's something."

Ginny raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You've got an Extension Charm on your bag?"

Harry gave a faint smile. "Hermione's idea. She said I should always be prepared." He held out the water bottle to her. "You first."

Ginny took it, her fingers trembling slightly from exhaustion. She drank greedily before handing it back. "Thanks," she muttered.

They ate in silence, the sandwiches simple and small, but to Ginny, it felt like a feast. When she was nearly finished, she leaned back against the wall with a sigh, staring at the dark ceiling of the tunnel.

The silence was heavy, laden with unspoken thoughts. Ginny wondered if she would ever see daylight again. She had grown so accustomed to the darkness that she had to dig deep into her memory to recall the sun.

Stop. She couldn't think like that. Voldemort would rescue her. He was probably already looking for her. If not, she still had four brothers who would move heaven and earth to find her.

She smiled at the thought of her brothers. She wondered what they would think of her adventure.

Fred and George would probably love it. They thrived on challenge and excitement. Ron and Percy would hate it. Bill would manage just fine. He was the strongest of them all.

Her thoughts drifted to her parents. What would they say if they could see their daughter now?

It had been five years since Ginny and her brothers received the news that their parents had been murdered. Not a day went by that she didn't think of them. People said time healed all wounds, but that was a lie.

Some wounds never healed.

"What are you thinking about?" Harry asked, curious.

Ginny sighed. "None of your business, Potter."

"Fair enough, but you looked so sad. Maybe you'd like to talk about it."

"Why would I share anything with you?" Ginny snapped.

"Suit yourself," Harry muttered, his eyes focusing on the last sandwich in his hands.

Silence fell again, heavy and tense. Then Ginny broke it herself, her voice low and cautious, as though she were saying the words aloud for the first time. "I was thinking about my brothers. That's all."

Harry's head shot up. "You have brothers?"

"Five of them. Four now. Charlie died when I was little. An accident." Ginny didn't know why she was sharing this, but it felt good to talk about her family. She was proud of them. "He was a dragon trainer."

Harry whistled softly. "And your other brothers? Do they all work for Voldemort?"

His tone was condescending. Ginny glared at him furiously. "You don't understand anything. There's no greater honor than serving our Lord. Of course, we serve him. To our deaths."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Your parents must be so proud of you and your brothers."

"My parents are dead. They were killed five years ago."

A brief pause. "I'm sorry," Harry said quietly. He looked at her with genuine sympathy. Ginny refused to meet his gaze. She didn't want his pity.

"They were good people. I know what you're thinking. They were loyal to Voldemort, but they had nothing to do with the war. My mother had a bakery. She made the best cakes and bread. My father worked at the Ministry. They wouldn't hurt a fly." Ginny wiped an irritated tear from her cheek.

She rarely talked about her parents. It only brought her pain. She glanced sideways at Harry. He sat silently next to her. He couldn't possibly understand.

She snorted, partly annoyed that she had shared her feelings with Harry and partly at his lack of response. The bottled-up grief swirled inside her, fighting to escape. But she held it in. She needed her strength to get out of here.

Harry shifted beside her, and she looked up. He was facing her now. "I really am sorry, Ginny. About your parents. I lost mine when I was a baby."

"I know. Everyone knows," Ginny said, her voice thick with emotion. She didn't know what was worse: losing your parents as a child and living with the memories, or losing them as a baby and having no memories at all.

She still had her memories. If she closed her eyes, she could see her mother in the kitchen, busy baking cakes. Or her father sitting on the couch reading the paper—or secretly tinkering with gadgets he'd smuggled in from the Muggle world, much to her mother's annoyance.

Harry had nothing. No memories at all.

"I'm sorry, too. About your parents," Ginny said softly, and she meant it.

"It's not your fault. There's only one person to blame."

Ginny took a deep breath, as if trying to steady herself. "I know people say it gets easier. But it doesn't. You just learn to hide it, to push it into a corner and move on. But it never really goes away."

Harry looked at her, nodding slowly. He understood her more than words could express.

"I know," he said gently. "I know exactly what you mean. You always miss them. But…" He sighed and stared at the ground. "You find ways to keep going. For them. Because that's what they'd want."

They both nodded, as if making a silent pact.

The silence returned, but this time, it wasn't uncomfortable. It was a silence filled with shared understanding, a strange sense of peace in the dark tunnel.

"Thank you," Ginny said finally, her voice soft.

Harry looked at her, puzzled. "For what?"

"For…" She searched for the words. "For not pretending it's nothing. For not saying it'll all be fine."

Harry smiled faintly. "It's not nothing. And sometimes… it's not fine. But that doesn't mean we give up."

Ginny smiled weakly in return. For the first time since they had left the Troll Room, she felt something like hope. Not big or powerful, but small and warm.

Harry stood up and held out his hand. "Ready to keep going?"

She took his hand and stood. "Not really," she said with a crooked grin. "But let's do it anyway."