PhoenixSong.net :: A Harry/Ginny Fanfic and Fanart Archive

Author: MyGinevra

Story: The Hog's Head

Part: 25: The Pit

Rating: Teens

Status: Completed

Warning: Violence, extreme language, description of despair

Reviews: 2

Words: 7,471

Updated: June 21, 2008, 2:41pm

Printer Friendly Format

Chapter Navigation:

25: The Pit

The entire school was at a high pitch of excitement on the day of the first Quidditch match. Last year's matches were universally considered a joke, since Muggle-borns had been barred from school and the Carrows had tried to control the teams because they were hotbeds of rebellion. Most people also thought that the Quidditch Cup was now up for grabs since Harry Potter was gone from Hogwarts. All the present Seekers were judged to be pretty even, although most conceded that Ginny Weasley had an edge in experience. But that was counter-balanced by the Gryffindor Keeper's complete lack of experience, and, by many accounts, his total incompetence.

Ginny was nervous at breakfast, but when the twins came in she started laughing and couldn't stop. They were both wearing full lion costumes, and someone had charmed their voices so that they spoke only in growls and roars. Their tails swished vigorously except when they got tangled together, at which times the girls had to yank them apart, all the while growling and snarling loudly. Soon the entire Gryffindor table was laughing and cheering. Ginny and the rest of the team left and trooped down to the stadium in high spirits.

The stands were starting to fill, and Ginny went out on the pitch to look around. She saw Harry sitting with her family and they all waved to her. She blew Harry a kiss and he smiled; George said something to him and Ginny could see him blush even from a distance.

She had not stayed at the flat last night, since she wanted to eat breakfast with the team; she did have dinner with him, though, and Harry had made an effort to have a good time. He hadn't heard about the professional scouts who would be at the match, and when Ginny told him, he became quiet. She asked him what was wrong.

"Nothing, I guess," he mumbled. "It's really great that they'll get to see you play."

"I'll miss you tonight."

Harry sighed. "I'll miss you too." He perked up a little. "I'll be sitting with your family just below the Gryffindor section. Ron said that Fleur's starting to look pregnant."

Ginny grinned. "And did you hear? The Healer said her due date is May second, the anniversary of the battle. Bill said that if the baby's born on that day, they'll name her Victoire. Harry, that's a tribute to you."

He laughed, which he hadn't done all evening, and she smiled back. "But," he said, "if they really want to do that, they should name her Harriet."

"I think Fleur wanted a heroic name. Besides, Harriet would have an uncle Harry, and that might confuse her when she's little."

Harry nodded, but didn't smile. They finished without talking much, and then Harry walked Ginny back to the castle. They said goodnight in the entrance hall. It was the first Friday in three months that they hadn't spent the night together, and Ginny wanted to say something about it, but Harry was distant and moody. So they kissed and Harry walked out the doors. Ginny watched him for a moment, then, with an effort, she put him in a corner of her mind and told herself to think about nothing but Quidditch.

So now it was the morning of the match, and she snapped out of her reverie when Jimmy Peakes called to her from the tunnel. She gave another quick wave to her family and went back into the dressing room. She was glad to see Ron there, sitting next to Dennis, but with a sinking feeling she recognized the sickly look on Dennis's face; she had seen it often when Ron had played Keeper. Her brother had his arm draped on Dennis's shoulder and was talking to him quietly. Dennis glanced up when Ginny came in and tried to smile.

"Please get the Snitch as fast as you can," he said, "I don't want to be barfing all over the crowd for too long."

Ron looked up at her and grinned. "This is my kind of Keeper. He has a sense of humor and he's considerate of others."

"Don't worry," Ginny patted Dennis's arm, "just do your best and leave the rest to us." It sounded lame, but she couldn't think of anything else to say. They all finished dressing and walked out onto the pitch.

Ginny felt a rising surge of anticipation as she looked over the Slytherin team standing across from them around Madame Hooch. Their Seeker, Ophiucus Paltrey, was a wiry and strong sixth-year, but Ginny knew that he was afraid of physical contact when he was up in the air. She didn't know much about the rest of their team since everyone else from last year had graduated or not returned to school. They had the same Slytherin attitude, though, not bothering to hide their sneers and snide comments.

"How's Harry Potter?" one of the Beaters, Matilda Malfoy, asked; she was a hefty, distant cousin of Draco's. A few of the other Slytherins guffawed, and Ginny stared back at the girl, wondering if she meant anything other than the obvious innuendo. But Madame Hooch was speaking, and Ginny turned her attention back to the match. Hooch released the balls, paused for a few seconds, and blew her whistle.

Ginny kicked off and soared into the sky. She felt liberated, not only from the ground but from all her problems down there. The wind whipped through her hair which she had pulled back with a clip, leaving it free to stream after her. The crowd's roar grew fainter as she flew higher, circling and searching for the Snitch. She watched her team attack the Slytherin goal and quickly score twice. After the second goal Demelza Robins grinned up at her and raised her thumb high above her head; Ginny knew that it was an acknowledgment of her coaching job. The Chasers were flying with confidence, and the Slytherin defense was no match for their smooth and well-honed attack.

Gryffindor pulled steadily ahead. It was fortunate, though, that the Quaffle was at the Slytherin end most of the time, because whenever Slytherin did break through, all Dennis did was wave at the Quaffle on its way to the hoop. Ginny could see him becoming more and more uncertain with each shot. After one particularly pathetic attempt at a save where the Quaffle actually went through his legs — something Ginny had never seen before — she flew down to him.

"Relax, Dennis!" she shouted over the cheers and jeers of the Slytherin supporters. "We're going to win, so stop trying so hard. Just remember what Ron showed you." She could tell from his glassy-eyed stare that nothing she said would help, so she pulled away.

At that moment there was a change in the crowd noise, and Ginny knew that Paltrey had spotted the Snitch. She twisted around and saw him diving toward the center of the pitch. She instinctively shot in the same direction, even though she didn't see the Snitch yet. But then her broom seemed to turn of its own accord; she veered toward the Slytherin end, and realized that the Slytherin Seeker had tried to decoy her. Paltrey also veered as soon as he saw that his tactic had failed, but it was too late for him. Ginny saw the Snitch hovering above the wall near the goal posts; she accelerated at a speed that startled even her, and she beat him to it by a good ten yards.

The Gryffindor section cheered, but the match had been so one-sided that most of the crowd just got up and started to leave. There were even some boos and whistles from the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students. Ginny looked up at the stands from the celebration in the middle of the pitch to wave to her family, but her hand stopped in mid-air. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Bill, and George were pushing through the crowd toward the exit; her parents, Percy, and Fleur were watching them anxiously. Then her mother turned to the pitch, and Ginny saw her worried look. Molly shook her head at Ginny, then pointed toward Hogsmeade, and Ginny guessed with a sinking feeling that something had happened at the inn.

She handed her broom to Demelza and left the celebration at a run. She tore out of the stadium and saw Harry as he and the others were running across the grounds toward the gates. She went after them at a trot, then had to slow to a walk near the train station when her breath gave out. Clusters of people were standing in the street and in doorways, looking up the High Street. She started running again, but when she turned into the lane next to Dervish and Banges and saw the inn, she stopped. The kitchen window on the second floor was broken in; all the panes of glass were shattered. She walked slowly down the lane, and as she looked up, she saw that all the windows on the second floor were blown in. A large crowd was milling around in front of the door, many of them with their wands out, looking up.

Ginny felt a pang of fear. Bill and George were standing just outside the door, and Ginny pushed through the crowd which parted for her; several people patted her shoulders and said her name as she passed. "What happened?" she asked Bill. "Was anyone hurt?"

"I don't think anyone was up there," he answered; his face was grim and angry. "Harry's owl just flew back. If it had been inside when it happened, it probably would have been killed."

There was a commotion at the back of the crowd. Saliyah Ushujaa and Morequest Pester were trying to get through, but angry people were blocking them.

"Where the hell have the Aurors been for the last month?" one wizard shouted. "Someone could have been killed!"

"You think we're a bunch a' dumb country hicks up here!" another wizard stuck his face in front of Saliyah. "Don't Harry Potter deserve a little help from the Ministry?"

The Auror put her hand up as more shouts and epithets were hurled at her. "That's exactly why we're here," she said calmly. "We have not been ignoring you. We have had an Auror watching the inn for several weeks, and —"

"You mean this sod here?" the first wizard interrupted; he pointed at Pester and laughed. "Stick one of your Sneakoscopes up in the room over the Post Office. He's shacking up with that Turquoise witch, the same one that's been stalking Harry."

Saliyah's eyes narrowed for an instant. She stared at the man until he lowered his eyes, then she walked past him to the door. Pester followed, looking straight ahead. He followed Saliyah inside, and when he passed Ginny his eyes flicked to hers and then away.

"What are you laughing at?" George asked her.

Ginny shook her head. "It looks like the Defense Against the Dark Arts curse is striking early this year. He's not even going to last three months." George snorted, and the three of them went inside.

The dining room was intact, and Ginny breathed a sigh of relief. Stan was behind the bar, his wand on the counter, speaking to the two Aurors — or to Saliyah, more exactly; Professor Pester was standing behind his boss, staring blankly at one of the bar stools. Winky and Kreacher were huddled next to the kitchen door, fearful looks on their faces. The door was open, and Ginny could see Hermione standing just inside, her back to them. Harry must be upstairs, Ginny supposed, but she wasn't sure if she should try to go to him. That reluctance, she realized bitterly, was the result of the way Harry had been treating her for a month. She swore under her breath, then muttered, "The hell with him," and walked into the kitchen.

Hermione turned when Ginny put a hand on her shoulder. "Oh, Ginny, you're here! Ron and Harry went upstairs. They asked me to wait down here, just in case something else happened. Are you alright?"

"Fine. Saliyah and Pester are here. I guess they were at the match and figured that something had gone wrong. But Pester's in trouble. Someone outside said he's been sleeping with Turquoise."

Hermione's eyes widened. "No! What on earth was he thinking?"

"About the wrong thing," Ginny chortled. "My guess is that he just lost two jobs."

Hermione shook her head. "Well, that's also going to put Turquoise in the hot seat. That really makes her look suspicious."

Before Ginny could reply, the back door of the kitchen opened and Harry and Ron came in. Ron looked sober, but Harry's face was black with anger, and Ginny clenched her jaw. "It's reparable," said Ron. "We already fixed the bathroom window, but we wanted to leave the rest until the Aurors saw it."

"The Auror," Ginny said dryly. "Saliyah and Professor Pester showed up a few minutes ago, but some of the pissed off customers outside told Saliyah that he's been sleeping with Turquoise."

"You're joking!" Ron exclaimed, but Harry looked even angrier.

"Well, that's great," he said, and turned away from them. He put his hands on the stove and leaned on his arms. "Kingsley Shacklebolt is worse than Fudge," he said to the wall, then turned back to face them. "He's got Aurors screwing the criminals, literally. What am I supposed to do, send Pester buckets of my gold so he'll do his job? I can't believe this." He scowled at the door to the dining room where they could hear Stan still talking to Saliyah.

"Harry, that's unfair, and it's not true!" Hermione said angrily. "Kingsley is doing the best he can. It's not his fault if one of his Aurors can't keep his pants on. And look at what Pester was up against. All she does is walk around flaunting it."

"He was up against her pretty good, all right," Harry replied scornfully. "If you want to defend him, Hermione, then do it someplace else. I can't afford it." He stalked out of the kitchen into the dining room. Ginny stared after him, fighting a lump in her throat; Harry had not even looked at her.

"What's going on with him?" Ron said to Ginny after Harry had slammed the door behind him. "It's like everyone is his enemy now. He was having a good time at the match, but when his wand went off, he started swearing at everything and everyone. He even snapped at Fleur when she asked him what was going on."

"I don't know," Ginny said, and tears started flowing down her cheeks. She turned away and put her hands over her face. "He's not himself, he's... he's been changed by all this," she said in a muffled voice. "He can't admit that he messed up, that he should never have bought the inn." Ginny turned and threw herself at Ron as her shoulders shook with sobs; he held her, and then Hermione also put her arms around Ginny. She and Ron gave each other worried, puzzled looks over Ginny's head.

The dining room door opened and Harry stood in the doorway; he stopped when he saw them. "What's wrong?"

Hermione, scowling fiercely, grabbed his hand and yanked him inside the kitchen. She stalked around him and closed the door. "Colloportus!" she snapped, pointing her wand at the door, then she faced Harry. He looked back at Ron and Ginny, who was wiping her face with her sleeve without looking at Harry.

"You know perfectly well what's wrong," Hermione glared at him. "Look at Ginny. Look at her, Harry! What in Merlin's name are you doing? Have you lost every shred of sense?"

Harry turned. Ginny was no longer crying, but her eyes glistened. "Harry," she murmured, "Harry, what's wrong? Please tell me."

"It's... it's this," he waved his hand in a circle, then a shadow passed over his face; he suddenly slumped to a squatting position on the floor and put his arms over his head. Ginny made a move toward him, but Ron held her back. Harry looked up desperately, pleading with his eyes. "Ginny, I'm sorry. I know I'm always saying that. I don't know why I take it out on you, on everyone." He bent his head and they could barely hear his hoarse voice. "These things keep happening, and I can't stop them. They broke the Anapido spell, but my wand started shaking, so I knew something was wrong. Then we got here... If McPherson hadn't been out hunting, he would be dead. Just like..." His voice broke and he sat down on the floor.

Ginny squatted next to him and took one of his hands. He looked at her out of frightened eyes. She spoke in a clear voice. "Harry, we're all here, everyone is here because they love you. People outside were yelling at Saliyah because she's not protecting you. Harry, I love you."

He nodded and put her hand to his mouth; a choked sob escaped. "I love you too," he said, but he didn't look at her.

Ginny stood and Harry also got up. He hugged her for a long time, stroking her hair, and Ginny held him as tightly as she could. Finally he lifted her chin. "I love you," he whispered. He tried to smile, but it was more of a flinch. "Come on, let's go clean up."

Hermione unsealed the door, Ron got Saliyah — Pester was gone — and Harry led them upstairs. Ginny gasped when she saw the shards of glass and pieces of splintered mullions covering the floor. "Oh, Harry!" she grabbed his hand, "who would do this?"

"I wish I knew," he answered, and gave her hand a squeeze. He walked over to McPherson, who was sitting on his perch looking outraged, and the owl hopped onto Harry's arm. Saliyah walked around the flat, looking out each of the broken windows, then told Harry he could clean it up, and went back downstairs.

They all backed against the wall opposite the casement window, then Harry pointed his wand. "Reparo!" he said loudly and firmly. At first slowly, but then with gathering speed, hundreds of tiny slivers of glass and wood began streaming through the air toward the shattered window, and in a few seconds it was intact again.

They went around the flat, into the kitchen and the bedroom, and quickly all the windows were repaired. The bed hangings had been closed, but Ginny checked inside, anyway. When they were sure that everything was secure, they went down to the dining room and gathered around Saliyah who was talking to Stan again; they could see Bill and George outside with a few of the wizards and witches who had stayed.

"I'm going to set a guard, Harry," Saliyah said, "until we get to the bottom of this. They'll take their meals here and sleep in shifts someplace or other in the village, or maybe at the castle. I promise you it won't happen again."

"Where's Pester?" Harry asked. "He never told me anything about the Dark Marks or the weasel or the chimney. Did he do anything at all besides shag Turquoise Southeby?"

"I'm sorry about that. Morequest is back in London. He's going to have some disciplinary issues, but that's between him and me. He's good, Harry, he really is, but he's also young and, well, I'm sure you noticed that he thinks very highly of himself. He was very brave during the war, he stood up to the Death Eaters and to Thicknesse, and maybe he got a little too much adulation for that, and maybe we pushed him along too fast." She sighed. "I need to talk to this Southeby person. Do you know where she lives?"

They glanced at each other, and Ron cleared his throat. Saliyah looked from one to the other, and finally Harry answered. "Ginny and I tried to follow her home, but we lost her about three miles east of here. We think she's using a Fidelius."

"What?" Saliyah was astonished. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. We talked to Bill, and he thought so too."

"That's very interesting," the Auror frowned. "Well, I'll catch her at work." She turned to go, then paused and smiled at Ginny. "You were brilliant today, Ginny. I heard there was a scout at the match. Don't be surprised if someone comes to talk to you."

As Saliyah walked out, the Weasley family walked in. Molly was highly indignant, and crushed Harry with a massive hug. "This is outrageous, Harry. How many times has it happened now? Four? Five? I'm going to talk to Kingsley about it, they must do something."

"They're stationing some guards here, Mrs. Weasley," Harry gasped for breath as George and Percy pushed two tables together and they all sat down. "I'm hoping it'll stop now."

No one mentioned Harry's outburst of temper at the match, and soon they were eating lunch. Stan brought drinks — butterbeers for everyone except Potio Vitae for Harry and Hermione. The conversation turned to the Quidditch match and Ginny's outstanding performance.

"But it wasn't just your flying," George said as he polished off a corned beef sandwich. "I never saw a Hogwarts team so well coached. It was no contest, even with the, uh, the problems in goal. Ron, I heard you gave the poor bloke some tips. Well done." He grinned at his brother.

"He didn't puke, so I consider it a huge success," Ron answered.

"Ronald!" Molly glared at him. "Not at the table, if you please."

"What did I say?" Ron looked at Hermione.

"The usual."

"Oh. Sorry, Mum. You should be proud of me, though. I now have two careers, Auror and Quidditch coach."

Molly pointed her knife at him. "You won't have any careers if you don't watch you manners."

"Yes, ma'm."

As they ate and talked, Ginny was aware that Harry remained quiet. He sipped his drink and ate his food, but didn't look up from his plate very often. His response in the kitchen had perked up her spirits, as did the praise she was getting from everyone in her family. She wasn't sure what was bothering Harry now, whether it was Quidditch for some reason or, once again, the inn. At least he had acknowledged her and accepted her attempt to comfort him.

Toward the end of the meal, while they were sipping coffee and talking about Fleur's baby, two witches walked in, dressed in dark green robes emblazoned with a golden talon. They looked around, then one of them caught Ginny's eye and came over to the Weasleys' table; the other sat at a table near the door. As the first witch approached, Ron's eyes bulged and he reached over and clutched Ginny's arm.

"Miss Weasley?" the witch said. "I'm Gwenog Jones. I'm captain of the Holyhead Harpies Quidditch team, and I was wondering if you wouldn't mind if we talked to you for a few minutes. That's our scout, Brenda Touron." She pointed to the witch sitting near the door, who smiled and waved.

Ginny's hands were shaking, and she wasn't sure if her legs would hold if she stood. "Sure," she said, and her voice cracked. "Sure." Everyone at the table was grinning at her; she glanced at Harry, and he smiled, too. "I'll be right back," she put her hand on his shoulder as she pushed back her chair.

They all watched as Ginny followed Jones and sat with the two witches. "Awesome!" Ron said. "Dad, that Firebolt was the best thing you could have got her." He turned to Hermione. "She won't need those season passes now. Maybe she'll give them back to us." He laughed and fended off her slaps with his arm. "Just kidding! Just kidding!"

After ten minutes the witches and Ginny got up and shook hands. The visitors left and Ginny came back to the table, a huge grin on her face. Everyone looked at her expectantly, even Harry. "Well," said Arthur, "when are you turning professional?"

"Oh, Dad, don't say that," Ginny blushed. "They just want me to come to a tryout next spring. I'm not the only one they're asking. Two of their Chasers are retiring."

"Darling, that's brilliant news!" said her mother, and took her hand. "You are so talented. My goodness, I never thought we would have a professional Quidditch player in the family. This is so exciting!"

"I haven't made the team yet, Mum. Please, it's still a long way off. There's lots of things that could happen between now and then."

"Nope," said George, "it's a mere formality. Ronald," he turned to him, "you can start repainting your attic room, and we'll burn those ghastly orange pajamas of yours."

"Okay, and I'll paint your entire flat over the shop alternating rooms of green and orange. Split loyalties, so to speak."

"You do any such thing and I'll move out," Hermione said darkly, "and then there won't be anyone to clean up your messes and bring you tea in bed every morning."

"Wow! You do that for this git?" George pointed to Ron. "No wonder he's so happy these days. I should raise your rent," he said to Ron.

The laughter went around the table. Ginny was glad to see that Harry smiled, if only occasionally; hopefully, the only reason that he was not completely enjoying himself was because of what had happened upstairs. She herself was as happy and excited as she had been in weeks — ever since Harry's mood had started to change — and she vowed not to let his brooding ruin the occasion. She had always had fantasies about playing Quidditch for her favorite team, but she had never taken those dreams seriously. She couldn't imagine what it would be like to be soaring above the ground experiencing the thrill of a Quidditch match and be paid for it, to be able to make a living at it.

Without realizing what she was doing, she took Harry's hand and pressed it to her thigh under the table. He looked at her, then smiled and started moving his hand. Ginny closed her eyes for a moment and hoped that the feeling would last.

The Weasleys returned to their homes, except for Ron and Hermione who decided, after prompting from Ginny, to stay until the evening. She hoped that their presence would help if Harry descended into another funk; she even held out a tiny hope that he might talk about the inn or the Auror training program. They all walked back to the castle so that Ginny could change out of her Quidditch robes, and while they walked Harry described what he had pieced together after talking to Stan and some of the customers.

"Carlos saw someone go around to the back but he didn't get a good look, just that it was someone short. Do you remember the Dark Mark on the first day of school? Winky saw a short witch running away, and I'll bet it was the same one."

"Pansy Parkinson," Ron said. "She's the one."

"She's not that short," said Hermione. "She's taller than me."

"No, she's shorter," Ron insisted, "by at least two inches."

"Well, that's not really short," Hermione answered. "You wouldn't call me short, would you?"

"No, but I would call someone two inches shorter than you, short."

"She's taller than me," Ginny piped up, "so just ask Carlos how the witch compared to me and Hermione."

"How could he tell that?" Ron said. "He just saw her for a second."

"Ginny and I can take turns running past the window, and Carlos can say who was shorter," said Hermione.

"The three of you are mental," Harry cut in before anyone else could speak. "It doesn't matter because there are ten thousand witches in Britain who are short."

"Well, maybe it was someone disguised as a short witch," Ron said.

Harry stopped, then the rest did. "I don't believe this," he shook his head. "If that's how they teach you to think in that Auror school, then I'll be sure never to go." Ron grinned sheepishly, and Hermione and Ginny chuckled, then exchanged looks. Ginny felt good that Harry could joke about something — anything — and then she took a chance and took his hand. He held it and they started walking again.

They went up to the common room together and a cheer went up when people saw them. Several came running, and Ginny felt Harry's hand tighten; she looked at him and he grinned. "You do know what I'm thinking?" he said quietly and Ginny nodded. "The last time I came in here after a Quidditch match, you made me kiss you," he said with a twinkle in his eye. Ginny laughed, not just because of his little joke but because he was himself again.

After Ginny changed, they went back to the inn and spent the rest of the afternoon sitting around a table sipping drinks, munching on a steady stream of snacks and sweets, and dissecting the Quidditch match. Harry suggested faking another dose of Felix Felicis for Dennis, but conceded to Hermione's argument that it would be too obvious. They all agreed that, barring disaster, the Quidditch Cup was all but won for Gryffindor. Ginny had done such an excellent coaching job and her Seeker skills were so far above any other flyer in school, that they couldn't see how any other team would stand a chance against them.

In the middle of the afternoon three Aurors walked in. They looked slowly around the room, which had become silent, then two of them sat at the bar and one came over to Harry.

"Is everything okay, Mr. Potter?" she asked.

"Fine, and thanks for coming. Help yourself to whatever you want. Just tell Stan or Kreacher, they'll take care of you."

"Thanks," she smiled, "but that won't be necessary. We're on an expense account. Gold on the barrel head for everything we eat or drink. I'm Sagittaria Slocum, by the way. I'm in charge of the detail." She gave a nod and joined her companions at the bar. After a few minutes two of them went outside while the third sat at a table near the door. The ones outside walked around the building and out of sight.

"Do you know any of them?" Hermione asked Ron.

He nodded. "I've seen them in and out of the Ministry, but I never talked to them."

They ate dinner and then Ron and Hermione left. Ginny and Harry walked down to The Three Broomsticks and found Hagrid there; they had a drink with him, but then Ginny spotted Turquoise sitting in a corner with friends. The blond witch kept watching Harry, whose back was to her, and every time Ginny caught her eye she picked up her glass of firewhisky and took a sip. Finally, Ginny started to become irritated and told Harry that she wanted to leave. Harry was grumpy about it.

"Why should we let her dictate what we do? I was having a nice chat with Hagrid," he complained as they returned to the inn.

"About Blast-Ended Skrewts?" Ginny arched her eyebrows. "Actually, she reminds me of one. Besides," she put her arm in his and leaned on his shoulder, "I was looking forward to it being just the two of us."

Harry grunted, and Ginny tensed. "Okay," he said. As they walked around to the back of the inn and Harry opened the door for her, Ginny began to worry. His mood had shifted; this was not Harry's typical playfulness, let alone the passion she was hoping for. They did not speak as they climbed the stairs. Ginny went into the bedroom, but Harry went into the kitchen where Ginny could hear him rattling around. After a few minutes she went there; Harry was standing with his back to the cabinets, leaning against a counter, staring into space.

"Is something wrong?" Ginny asked hesitantly.

Harry turned to look at her. "Not if you think it's okay to have all your windows busted."

"But the Aurors are downstairs, Harry. No one can get near the place now."

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I'm sorry, Gin, sometimes I just can't seem to shake this sour mood."

"Sure." They stood there, and finally Ginny said, "Come on, love, let's go to bed."

They went into the bedroom and Ginny lit the candles, but for the first time since they had started making love she didn't enjoy it, and she wasn't sure that Harry had, either. As soon as he was finished, he rolled over with his back to her. She put her hand on his shoulder. "Harry, what's bothering you?"

"Nothing," came his short reply. "Put out the candles, will you?"

Ginny was still for several long moments. She took her wand and extinguished the candles, then lay on her back, listening to Harry's breathing. "I'll be going to the library in the morning," she said. "I'll be back for dinner, if that's okay."

Harry didn't answer, and Ginny thought that he was asleep. Then he muttered something that she couldn't hear. "What?" she asked.

"I said fine, whatever you want." He pulled the covers higher and Ginny turned her back to him, and they slept.

* * * *

Ginny got up early and hurriedly dressed. Harry didn't wake, and she tried to be as quiet as possible. It was nearly the breakfast hour at Hogwarts, but she didn't want to talk to anyone there, so she went down to the kitchen to make a small breakfast for herself. Winky poked a sleepy head out of her cupboard.

"Does Ginny Weasley want breakfast?" she yawned. "Winky can make it."

"Please, don't bother," Ginny waved at the elf. "I'm fine."

Winky paused and stared at Ginny, and for some reason it made her uncomfortable. "Ginny Weasley is fine?" Winky said, and cocked her head at Ginny.

"Of course. What do you mean?"

"Winky means nothing." She clambered out of the cupboard and took a bottle of cold milk from a shelf and handed it to Ginny. Ginny poured some over her corn flakes and began eating, while Winky puttered around the kitchen. When Ginny was done she put the bowl and her spoon in the sink; she was about to walk out the door, but she paused with her hand on the handle.

"Is Harry fine?" she turned and asked Winky.

The elf frowned. "Winky must not say bad things about Harry Potter. Ginny Weasley should know the answer to that question." Winky didn't look at her, but disappeared into a large cupboard; Ginny heard pots and pans clattering, but after a minute, when Winky didn't reappear, Ginny left.

It was after five in the afternoon when she returned. She had finished a twenty-four inch parchment for Transfiguration and a slightly shorter one for Defense Against the Dark Arts, but of course now she didn't know who would be teaching that class. The news about Professor Pester had reached the school, and several people approached her in the library to find out what she knew. She only told Keesha and Luna about Pester's transgression, and they both went away shaking their heads.

Ginny walked into the dining room of the inn and saw Harry seated at the bar talking to one of the Aurors; each had a bottle of Potio Vitae in his hand. Harry didn't notice her, but Stan looked at her, then toward the back of the room. Ginny saw Turquoise Southeby sitting by herself, staring back at her with narrowed eyes. She was wearing one of the very low-cut tops that Ginny had seen before. Ginny glowered, and after a moment Turquoise got up and walked toward the door; as she brushed past Ginny, she gave a little smirk. Ginny waited until she was gone, then went to the bar. Harry had watched Turquoise leave, but then turned away.

The Auror nodded to Ginny. "How are you, Miss Weasley? I watched you at the Quidditch match yesterday. You're quite a flyer."

"Thanks," she smiled quickly. "Harry, what was she doing here? I thought we agreed she wasn't welcome."

Harry swung around and faced her. "I never said that. Why shouldn't she come in here? She's not bothering anyone."

"She's bothering me. Doesn't that matter to you?"

Harry looked uncomfortably at the Auror. "Let's go upstairs," he said to Ginny. He put his bottle down. "I'll be back," he told Stan.

They walked through the kitchen where Winky stopped mixing a bowl of salad greens and watched them. Upstairs in the parlor, Ginny went over to McPherson and let him nibble her hand, then turned to Harry. He was standing in front of the door, staring at her.

"Listen, Harry," she walked toward him, "something is going on and I want to talk about it. You've been treating me as though I'm your enemy. That whore down there is your enemy, she's —"

"Now wait a minute, she's a strange bird, but she hasn't done anything. How can you call her my enemy?"

"Hasn't done anything? She sits there with her clothes half off, broadcasting to the whole world that she's available to you. How do you think that makes me feel?"

Harry shrugged. "Lousy, I guess, but what do you want me to do about it?"

Ginny gritted her teeth; she was standing only a foot in front of him. "I want you to do the same thing you should be doing about this stupid inn! I want you to talk about it! Harry, this is killing us, don't you see? Please! Talk!"

He glared, then walked around her and stood with his back against the love seat. "There's nothing to talk about. It's my inn and I'll let in whoever I want."

Ginny had turned to face him. She was starting to get a lump in her throat, and she could feel herself trembling. "I thought it was our inn."

"My inn, our inn... you'll be off playing Quidditch, so what difference does it make?"

"What? Is that what's bothering you?" She walked toward him and put her hand on his face, and he flinched. "Harry, love, what is wrong? Why are you saying these things? I thought you'd be happy that I have this chance. You know how important it is to me. Please, don't say —"

Harry suddenly pushed her hand away, and Ginny backed up, shock on her face. "What are you doing?" she whispered. "What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing!" Harry shouted, and he advanced on her with a look of fury that she had never seen before; her hand went to her wand. Harry continued toward her, and Ginny backed up until she was against the wall next to the door. Harry put his arm on the wall, blocking her in. His green eyes flashed. "Why does something have to be wrong with me? Did it ever occur to you that the problem is you?"

Ginny shook her head. "No. The problem isn't me, it's you."

Harry swung, and pain exploded in Ginny's head; his hard slap caught her just below her eye. As he pulled his arm back again, her wand came up. "Stupefy!" she screamed. Harry was flung back; he flipped over the love seat and tumbled onto the rug in front of the fireplace. McPherson screeched and flapped his wings. Ginny yanked the door open and, pressing her hand to her throbbing cheek, stumbled down the stairs, out the back door, and ran.

* * * *

Harry lay on his stomach, his face buried in the rug. He gradually became aware of where he was, but he did not move for almost an hour, only flexing and straightening his right hand, the one he had struck Ginny with. The room darkened, and finally he sat up. He looked at his hand; he took the wrist in his left hand and held it up as though it was a separate object. Again he did not move for a long time. When the room was in almost total darkness, he stood up, swaying slightly. He looked at McPherson, who was only a shadow in the dark, then walked unsteadily to the owl. He reached out with his right hand, but McPherson screeched again and pecked at it viciously. Harry did not react, but let the hand dangle in the air as blood dripped onto the floor.

McPherson fluttered away and perched on the mantel. Harry took out his wand. "Lumos," he said; the wand briefly sparked, but it would not light. He stared at it, then dropped it on the floor and walked slowly to the bedroom. He looked at the bed in the dim light from the window; the hangings were open and the covers were thrown back; he hadn't bothered to make the bed when he got up that morning. He stared at it for several minutes, then walked slowly back to the parlor and sat on the rug, facing the cold fireplace, his back to the love seat. McPherson clucked and flew back to his perch.

Hours later, Harry finally fell asleep on the rug. He dreamt of cold empty moors, windswept cliffs, and frigid wintry forests where he wandered alone, looking for something that could not be found. He didn't awaken until long after dawn.

He did not leave the flat that day. He ate nothing, and drank a glass of water only when his thirst became almost intolerable and his lips began to crack. He lay on the rug as fear overwhelmed him. The wound that McPherson had made began to ache, and he went into the bathroom and ran water over it. The owl would not let Harry come near him, so finally Harry opened the window and it flew out, hooting loudly. In the evening, Stan knocked on the door, but Harry called out telling him to go away.

He tried lighting his wand again when it got dark, but it would not even spark. That night Harry huddled on the rug again and had the same dream as the night before.

Tuesday passed just as Monday had, except now Harry was alone, with not even an angry owl for company. Again he only drank a few glasses of water, but in the evening Stan came up with Winky and Kreacher. By this time Harry was dizzy from hunger, and he opened the door and took the tray that Kreacher was holding. Winky frowned when she saw Harry's swollen hand, and he let Kreacher go back down and get a potion of some kind that the old elf smeared on the wound; in a few minutes it was healed.

Harry felt better after he had eaten, but when he asked Stan for something to drink Stan brought him a butterbeer. "We got another bad shipment of PV," Stan said, glancing at Kreacher and Winky. "People said it tasted real funny. No one wants it. Sipper said he'll send another batch on Saturday."

On Wednesday morning Harry finally came downstairs. He had not slept in the bed, and he could not do any magic with his wand. Winky sent him back upstairs when she saw him, ordering him to shave and bathe. He didn't object because that would have meant talking to someone, and also because he didn't care. Afterward, he sat in the dining room with his ledger book open on the table, using it as an excuse to avoid conversations. The three Aurors stared and muttered to each other, but he ignored them, just as he ignored everyone else. He didn't know why he sat there, rather than up in the flat; maybe he was hoping for someone to come see him, but he was sure that no one would.

Turquoise Southeby came in early in the afternoon and sat at the table next to Harry, but when Stan spilled a tray of mugs filled with butterbeer down her chest, she left with her hands covering her completely soaked blouse, and didn't return.

Harry sat in the dining room by day and slept on the rug by night, and the week dragged on. He talked to no one about what had happened or about anything else; he did not go to his Charms lesson; and by the time the weekend came, a black terror had crept into his soul, worse than anything he ever felt in the seven years of fighting Voldemort.

Chapter Navigation: Previous Next