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Author: Kathryn Story: Lost Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-DH Status: Completed Reviews: 25 Words: 61,881
Disclaimer: All the characters you recognise belong to JK Rowling and I'm just borrowing them. The others and the plot are mine for my sins. The day of the press conference had been, to say the least, frantic. Countless people had a stressed aura hovering over them. But the day had brought an excited and hopeful air to life at the camp, lifting even the most pessimistic of people. It had definitely proved a break from the norm and the mundane of the refugee camp. Yet, all that had long since died away. As the days passed into weeks after the initial euphoria, life had gone back to normal. Aside from the occasional odd reminder, it was almost has if nothing had happened. The days were still long; there were few success stories amongst the masses of people gathered in the camp. While corruption, particularly over the need for food, was still rife. Jack still hadn't got the opportunity to meet Ginny Weasley, despite the fact that this was her fifth week at the camp and he was quite disappointed. After seeing her and hearing her passionate words, he had made it his mission to meet her. He could not help but feel captivated by her sad brown eyes; there seemed so much more inside her. He could not remember ever feeling so drawn to another person in his life. According to Frankie, however, Coughlan organized her schedule in such a way that he could exploit the teenager to his best advantage. This was something that had not surprised anyone. Photographs and film clips were taken of her work and the camp to show off to the wizarding world. The camp leader managed his staff well, achieving the most he could out of them and his limited resources, sometimes even at the risk of his volunteers' health. When Ginny Weasley wasn't working, it appeared that she had isolated herself from the others. Often going for long walks out of the camp, it wasn't too hard to guess where she was going. Less than a mile's walk was the point at which the final confrontation had taken place and according to press reports, where she also had been found injured. It was easy to tell even from the long distance that she was still hurting and struggling with all the burdens that had been placed upon her. It was a rare treat to see her smile; instead, a look of grim determination was etched upon her face as she worked. This had made it much harder for him to approach her. He had no idea what he could say to her if they ever met. She had lost so much and was still battling on. In the first few days, he had hoped to be assigned to some job with her, so that he would have something to talk about to break the ice. However Coughlan had decided, in his wisdom, to keep his team the same, placing the very photogenic Jerome Campbell as her partner. The slimy former Slytherin would give the right impression to the media as he helped her with her jobs. "It's all about giving the right image to the right people, Jack." He knew that Liam Coughlan was no fool and had the best intentions at the heart of his decisions. However, he couldn't help but doubt the reasoning behind placing Ginny Weasley with a man who had already shown that he was willing to use any situation to his advantage. Campbell was surely going to take advantage of her presence so that he could further his own career. Letting out a large sigh, he jumped off his bed. It may be his day off but there was no point contemplating the issue any further. He filled the old kettle as he turned the radio on. The vocal stylings of Celestina Warbeck exploded out of the speakers. Although she was not exactly his favourite style of singer (in fact, far from it) her wailing reminded him of what must have been happier times as a warm sensation filled his insides. Settling himself at the old table and chair in the corner of his tent with his cup of tea, his eyes fell on the Daily Prophet. Once again, Ginny Weasley's face was smiling up at him as she helped a small boy into the first aid tent. Scowling, he picked up the copy of the wizarding newspaper to see what the trashy tabloid journalist had written this time. GINEVRA WEASLEY: THE TRUTH BEHIND THE LIES Ginevra Weasley, aged 18, daughter of senior Ministry of Magic employee Arthur Weasley, and former girlfriend of The-Boy-Who-Defeated-The-Dark-Lord, is mentally disturbed and a potential danger to both herself and others, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Alarming evidence has been submitted regarding Ginevra Weasley's, also known as Ginny to close family and friends, troubled visions and mental capabilities, casting doubt upon her important position as a volunteer at the Wizarding Red Cross. A great deal of leeway has always been given to Miss Weasley, despite a series of serious questions that have been raised over her character. In the April of her sixth year at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, four months before her seventeenth birthday, she illegally left the school. The Ministry of Magic ignored this, choosing not to prosecute her. At the age of sixteen, Ginny Weasley flouted Wizarding laws, Apparated without a licence, and performed a series of highly dangerous under-age magic. Despite breaking these laws, laws that have protected the welfare of our society for centuries, Miss Weasley was welcomed back to Hogwarts for her seventh year, even though she failed to complete her first year of NEWT studies. Not only did the Hogwarts Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, bend the rules to let Miss Weasley return without consequence, but she also appointed the mentally fragile girl as Head Girl, a prominent position for any student at Hogwarts, despite her failure to be made a prefect earlier in her education. "Everyone was surprised when Weasley got the Head Girl badge," reveals James Harper, former Hogwarts student, now working at the Ministry of Magic. "It made a complete mockery of the whole system. She has a violent temper, jinxing those who cross her path. In our fifth year, during a Quidditch match, she deliberately flew into another student in the crowd with the intention of injuring him, for no apparent reason. But we came to expect very little from the girl who was taken into the Chamber of Secrets during her first year at Hogwarts. "It was a relief when she left the school, but I was not the only person who was apprehensive to hear that she was returning. "Naturally, after the war had finished and she had been discharged from St. Mungo's, we were curious to see what she was like. After all, she had spent four months dabbling in Dark Magic. I, along with many other people, was not surprised to see that she had gone completely insane. She once hexed me (that led to a three-week stay in the hospital wing) for just mentioning Harry Potter, and to my knowledge, never received any sort of punishment for her act. "Ginny Weasley belongs in a locked ward, and I can only fear for those in that refugee camp." Top experts from St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries have always raised questions about Miss Weasley's stability. As revealed previously in the Daily Prophet, many talented Healers never had wanted to release Miss Weasley back into society in the first place. There had been great debates among many of the staff regarding whether or not Ginevra Weasley should be moved to a secure ward. However, these discussions were overridden by top employees at the Ministry of Magic, much to the disbelief of many Healers. "The impact of that blast was frightening," one specialist from St Mungo's hospital revealed. "Many minds were scrambled that night. Several physiological tests were done on everyone who was present that night in Little Hangleton. "Miss Weasley performed very poorly on those tests, due to her exposure to Dark Magic for a sustainable period of time. I was not alone in recommending that she be moved into the Janus Thickey ward, a long-term residential ward for those who have suffered from severe spell damage. However, these calls were rejected by her family as they discharged her, prematurely in my opinion, from the hospital. "I would question the wisdom of the people who thought that Miss Weasley should have such a prominent and important position in wizarding society, despite the queries about her health." The specialist's worst fears have, indeed, been confirmed. The Daily Prophet has unearthed worrying facts about Ginevra Weasley; facts which have been carefully concealed from the public by Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts and Liam Coughlan, leader of the Wizarding Red Cross Camp as well as some Healers from St. Mungo's. "Weasley has strange, mad dreams," one Red Cross volunteer claimed. "She tosses and turns in her bunk at night, calling out Harry Potter's name. It's kinda frightening actually. One minute, she's reasonably normal and the next, she is someone who needs serious help." "And it's not just during the night. I've enjoyed performing paired duties but one day as I was working with her, she changed. One minute, she was laughing and joking and the next, she went rigid, before her body started shaking. And there was a scared look in her eyes. As I said, it was frightening." Liam Coughlan should surely reconsider whether such a girl should be allowed to work at a Wizarding Red Cross camp. Some fear that Weasley may crack under the pressure of a demanding role and desert the camp, leaving those who need support more vulnerable than before. An unexplainable and unexpected anger fumed inside his body towards the wizarding paper. Sparks shot out of his wand as he tore the page from the front of the Daily Prophet. Enough was enough. Didn't the girl deserve a break after everything she had been through? Instead, people were commenting and criticising her every move. After all, everyone had odd nightmares. He knew he did. Placing his wand to the edge of the newspaper, he sent sparks of fire, setting the newspaper alight and letting it fall into a pile of ashes on the table. That was the only thing these articles were any good for; cindering. He could not help but feel furious with not only the wizarding newspaper, but also at the sneak in the camp who had given away stories about her. From what he had seen of Ginny Weasley (granted that it was not much), she had been brilliant at her job. She had devoted herself to those who had needed her help and was far from someone who was having problems with her state of mind. But then again, he hardly knew the talented woman well enough to give a fair judgement. He had thought that they were safe within the camp. This was a protected zone to help people recover from the dreadful effects of the war. Yet, how could that be the case when people who were supposed to be trustworthy and supportive were leaking rubbish to the press? Frowning, he got to his feet. It could only be one of five people who had written this. And while he was positive that it would not be his friend, he had to find out. He had to make sure. Storming through the tents, he made his way through the well-taken path to Frankie's tent. Ignoring anyone who came in his way, he saw several raised eyebrows and heard quite a few angry catcalls as he left them in his wake. He didn't have time for any rubbish now. The only thing he wanted at the moment was reassurance from the woman he had depended on so much that she was not involved in any of this. "Hello?" he called out, as he reached the door of the tent, pushing it open. "Oh, it's you." Jerome's voice floated through the tent, emerging from the shadows, where the trunks were kept. "Frankie's not here." "I didn't think she was on duty today." "She's not," Jerome frowned, making his handsome face look ugly. "She should be back soon." "Mind if I wait?" he asked, his voice tense. He had very little time for the former Slytherin student. From what he had learnt about both Jerome and his Hogwarts' house, he didn't like or want to be a part of it. The slimy git deserved the reputation that he had earned amongst his colleagues. Everyone in the camp knew that the only person Jerome Campbell was interested in was himself. "Not at all," Jerome replied through gritted teeth. "Mind if I go? I've got things to do and important people to see." "Be my guest." His eyes followed the Red Cross golden boy out of the tent. There wasn't a single likeable quality in the man. As soon as Jerome left, his eyes scanned the tent, looking for any signs of the person who had been involved in the press leak. Natural curiosity drew him over to the open trunks; in particular, the open one next to Frankie's. Moving close enough so he could get a better look inside it, he saw a pile of photographs lying on the top. A glimpse of bright red caught his eyes and he felt instantly connected to them. Almost as if they were taken of childhood friends that he had long since forgotten. He stood at the top of a hill after Disapparating from the small graveyard. His sense of longing and misery grew as he watched the scene in front of his eyes unfold. His eyes were fixed upon a teenage girl, who was resting under a large oak tree at the bottom of the hill in Ottery St. Catchpole. Why was it that anyone that he loved was always taken away from him? And why was it that just looking at her right now made him question his decision to leave her? A new sense of resolve filled his body as she looked up from the magazine and placed it in her back pocket next to her wand. He knew that if he ever changed his decision, it would not just be his parents' graves that he would be visiting. He couldn't bear to lose another person he loved, and he would not be able to live with himself if Voldemort got her as well. He watched as another slightly taller and stocker red haired figure helped pull her up from under the tree. She immediately stood on her tiptoes and threw her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. Slowly they broke apart and her laughter echoed up the hill as she playfully hit him on his arm. Jealousy filled him, as a small growling sound came from his stomach. He wished he was in her arms and not her older brother. It didn't matter to him that they were just brother and sister, sharing sibling love in that embrace. This was a wedding, and weddings were supposed to be filled with love. Yet, here he was being deprived of the thing that he truly wanted; the person whom he loved. He was going to make that evil son of a bitch pay for ruining thousands of lives and putting happiness on hold. He smiled despite himself, as he imagined the evil dictator falling and finding himself in her arms. He had to believe that they would get through this. Hopefully, it would only be a matter of time before they were back together. Yet, in order for that to come true, he had to protect her first. He needed to keep her out of the fight and away from him. After seeing her for the first time since the conversation by the lake, he was suddenly aware of how difficult that was going to be. He heard a small popping noise behind him, breaking him out of his thoughts. He turned to see a tall teenage boy with flaming red hair, similar to the girl at the bottom of the hill. He glanced at his best friend before turning back to watch his friend's sister in the village before him. "Hi Ron," he said automatically, his eyes following his former girlfriend. "Hey mate," Ron replied, turning his attention to see what his oldest friend was looking at. Silence filled the air for a couple of minutes as the two boys watched the two redheaded figures below. Slowly they turned to leave, and her vibrant red hair danced behind her, as he stood enthralled by her movements, wanting, to run after her. "Are you okay, mate?" Ron broke through his thoughts and desires once again. "Yeah," he muttered. "I know it's hard," his friend told him in an understanding tone, placing a hand on his shoulder, "but you're doing the right thing, Harry. She's much better off out of this war." "I know," Harry replied with a small sigh. He would give anything to have her back in his life, even if it was for one day more. "It's just going to be hard without her." "No kidding. Remember, I grew up with her." He let out a small laugh. "She's quite a forceful presence." He returned his friend's smile. "I guess I'll just have to be more forceful." He turned away from the hill and looked over Ron's shoulder, expecting to see another person. "Where's Hermione?" "Gone straight to the house," he explained, his eyes following the dirt track that led to the misshaped wizarding home. "So are you ready for a wedding?" "As ready as I'll ever be," he said, as he walked down the hill. "What are you doing here?" Frankie's voice cut through his thoughts and back to present day reality. He stared at her for a few seconds before speaking. It was the first time he had not been happy to see her face. Instead of rushing through his words, he tried to retrieve his memory. He longed to walk down the hill and see the girl up close and look into the face of the woman who had meant so much to him in his past life. She was the person that he had been yearning to see. He had to forcibly fight his natural instincts to run over to her. It was almost as if seeing her would trigger everything. He had no doubt that she was the missing piece in his jigsaw puzzle; that seeing her would bring his old life back to him and complete the puzzle once and for all. "Jack?" Frankie asked in an uncertain tone, clearly worried for his sanity. "Are you okay?" Slowly he opened his eyes and looked at her. Glancing at her brown eyes for a second, he bit his lip. Why did he feel something jerk in his stomach as he stared into her eyes? "I think I remembered something," he told her slowly, digesting the words as he spoke and trying to make sense of them. His eyes left her face as he looked at the old battered trunk that had triggered his memory. There was nothing remarkable about it, yet it seemed to hold more clues than the mountains of paperwork he had searched through. "And I'm pretty sure I'm Harry, not Jack." Frankie looked at him, an amazed look on her face almost as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing and he understood exactly where she was coming from. After months of fruitless searching, he had suddenly been flooded with images of his old life. It had all happened within seconds of looking at the open trunk. It was almost as if there was something in there desperate to get out and unlock his memory. As if reading his mind, she glanced at the trunk before sitting down at the table, slightly uncertain of her feet. "What exactly are you saying?" her voice quivered, as she looked back at him and then at the trunk. "That I remembered something." A smile was forming on his lips. "Something important," he told her, gesturing with his hand to the open trunk. "Who's is this?" "I'm not sure what you're getting at Jack- I mean, Harry." She was clearly at a loss, not following what he was saying. "I think you better tell me what you saw." Harry made his way back to the table. He took her hand as he sat opposite it her and gave it a small squeeze. "Okay," he spoke softly. Over the next half hour, he proceeded to tell her all the details of his day. Every detail could be important, and Frankie was always so good at picking clues apart. When he got to his memory, he desperately tried not to miss any details, right down to the fact that Ron had blue eyes. As he spoke of the hug he had witnessed, he felt a twinge in his heart, and a growling sensation inside him, a sense of loneliness filling his body. A realisation hit him; he had to find her again. She made his life complete more than it had ever been. She was not just special but extraordinary, and he needed her in his life, just like she needed him in hers. Frankie listened quietly without any interruptions. Her face held a look of concentration as she bit her bottom lip. After he had stopped speaking, a deafening silence filled the tent, as she appeared to be processing her thoughts. It seemed like hours before either one of them spoke until Frankie pulled her hand out of his. Slowly she reached over towards him and tipped his chin up. Her soft fingers caressed his scars as she examined his face. A smile briefly graced her lips, and a look of triumph and understanding filled her eyes. "I've been so stupid," she muttered under her breath. "Why didn't I see this before? It all makes sense." "What is it?" he asked impatiently. "How have you been stupid? What should you have seen before? What's going on?" "Shh," she said softly, speaking in barely a whisper as she raised her hand into the air. He watched as she made a zigzag shape with her finger in mid air before she got up on her feet. He caught a look of shock on her face for the briefest second before she turned away from him. Something just wasn't right. Quickly he got to his feet, almost knocking over the table as he moved. His hand fell on her shoulder, turning her around to face him. Her normally glowing face was pale but the look of shock he had just witnessed was rapidly fading from her eyes. She cast her eyes downwards and bit her lip as if she was preparing to tell him something but couldn't quite bring herself to say the words. This was so infuriating. She had obviously worked something out, but for one reason of another, she was staying quiet. And at the moment, he didn't care what that reason was, he needed to know what was going on. She held the key to his old life, and he yearned to unlock his mysterious past. He grabbed her arm with one hand and tipped her face up with the other. "What do you know?" Frankie glanced into his face again and then turned her head to look at the open trunk, before finally turning back to him. "Don't mention this memory to anyone else yet." "Why not?" He had no reason to tell anyone what he had seen. Yet there was desperation in her voice that he had never heard before, and he needed to understand why it was there. What was so different about this memory from the others which she had had no problems letting him share with other people in the past? "Because this needs to be approached in the right way. Otherwise, a lot of people are going to get hurt," placing a soft kiss on his cheek, before turning to leave. She gave his hand a small squeeze as she turned away. "I'm sorry, Jack. Sorry, I mean Harry, but I need to go." He watched stunned for a few seconds, as she sprinted out of the tent. As her brown hair flew behind her, he came back to reality. He made his way quickly to the edge of the tent and looked for her but she had already disappeared. "FRANKIE?"
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