“Do you want to stay with her tonight?”
“I’m not going until she wakes up.”
“She could be in this state for days, maybe even weeks. You’ve got to get some sleep.”
“I’ll sleep here. You can go if you want.”
“You know I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”
A pause.
“Will you stay?”
“Of course.”
She opened her eyes and saw a blurry image of two shadows sitting beside her.
“You’re awake!” exclaimed Hermione, leaning forwards to hug Ginny as she sat up.
As wide grin stretched across a tired-looking Ron’s face.
“I told you she’d be alright, didn’t I, Hermione?” he said excitedly.
“W “ what happened?” stuttered Ginny weakly, finding that her voice was hardly there.
“Well, to be honest,” said Hermione, her face dropping, “We’re not completely sure. We were hoping that you would remember enough to tell us.”
Ginny raced her brains, but her mind was blank, with no recollection of why she was lying in a Hospital Wing bed. Giving up, and hoping to change the subject, she turned to a lighter topic.
“Where’s Harry?”
Ron and Hermione looked at each other anxiously, then Hermione reached out and took Ginny’s hand.
“Er, Ginny, the thing is “ “ she started carefully “ “ that we don’t know the answer to that question either.”
Ginny’s other hand clenched around a fistful of bed sheets.
“After Bellatrix followed you up the marble staircase the other night, Ron and I were swept up in a rather fast-paced duel and couldn’t go after you. When I saw you falling, through the entrance doors, I tried to slow you down as much as possible to lessen the impact. Ron went to the top of the tower to help Harry while I ran outside to you, but when he got there, it was deserted.”
Images of the previous night began to flash through Ginny’s mind; the Dementors, the Death Eaters, Voldemort, then falling, falling for what must have been forever… She lurched involuntarily as the feeling came back to her, then started to scramble out of bed.
“Hey!” said Ron. “What are you doing?”
“I’ve got to find him,” muttered Ginny distractedly, pushing her bedcovers aside and standing up.
Her legs gave way and she collapsed into a heap on the floor.
“You’re not going anywhere,” said Hermione, taking her hand and pulling her back onto the bed. “Not until you’re better.”
“I’m fine!” replied Ginny, trying for a second time to get up, but being pushed back down again. “LEAVE ME ALONE!” she screamed. “I’ve got to go and find him! He could be in trouble!”
“You have no idea where he is!” said Ron, holding her down. “Trust me, Gin; if we knew where he was we’d have found him by now!”
“Ginny, there are a whole load of people out there looking for him,” added Hermione. “The best thing for you to do is to stay here and get some rest.”
Ginny couldn’t stand being told what to do by that annoyingly calm and reasonable voice, not when Harry was missing, maybe even… no, he wasn’t, he couldn’t be. He was a good fighter; he had done it before and he could do it again. She shot a reproachful look towards Hermione and pushed Ron’s hands away from her shoulders.
“Whatever,” she mumbled, settling down in her bed. “Blimey, I’m knackered,” she said, after an awkward silence.
“You should sleep,” said Hermione knowingly.
“Fine, bye then,” grumbled Ginny.
Ron and Hermione left the Hospital Wing, and Ginny checked that Madam Pomfrey was still in her office. Seeing that she was, Ginny put both hands on her bedside table and hauled herself up, so that she stood with all her weight was supported on it.
“Now all I need is a handy pair of crutches,” she said to herself.
She glanced around, and her gaze fell on a boy in bed on the other side of the room. He was fast asleep, and by his bed was an old wooden crutch. Ginny smiled and took one hand off the table. Her legs shook convulsively, and she willed them not to give way as she took a few wobbly steps forward to the boy’s bed frame. When she reached it, she was so worn out, that she had to sit down by his feet.
Ginny scolded herself for being so weak, then began to reach towards the crutch which was propped up by the window. Unfortunately, it was just out of her reach, and she slid right off the bed and crumpled on the floor once more. She let out a cry of frustration, and started to pummel the ground with her fists. Harry had been alright after falling from his broomstick “ why was her body so unwilling to do what she wanted?
As she thought of Harry, her head throbbed unbearably and she clutched it with her hands. How could they have no idea where he was? He was still alive; she knew he was.
“Pull yourself together!” she imagined her mother saying to her.
“Good thing she can’t see me now,” thought Ginny.
She stretched her arm out and took a swipe at the crutch, and it clattered to the ground. She flinched and looked up to check that no one had woken up, but every child was still out cold; no one had even batted an eyelid at the sudden noise. Using the crutch to pull herself up, Ginny eventually got back onto her feet, and, slowly but surely, began to hobble her way through the school.
Although it was dusk and most people had retired to their common rooms, the hallways seemed unusually quiet and rather lonely. Ginny’s footsteps echoed around the sad stone walls, and she started to shiver against her will. If only Harry were here, then everything would be alright, but he wasn’t so she would have to carry on and find him. Her limbs twinged painfully and she winced, then, as she stumbled across the grounds, she had a sudden brainwave: the broom cupboard. She reached the Quidditch changing rooms and tried the door; locked.
“Alohomora,” she croaked.
She smiled to herself and went in.
Seven sets of red and gold robes hung from pegs around the walls, and Ginny’s gaze lingered pensively on the ones with ‘Captain’ written across the back. She shuddered, then opened the cupboard where the school brooms were kept. Shoddy old things, but they would fly, and that was all that mattered. She grabbed the nearest one and mounted it, taking off through the doorway and out into the humid twilight, leaving the borrowed crutch on the changing room floor.
The higher she flew, the more stars appeared out of the deep blue sky. How dare they look so dazzling and bright at such a dark time? She soared over the goalposts with a rush of summer air, then stopped, as an insurmountable quantity of pain bolted through her body. It felt as thought the blood inside her very veins was boiling her alive, and her muscles were being pounded with red-hot mallets. She could hear screaming, although it was possible to tell where her screams ended and the others began.
Ginny felt herself plummeting to the ground once again, but she really didn’t care any more. So what if she never walked, or breathed, or lived again, if it ended all this pain? Maybe Harry would die too, and they could spend all eternity together…
When hope was high and life worth living.
I dreamed that love would never die.
I dreamed that life would be forgiving.*
As she hit the solid earth, the pain stopped…
The sound of scuttling brought him round. Hundreds of tiny claws scurrying about on the cold stone floor. Rats. Some the size of small cats. A particularly large one wandered across his face, and he batted it off with a lazy hand. He opened his eyes and sat up properly, peering into the darkness, but seeing nothing as usual. How long had it been? Hours? Days? A week? It was impossible to say. He stretched, and his hands brushed the walls on his left and his right. They were going to leave him here, dying, in two cubic metres of icy, unlit space. That is not what you might call ‘dying with dignity’.
There was a scraping sound from somewhere, and he curled up into the tightest ball that he could manage. The pain started, as he had expected it to. As always, he willed it to stop, thinking only one thing “ he had to survive, for Ginny…
“Ginny? Ginny?”
Her eyes snapped open.
“Bloody hell, Gin. What are you trying to do to me?”
Ron was sitting in the same chair by her hospital bed, and morning sunlight was streaming in through the windows behind him. Ginny tried to sit up, but her body ached now more than ever. It suddenly occurred to her why she was here and she groaned inwardly.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, without meaning it.
“Yeah, you should be,” said Ron. “Nearly gave me a bloody heart attack when we got back here to find you gone. Do you realise what was running through my mind at that point?”
Ginny didn’t answer.
“I thought you’d been taken, Ginny!” he said, his voice rising. “Taken by those bloody Death Eaters, just like Harry “ “
He stopped at the pained look on Ginny’s face.
“Sorry, I “ I just don’t want to lose my best friend and my little sister in the same week.”
“So, he’s still… missing?” she asked, dreading the answer.
Ron nodded.
“Great,” said Ginny.
The Hospital Wing doors burst open suddenly, and Hermione ran clumsily towards them, a newspaper clutched in her white-knuckled fist.
“Ron!” she yelled, her voice choked and her face drained. “The Prophet “ says Harry “ Voldemort “ “
“Hermione, calm down!” said Ron, getting her a chair. “What’s happened?”
Hermione shoved the paper into his hand, and the colour leaked from his face as he read.
“Hey, what is it?” asked Ginny. “Have they found him? Is he alright?”
“Er, Ginny “ “ muttered Ron.
“Give it here,” she snapped, snatching the newspaper from him.
‘THE PRICE TO PAY FOR FREEDOM,’ read the headline. ‘The Ministry of Magic is still on high alert after last week’s attack on Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, in which several students were killed.’
“People were killed?” yelled Ginny. “You never told me that!”
“You never gave us much chance,” mumbled Hermione.
‘One student, a Mr Harry Potter “ the remarkable Boy-Who-Lived “ was declared missing, thought to have been taken by the Death Eaters. This morning, the Ministry was sent a demand: either we hand the Ministry over to the Dark Side in return for the hostage, or we never see Harry Potter again…’
Ginny’s whole body seemed to fail. A life in darkness with Harry, or a free world without him? She had a feeling she knew which they would choose…
And dreams were made and used and wasted.
There was no ransom to be paid,
No song unsung no wine untasted.*
“Ginny, Dumbledore wants to see us in his office right away,” said Hermione’s head, peering around the Hospital Wing doors.
It was a little later that same day, and Ginny had spent the morning drifting in and out of consciousness, her head spinning from the mind numbing pain and the pain in her mind. Ron lifted her into his chair, and she charmed it to act as a wheelchair.
A few minutes later they arrived outside Dumbledore’s office. Ginny could hear voices coming from inside, and when Ron opened the door, they found several familiar faces looking back at them.
“Ginny, darling,” said Mrs Weasley, running over to her daughter and embracing her lovingly.
“Mum,” said Ginny, “how come you’re here?”
“We needed to sort a few things out,” answered Mrs Weasley.
Remus Lupin, Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt were also there, speaking with Dumbledore, and all looking rather solemn. Mrs Weasley greeted Ron and Hermione similarly, and they all sat down.
“So, why are we here?” asked Ron. “Is it about Harry?”
Ginny flinched and saw Hermione’s eyes dart towards hers, then flicker back.
“Yes,” said Dumbledore simply.
“And?” asked Hermione.
Praying that it would be good news, Ginny shut her eyes tight.
“There’s no easy way to say this,” said Lupin quietly.
“Just say it then,” muttered Ginny, her eyes still closed.
“The thing is,” said Mrs Weasley, “that the Ministry is never going to give in the Dark Side, no matter what ransom is proposed. In which case, Harry “ “
Her voice wobbled and she stopped. Ginny felt her eyes grow hot with tears. They snapped open.
“So that’s it, is it?” she whispered. “You’re going to give up? Just like that?”
“We’re not giving up, Ginny,” said Lupin. “There’s nothing we can do.”
“Nothing you can do? Nothing you can do?” Ginny sat up and stared around at them all reproachfully. “Of course there are things that you can do! You could think about Harry for a start! Stuck Merlin-knows-where with Death Eaters guarding him day in, day out, probably without food or water, but thinking all the while that it will be okay because we’re going to get him out of there, and now you’ve decided that it’s too much trouble? That’s what you call NOT GIVING UP?”
She stood up, and suddenly found that she could walk, or run, or do anything that she desired in order to find Harry.
“Ginny, come on. Just sit down “ “
She shook Hermione off and marched over to the door.
“If that’s the best you can so, then you’re a pretty lousy headmaster,” she said, addressing Dumbledore through narrowed eyes.
With their voices soft as thunder.
As they tear your hope apart,
As they turn your dream to shame.*
He rolled onto his back, trying to ignore the persistent headache that was banging away inside his brain. Would this ever end? He felt like giving up all hope that anyone would ever save him from this living-hell, but he knew that it would be unrealistic. Dumbledore would save the day, and if he didn’t, Ginny would make him. Harry was depending on her. That was if she was well enough after falling all that way, or even alive…
No, it did not help to think that way at a point like this. He had to find some way to tell Ginny that he was still alive. He remembered how their minds had connected just before she fell, maybe he could do the same now.
He thought with all his might, of Ginny, and where he was, and how much he missed her, and loved her…
I can’t live,
I can’t give anymore.*
She jumped and looked around. Having no idea how she had got there, she realised that she was lying on the floor by the moving staircase up to Dumbledore’s office. What had that dream been about? It had been dark and freezing cold, and there had been someone sitting by her. Ginny leapt up off the ground and sprinted up the staircase, bursting in through the oak door at the top. The same people as before were there, but Ron and Hermione were now standing with their backs to Ginny.
“We’ll go and talk to her,” said Ron, turning to leave. “Ginny!”
She didn’t understand. Apparently, only moments had passed since she had been up here with them before.
“I “ I saw him,” she stuttered.
“What?”
“Harry, I saw him,” she told them “Just now.”
“Gin, you’re not making any sense,” said Ron. “Where did you see him?”
“It was pitch black “ freezing “ and he was there with me, telling me he missed me, and that “ and that…”
She broke off and the whole room stared at her. Most looked puzzled, but Dumbledore seemed undaunted by her strange proclamation.
“Where is he?” he asked softly.
“I don’t know,” she answered. “But he’s lonely and hopeless and he wants to come home.”
Dumbledore nodded.
“We’ll see.”
A/N: That was the penultimate chapter guys. One left! Man I'm gonna miss it... Please review with any comments - I always reply.
Disclaimer: Sections in this chapter in *stars* were from "I dreamed a dream" from Les Miserables, written by Alain Boublil and Claude-Michel Schönberg. Also "I can't live", originally written by William Peter Ham and Tom Evans and performed by Shirley Bassey. I didn't write these songs - I am merely using them in my story (which uses characters and ideas from JKRowling). And that's that.