Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe belongs to J.K. Rowling. I’m just a fan writing for her own amusement.
Chapter 3: Smash-and-Bash Meetings
I talked to absolutely no one
Couldn't keep to myself enough
And the things bottled inside had finally begun
To create so much pressure that I'd soon blow up
“Who I Am Hates Who I’ve Been”
Reliant K
Thin shafts of sunlight drifted in through curtains caught on a breeze, persistently sending shadows soaring out from under furniture. The figure in the bed, entangled in sheets, turned over to sigh and stare at the ceiling. Whether she wanted to or not, Ginny Weasley had never gotten much sleep. So, she didn’t exactly feel too surprised to be awakened by the early morning light.
Her long, red hair tumbled down her back as she stood up, looking intently past the curtains, where the clucking of chickens and bird song echoed across the garden. The sun barely rose above the trees, illuminating the sky with golden oranges and pinks mingled with soft blues and purples around its edges. Ginny smiled and wrapped her arms around herself. It was hard to believe that there was still peace somewhere, however momentary...
Ginny pulled on her dressing gown and opened her bedroom door, making her way down toward the kitchen. Ginny’s mother was already at work at the kitchen stove when she entered with the smell of eggs and bacon wafting over to her. Mrs. Weasley was frowning and ferociously stabbing her wand at the pan more than was needed.
It had been two weeks since the holidays had begun, and Ginny was glad to be at home in the Burrow with her family. However, things at the Burrow were more tense than usual with a wedding for Bill Weasley and his fiancé quickly approaching. Fleur, the bride-to-be, was as nervous as a cat about the wedding plans. After hearing Phlegm fret over the state of the garden for the seventh time, both Mrs. Weasley and Ginny herself were liable to explode. Most of Ginny’s brothers tended to avoid the mess altogether, but Ron somehow wasn’t quite as lucky, having to take the brunt of Mrs. Weasley’s constant glowering.
Even Ginny would admit that since the funeral Phlegm had improved somewhat. It wasn’t enough, however, to make her stop dreaming Bill would throw her out the door. Unfortunately, the candidate for Fleur’s replacement was no longer single. At least Tonks and Lupin could be happy together. Her family was another matter.
Even more Weasleys were expected to be coming to the Burrow along with the Delacour family. Just thinking about it gave her a headache. She doubted if her family even had the space or the money to house so many people. Then there was security for all the people at the wedding. Having such a big gathering was reckless, risking the attention of the Death Eaters or worse... She grimaced. Well, they were going to have to make it work somehow...
“Morning,” she muttered, seating herself at the table.
“Mornin’, dear,” answered Mrs. Weasley, frowning less as she sent eggs, toast, and sausage soaring on a plate to land safely in front of Ginny.
“Mum, is Dad home yet?” she asked, taking a bite of toast.
“No,” replied Mrs. Weasley angrily, “the Ministry’s keeping him on double overtime; meaning he’s working around the clock. He could scarcely handle the overtime as it is! What makes them think he can with this?” She jabbed her wand at a jug of milk and tall glass, and they imitated the plate, barely managing to clatter onto the table.
Ginny didn’t answer her mother and only stared at the meal before her. The Ministry of Magic’s workload had doubled with the death of Dumbledore. Within a few days, the attacks had tripled as the Death Eaters became bolder, moving onto more vulnerable homes and forcing people swear their allegiance to the Dark Lord. Those that gave in went on to pass supplies to You-Know-Who’s supporters, while others had even been caught trying to infiltrate the Ministry just that past week. They were gaining ground, and they knew it.
“When will Dad be home, then?” she murmured.
“I don’t know,” muttered Mrs. Weasley. Ginny nodded and finished her breakfast in silence.
Things like this were to be expected after all.
Ginny dumped her dishes in the sink and was about to sneak away when Mrs. Weasley turned on her. “Don’t even bother washing and wear old clothes today, Ginny. The gnomes are starting to think they have the run of the place. Don’t forget to wear gloves while you’re out in the garden. One tried to gnaw off my finger earlier.” Ginny nodded, groaning inwardly and silently cursing the little menaces that had the nerve to invade the garden this early in the morning.
She trudged back up the steps to her bedroom, wondering whether the constant mind-numbing spectacle of housework would ever die or, better yet, if her brothers were awake. Something like that happening unfortunately was not remotely close to possible, considering Ron could sleep through a hail storm and her oldest brothers had been out late the night before. Apparently on Order business, Ginny had heard Bill and Charlie stumble in through the door and Fleur’s ecstatic screams, overjoyed that they had come home safe and sound.
Ginny’s oldest brother had nearly been killed in an attack just a few weeks before, leaving his face ravaged. A werewolf not fully transformed had left him to die, but Madam Pomfrey had been able to nurse him back to health. Now he was back in the path of danger, working with the Order of the Phoenix much to Mrs. Weasley’s and Phlegm’s disgust. Ginny pushed those thoughts from her mind as she looked in her bedroom mirror. She twisted her hair back into a ponytail, avoiding her reflection’s eyes. What could she do about it anyway?
Absolutely nothing.
She quickly changed into a set of Muggle clothes, jeans and T-shirt. She soon found herself back downstairs. Ginny pulled on a pair of worn dragon hide gloves she found”with her mother’s insistence”and stepped out into the sunlight.
The garden, like the rest of the Burrow, was usually far from being orderly. Overgrown grass had been only centimetres away from invading the flower beds. At times it seemed twice as many weeds as plants were spilling out over the edges. Recently Mrs. Weasley had taken to wrenching the weeds free and mercilessly shaving the grass, leaving the lawn and flower beds unrecognizable. The once murky waters of the pond were now crystal clear, reflecting the gnarled, leafy branches of the trees and wispy clouds in the sky stretching overhead.
Mrs. Weasley had done her best in trying to prepare the Burrow for a wedding, and Ginny had to admit it was working. She had never seen it so perfectly clean-cut and with everything in place as she did now. Still she wasn’t even sure she wanted to see the garden like this.
Ginny ducked down under a shrub and found four pairs of beady, little eyes staring back at her. She grinned. “Hullo there,” she said in a low voice.
The garden gnomes shifted uneasily in the shade and stared at her as if they were unsure what to do. A split second later, Ginny was struggling violently with all four out from under the bush. One was swinging around haphazardly in her grasp, screaming, “Gerroff me! Gerroff me!” The others were kicking and punching at her arms. A third had managed to wriggle around until he ended upside down and purple-faced, letting Ginny know what he thought about her with his fingers.
Almost immediately Ginny swung one gnome around in the air and hurled him over the hedge into the neighbouring fields. The other three were shortly found gliding through the air, screaming at the top of their lungs with eyes popping out of their sockets. Cackling could be heard in front of the peony bushes, where other creatures resembling bald, brown potatoes with stubby legs had gathered to watch to the show.
Ginny turned around and rolled her eyes. Could they be anymore stupid? Before long, the garden was filled with cursing and angry shouts as the gnomes scrambled away, only to be colliding face first with the ground a field away.
As she worked, Ginny let her mind wander. She was having a hard time lately with keeping her voice alive and her thoughts silent. Yet no matter how hard she tried, she caught herself thinking and even worrying about what was happening outside the Burrow and…to Harry.
Ginny instinctively squelched the thought. There was no use in thinking about things like that. Laughing and smiling was what made things possible. Worrying was not acceptable. She whirled around a gnome by its legs and chucked it as hard as she could, making white light blaze in its vision. Besides Harry was probably fine. Another gnome was in her hand before she knew it and ended up smashing into the garden wall. It slid down the surface slowly and flipped over onto the ground, lying flat on its back.
She swore aloud as she marched up to the gnome and picked it up, dropping it on the other side of the hedge. Ginny felt a guilty twinge as she turned away, wishing again that her brothers were awake to help her. It wasn’t like her to act like this or for her aim to go so awry. She was going to go mad soon. She was sure of it.
Ginny ripped her gloves off and threw them onto the ground in frustration. She was still gentle in the way she handled the rest of the gnomes, but apparently she was too gentle. As soon as one sensed weakness, it dug sharp teeth into her fingers. Ginny yelped in surprise, and the gnome was catapulted into the sky, his shouts deafening in the distance. This was exactly why she needed help.
“What the””
Ginny spun around in time to see the gnome ram head first into a boy, ploughing him over.
“Are you all right?” she screamed, rushing over to him. He was sprawled across the grass, groaning with what appeared to be a black eye. The gnome was laid out nearby. Ginny cursed repeatedly under her breath. “I’m so sorry! I never meant for this to happen. I’m so sorry!”
“Don’t worry about it,” he somehow managed to say.
She reached for his hand and pulled him up, while his other hand clamped tight over his eye. As he stood, Ginny barely registered how he towered over her as she struggled with him to the back door. She continued to apologize profusely all the way to the door. Thankfully, Mrs. Weasley was all ready there, searching for the source of all the commotion.
“Ginny, what happened?” she asked.
“He was walloped by a flying gnome thanks to me,” Ginny answered.
“Well, bring him in,” Mrs. Weasley said with a sigh. “Much worse things have happened. Is everything mostly doing okay, dear?” The boy nodded dimly and grimaced.
“Yeah, I’m doing fine,” he replied. “This isn’t the first time I’ve had a black eye.”
“Well, sit down,” Mrs. Weasley directed as they entered the kitchen. Ginny helped the boy into a seat at the table as Mrs. Weasley rummaged through the cabinets for something to ease his pain.
A tall woman with blonde hair and turquoise eyes suddenly entered the room, looking around as she said, “You’ve got a wonderful home, Molly. I love what you’ve done with the place”” She suddenly halted in mid step and stared at the kitchen table, where Ginny and the boy were seated. “What happened?” She rushed over to them.
“Nothing, Mum,” muttered the boy. “Don’t worry about it. It was an accident…” The woman pried the boy’s hand away to reveal dark, swelling skin around a red eye.
“‘Nothing’?” repeated the woman. “A black eye is ‘nothing’?”
“Compared to losing an arm?” snapped the boy. “Yes!”
The woman looked intently at her son and shook her head. She turned to Ginny and asked, “Can you explain to me what happened?”
“I….accidentally sent a gnome flying into his face,” muttered Ginny, flushing and fighting the urge to hide under the table. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean for it to happen. Err…” She stopped short and nervously inspected her fingernails under the table.
“You can’t shut up for a minute about it, can you?” Ginny looked up, taken aback to see the boy, half smiling, half grimacing at her. “I already told you didn’t do anything. Don’t worry about it.”
Ginny stopped and looked at him more closely. There was something about him that was familiar. Yet no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t place it. For what she knew, she could have met him before. His hair was dark unlike his mother’s, but both his eyes would have been the same shade of turquoise if one hadn’t been bruised so roughly.
“I can take care of him, Molly,” stated the boy’s mother, watching as Mrs. Weasley rearranged her entire kitchen. “You don’t have to go through all of this.”
“Here, take this,” said Mrs. Weasley, indicating a small tube in her hand. “My sons invented it. Just apply it around his eye, and it’ll be gone in a few hours.”
“Thank you so much,” the woman answered, smiling.
“Don’t worry about it, dear,” replied Mrs. Weasley. “After all, you’re our guest.”
The boy gritted his teeth as his mother rubbed the ointment around his eye. Ginny silently watched them, still trying to place where she had seen the son before. Mrs. Weasley, in the meantime, was setting plates overloaded with food down on the table in front of the two strangers. She suddenly drew up a chair at the table to sit beside Ginny.
“I don’t know if you’ve met my youngest yet, Gemma,” remarked Mrs. Weasley, motioning to her daughter. “This is Ginny, and she’ll be sixteen this August. Ginny, this is Gemma Peterson and her son Gryffin. Gemma teaches overseas in the States.” A flash of comprehension overwhelmed Ginny as she instantly remembered meeting a dark-haired boy near Dumbledore’s tomb. Her eyes widened.
“We’ve met before,” explained Gryffin. He tossed her another painful smile.
“Well, I certainly haven’t,” replied Gemma, turning to look at Ginny more closely. “It’s nice to meet you. I would shake your hand, but my hands are sort of busy at the moment.”
Listening to them both made Ginny wonder why she hadn’t realized who Gryffin was before. Both Gemma and he had American accents with Gryffin’s vaguely stronger than his mother’s. Then there was that boy’s smile that made her want to look away for some reason that Ginny just couldn’t understand.
“Hi,” she answered, returning the woman’s smile. “I hope you like it here, and just so you know, I’m not usually on a homicidal rampage, chucking gnomes at people that pass by.”
Gemma, caught off guard, suddenly burst out laughing. “Don’t worry. I believe you.” She gave her son a stern look. “Gryffin just has a habit of walking into trouble.” Gryffin, however, remained silent in his chair as Gemma twisted the cap back onto the tube.
“What brings you here?” asked Ginny.
“I invited them,” Mrs. Weasley said shortly. “Gemma and I have business to attend to--that’s all you need to know.” Ginny rolled her eyes at the snapping edge in her mother’s voice.
“What?” she muttered. “Is Gemma going to be joining the Order?” Mrs. Weasley looked irritated, yet not with the least bit of surprise in her eyes, but Gemma was astounded. Ginny caught Gryffin letting out something that was suspiciously like a snort that no else heard.
“If you’re so clever, you should know,” chided Mrs. Weasley, grumpily. “Yes, she might be joining the Order. As I said before, that is none of your concern.”
Ginny bit down her retort and smiled cheekily at her mother, but the abrupt upheaval in her chest continued to burn beneath her skin. Mrs. Weasley had always been protective of her youngest, and Ginny had always wondered how different things would have been if she had been born a boy. Bill, Charlie, Fred, George, Ron, even stupid Percy”all had been given more scope than she had ever had.
When she was smaller, Ginny had hung on her mother’s apron strings in the garden, watching wide-eyed as her older brothers climbed up the crumbling wall. Mrs. Weasley was bent over checking her shrubs as Charlie stood on his hands and winked at her. Fred was purposely wobbling back and forth on a loose brick, grinning foolishly as George poked the wrong end of his mother’s wand at the bent branches of the old, crooked tree.
She giggled, and Mrs. Weasley immediately turned her head. All three boys were petrified as Mrs. Weasley advanced toward them with an expression that would have a blind man backing away in terror. Charlie was the first to move, landing back on his feet and wordlessly clambering down. Shaking, Fred and George followed close behind, back to the house with Mrs. Weasley bringing up the rear. As her mother marched forward, Ginny hesitated, feeling the heat rising off her in waves. The back door slammed shut, and all at once, the whole house seemed to jump a metre into the air.
Little Ginny was left standing uncertainly outside, all alone. Yet there was her mother’s wand, lying in the grass where George had dropped it. She warily approached, remembering what could happen with magic”all the amazing things she had seen her mother do. Then again, things could turn out badly. What if she left it near the big wall? Couldn’t something even worse happen? Reaching out a small hand, she grabbed the wand.
Somebody snatched the wand from her, seizing a hold on her wrist. Alarmed, Ginny looked up and saw Percy yelling at her and dragging her back into the house. She kicked, shrieked, and cried, but she was still forced inside, where she was sent to bed without supper.
Ginny had never meant to use to the wand, but she was still suspected of it, despite her bitter tears. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were convinced that she would copy every move her brothers made and were determined that she was as unlike them as possible. Soon Ginny was toddling along on top of the garden wall and effortlessly stand on her hands. She might have continued to do it if it hadn’t been for Bill begging her not to.
She bit her lip and searched for the kitchen window from her chair. The bright sunlight that streamed through seemed to be mocking her. Suddenly feeling restless, Ginny got up from her seat.
“Mum, I’m going to go finish de-gnoming the garden,” she said. “I’ll be back in soon.” She could feel her mother’s exasperated gaze on her back as she disappeared outside.
She ambled past the shrubs and sank into the shade beneath the trees. She felt stupid and helpless as she lay there, staring up into the sun-drenched leaves. Ginny was capable of doing anything her brothers could do. Her parents knew that. How many times had she proven that she could take care of herself? More importantly, would they ever trust her with something more important than household chores? She felt a sour feeling rise in her stomach. How could she ever help him if it was like this?
A shadow soon crossed her line of sight, and it took a moment for Ginny to realize that she was looking up into the face of Gryffin Peterson. He stood there silently as if waiting for her to speak.
“Hi,” she greeted him with a slow smile. “I didn’t expect you to come out here.” There was a slight pause.
“Do you need help?” asked Gryffin in a steady voice.
“With what?”
“The gnomes.”
“Oh,” she replied. She gawked at him, unsure of what to say. Finally, Ginny just shrugged her shoulders. “Why not?”
Gryffin gave her an awkward smile and answered, “Sounds good to me.”
A/N: Chapter Three is finally up! Woohoo! Thank you so much for reading so far. I'm sorry if this chapter is long and boring, but I needed to develop the characters before the real action started. I hope you like it! If you have anything to say, you're welcome to leave a review. Any advice is welcome! ;)