Abracadabra by DrTaylor
Chapter Notes: The showdown between Harry and Ginny.
Author's Note:I have decided that I cannot wait for J. K. Rowling to finish her book so I have decided to hijack her characters and (purely for my own entertainment) make up my own version of how the events should unfold.
The Burrow was completely decked out for the upcoming wedding. Harry felt like he had walked into a gauze factory. The couch and all the chairs in the living room were covered in bows and hangings and other girly things that Harry didn’t really care about. It seemed like about twelve Molly Weasleys were running around shouting orders at whoever happened to be standing nearby. The (freshly de-gnomed) garden was filled with chairs and the kitchen was full of food with preservation charms put on it.
Fleur was also in her element. The house bent to the bride-to-be’s whims, apparently simply because she was the one getting married. She was constantly running between getting fitted for her dress, opening gifts, reviewing decisions Molly had made about decorations or food, and receiving firecalls responding to the invitations that had been sent out.
The men and Ginny mostly tried to stay out of Molly and Fleur’s ways. Mr. Weasley told Harry and Ron that nothing they did would be judged competent by his wife, and she would just end up doing it herself anyway, so they might as well lower her stress by not making her yell at them. Charlie was trying to plan a bachelor party for his brother without the twins’ help (much to their annoyance) and was therefore “busy” enough to satisfy his mother.
The wedding would be in two days in the back garden. Harry and Ron spent much of the first day in Ron’s room, avoiding everyone, until it was time for the bachelor party. They set off for the local pub, Harry wondering vaguely if it would be like the bachelor parties you heard about in the Muggle world or if it would be some unique wizard tradition.
The party took place in a Muggle pub, so it couldn’t be too obvious that they were using magic. There was drinking (Harry was glad Hermione had not been allowed to come along), stories that seemed to make Bill blush more and more furiously every time they were told, and a dancing girl that seemed to dye Ron’s ears permanently red.
The next morning, they all got up bright and early. Ron had to be fitted for his groomsman’s robes, and Harry and Hermione couldn’t sleep through all the yelling and running around. They went outside (avoiding the chairs that had been set up) and watched the commotion from inside the Burrow as Fred and George apparated around the house, transfiguring everything that Mrs. Weasley had decided was essential to the wedding into Muggle artifacts of dubious importance to any festive occasion. Hermione seemed antsy.
“I’m sorry if I was out of line the other night, Harry,” she told him. “I just think that you and Ginny should be together. I know you love her, and I think she loves you. Why won’t you just let it be?”
“Fine,” Harry told her. “I’ll tell Ginny how I feel about her if you tell Ron how you feel about him.” He felt some vindictive pleasure about the blush that was creeping up Hermione’s cheeks at this statement. “Not as easy as it looks, is it?”
“I just don’t understand why you can’t just apologize and move on. You should have some happiness, Harry.”
“Remember what I said, Hermione? What if I don’t come back? What if you don’t come back? Or Ron? I can stand the idea of me dying. I’ve been living with that for years. I can even stand the idea of the people who have been with me through it all dying, because I know that you’d never let me go alone and it’s your choice. But Ginny…I couldn’t take that. If she feels the way I do, she won’t have a choice. Voldemort wouldn’t even have to try to kill me if she died “ there wouldn’t be anything left for him to kill. I need her alive.”
“I know this is like beating a dead horse, Harry, but she’s hurting. You should at least tell her all of this.”
“She doesn’t need that burden.”
“You never told her about the prophecy, did you?”
Harry was now feeling genuinely insulted. “Of course not.” His voice took a distinctly sarcastic turn. “I can just see that now: ‘By the way, Ginny, even though we just got together and I mistakenly ignored your existence for years, you should know that I’m fated to kill the most evil wizard in the world before he does me in, hope that doesn’t make you have second thoughts about this.’”
“I swear, Harry, you’re worse than Ron is! She knows something’s up, it’s obvious. She’s aware the prophecy exists, remember? Just tell her, you’ll both feel better and I can stop hounding you about it.” Hermione stomped off toward the burrow, which was nearly shaking with the sound of Mrs. Weasley’s yelling as she berated the twins for turning Fleur’s tiara into a rubber duck.
Harry didn’t know what to do about Ginny, but Hermione gave him the rest of the day to think about it. Privately, Harry thought Hermione was starting to act a little oddly, but he pushed the thought aside. Hermione was Hermione, and she was always right. When the rare occasion occurred when she wasn’t right, it only occurred because she was missing a key piece of evidence that she could never have obtained on her own that made her not right. This meant, since Ginny confided in her, and she was therefore not missing any key pieces of evidence, and Hermione was always right, that Harry needed to have a conversation with Ginny.
He didn’t know how he was going to do that; however, with Ginny now ignoring him (although, to be fair, he knew that she was justified since he ignored her first). With all the activity that had been going on in the house, no one had really noticed that they weren’t speaking, and Harry was not planning to stay at the Burrow much past the wedding. Still, he privately admitted that he was not ready to just let Ginny go, and if it meant that he would have to change his plans a little bit to get her to listen to him, he would do it.
Surprisingly, his opportunity presented itself that night.
Harry was unable to sleep. He had found it harder and harder of late; his mind was too full of things clamoring for his attention. He remembered before Dumbledore had died, in his fourth year, never having felt this way before, being unable to conceive of it when Dumbledore had talked about it. He knew what it felt like now.
He was standing at Ron’s window, looking out into the garden, when he saw a figure leave through the back door and head for the broom shed across the yard. The figure was wearing a cloak, and he couldn’t tell who it was, but after a moment, he realized exactly who would be going for a nighttime flight: the only Weasley who had ever felt the need to sneak onto a broom, Ginny.
He crept downstairs, being careful not to disturb anyone, and followed her outside. He walked toward the shed, and stopped at the door. It was closed, but he could hear her moving around inside. He paused for a moment, and then knocked.
She opened the door, and looked at him appraisingly. For a moment, neither spoke, and then:
“So, you decided I exist, did you?”
Harry thought that this was not going at all well. “Yeah, well, you see, I always knew you existed. If you hadn’t been there, I would have been able to look in your direction.”
She scowled. “So you just came out here to be a jerk, is that it?”
Harry sighed. He felt an inclination to thump his head against the wall, and instantly regretted what he had said. “No! No, I came out here to tell you something.”
“What would you possibly have to tell me, Harry? There’s nothing else you can do to me.” She pushed past him and began to walk away, but Harry followed.
“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…and either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives…the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…” Ginny stopped walking as he quoted the prophecy. She stood still, her back to him. Harry could only take it as a good sign. “I wanted to have something normal. Something Voldemort could never touch. But it didn’t work out that way. Dumbledore is dead, and now I have to end this war before anyone else I care about gets hurt. I have things to do, Ginny. I can’t just up and kill him; I have to make him mortal again first. It’s going to take time, and when I’m done, he might kill me. You have to know that.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she whispered.
“I wanted to be happy with you. I didn’t want you to have to deal with that. You deserve better than to live wondering if this is the day I die at the hands of Voldemort, Ginny.”
“But you told me anyway.” Ginny turned to face him.
“Hermione said that you have the right to choose if you want anything to do with me. She’s right. You should have all the facts I can give you.”
“Will you take me with you?” Ginny asked.
This was the question Harry had most feared. Luckily, during his day of thinking, he had come up with an answer. “Sure, once you’re of age, of course I will. But we’re going to be spending some of our time at Hogwarts, and you can help us then, if we need you.”
“But not all the time.” She sounded angry.
“Ginny, I know I will need you. But I need you to wait. I want you to be happy for a while. Dumbledore gave me a great gift last year. He gave me the year off. I was in lessons with him, I knew about the prophecy, and I had things to worry about, of course, but I got to play Quidditch, and be with you, and deal with Ron and Hermione’s problems “ it was almost like being back in third year, before that Triwizard Tournament incident and everything went to hell. It was a good year. Things were happening, there was plenty going on, but Dumbledore managed to let me know enough that I wasn’t constantly worrying about it. I can’t get out of my mission anymore. Dumbledore took it for me, as far as he was able to, but now that’s over. He’s the one who said to tell Ron and Hermione, they know all about it and they can’t let it go now any more than I can. But you don’t have that burden, and I won’t tell you until the time when I need you.”
“Why did you break up with me, if you’re not leaving and you’re not going on this mission alone?”
“Because I want you safe. I was scared you could be targeted if we were dating. I still am. But I realized something today.”
“And that is?” She asked coolly. Harry couldn’t tell how she felt by her voice.
“I kissed you in front of a whole crowd of people in the common room. We were a hot gossip topic for weeks, and Malfoy must have heard about us. Rodmilla Vane probably told everyone you told her I have a Hungarian Horntail tattooed on my chest, and Voldemort must know that his diary kidnapped you by now. He already knows about us, whatever we do.” Harry sank against the broom shed. “God, Ginny, I’m so sorry.”
She sat down next to him. “For what?”
“I might have gotten you killed by going out with you. I should have been more careful, I should have started a row with you and told you I hate you. Anything to keep him from finding out…” Harry couldn’t finish the thought.
“Finding out what? Harry, for crying out loud, the suspense is killing me!”
“Finding out the truth.”
“Which is?”
Harry was fighting a huge internal war with himself. He wanted to tell her, but he knew that if he did she would never let him hold anything in. If he told her what he had been dying to tell her, he would never be able to keep her away from him or his mission “ not that he really wanted to, but he had a duty to keep her safe, didn’t he?
The beast in his chest stirred at the thought of saying what was on the tip of his tongue. He felt his control slipping. Of course she should know. No one was around to hear. It could be a secret. And Voldemort already knew he had dated her. Harry’s fear of the consequences lessened.
“I love you,” he told her.
She looked at him so intensely he thought she might be able to see all the way into his mind. “You do?” she asked, “I didn’t know that. I love you too.”
Harry smiled his first true smile since the death of Dumbledore. “Good.” He sighed. Just for a moment, his burden had been lifted, and now it crashed down upon him again, everything he had to do. “Ginny, when this is over, I promise it’ll be different if you still want me. But for right now, can we just try to concentrate on staying alive and finishing the job? I can’t be distracted. This war has to end.”
She leaned into him and he put an arm around her. “What are you working on right now?”
Harry kissed the top of her head, relishing in the smell of her hair. “We have a few things. Mostly, we need to know the identity of a certain wizard with the initials R.A.B.”
Ginny looked up at him. “Why do you need to know that?”
“It’s a complex story, and it’s one of those things I don’t want to tell you yet. R.A.B. was a Death Eater, he or she stole something from Voldemort, and was probably caught by Voldemort and punished at some point. I don’t know when or where. It could have been during the First War.”
“Harry, I think you’re looking too hard,” said Ginny. “The answer’s kind of obvious.”
“Who is it?” Harry asked in confusion. How did Ginny know the answer to this puzzle?
“There was a Death Eater with the initials R.A.B, which you know of, who did something to anger Voldemort seventeen years ago,” said Ginny. “Regulus A. Black.”