SEPTEMBER 20th, 1997
Ginny stood at the bathroom sink, brushing her teeth and absentmindedly observing her surroundings. Same chipped tile backsplash— broken years ago from some forgotten Fred-and-George exploit. Same pale green rug in front of the tub— more of an olive than an emerald, frayed with age. Same occasionally-flickering light above the sink.
Everything was perfect. She was home.
She spat out the toothpaste, marveling at how warm everything felt, how deliciously good it felt to be at the Burrow, safe and sound. She had never thought she would get to be here again— not the real here, anyway. Voldemort had created a stunning replica of the Burrow to imprison her family, but that was what it had been missing— the warmth.
She looked up at her reflection in the mirror, smiling at herself. She wore her favorite flannel pajamas— cream-colored with candy-canes on them, usually reserved for Christmas-time. She had worn them so often that the flannel had grown even softer from being washed so many times— feeling the fabric against her skin was the very definition of comfort. Her stomach was pleasantly full with all of her favorite comfort foods; once they had all arrived home, Mum had cooked up a storm, citing it as a way to relieve stress as much as to celebrate. There would, she knew, be bigger gatherings in the coming days— celebrations with Lupin and Tonks, with Kathleen and her parents, with Luna and Neville— but for now, it was just her family, Hermione, and Harry here. It was mostly perfect.
Separating from Draco had been almost physically painful, though he had reassured her that he would see her very soon, and that his mother needed his support in light of Lucius going to Azkaban. He was right, of course, but that didn't mean she had to like it.
She was home. There was no urgent mission awaiting her, no danger lurking around the corner, no evil overlord waiting to tap into her nightmares. Ginny Weasley was sixteen years old, and she was home, and she was getting ready for bed.
It felt amazing, if a little foreign— like perhaps she had forgotten to do something important, something lingering in the back of her mind. Maybe that would settle in time, once she had gotten used to "normal" again. At least she hoped it would. Dinner with her family had been a peaceful, happy affair— everyone had been so happy to be home that no one had pushed her to talk about anything; they had just been able to genuinely enjoy each other's company. The questions would come soon, though, she was sure— questions about the summer that had changed her life forever.
She stepped out of the bathroom, savoring the familiar creek of the first floor landing underneath her feet. Mum and Dad were still downstairs, talking with Bill and Fleur. Charlie, Percy, Fred, and George were all off in their rooms, and though Hermione would be sharing with Ginny, she was up in Ron's room at the moment, with Ron and Harry. Ginny stood still for a moment, listening to the low hums of the disparate conversations throughout the house, and a pleasant shiver ran through her. Home. She was home.
She shuffled toward her room, momentarily hesitating at the cracked door. It had been nearly nine months since she had been in this room— the last time she had been here, she had broken up with Harry. What would it be like to go back to it now— foreign or familiar?
She needn't have worried. She pushed open the door, and immediately cried out, "Arnold!"
Her darling Pygmy Puff squeaked and hopped in excitement from atop her desk, bouncing in delight to see her again. She rushed to him, extending her arms, and he hopped up, allowing her to catch him and snuggle him close. She kissed him over and over and over again, his little squeaks of satisfaction soothing her heart.
"I missed you so much," she whispered, giving him one final kiss before putting him down again, taking a moment to actually look around her room. She had been so excited to see Arnold again that she hadn't even taken in her surroundings.
Everything was just as she had left it. Gwenog Jones from the Holyhead Harpies soared, Beater's bat in hand, in one poster, and the Weird Sisters were jamming out in the other, very reminiscent of her own makeshift concert. Her flower-print sheets looked invitingly warm, and pale moonlight shown through the window, giving her a view of the orchard out back.
Home. She was here to stay— here to sleep in her own bed, which, if she was honest, looked shockingly tiny after spending months at Malfoy Manor. Had it always looked that small, or had her perceptions changed?
There it was again— the familiar-yet-foreign. She was the same, and yet not. The Burrow had always been, would always be, her home, and yet she had come back changed— altered. It was a little disconcerting, even though the changes weren't exactly negative ones.
It would take time, Mum said. And now, it seemed, they would have all the time in the world to adjust.
Well, not all the time in the world. Ginny couldn't be certain, not completely, but the light inside her was gone. The gem, it seemed, had been forfeited along with the Deathly Hallows, which, in theory, meant that Ginny was no longer immortal. She was in no hurry to test it, but her body felt different in a way she couldn't quite put into words. She had held otherworldly, godly power inside her, and now it was gone— she was human, and only human, once more.
That was a very, very good thing.
She was just getting ready to lie down— Arnold was already snuggled up under the sheets— when there came a knocking at her window. Ginny immediately tensed, hand gripping the borrowed wand Kingsley had given her, as she turned around. She let out a sigh of relief to see a familiar eagle owl at her window, a letter tied to its leg.
You sent me a letter? she sent across the bridge, mirth in her voice as she cracked open the window and untied the letter from its carrier. When we have an instant telepathic connection?
Have you read it yet?
No…
Read it first.
Is something wrong?
Not at all. It was just… easier, to write it down.
Ginny frowned as she pulled the letter out of its envelope. He sounded embarrassed. What did he have to be embarrassed over? What couldn't he say out loud?
She scanned the letter, trying to ignore her nerves.
Dear Ginny,
You're probably already laughing at me for writing you a letter, but every time I think about saying this out loud, even on the bridge, my words get all twisted and fumbled, and you deserve to hear this the way I intend it. Give Barnaby a good scratch from me, and tell him to play nice with Arnold— he's never seen a Pygmy Puff before, he might think he's food.
Indeed, Barnaby the eagle owl had prowled into the room and was eyeing Arnold with interest. Ginny hastily grabbed a treat out of her desk drawer and offered it to him before scratching under his chin, garnering his full attention.
Anyways, I'm writing this letter to tell you the story of how I fell in love with you.
Ginny covered her mouth with one hand.
I've told you the story once before, of course, but under much different circumstances. I'd like to tell it again now that you don't hate me— and I won't leave anything out this time.
I met you when I was twelve years old, buying textbooks at Flourish and Blotts. Gilderoy Lockhart was holding court that day, signing books for anything that would stand still long enough. Lockhart, of course, was absolutely thrilled to snag a photo with Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and I still remember how my stomach had boiled with jealousy and disgust at the sight. Being the arrogant prick that I was, I insulted Potter for it, and you came running to his aid. You didn't even come up to my shoulder— Merlin, you were tiny— but you had all the fiery force of a dragon, even back then.
I didn't know, at the time, that that moment was a collision course, a moment that would irrevocably alter all of our lives. My father slipped you a book, a book that would damn near kill you— a book that gave you a link to Lord Voldemort at only eleven years old. That link would come back to haunt us both in the future, though of course we didn't know it at the time. Harry Potter saved the day, as he so often did, and things seemed to slip back to normal for a while— or as normal as they ever get at Hogwarts.
I forgot about you after that. You were a Weasley, after all— a blood traitor, and a Gryffindor. Hardly worth my notice, save for an occasional insult. You faded into the background of my life as my feud with Potter continued, escalating again and again until the arrival of Dolores Umbridge.
I had noticed you a bit before that, of course, but I was in denial at the time. I would see you laughing with your friends, or studying out by the Black Lake, or talking to Hagrid after breakfast in the Great Hall, and I was annoyed that you were just constantly there, that my gaze constantly landed on you no matter what I was doing. I ignored you as best I could, threw my attention into other things, and over the summer you faded to the back of my mind.
Enter Dolores Umbridge. My feud with Potter now has Ministry backing. I'm Captain of the Inquisitorial Squad, and soon enough Potter is— supposedly— permanently kicked off the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Lo and behold, there you are to take his place. I still remember us racing neck and neck for the Snitch, our fingers scrabbling over each other as we reached for it. You beat me, of course— I should have been focused on the Snitch, but I couldn't keep my eyes off of you. The look of determination you had that day is going to be emblazoned in my mind forever.
I knew, even then, that that was it for me— no more denying my feelings to myself, feelings I had pushed away and then come barreling back with a vengeance, like a rogue Bludger. But I couldn't do anything about them— you hated me, rightfully so, and you were dating someone else besides. I got angrier and angrier as time went on. I berated myself for having such a stupid problem— there was no chance in hell of anything between us, so why wouldn't the feelings just go away?
You know the rest of the story, of course, so I won't bore you with the details here, but I've been thinking about what you said earlier today at the Black Lake— about all of this being an accident. I don't think it's true. Me loving you isn't an accident, Ginny— it's an inevitability. My feelings couldn't just go away, back then, because they were leading me to you— to this moment. I used to think that your bravery, your strength, your sheer force of will were all just inherent to you, and they are, in a way, but you had to work for them too. Watching you survive the unimaginable, watching you risk everything again and again and again gave me the courage to finally confront the fears deep within my own heart. What if I wasn't good enough for my parents? What if I wasn't good enough for the world? What if I wasn't good enough for myself?
I wasn't, back then. Before you, I was a coward, and selfish, and very willing to be cruel if it served my own ends. Malfoys first was the motto I lived by, Draco Malfoy first of all. But through you, I grew— I'll still argue that I'm no Saint Potter, but I was able to step up when the world needed me to, and it's all because of you. You made me feel able to take risks, made me dare to look outside of my own perspective, made me question everything I had been taught to believe. I know I still have a long road ahead, Ginny, but I want you to know that I'm walking it because you showed me the way.
I don't know exactly what the future holds, but isn't it amazing that we get to have one? The world is waiting for us, and I can't wait to explore it with you. Cheers to new horizons, hmm?
Always yours,
Draco Malfoy
Ginny laid the letter down on her desk, fed Barnaby one more treat, and allowed him back out the window. Her heart pounding, she crawled into bed, Arnold snuggled up under her arm, and closed her eyes.
It took only moments to find herself on the bridge, where she knew Draco would be waiting for her. He was leaning up against the railing, arms folded atop the wooden beam. It was windy here today— the breeze caught ocean spray from the surf down below and blew it up toward him. He closed his eyes but didn't pull away, smiling a bit as he enjoyed the moment, his hair shifting with the wind.
He was beautiful. And he was hers— now and always.
"I'm not good with words either," she said as she approached, drawing his attention. "Not when they really matter, anyway. Maybe soon I'll write you a letter of my own, but for now, I think I just want to be here with you. Is that alright?"
He smiled at her. "It's perfect."
He returned his gaze to the sea, and Ginny joined him, leaning against the railing and savoring the feeling of the sun on her skin.
There would be all the time in the world for talking— all the time in the world for problem-solving. But for now, just this— just them— was more than enough.
SEPTEMBER 20th — 21st, 1997
Ginny was floating… drifting in a featureless, foggy place. It didn't feel scary, though. It felt peaceful, in a strange way— familiar, even.
"Are you happy to be home?"
Ginny blinked, trying to orient herself, and found herself hovering a few feet away from the Morrigan.
"Great Queen! I… yes, yes I am very happy to be home." She tried to bow, but the lack of apparent gravity made that more difficult than she anticipated.
The Morrigan smiled at her, seeming to fight back a laugh. "You do not have to be so formal— I know it is not in your nature."
Ginny relaxed her body, not quite able to believe she was really speaking to a deity. "You saved both of us— thank you so, so much. How can I ever repay you?"
The Morrigan's smile widened. "There is no repayment needed. You did what you were called to do— admirably so. It was only just that I grant your request."
"And so the Deathly Hallows…"
"Have returned to my own realm," the Morrigan interrupted. "Perhaps for the best— they have proved too great a temptation for most mortal men. You are to be their final Master, it seems."
Ginny shifted uncomfortably at that idea, though she was secretly relieved at the thought that the Elder Wand was gone. "What about the gem?"
The Morrigan lifted her chin, and Ginny sucked in a breath at the sight of the gem in its brooch setting, clasping her midnight blue cloak closed. "Also back where it belongs. You fulfilled the purpose you sought, and so it has returned to me."
"So does that mean I'm… mortal again? I can die?"
She nodded. "Yes. You are, in many ways, as you were when we first met."
Ginny breathed a sigh of relief. "So I'm normal."
"I did not say that." The Morrigan floated closer to her, and it was only from this distance that Ginny could see that her eyes seemed to reflect a million tiny stars— like she was looking out into the cosmos. "You are my champion on Earth, Ginny Weasley. You have saved your world from being overrun by darkness, and though I hope that you live a long, peaceful life, the odds are not zero that you may need to call on my power again."
Ginny's stomach tightened. "I thought I could only use it once."
The Morrigan shook her head. "It is my hope that you need only use it once. More than likely, you can put this all behind you if you wish it— live, as you say, an ordinary life. But, as you saw… there are many worlds, Ginny Weasley, and many who seek their domination, seek their destruction. I cannot guarantee that they will not find your world again."
"But you're a god," Ginny blurted. "Can't you just… I don't know, snap your fingers and make them go away?"
The Morrigan did laugh then, a deep, throaty sound that Ginny found inexplicably enchanting. "To a mortal— even a witch like you— my power must seem infinite. But I promise you, Ginny Weasley, I am far from the only force of my caliber, or even beyond it, in all that exists."
"That's not comforting."
The Morrigan reached out and cupped Ginny's cheek with one hand, and Ginny's insides swelled with warmth, as though she was being embraced by her own mother. "Do not live in fear. The grand battles of all the cosmos are not yours to fight, my Elentiya. Let me worry about what is mine, and you shall hold only what is yours. Your fight has been won— now live in peace, with my blessing, and know that if danger should come again, I will be with you."
Ginny nodded, a strange kind of certainty settling in her gut. She could choose to worry about some unknown potential danger, or she could choose to live. She knew what choice she would make.
"Be well, Ginny Weasley. I hope we do not meet again for a long, long time."
The Morrigan dropped her hand and started to turn away.
"But wait!"
Death paused.
"What about Alys? What happened to her?"
"She is in the same place." Her voice was sad. "She may come home when she is ready."
"When she's ready? What does that mean?"
"Only she knows, Elentiya. Be well, Ginny Weasley."
The dream gradually faded away, though Ginny stayed asleep, the light of the moon shining down on her as she slumbered.
SEPTEMBER 21st, 1997
The next morning, the whole family was settled down for breakfast. Mum had magically expanded the table to make room for Lupin and Tonks, who had stopped by. Ginny was happily enjoying her eggs and bacon, her legs swinging a bit in her seat. Her dream with the Morrigan last night had been surreal, but had also confirmed what she had already suspected— the gem was gone. She was mortal— ordinary. Life could begin to go back to normal.
"Minerva confirms it," Dad said, looking up from the letter he was reading. "Hogwarts will reopen on October 6th for an abridged fall term."
"Oh, that's wonderful to hear," Mum said from across the table as she cheerily buttered her toast. "Just enough time, I think— time for everyone to rest and be at home to recooperate from everything."
"Do you think everyone will go back?" George asked around a mouthful of eggs, earning a glare from Mum. "People died out there— not everyone is going to be ready to walk back onto the grounds like nothing happened."
Ginny shifted uncomfortably.
"The letter does say that Hogwarts staff are available for counseling, and for consultation if alternate arrangements need to be made," Dad said, scanning the letter again. "For the younger students, I would think they would certainly go back… but I can imagine some of the older ones might opt for self-study instead." He shot a quick glance toward Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
"We're going back," Harry said quickly. "We talked about it last night."
Ron and Hermione nodded their agreement.
"What about you, Ginny?" Lupin asked. "I imagine the choice must be a difficult one."
In an instant, all eyes were on her, making her stomach tighten— a reminder of how very not normal things had been. She swallowed her bite of food and took a deliberate breath. "I want to go back. But I'm not sure how that will work— I never took my OWLs."
"Maybe the Ministry could make an exception—" Tonks started.
"Maybe they could host a one-off exam date—" Hermione mused.
"Oh, that's great," Ron interrupted. "As a reward for saving the world, here's a bunch of exams."
Ginny laughed at that, hoping to defuse the tension, but Ron had spoken the unspoken— things were not as they had been the last time they had all had family breakfast here.
"Ginny, I hope you know that your father and I would not be upset with you if you chose to stay home—"
"And we'll fully support you if you choose to go back," Dad interrupted, shooting a significant look at his wife, who huffed. "As much as we might like to smother you after everything we've all been through, I think some normalcy would do us all some good."
"Agreed," Ginny said with a sigh of relief. "Maybe McGonagall will have some ideas about how me starting sixth year would even work."
"I'm sure it's nothing that can't be figured out," Lupin said kindly. "Hogwarts is no stranger to accommodating exceptional circumstances."
"Is Malfoy going back?" Percy asked, surprising Ginny.
"I'm not positive. I think so."
The table was silent for a moment, and Ginny grimaced. No one knew how to talk about Draco now that they were out of the heat of battle.
"I think that would be good for him," Hermione said deliberately. "He can—"
A knock at the door startled them all into silence.
"I wonder who that could be," Dad said with an air of deliberate calm as he drew his wand and rose from the table. "Stay here— I'll be right back."
Everyone exchanged nervous glances as he left the room.
"It will take time," Fleur said, her accent more pronounced than usual. "To remember that we are in peace time now. That the threat is over."
"But it's also good not to forget what wartime has taught us," Ginny said. "Can never be too cautious, right?"
"Molly, Ginny, could you come here for a moment please?"
Ginny took a deep breath. I'm safe. Nothing can hurt me here. Voldemort is dead. The gate is closed. Dad sounded calm— he wouldn't sound that way if something were wrong, would he?
Ginny and Mum rose to their feet and headed toward the living room, and Ginny knew without a doubt that as soon as the door closed behind them, Fred and George would have an Extendable Ear at the ready.
They entered the living room, Mum's hand on Ginny's shoulder, and found Dad standing with two men Ginny didn't recognize.
"Ah, here they are," Dad said in what Ginny immediately recognized was his fake-polite tone. "This is my wife Molly and my daughter Ginny. Ginny, this is Saul Croaker and Antonius Merryweather— Unspeakables at the Ministry. They're here to ask you a few questions, they say."
The two men smiled at her, one of them tipping his hat in her direction. Ginny didn't move.
"What do you want?" she asked.
The two men looked at each other before the one with the hat said, "Well, like your father said, we'd just like to ask you some questions— we know you've been through quite an ordeal, and I know the Aurors are already well underway with their investigation, but as Unspeakables, we have a specialized task to—"
"I've met an Unspeakable before."
The man stopped speaking, shifting uncomfortably as he looked at his partner and then back at Ginny. "Yes, er… we did hear about that. Terrible circumstance, incredibly tragic— but I can assure you that he does not represent the Department of Mysteries, nor how we conduct business. We're here to talk— that's all."
"Ginny, what is he talking about?" Mum whispered.
"How did you know about that?" Ginny said, speaking over Mum, fighting the anger beginning to simmer in her stomach. What right did these men have to barge in here like this?
"We've, uh… I suppose you could say been assisting the Aurors in their interrogations," the other man interjected, stepping forward a pace. "Walden Mcnair had a lot to say— looking for a pardon, no doubt. Don't worry, he won't get one," he added quickly at the look of alarm on Ginny's face. "But he was quite eager to talk to us. I think we have a fairly good understanding at this point of what the past few months have entailed."
"Then what do you need from me?" Ginny said flatly.
"Why don't we sit down?"
Ginny stared at him.
"Saul, I'm sure you can appreciate that my family isn't in the most patient of moods for Ministry questions—"
"We'll make it quick, Arthur, but I'm afraid we can't leave until we've had these questions addressed. It is, as I believe Kingsley Shacklebolt told you yesterday, a matter of international security. Now please, Miss Weasley, have a seat on the sofa and we'll be out of your hair just as quick as we can."
Ginny thought about arguing, but one glance at the sterner-looking of the two men— Merryweather, she thought— told her that they would not be leaving without a fight.
"Fine."
"Arthur, if you want—"
"Molly and I will be staying, thank you, Antonius. Ginny may be a hero but she's also sixteen."
"Very well," Merryweather responded, though he didn't look happy about it.
Once they were all seated— Mum and Dad on either side of Ginny, and the two Unspeakables opposite them— Croaker cleared his throat.
"Well, I don't mean to state the obvious, but the events of yesterday are unprecedented in Wizarding history."
Ginny remained silent, not willing to feed into his questioning more than necessary. He shifted his collar.
"The power you were able to harness is extraordinary," he continued. "Unlike anything on record."
"That's not true."
"What do you mean, Miss Weasley?"
"I may be sixteen, but I'm not an idiot," she said, making the two men stiffen. "You want to know about me opening a portal, but if you expect me to help you, don't pretend that you know less than you do. Everything Voldemort learned about walking between worlds, he learned from notes taken from the Department of Mysteries."
"That's right," Merryweather spoke up quickly, making Croaker look still more uncomfortable. "Though if you know that, you know that our knowledge was purely theoretical. You brought that theory to life on a scale we couldn't have imagined."
"I'm still not sure what it is you're after, exactly."
"I'll cut straight to the point, then." Merryweather leaned forward. "When you darkened the sky, yesterday, Ginny, it wasn't just over Hogwarts. It was, near as we can tell, the whole world over— Muggle and magical."
Ginny's eyes widened, and she heard Mum suck in a breath beside her.
"All roughly six billion people on this planet saw the sky fall dark— less dramatic for those in the East, downright shocking for those in the West— and then saw that same sky explode in starlight. Quite a challenge for the Obliviators to manage, let me tell you."
Dad ran a hand through his hair.
"We knew it was magical right away, of course," Croaker said, "but we weren't immediately certain of its origin, and obviously no one else was either. You can imagine the chaos— wizarding governments all Floo-calling each other at the same time, demanding answers. Was this an attack? A spell gone wrong? Or something else?"
"The Muggle governments have been addressed— they believe it was a solar phenomenon, something that looked frightening but was ultimately nothing to worry about. Obliviators will be working for months to address any Muggle dissidents that could cause trouble."
"If you're trying to make me feel guilty—"
"Not at all, Miss Weasley. Merely trying to make sure you understand the scale of the problem. For what it's worth, the British Ministry of Magic has not disclosed your role in the phenomenon to the International Confederation, nor to our allies at MACUSA or any other nation. They understand it to be a general result of Lord Voldemort's demise."
"How generous of you."
"It is not a joking matter," Merryweather said seriously. "You understand better than anyone in this room the lengths to which He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was willing to go in order to gain access to that kind of power. Do not be so foolish as to think that he is the only one the world over who would covet such things. It is our job to keep you, and the rest of the British citizenry, safe."
"I thought that was the Aurors' job."
"It is, when matters are of a more mundane nature," Merryweather deadpanned, thoroughly frustrated with Ginny's sass at this point. "You and I know very well that this is nothing like what an Auror deals with."
"You're dancing around the reason you're here, Mr. Merryweather. What do you want to know from me?"
"Can you open another gate?"
Ah. There it was.
"No. The power is gone. One use only, I'm afraid."
The two men looked doubtful.
"I'm telling you the truth. The Morrigan— Death, whatever you want to call her— gave me her blessing in order to destroy Lord Voldemort, and once that was done, she took the blessing back."
"And yet you were able to traverse— energetically at least— to the other side after his death, and after this power supposedly vanished."
So they did know more than they let on. "That was… an extenuating circumstance."
"Please elaborate."
Ginny squirmed.
"Miss Weasley."
"When the gate was open, Draco Malfoy's soul accidentally ended up on the other side," she said carefully. "He and I have a… connection, unrelated to the power I was using to fight Voldemort. I was able to follow that connection based on what I already knew about walking between worlds, find his soul, and then the Morrigan helped us get back home."
Croaker was scribbling notes, the sound of his quill scratching setting Ginny's teeth on edge.
"The Morrigan… is that a Celtic deity?"
Ginny shrugged. "I think so."
More scribbles.
"And so you were able to travel to the other side."
"Yes."
"What did you find?"
"Things that don't belong here."
Croaker looked up from his notes. "Well, I would assume that would be obvious. Can you be more specific?"
"Things that look like shadows and feed on magic."
The scribbling increased its pace.
"But it doesn't matter— the gate is closed."
"The gate?"
"A portal between this world and that one. I opened it, but I closed it, and I don't have the power to open it again. And no one else does either, as far as I'm aware— so the threat doesn't matter. They'll stay on their side, and we'll stay on ours."
Her dream from the Morrigan echoed in her mind, but she didn't trust these Unspeakables as far as she could throw them. The Ministry had barely been helpful to her family when she had disappeared, and they had fallen quite quickly to the Death Eaters. She trusted the Order implicitly, but the Ministry of Magic? Hardly.
"I believe the Ministry will need to determine that."
"I don't see how, but sure."
"You are… forgive me, rather impertinent."
"Spending so much time as a prisoner of Lord Voldemort will do that to you," she deadpanned, making Merryweather grimace.
"I know you have been through a terrible ordeal—"
"People keep saying that. Maybe because they don't know what else to say."
"What are your intentions, now that that ordeal is over?" Merryweather continued, unwilling to be cowed.
"She'll be going back to Hogwarts when it reopens on the sixth," Dad said, putting his hand on her knee.
"We'll need to speak with the Headmistress about a potential security detail—"
"What?" Ginny demanded. "What security detail?"
"I assume it is high on your priority list to not end up someone's prisoner again."
"I thought you said the Ministry kept my involvement a secret."
"We have," Merryweather said impatiently. "But, if you'll recall, hundreds of people saw you rip open the fabric of reality yesterday. The Ministry has been doing damage control, but it would be foolish for us to rest on our laurels and assume that these measures are sufficient."
"I'm not going to have some Ministry lackey following me around from class to class."
"Ginny—"
"Mum! You can't possibly agree with them."
"We just want you to be safe," Mum said. "If the Ministry thinks—"
"Well, hold on a minute, Molly. I think Ginny's got a point. Antonius, won't it create more reason for people to talk if my daughter is being followed like she's the Minister herself? Wouldn't it be better for her to… er, blend into the crowd?"
"You have to direct your audience's attention," Ginny said, memories of Muggle card tricks flashing across her vision. "If you want everyone's eyes to be on me, that's a great way to do it."
Merryweather looked ready to argue, but Croaker spoke up first.
"Perhaps some middle ground could be arranged," he said delicately. "Aurors stationed on the grounds for the heightened safety of the student body. It would surely help to quell the fears of any parents hesitant about allowing their children to return."
"Saul, you know that Aurors aren't going to be able to handle—"
"We'll have Aurors, and we'll have 'Aurors,' Antonius," Saul interrupted, giving him a significant look. "Enough to keep an eye on things. And I'm sure Miss Weasley is in no hurry to be kidnapped again— she'll be on the lookout for suspicious activity as well."
"The Ministry's back to calling it a kidnapping? Last I heard, you all were saying I ran away."
"Miss Weasley, I understand that you are upset with the Ministry but I assure you that mine and my colleague's intentions are good."
"Oh thanks, I feel much better now."
"What would make you feel better?" Croaker asked flatly. "Because we're not done with our questions and I'd prefer this to be a conversation rather than an interrogation."
Ginny bit her lip, debating how far she could push.
"If you can agree to my terms, I'll answer any questions you have about portals or about the other side, either here or at the Ministry," she said. "In exchange, I want the following: one, I want to testify at every single Marked Death Eater's trial— no limits on what I can say, either, and the Wizengamot has to take my testimony into account."
"That would be highly irregular—"
"We'll consider it," Croaker interrupted. "What else?"
Ginny took a deep breath. "Two, I want special dispensation for Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape. Lucius is absolutely a Death Eater, and he's not a good person, but without his help Voldemort would have found out about the multiple worlds a long time ago, before I had the power to do anything to stop him. That should count for something. And Harry knows more about this than I do, but Snape has been working on Dumbledore's orders this whole time— Harry has Snape's memories to prove it."
The two Unspeakables looked at each other.
"I'm not asking that they be set free," she added. "Just that the circumstances, and the consequences of their actions, be taken into account during their trial."
"That seems reasonable," Croaker allowed. "Though I must say the circumstances sound… difficult to believe."
"I'd be happy to provide memory evidence for my testimony."
"Ginny, are you sure about this—"
"Yes, Mum."
"Anything else?" Merryweather asked dryly.
Ginny considered. "No, I think that's it. Kingsley already took care of everything else I would have asked for."
"Then let's make a deal," Croaker said, extending his hand to her.
"Can I get it in writing?"
Croaker actually laughed before summoning a parchment and a quill. "You're not like most sixteen year olds, Miss Weasley."
"I had a weird summer."
SEPTEMBER 28th, 1997
She was in the clouds. Again.
The old woman was crying. Again.
Why did she keep dreaming this every. Single. Night?
"My Alys," the woman— Alys's grandmother— moaned, covering her face with her hands. "Come back to me, my Alys."
"I'm not Alys," Ginny said impatiently, hands on her hips. "You're popping up in the wrong person's dreams— I don't know how to help you."
"I love you, my Alys…"
Ginny woke up already annoyed.
"If looks could kill," Hermione joked from across the room as she tied her hair back with a ribbon. "Sleep that badly?"
"It's these stupid dreams," Ginny moaned, covering her face with her pillow. "I thought I was done with dream messages."
"Still the same one?" Hermione's voice grew troubled.
"Yep. I'm just floating in the clouds, and there's Alys's grandmother, crying, saying My Alys, My Alys, over and over again. I'm not even sure she can see me— she ignores me when I talk to her. She's just calling out for Alys."
It was sad, underneath the annoyance. But Ginny didn't want to be sad for Alys. Alys had betrayed her— nearly killed her, nearly killed Draco. It wasn't Ginny's responsibility to be sad for her.
"What do you tell her when you see her?" Hermione asked.
"That's an unusual question, coming from you. You want to analyze my dreams?"
"Maybe I've learned a thing or two about being open-minded," Hermione said wryly.
Ginny laughed before taking the pillow off of her face. "I just tell her that I'm not Alys. I don't know how to help her. I don't know what she's asking."
"You're sure the gate's closed, right?"
"Yes, Hermione, I'm sure."
"I'm just checking… because, despite my better judgment, the advice I'm going to give you could be dangerous."
Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"Have you tried to talk to Alys?"
Ginny frowned. "No, of course not." The Morrigan's words echoed in her mind. Only she knows, Elentiya.
"I know it sounds mad, but if those shadow-things could reach you through your dreams, they would have— I don't think you're in any danger there. And now that you know Alys's true intentions, you're not going to be tricked by anything she might say."
"What good would it do?"
"I'm not sure. You said the shadows tricked her too, right? Maybe she needs help."
Ginny squirmed.
"You don't have to do anything, obviously— just think about it."
"Yeah… yeah, okay."
"Alright, come on— if you're going to kick my arse at Quidditch, let's get it over with."
Ginny laughed, the solemnity of her dream already half-forgotten as she imagined soaring above the orchard, weightless under the clear blue sky.
OCTOBER 3rd — OCTOBER 4th, 1997
"My Alys… come back to me, my Alys… come home…"
Ginny huffed, tapping her foot against the puffy white cloud she was standing on. Was this just going to go on forever? She hadn't had a single night where the old woman hadn't appeared.
At least Draco was sleeping peacefully. After Hermione's comments about the shadows and dreams, Ginny had made sure to check in with him— the very thought of him still being connected to the other world had filled her with terror. But no— he was perfectly fine, though he missed her intensely. They had both agreed that they should take these two weeks off to be with their own families, to try to heal from all that had happened, but the longer they were apart, the more Ginny ached to fly off on her Firebolt straight for Malfoy Manor, just to see him in the flesh again. Tilly had graciously delivered her things to the Burrow, shocking her parents, and Ginny had taken the opportunity to finally explain how, exactly, she and Draco were connected. She still wasn't sure Mum was over the shock nearly a week later. Fred had quipped that an ancient marriage ceremony saving the day hadn't been on his Wizarding War bingo card, and Mum had promptly had him degnoming the garden for three days straight. Dad hadn't said much, only blithely commented that at least the elf had sense enough to recognize that Ginny would not be moving into Malfoy Manor, whatever ceremonies had taken place.
She would be seeing him today though. It was the last weekend before Hogwarts' reopening, and they were going to the beach— her and Draco, and family and friends too. They would be all together, and happy, just like she had been wanting.
Which meant she wanted a good night's sleep, which meant she needed to solve this dream problem. Tonight.
"Please, if you tell me how I can help you, I'll do it. What can I do?"
"I love you, my Alys… come home…"
Ginny resisted the urge to pull on her face. "Okay. Okay, fine. If she's ignoring you, I guess I'll… I guess I'll be a go-between."
It was safe, wasn't it? Hermione's logic was sound… and surely if dreams were a concern, the Morrigan would have mentioned something…
"Alys? Can you hear me? I know I'm the last person you want to hear from, but I'm here with your grandmother… She's calling for you, looking for you. Don't ignore her."
Nothing.
"Ugh. This is stupid."
"O Mighty Morrigan, you have forgotten my Alys… save her from destruction… she who was your most ardent, most devoted… she whose spirit could not be broken…"
Ginny's mind flashed on the shadow that had spoken to her and Voldemort. Wasn't that what it said Elentiya meant 'in the human tongue'? Spirit that cannot be broken?
Feeling a little foolish, Ginny stood tall and said, "I am Elentiya, chosen of the Mighty Morrigan. Reveal to me the plight of my predecessor."
The clouds parted, Ginny on one side, Alys's grandmother on the other. She looked down, and it was as though she was looking down a long, dark tunnel to the ground. Alys was kneeling on the ground, covering her face with her hands, and she was absolutely surrounded by shadows. She was crying, Ginny realized, and the shadows were pulling at her, holding her down.
Am I making a mistake? she thought, taking a step back. What if this opens a gate somehow?
The Morrigan's voice drifted, calm and clear, across her consciousness. "You know what to do, Elentiya."
"My Alys! Come home!"
Alys sobbed, ducking down lower, and the shadows seemed to cover her form.
Ginny walked to the edge of the clouds, and belatedly realizing she was glowing with golden light.
"Alys," she called down. "Alys, let me help you."
"Go away! I do not want your help, witch."
"I don't want to hurt you, Alys."
The shadows writhed.
"Alys, please, come back to us!"
Ginny looked over, and her eyes widened as she saw Alys's sister Merilda standing next to their grandmother. Merilda knelt down and reached out toward the ground.
"We forgive you, Alys! Please, come home."
"Alys, listen to them! You don't have to stay down there by yourself."
"No! I cannot, I cannot…"
Merilda's husband appeared beside her, holding Isaac on his hip.
"Auntie Alys, I miss you… can you play with me?"
Alys sobbed again, louder this time.
"I cannot, I cannot…"
A woman and a man Ginny didn't recognize appeared— maybe Alys's parents?
"We love you Alys. We are right here, always… come home."
All of them were kneeling now, reaching down towards her, but the air was thick with shadow— they couldn't reach.
"Alys, I love you! You no longer have to fight. Come home."
That was Henry's voice. He had joined her family, calling for her.
"We are all waiting for you, Alys. Join us— we love you."
Their hands couldn't reach through the shadows, which Ginny could distantly hear were whispering to Alys of shame, of despair, of grief and hatred. Ginny stared down at her, curled up so small and defenseless, and knew what she had to do.
She knelt down at the edge of the clouds and reached her hand down; the golden glow of her aura pushed the shadows back, allowing her to reach further than the others. Alys looked up through the veil of shadow, squinting as though Ginny was the sun.
"I remember you, Alys," she said. "You are not forgotten."
Alys choked out a sob, and, after a hesitant moment, reached toward Ginny's hand.
The shadows snarled, but they were no match for Ginny's light. Her hand locked around Alys's wrist, impossibly far away, and then there was a great flash, momentarily blinding her. She took a stumbling step back, trying to hold onto Alys but it was like she faded right out of her grasp.
"What the—"
She blinked, trying to clear her vision, and it took her a moment to realize what she was seeing. Across the divide in the clouds, Alys stood, lighter and happier than Ginny had ever seen her, surrounded by her family. She was holding Isaac, who was laughing, and the others were taking turns embracing her, their smiles as bright as Ginny had ever seen.
Alys looked across the gap, and Ginny knew immediately that she was at peace.
"Thank you, Ginny Weasley."
Ginny woke up, a giant smile on her face. Alys was at peace, which meant Ginny could be too. The feeling of something left undone, of some lingering task, was gone. There was no one left to save.
It was a perfect day to go to the beach.
OCTOBER 4th, 1997
It was unseasonably warm for October. The sun was shining, and the distant cry of gulls overhead echoed in Draco's ears.
They were in Hampshire— the same all-wizarding beach he had grown up going to, the same one that had inspired his mindscape, and perhaps informed the Anam Cara link as well. A home away from home, though he wasn't sharing it with his parents this time.
Ginny was sitting on a beach towel, wearing a bright blue swimsuit with her hair tied up in a loose knot on top of her head. He was sitting next to her, on his own towel, alternating between glancing at her and looking back at the sea. They were on a date. A real one.
Though of course they had company. He glanced in the other direction, where Hermione— he had decided to make the effort to call everyone by their first names— was busy instructing Ron on the proper way to construct a sand castle. He kept messing it up, but Draco suspected it was on purpose, given the way his eyes would light up when Hermione started ranting.
Further out, Harry was walking with Kathleen; their shoes dangled from their fingertips as they talked quietly, leaving footprints behind in the wet sand. They weren't holding hands, but it wouldn't surprise Draco if they did by the time this trip was done. How would Ginny feel about her best friend potentially dating her ex?
One glance back at her told him she didn't seem to mind. She had her hands out behind her on the towel, letting herself half-recline as she tilted her head back, eyes closed, enjoying the warmth of the sun. She was radiant, but in the way she had always been radiant— glowing with the same fire that had caught Draco's attention so many years ago.
How was it possible that he got to be here right now? To be here with her?
Distant laughter echoed behind Ginny, and Draco looked back up the small slope to see Luna laughing enthusiastically at something Blaise had said. It was still surreal to see him here, in swim trunks of all things, hanging out with the group as though they had been his friends forever. Would Draco ever look that comfortable standing next to Ginny? How would they possibly navigate going back to school, going back to… to life, again, after what they had been through?
"Draco."
He looked back at Ginny, who had opened her eyes and was looking out at the horizon, a solemn look on her face.
"Hmm?"
"You can rest now."
His eyes widened, his own words echoing back to him. I never get to rest— silly.
She remembered. She remembered his pain, remembered his fear, remembered his deep, deep exhaustion.
She was right. It was over now. He could finally rest.
Acting on instinct, he angled his body so that he could lay his head in her lap, his face tilted up toward the sky. "Is this… okay?"
She laid her hand on his forehead, her eyes on the distant line where the sky met the sea.
"It's perfect."
A small smile on his face, Draco closed his eyes, and relaxed.