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Author: Sovran Story: Meaning of One, Part Two: Chambers and Secrets Rating: Teens Setting: AU Status: Completed Reviews: 14 Words: 353,960
“HARRY!” Ginny tried to Shift to his side, but nothing happened. Her mind reeled, bereft of the comforting blanket of Harry’s senses in her body. Screaming his name again, she sprinted forward and rounded the corner. His body lay facedown on the flagstones, rocking slightly as though it were an overturned vase. “NO! HARRY!” With a spasmodic heave, she flipped him over onto his back. The frozen smile on his face mocked her with its unguarded brightness. His eyes were as empty and lifeless as the gaping hole in her mind. Dropping to her knees, she bent forward, wailing uncontrollably and twisting her hands in the front of his jumper. Pain radiated from the part of her that had once been him, as though he were a limb that had been cut away. “Miss Weasley! What… oh, no.” Ginny did not look up. Her mind struggled to process the fact that Harry was gone. She could not breathe, could not think or speak or move. Her mouth hung open in a silent wail, and she strained against his jumper, desperately trying to drag him back to life with the strength of her arms. Her muscles failed her after a few moments, and Harry’s body fell back to the stone floor with a hollow, brutal sound. “No… no, no, no, no, no…” she moaned, pressing her face against his chest as she had so many times before. His heart was not beating. A gentle voice spoke from above her. “Miss Weasley?” Someone brushed lightly against her arm, and she raised her head. Through her swimming vision, she recognised Dumbledore crouching next to her. Blinking, she focused on the old wizard’s chalk-white face. “No,” she keened. “Please, no.” “Let me…” The Headmaster drew his wand and pointed it at Harry’s chest. “NO!” Ginny screamed, her voice echoing in the corridor. She knew what Dumbledore was going to do. He was going to take Harry away. He was going to put Harry in a box and dig a hole, and she was never going to see him again. “Get away from him!” Dumbledore fell backwards, off-balance. All around him, the torches flared brightly, and the tall flames flickered and bent as though battered by a strong wind. Sparks flew from them and landed on Dumbledore’s robes and beard as he rose to his feet. He waved his wand and the embers vanished, but he patted down his long beard with his hands. For a moment, Ginny’s careening vision showed her two wands, and she cried out again. “NO!” The old man staggered once more, but he brought his wand up and managed to stay upright. Sparks and dust swirled around him but did not quite touch him. “Miss Weasley! Please, calm yourself!” “You can’t take him! I won’t let you!” Finally Ginny reached for her wand, but it sailed out of her hand before she could remove it completely from her pocket. “Blinkin!” the Headmaster shouted. “Bring Minerva at once!” A tapestry between Ginny and Dumbledore caught fire in the flying embers, and smoke filled the corridor. Ginny screamed as her vision was blocked, and she launched herself forward from Harry’s body. She ran into the Headmaster’s legs with all of her weight and tumbled off to the side as he collapsed backwards. Faster than she could follow, he was back on his feet. His wand flicked twice, quicker than thought. The fire in the tapestry above Ginny’s head went out, and some of the smoke cleared. “Ginny!” he shouted. Ginny echoed mockingly in the corridor. She charged him again. This time he dropped his wand into his robes and grabbed her by the shoulders before she could touch him. Screaming, Ginny kicked out at him, twisting in his grip, but she could not reach him with her arms or legs. She whipped her head back, straining to escape his grip, and he grunted sharply as his head flew backwards in response. She raised her legs, forcing him to support her weight, and tried to push her feet against his stomach. He was stronger than she expected, however, and he managed to turn her around so that his vice-like grip held her back flat against his chest. “Ginny, please, you have to calm down.” Ginny, the castle taunted her, the echo a twisted reflection of a familiar voice. “We must –“ Ginny’s scream drowned out his words as she scrabbled to find purchase on the floor, the wall, or his body. She flung her head backwards, eyes squeezed closed, trying to hurt him with any part of her that would reach. An incredibly loud voice echoed down the corridor. “Albus! Release her and leave at once!” “She is—” “Go, you stubborn old fool!” Dumbledore’s grip vanished from Ginny’s arms, and she fell to the floor on her hands and knees. She leapt to her feet unsteadily and spun around, but the Headmaster was gone. “Ginny.” She spun again, scanning the corridor for her wand, and saw Professor McGonagall standing over Harry’s body. “Don’t touch him!” she screamed, lunging forwards to kneel at his side. “I won’t, Ginny. I promise.” Ginny… The echoes sharpened the searing pain of her existence. In an instant, her rage flashed to despair. “He’s dead, he’s dead!” she wailed, trying to lift Harry’s body into her arms. It was stiff and slightly cool, however, and she was not strong enough. “He’s dead!” “Ginny! Listen to me!” The voice came from further away now. “He’s not dead. He is not dead!” Ginny looked up. McGonagall was half-sprawled on the floor several yards away. Her hands were open and empty in front of her, and she leaned forward as though pushing herself against something that would not yield. Smoke billowed anew around them both. “Listen!” the professor said again. “He’s alive, Ginny. His body is Petrified, but he is not dead.” Ginny whimpered, watching her professor in the flickering orange light without really seeing her. She heard the words, but she could not understand how they could be true. “Look for him, Ginny,” McGonagall said, her voice softer but no less strong. “Remember when you were Stunned last year? You were still there, even when he thought you were gone. Look. Find him.” Ginny gasped for breath and squeezed her eyes shut. Harry? she asked in a small, frightened voice. Ginny… Her heart fluttered in her chest, but she wondered if she were only hearing her own longing. It’s… me, Ginny. His voice was wrong; a distant, discordant echo of himself. But it was his. Harry! Oh, god, Harry. I’m… here. She realised he had been calling to her before, but his voice had sounded foreign in her mind. I don’t… I don’t know… what’s happened, but I’m… here. She could barely understand him as his voice faded and changed with every word. The effect reminded her of skimming through the stations on a wireless and hearing only a second or two of each broadcast. I feel… empty. Ginny wailed again and fell forwards across his chest. “He’s alive,” she muttered, finally recognising the feel of tears amongst the sweat on her cheeks. “He’s alive.” “I need to use my wand, Ginny,” McGonagall said. She did not care. She sprawled against Harry’s ribcage, ignoring the unnatural hardness of his skin. “He’s alive,” she whispered again. You’re alive. “Yes, Ginny. Only Petrified.” They felt absolutely nothing from his body, and his thoughts were distant and sluggish. Petrified? Is that what… This is? She tried desperately to remember if she had sounded so odd to him on Christmas in their first year, but only her memory of that day remained in her mind. Concentrating as hard as she could, she discovered that she remembered everything they had experienced together, but her knowledge of his life without her was completely missing. She could only recall vague fragments of memories he had shared with her from his childhood, even though she knew they had once been complete and horribly detailed. The chasms in her memory combined with the throbbing loss of his senses left her reeling, confused and disoriented both inside and outside her body. Harry!? I don’t… understand, either. But we’ll be… all right… Ginevra. The instant he said her name, which he only used in the sanctity of their minds, she understood completely. The word echoed in a dozen different voices, and each one came from a different moment they had shared. Harry was there with her, but he was missing his voice. He could only speak to her through her memories of past conversations, unconsciously splicing old words and phrases together to fit his need. I’m sorry, Harry. I’m so sorry, she said, sobbing into his chest. I should’ve gone first. I should’ve… And put me… where you are now? No! I wouldn’t… It’s okay, Ginny. It wasn’t… your fault. I’m here, I promise. It’s not the same! “You found him,” McGonagall said. She crouched on the other side of Harry’s body, dishevelled and smoke-stained. When Ginny looked up, the older woman met her eyes squarely. “Hello, Harry.” Ginny swallowed. All she could do was whimper his response. “He says… hello.” “I’m glad to hear it.” She reached out and pushed a few strands of hair away from Ginny’s face. “What happened?” Her tears falling freely, Ginny spoke between her sobs. “We were… we were going back. To the Tower. He went round the corner, and…” she gasped brokenly, “and he was… he was like this. He’s alive, Professor. I can feel him, but… but he’s not right. He’s…” “Distant, Ginny?” She nodded helplessly, knowing that she could never find words to explain the feeling. She could barely grasp the effects enough to breathe. McGonagall held out her arms. “Come here.” Unable to help herself, Ginny crawled carefully over Harry’s chest and let the professor draw her into her lap. Once wrapped in the older woman’s embrace, Ginny lost the tiny shred of control she had maintained. It was all too much. Harry was alive and with her, but at the same time he was horribly absent. She could tell that he was trying to project warmth and comfort into their minds, but it was not working. He called to mind memories of past comfort, not the constant comfort she had come to rely on as part of her very existence. She wailed and wept freely into McGonagall’s robes. For a while, McGonagall held her and rocked her and stroked her damp hair. At last, when Ginny had at least stopped sobbing and crying aloud, the professor spoke quietly. “Did you see anything? Did you hear the voice?” “No,” Ginny whispered. “We didn’t hear anything. He just ran around the corner, and… and…” Wait, I saw… something, Harry said. I think… it was something… She saw a flash of memory: herself, placing her old hair-band on Luna’s head… yellow, down at the end. She blinked, trying to focus on the elusive, split-second memory. “There was… it happened so fast. It was just a moment, but he thinks there was something yellow. Down there.” She pointed towards the end of the corridor and raised her head to look. Nothing remotely yellow was visible. Instead, she saw fresh scorch marks above the nearby torch brackets, two empty paintings with cracked and bubbling paint, and a lingering haze of smoke around the ceiling. Further down, the decorations were whole, but none of them were yellow. Ginny looked the other way, towards where she had fought against the Headmaster, and saw even more destruction. The tapestries hung in scorched tatters, one of them completely unrecognisable. A huge, empty urn had cracked down its length, and one side lay shattered on the stone floor. The walls were streaked and spotted with soot, and grey water trickled slowly between the flagstones. “Did I… ?” “Apparently so,” McGonagall said, “but no matter. All of this can be mended. Can you tell me exactly where you saw the yellow object?” Ginny dropped her head again, unable to look at the devastation surrounding them. “No. It was at the end. We didn’t see any more than that.” She began to sob again. “I’m so sorry, Professor. I got Harry Petrified, and then I burned all of these things, and I… I…” “Rubbish,” McGonagall said sharply. “You had no part in this horrible attack. Everything else was caused by that, so you’re not to blame for those things, either.” You didn’t… do anything wrong, Ginny. “But I hurt Professor Dumbledore, I know I did, and… I lost my wand, and…” “Accio Ginny’s wand.” The short shaft of holly sailed out of a seam between the floor and the wall. McGonagall caught it and pressed it into Ginny’s left hand. “There. None of the rest of it will be any harder to fix.” Ginny nodded automatically. With a shaking hand, she reached out and stroked Harry’s cheek. The flesh was hard and cool, as though it were a statue carved from marble. His face was turned away from her now, hiding the horrible, frozen smile. I’m sorry, Harry. I’m sorry it happened. Me, too, Ginny. But we’ll be… all right. How? “We should move him to the hospital wing,” McGonagall said. “You don’t want him to just lie here in the corridor, do you?” Shaking her head, Ginny raised her wand to cast the Levitation Charm. The professor stopped her with gentle fingers. “Let me. You can walk alongside to make sure he doesn’t bump into anything.” They rose from the floor, and McGonagall levitated Harry’s body with a silent flick of her wrist. One of his hands had been outstretched as he ran around the corner, and Ginny determinedly held it with her own. Slowly and carefully, the two witches guided him through the corridors, avoiding tapestries, suits of armour, and open doors. Ginny walked mindlessly. She felt as though she had no purpose left, as though any direction she might have possessed an hour ago was now gone forever. Somehow, they reached the hospital wing on the ground floor without encountering anyone else. Ginny opened the doors wide, and McGonagall steered Harry inside. “Back here, Minerva,” Madam Pomfrey said briskly. “I’ve got a bed ready for him.” The matron led them to the end of the ward, where McGonagall settled Harry gently into an empty bed. On the other side of the room, Colin Creevey and Penelope Clearwater rested on beds of their own. “Any injuries?” Pomfrey asked, already waving her wand over Harry. “I dropped him,” Ginny whispered. “On the floor. I didn’t mean to hurt him.” “And you did not,” McGonagall said. She looked up at Madam Pomfrey. “He has no injuries at all that I could find. This form of Petrification seems to protect against incidental damage.” The professor conjured a small sofa next to Harry’s bed, opposite the matron, and she and Ginny settled onto it. Then she raised her wand, frowned in concentration for a moment, and Conjured a sheet of parchment already covered in her delicate handwriting. “I request the services of a Hogwarts house-elf,” she said. A green-eyed elf appeared with another soft pop. “Please take this to Percy Weasley in Gryffindor tower.” The elf took the parchment and vanished in mid-bow. McGonagall settled her arm around Ginny’s shoulders. “I don’t want to see Percy,” Ginny muttered. She could not help thinking of how he had treated Harry over the past year and a half. “No?” McGonagall asked. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that. He is a Prefect, however, and I have asked him to bring Miss Granger and the rest of your brothers.” She turned to Madam Pomfrey. “Has Albus been here, Poppy?” “Briefly. He warned me that you would be coming.” “Was he all right?” Ginny asked hesitantly. “Of course he was,” Pomfrey said, eyeing her. “Should he have been otherwise?” Ginny shook her head, relieved. At that moment, the infirmary doors opened again, and the Headmaster strode into the ward. He spotted Ginny and stopped, his hands at his sides. “Come in, Albus,” McGonagall said. “Thank you.” He walked slowly towards them and then crouched down in front of Ginny. “Are you all right, Miss Weasley?” Ginny nodded, unsure what she could say. “And Harry?” “He’s Petrified, Professor,” she whispered, blushing even as her tears began again. “He’s not dead.” “I am relieved to hear that.” Ginny took a shaky breath. “Sir, I’m very sorry for… for doing all of those things. I didn’t mean to wreck the corridor or…” “Thank you, Miss Weasley,” Dumbledore said, inclining his head graciously. “I appreciate that. But do not worry. That was a rather drab bit of the castle anyway, and I’ve often thought that it could use more colour. As for me… well, I am very old, but I am not yet so very brittle.” “I must apologise also, Albus,” McGonagall said. He grinned slightly. “For calling me a stubborn old fool? Ah, but you were right, at least at that moment. A wise person once said that insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” McGonagall shook her head. “Not now, Albus. Did you find anything?” “Alas, no.” “You should look for something yellow which was in that corridor but is no longer there. Harry saw it just before he was Petrified.” She paused for a moment. “You will not attempt to see that memory in your Pensieve.” The old wizard nodded slowly. “Yellow, you say? Very well. If you will excuse me, I will redirect the house-elves with that in mind.” Dumbledore leaned over until he faced Ginny directly. “I am deeply sorry, Miss Weasley,” he whispered. “You are the very last person in the world I would wish this upon.” To her own surprise, Ginny believed him. Once the Headmaster had gone, Ginny and McGonagall sat quietly on the sofa. Madam Pomfrey bustled about, casting a series of charms on Harry and then covering him from neck to toe in a white sheet. When she moved away, Ginny reached out and wrapped her fingers around Harry’s rigid thumb. The familiar feeling of magic coursed between them, bringing with it a tiny portion of the comfort they always felt when touching. Ginny sighed deeply, trying to ignore the unnatural temperature and rigidity of his hand. I miss you. I’m here, Ginny, I swear. I can’t… think straight, but I’m here. “Drink this, Miss Weasley,” Pomfrey ordered, pressing a glass of water into her hand. “What?” “Drink it. You’re dehydrated, and somehow you’ve managed to get a sunburn.” Ginny gulped the water, only then realising how thirsty she had become. As she drank, the matron tapped her wand on Ginny’s face, arms, and knees. “You collect bruises and scrapes at an alarming rate, child,” Pomfrey said. The infirmary doors swung open, and Percy strode into view. His eyes found Harry, and the tall boy stopped abruptly. Ron, Hermione, and the twins all walked around him and rushed towards the bed. “Harry!” Hermione shouted, leaping forward. “Oh my goodness, Harry.” She touched Harry’s face briefly and then snatched her hand away. When she looked around, Ginny met her frightened gaze with red-rimmed eyes. Hermione rounded the bed and hugged Ginny as she perched on the edge of the sofa. “Are you okay? What happened? Where were you? Are you okay?” “He’s so far away, Hermione,” Ginny said, aware that her brothers had gathered behind her. “He’s there, but he’s so far away. He’s… he’s broken.” The brunette stared deeply into Ginny’s eyes, barely blinking. “Harry?” Hi. Ginny swallowed and took a shaky breath. “He says hi.” Hermione burst into tears and hugged Ginny again, which caused her to start sobbing anew. The two girls clung to each other for several minutes, weeping and choking on words they could not manage to speak. “What the hell happened?” Ron asked from behind them. “They were leaving the Headmaster’s office,” McGonagall said, a hard note in her voice. “Harry ran around a corner, saw something yellow, and was Petrified.” Through her grief, Ginny was devoutly thankful that the professor did not mention her fit of rage. “Yellow?” George asked. “What’s yellow up there?” “Nothing that we can locate, Mr. Weasley,” the professor said. They were all quiet for a few moments. “Well, at least he won’t have to go to lessons,” Fred said in a gratingly cheerful voice. Ginny looked up at him, her tears still falling slowly. The others, even George, turned to stare at him as well. “Err… sorry,” Fred said. “Just trying to… you know…” “Bit early,” George said quietly. “Never thought it could happen to him,” Ron said. “He’s Harry, you know? He took on Mum. And Dumbledore.” The twins nodded slowly. “I reckoned he was invincible after that,” George said. “When will the cure be ready?” Hermione asked. “The Headmaster told us there would be a potion, didn’t he?” “Not soon,” Percy said. He still stood where he had stopped a few yards away, and his voice was soft and sad. “Madam Pomfrey thinks it might be early June before it’s ready. Unless…” He turned towards the matron, who was standing at a small table nearby. “Any progress, Madam?” “Not since this afternoon, Mr. Weasley,” she said. Ginny looked up and studied her third-oldest brother for the first time in months. His face was haggard, and his eyes looked sunken and haunted behind his horn-rimmed glasses. “You were here this afternoon?” Percy nodded shortly, but Madam Pomfrey spoke for him. “Your brother has spent at least an hour in my infirmary every day since before Christmas. I have told him repeatedly that Miss Clearwater cannot hear him, but he returns each day nonetheless.” Ginny looked from Harry’s frozen hand to Percy’s sagging features. “Has it got any easier?” she asked. “No,” Percy said after a moment. “Only less surprising.” Then it hit her. Harry would be Petrified for at least six weeks. She would be alone in her own mind for almost the entire term. She would be empty, less than what she should be, and Harry would only be a faint echo in her head. The fragile calm she had achieved shattered at the thought. She wailed softly again, and Hermione pulled her against her shoulder as she wept. A large hand settled on her shoulder, and she took distant comfort from its weight and warmth. “Stay here, Ginny,” McGonagall said, extricating herself from the sofa. “I will be back in just a few moments.” Ginny nodded numbly, and Hermione settled into the place the professor had vacated. The students stood in silence for some time that Ginny could not measure. Her eyes unfocused, she relived the moment of Harry’s Petrification. Over and over again, the sudden, wrenching feeling of emptiness shattered her consciousness. The painful sensation of losing half of her body, the ephemeral tingling where she knew Harry’s limbs should have been, was impossible to bear. The infirmary doors opened, and McGonagall re-entered the room. To Ginny’s surprise, her parents followed close behind. Mrs. Weasley hurried across the ward, but her husband’s longer legs carried him past her. Wordlessly he lifted Ginny off of the sofa and into his arms, holding her under her shoulders and knees. Ginny did not know how many times she had lost all composure. The feel of her father’s arms and the sure knowledge of his sorrow pierced her again, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, sobbing and babbling incoherently. “There, there, Ginny,” he whispered, his cheek pressed against the top of her head. “Everything will be all right, my beautiful girl. Daddy’s here.” “It’s not… it won’t… I can’t…” she choked out. “He’s… I can’t… feel him. He’s just like… Christmas… but… Why? Why? It’s not fair, Daddy! It’s not fair.” “I know, love. I know. Shhh.” Eventually, Ginny’s tears abated again, and her father placed her back on her feet. Her mother reached in from the side with a damp, cool flannel and began wiping her face. “Oh, Ginny dear,” she said, her own eyes glistening. “My poor, sweet girl.” She dropped the flannel and engulfed Ginny in her own hug, tight and warm. When Ginny stepped back, she was right next to the head of the bed, and Harry’s frozen smile stared up at her. She slammed her eyes closed and spun around, stumbling blindly against Hermione, who caught her and held her upright. “He’s not supposed to look like that,” she said, her voice rising as her pain and loss swirled into anger. “Not like… like someone just painted him happy. It’s wrong. He wasn’t like that.” “We can cover him if you’d like, Ginny,” her mother said softly. “No!” Ginny shouted, whirling around to put herself between Harry and everyone else. They all leaned away from her, Hermione’s hair flying wildly around her face. “He’s not dead! You can’t cover him up if he’s not dead! You can’t!” “We won’t, Ginny,” McGonagall said evenly. “You may look at him or not, as you choose, but no one is going to cover him if you do not wish it.” Ginny collapsed onto the floor, burying her face in her hands. She felt someone gently lift her up onto the sofa, and her mother sat next to her. The older woman dabbed Ginny’s face with a cloth again, soothing away the heat and sweat on her skin. “I’m sorry, Ginny,” Mrs. Weasley said. “We’ll leave him just the way he is.” “He’s not dead,” Ginny repeated weakly. I’m still… here. “Of course he isn’t,” her mother said. “He’s just sick for a while. You can still talk to him, can’t you?” I know, but it’s not right. Ginny nodded. “Barely.” “Barely is enough, then.” “He’s never talked to us as much as he talked to you, anyway,” Fred said. Mr. Weasley, kneeling in front of her, pushed Ginny’s hair behind her ear and cupped her cheek. “Harry? How are you, lad?” he asked. “Umm,” Ginny said. I’m okay… I think. I feel like… “He says… I’m okay, I think. I feel like I’m half-asleep, only I can’t finish waking up.” “Like you’ve had too much cold medicine, Harry?” Hermione asked from somewhere behind Ginny, her voice soft and ragged. Harry and Ginny knew what taking cold medicine felt like, but they could not remember whether Harry had ever had it. “Yeah, that’s it.” Mr. Weasley nodded. “You’re not in pain, then?” “Not really,” Ginny shook her head. “He’s not in anything. Just… nothing.” McGonagall stepped forward. “Arthur and Molly, I’m sorry, but the castle must be sealed within a few minutes. If we wait any longer, the delay will be obvious and inexplicable. We must protect our students.” “Of course,” Mr. Weasley said. He pushed himself up onto his feet and took his wife’s hand, tugging her away from Ginny. “We have to go, Firefly. We only managed to come because Professor McGonagall found us straightaway, and… well, I’m not entirely sure we’re supposed to be here. We’d rather stay with you, but if we do the castle will not be as safe as it could be. You understand?” Ginny blinked. She had not considered that her parents might have to leave so soon. Her body sagged as she nodded. “Okay, Daddy.” He leaned down and tilted her chin up to meet his gaze. “None of that, Ginny. You need to be strong for Harry, don’t you? We’ll try to visit you tomorrow or on the weekend. Whenever they’ll let us. I promise.” She nodded again, more strongly. “That’s my girl. Goodnight to you both.” Goodnight, Mr. Weasley. “Goodnight,” Ginny echoed. Each of her parents hugged her again, and Mrs. Weasley made a quick circuit of hugs amongst her sons and Hermione. Then Mr. Weasley gave Ginny one more nod of encouragement, and they hurried out of the infirmary. McGonagall cleared her throat softly in the silence. “Ginny,” she said, “I’m sorry, but you all need to go back to Gryffindor Tower. The hospital wing is not supposed to be open to visitors at the moment, and there is nothing you can do here.” Looking up at her professor, Ginny felt new moisture gather in her eyes. “But… but I can’t leave him!” she said, her voice rising sharply. “I can’t just… just leave him here. He’s… we’re…” “I know,” the professor said. “I know it must hurt beyond anything I can imagine. But staying here won’t help either of you, will it?” “I can’t sleep alone,” Ginny protested. “We’ve tried. The… the nightmares. We can’t…” McGonagall nodded gently. “Is Harry in there?” she asked, waving at Harry’s exposed hand. “No,” Ginny admitted. “Ginny…” Hermione began. She reached out and touched Harry’s hand. “You wouldn’t be able to get any sleep with him like this, would you? It’s… well, it wouldn’t be comfortable. And if he’s not in there, then… then what good would it do?” Ginny looked around at all of them, each watching her with an expression of sadness and sympathy. “But I can’t leave him,” she said again. George sighed and darted a look at his brothers. “Then take him with you, Ginny. If he’s in there,” he waved at her head, “then he’ll be with you, not here. Neither of you will be alone.” He’s right. “Well said, Mr. Weasley,” McGonagall said, rising from the sofa. “The remainder of the term will be difficult for us all, I’m sure, but we will manage. We are Gryffindors, are we not? We will face this challenge with courage and strength.” She looked down at Ginny. “I’m sure that Miss Granger and your brothers will help you in any way they can. If there is anything at all that I can do, I hope you will ask.” She sighed softly. “And if your nightmares resume, please tell me. We shall try to work out a solution. For now, let’s go back to the Tower, Ginny. I will arrange time for you to see Harry tomorrow, but I need to help the Headmaster seal the castle.” Ginny still could not bring herself to leave willingly, but she stopped protesting. Hermione took her hand and pulled her up from the sofa. Ginny looked once again at Harry’s arrested smile, and then she turned away, shuddering. She was sure she had been crying for hours, but somehow tears still tracked slowly down her cheeks. The five Weasleys and Hermione slowly and quietly filed out of the hospital wing behind their Head of House. Ginny had barely taken ten steps from the door when she broke loose from Hermione’s grip, spun around, and ran all the way back to Harry’s bed. Once she could see him again, she stopped and stood with her eyes closed, shaking. “What is it, Ginny?” Hermione asked as she caught up. “I can’t… I can’t tell where he is,” Ginny said in a broken whisper. “Always… we always know. He’s… that way or… over there, or… even if he’s not with me, if we’re miles apart. I always know where he is.” She turned to Hermione, stricken. “How can I be sure he’s here if I don’t know where he is?” “He won’t be going anywhere, Miss Weasley,” Pomfrey said. “I assure you of that.” “You’ll just have to remember it,” Hermione said. “He’ll be right here, and you can see him every day. I’ve never been able to just know where someone is, so I have to trust that they’re where they should be. You can do it, too.” “And you’re sure he’ll be here?” I’ll still… be here, Ginny… “Of course he will. I’m positive.” Ginny could not quite release the fear, even though she knew it was irrational. “What if he’s not?” “C’mon, Ginny,” George said, standing at the curtain with the other boys. “You shouldn’t go spare over things that can’t happen. He’ll be here. How could he leave?” I can’t. “You’re right,” she said. “He’s… that’s the whole point, isn’t it? He can’t move.” Ginny walked up to the head of the bed and looked at Harry’s face one more time. Steeling herself, she leaned down and brushed her lips against his cool, hard cheek. I’ll be back tomorrow. I love you. I love you, too, he said. I’ll be… with you… All the time. Nodding to herself and ignoring the warbling in his voice, Ginny straightened and let Professor McGonagall, Hermione, and her brothers escort her out of the hospital wing. She distantly noticed the silence of the corridors, but for the most part she did not truly think about anything at all. Inside her mind, she stared at the emptiness that had once been so joyously full. She knew it would not change. She knew she was not helping herself or Harry. She simply could not look away. “I must go,” Professor McGonagall said when they reached the Fat Lady. “Please do not leave the Tower tonight. I will return tomorrow morning.” She waited for the twins, Ron, and Hermione to nod, and then she strode away. When Percy gave the Fat Lady the password and the portrait swung open, a burst of noise spilled into the corridor. By the time Fred helped Ginny through the entrance, however, the Tower was quiet. “It’s true, then?” Angelina asked. “Harry’s been attacked?” Percy nodded and spoke in a slow, solemn voice. “Yes, it’s true. He has been Petrified, as the others were. Madam Pomfrey says that he will be fine once the restorative potion is ready, but…” He trailed off and shrugged. “Blimey,” someone said, a bit too loudly. “Harry Potter.” Ginny could not stand their stares. She and Harry had been targeted for many different reasons in the past, but she had never dealt with it alone. She had never known that she could not escape if she wanted to. You can… Get away, Harry’s voice said. Go… up to your dormitory. Ginny took a slow breath and tried not to think about the weakness of his voice. She did not want to fall apart again in front of everyone. Lavender and Parvati won’t leave me alone, either. Hermione can… handle that. “Hermione,” Ginny whispered amidst the growing babble, “can we… ?” She waved weakly towards the girls’ staircase. “Of course,” she said. “Come on.” Guiding Ginny by the elbow, Hermione weaved through the crowd. A few students tried to talk to them, but Hermione deflected their questions. They had just reached their dormitory when Parvati and Lavender burst into the room behind them. Immediately, both girls rushed forward to hug Ginny. “Oh, Ginny,” Parvati said. “I’m so sorry. You were with him, weren’t you?” “Yes.” “Did you see it?” Lavender asked, wide-eyed. “Did you see the monster?” Ginny swallowed and shook her head. “No. He was a little ahead of me, around a corner.” “But surely you saw something!” “She didn’t,” Hermione said firmly. “Let her be. It was… it was awful, seeing him just now in the hospital wing. I can’t imagine what it must be like for her.” Parvati nodded and squeezed Ginny’s shoulder. “We’ll be here for you, okay? Anything you need. Right, Lav?” “Definitely.” Ginny sank onto her bed and wrapped her arms around herself. “Thanks. I just… I want to go to bed.” She could not imagine sleeping, but she wanted to escape all three of her roommates. Even Hermione, wonderful as she was, could not truly understand. “That’s fine,” Hermione said. “Why don’t you get ready? I’ll be right back.” She left the room at a quick walk. Ginny stared at the floor for a few minutes. She could not fathom what she should do. Everything had lost its purpose. Lavender and Parvati moved around the room, sometimes quite close to her, but she did not really notice what they were doing. She finally looked up when Parvati appeared directly in front of Ginny, holding the Romania football t-shirt she usually slept in. “Here,” Parvati said, her voice quiet. “Thanks,” Ginny muttered. She stood and walked woodenly into the bathroom. Habit took over for a few blessed minutes as she brushed her teeth, smoothed her hair, and changed into her nightshirt. Once she emerged from the bathroom carrying her clothes, however, she had to guide her own steps again. You should put your… clothes away, Harry said. You don’t want them… just sitting out in… A bundle. So Ginny put away her things, dividing them between the laundry bin and her wardrobe. When she dropped her bra into the drawer, she paused for a moment and fingered one of the thin straps. For a week or so after she had got it, Harry had unconsciously toyed with those straps through her shirt whenever he held her. She had found it annoying and a little embarrassing, even though she knew he had not been doing it on purpose. Now she longed desperately for that silly irritation. Ginny had just sat down on her bed again when Hermione returned carrying a familiar-looking bundle of wool. “I went and got a couple of his jumpers,” Hermione said, pressing the bundle into Ginny’s hands. “I thought you might like to have them.” Lavender sighed wordlessly from her bed. Harry’s Christmas jumper from that year was on the outside of the loose roll, and Ginny could smell a trace of him in the wool. She reached out to pull it free, but Hermione stopped her. Keeping her body between Ginny and the rest of the room, Hermione pushed aside the folds of wool and showed Ginny a hint of bright pink in the centre. Ginny’s eyes welled up again at the sight of Bun-bun rolled tightly inside Harry’s jumpers. “Thank you, Hermione,” she whispered through her shaky breaths. She felt awful for wanting to avoid Hermione, but she could not deny the instinct. “You’re welcome. Now why don’t you try to rest?” Hermione stepped up against Ginny’s mattress and pulled the curtains closed behind her. Out of sight of their roommates, Ginny extracted Bun-bun from Harry’s jumper and pulled the plush rabbit to her chest. It smelled like Harry, warm and woodsy. With her eyes tightly closed, she could almost imagine that he was in front of her, just beyond Bun-bun, as he usually was when they slept. “He braids your hair for you, doesn’t he?” Hermione asked in a whisper. Her face still pressed into Bun-bun’s soft fur, Ginny nodded. “Would it be all right if I did that, Harry?” “Okay,” Ginny said. She did not look up as she felt Hermione move behind her and begin tugging at her hair. Hermione’s hands worked steadily and gently, but it felt completely wrong to Ginny. The tugs at her scalp were unexpected, happening in all the wrong places at all the wrong times. She was sure the braid was too thick or too tight or perhaps off-centre. “There,” Hermione said after a few minutes. “That should work.” Ginny could not see the braid as she usually did, and she felt a pang as she reached back to inspect it with her fingers. She was not truly surprised to find that it was neat, straight, and perfectly centred. She nodded. Hermione pulled back the blankets, and Ginny crawled dutifully into her bed, but everything was wrong. Harry should have held the blankets up for her to slip beneath. He should have waited for her to settle into the crook of his arm before draping the duvet over them both. She should have felt his breathing and heard his heartbeat beneath her cheek. She should have felt safe and warm and infinitely loved instead of cold and alone and so unbearably empty. She lay on her side, wrapped around Bun-bun, with an empty space on the left half of the bed. It’ll be okay, Ginny. I’ll be back… Before long, and everything will be… right again. But it’ll take weeks. Months, even. I can’t get used to this, can I? I don’t know. But I’m sure… You can survive it. You can… do anything. He sounded so much like himself in that moment that Ginny’s heart lifted even as it broke. He should have been there when he said it. She should have been able to hug him and kiss him to show him how much she appreciated his confidence. There was no longer them, however – there was only her, and she was so very weak. She began to sob again as she fought the urge to go back to the hospital wing. She wanted to make sure he was there. She wanted to see if, by some miracle, he might wake up and smile a real, moving smile for her. “It’s awful, Ginny. It’s absolutely awful,” Hermione said, rubbing her back again. Ginny had forgotten that her friend was there. She rolled onto her other side and saw Hermione sitting at her knees, tears falling silently onto her blouse. Ginny knew that she missed Harry, too, but she was controlling herself for Ginny’s benefit. Sitting up, Ginny reached out and hugged her friend again. They cried together, saying nothing, for a long while. “Try to sleep,” Hermione said at last. “Just try.” Ginny nodded and lay back down. “Goodnight, Hermione. Thanks for… for being here.” “Don’t be silly,” Hermione said, sniffling loudly. “Goodnight to both of you.” The curtains rustled, and Ginny heard Lavender say, “Is she all right?” “Not really,” Hermione replied. “How could she be?”
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