What, Where, When, Why…How?
Harry’s mouth fell open. Several of the Death Eaters who remained standing, were looking thoroughly confused. Ginny screwed up her face and yelled Reducto. Several more of the Death Eaters were bowled over, including the one that had been wrestling Hermione. Ron was gawping at Ginny, his hair was slightly tousled and he wore a look of complete bewilderment. Hermione was breathing heavily, her hair was matted and tangled and her lip bleeding. Harry’s breath caught in his chest as he watched, Awestruck. None of the Death Eaters were making an attempt to curse the three Teenagers, they were to bemused and shocked to make a move.
Harry lay there, silent and puzzled, watching Ginny. He could not believe what he was seeing. Was this some bizarre hallucination? He had to be dreaming. But the ground underneath him was so rough and uncomfortable and the cuts and bruises that were now searing painfully, ruled out that possibility almost immediately. Then how did Ginny get here? How had she known that they were in trouble? How had she managed to take out at least three Death Eaters with one simple spell? There were so many questions that Harry was burning to ask. Ginny was clutching her wand tightly and her hair was blowing in the light wind. Her cinnamon eyes were blazing dangerously and her expression was hard and rigid. She was completely unharmed and unmarked as she stood there, a threatening silhouette against the dark sky. Harry wriggled half heartedly in his bindings in a feeble attempt to break free, but he knew that there was really no point, they were too tight
After standing gormless for several seconds, Hermione pulled out her wand, mystified, and attempted to stun the Death Eater that had had her in a headlock. But before she had the chance, the man named Amycus Carrows lunged for her; there was a maniacal glint in his eye as he bared his yellowing teeth. He grabbed a fistful of Hermione’s cloak and withdrew his wand roughly. There was a tense moment when everyone, even time itself, seemed to freeze.
“No you don’t!” roared Ron, His eyes widening as the Death Eater jabbed Hermione in the side. Hermione squealed. She looked frightened, but disgusted and tried to pull away. Ron recovered from his stupor and caught the Death Eater by the scruff of the neck. The Death Eater started to kick and jab. His wand was emitting red sparks. Ron held him at arms length, looking sickened. A blaze of Red, sent by Ginny, grazed Ron’s ear, and then hit Carrows in the chest, stunning him. Ron dropped the lifeless Death Eater, who crumpled on the ground.
“POTTER,” roared Lucious Malfoy, untangling himself from several unconscious Death Eaters. He seemed the only one left standing as Ginny had knocked out most of the others. He towered above Harry, who was still lying on the ground, bound by the invisible ropes. Malfoy jabbed his wand angrily and Harry felt as if a white hot poker was being applied to his forehead. Malfoy sneered unpleasantly down at Harry, raising his wand, but before he could attack, he had keeled over as a jinx cast by Ron, hit him squarely in the back. It was now three against one; Ron, Ginny and Hermione all closed in, wands raised. There was a chorus of stupefy and Malfoy received three blasts to the chest. He was thrown into the air and hit a nearby wall, falling with a thud onto the cold hard pavement; a trickle of blood was oozing from beneath his white-blonde hair.
Harry felt the ropes unbind themselves and gingerly rubbed the places where they had cut into his skin. He sat up and stars erupted in front of his eyes. His head was throbbing painfully and he felt somewhat dazed as he rubbed his clouded eyes. Harry wiped his sweating brow and attempted to stem the flow of the nose bleed that he was now sporting.
He scrambled to his feet, brushing himself off and gazing around. All of the Death Eaters were out cold, lying sprawled across the gravel, there faces blank and their heads were lolling grotesquely. The night was innocently dark and silent. The stars were twinkling openly and the wind had now settled. Hermione was sobbing into Ron’s shoulder; she was shaking uncontrollably and Ron was stroking her hair and whispering soothingly in her ear, though he was as white as chalk and was shivering himself.
Harry’s eyes locked with Ginny’s. She stared at him unblinkingly and Harry found he could not look away. It was as though an invisible hand was pulling him ever further into her warm steady gaze. His former decision was forgotten, at that moment he didn’t care how dangerous their being together was, he just wanted to hold her, to feel her presence. He reached out and enveloped her in his arms. She let out a muffled sob and buried her head into his chest. Harry could feel her heart thumping and her chest heaving as he hugged her close to him.
Ginny shuddered, silent tears were rolling down her cheeks, she was shaking. Her ashen face glowed palely, as she leaned weakly against him. Her eyes held an empty, lost look. It was as though she were a small, lost child. She moaned and more silent tears shook her rigid frame.
“Shhh,” Harry whispered consolingly. She relaxed slightly under his soothing influence but continued to sob into his shoulder. “Hey, it’s all right, don’t worry, it’s all over, your safe now.”
Ginny spluttered and gave and audible sniff. Her usually flushed cheeks were now pallid and tear stained. The flaming red hair no longer attained its usual spring but hung limply by her hunched shoulders. Harry’s heart gave a painful lurch; she looked so feeble and helpless.
“Come on,” he whispered firmly, pulling away from the weeping Ginny and steering her in the direction of Ron and Hermione who were still wrapped tightly in each others arms. “We need to get back to The Burrow and warn everyone, the Ministry needs to be informed. If were lucky these lot,” he jabbed his thumb toward the crumpled band of Death Eaters, “will be caught and chucked in Azkaban, where they belong.”
Ron and Hermione broke apart as they approached. Hermione’s eyes were now red rimmed and puffy. Ron looked in a state of collapse, his was blank faced and didn’t seem to be registering anything more than the fact that he was standing in the cold.
“Let’s get out of here,” Harry repeated, casting the Death Eaters a wary look. “Come on, we need to get back, everyone’ll be worried, Ginny’s in a bit of a state and I’m sure you two are in need of a drink.”
Ron stared at him blankly, and then gave an involuntary shudder, coming back to his senses.
“Ginny,” he frowned “What in Merlin’s name are you doing here?”
Ginny hiccoughed, swaying slightly. Harry shot Ron a warning look. Ginny was in no state to be interrogated. She looked gratefully at Harry as Ron silenced himself. Harry squeezed her hand reassuringly.
“Ginny, were going to Apparate, so, you can side-along with me.” Harry stuck out his right arm pointedly and Ginny grasped it tightly. She looked ghostly in the orange glow of the street lamps and was still trembling.
Harry held up his free hand and raised three fingers.
“On one?” Ron nodded shakily and Hermione gave a jerk of her bushy head. “Three,” Harry closed his eyes. He put down the first finger, concentrating hard on The Burrow. “Two,” his second finger sank. Beside him, Ron’s face was screwed up in pained concentration; Hermione looked utterly relaxed as if this was something she did everyday, which it probably was. Ginny was looking up at him, tense and wary, her hands were clammy and clamped stiffly around Harry’s forearm. Harry smiled down at her reassuringly. “One,” he hollered, lowering his index finger with a jerk and twisting stiffly on the spot.
He had a last fleeting glimpse of the neat suburban lawns before he was swept forward into that unpleasant sensation of being compressed.
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Harry rapped hard on the old wooden door of The Burrow; Ginny’s hand was still clutched in his. She was shivering slightly in the light wind and for the first time, Harry noticed that she was wearing her pyjamas. She had obviously not had time to get dressed before she had set off for Privet Drive, how did she get there in the first place? Harry wondered, but he did not pursue Ginny, he thought it cruel to attack her about it when she was in this state.
There were hurried footsteps behind the door, a thud and then the door was flung open. Mrs Weasley was stood in the doorway, her night gown wrapped around her. Her eyes were wide and fearful and she was trembling slightly, she held the door open with a fumbling hand. Harry observed that her usually full and rosy face was pale, deep lines were now etched permanently into her features. Her bright eyes now brimmed with fear and anxiety.
“Arthur!” She gasped, clutching her chest, “Arthur she’s here, Ginny’s alright, and she’s with -” There was a scuffling from within the room behind her, Mr Weasley’s thin balding figure came skidding to a halt at her shoulder. He too, looked in a state of desperate worry. His thin, white face was tauten and stiff,
“Ginny,” he sighed, exhaling deeply. “We thought you were… we didn’t know what or where you… I…oh, come on in, you look terrible, let’s get you inside and then you can explain what’s been going on.”
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Harry sank down onto Ron’s shabby Chuddley Cannons bed spread. Ron’s room was exactly like it always had been; the orange painted walls, peeling slightly were plastered with large posters of Ron’s favourite Quidditch team; the Chuddley Cannons. Each poster was alight with movement; the players zooming around within were all wearing the same bright orange robes. There was a large empty tank which had previously held a large amount of frogspawn, but now sat empty and desolate on an old cabinet. Pigwidgion was zooming around in his minute cage in the corner; the tiny overexcited owl was twittering madly from within the bars.
Harry put his head in his hands and leant against the headboard wearily. He had just managed to escape from the clutches of Mrs Weasley. He had just had to explain to her, with the help of Ron Ginny and Hermione, the details of the night’s events, from how they had left the Dursley’s house at 10:30, to how they had managed to knock out every single Death Eater that had cornered them. At this point, Mr Weasley had jumped up and rushed off to alert other members of the Order to accompany him to Privet drive where there was likely to be a band of unconscious Death Eaters lying on the cobbles.
From what they were told, Mrs Weasley had almost immediately noticed that Ginny was absent from the household, she had been waiting at the table when they had arrived. They had spent the greater part of that hour explaining to a horrified Mrs Weasley what had happened, then had had to endure her lecture on carelessness, stupidity and the dangerousness of the situation that they had narrowly escaped from.
Ginny had kept unusually quiet through all of this. Even when Mrs Weasley had turned on her and started ranting about how worried she had been, noticing that Ginny’s hand was positioned at ‘Mortal Peril’ and constantly questioning how and why Ginny had come to be there in the first place, Ginny kept her lips determinedly shut. No matter how harsh Mrs Weasley got, she simply didn’t seem to want to converse. Though Harry too, was interested in uncovering Ginny’s mysterious appearance at Privet drive, he did not aid Mrs Weasley’s in her interrogation of Ginny. He thought it quite unkind, seeing the state that she was in.
In the end Mrs Weasley gave it up as a bad job, insisting that they were in shock, what they really needed was a good, long sleep and that they would discuss the matter further, in the morning.
Ron’s bedroom door creaked open and Hermione edged in clutching a mug of hot Cocoa. Ron and Ginny shuffled in behind her, both wearing equally exhausted looks and cradling large mugs; Ginny’s was steaming slightly and contained an odd, luminous blue liquid. Ginny placed the fluid on the cabinet and plopped down next to Harry hugging her knees to her chest. Ron carefully closed the door and sank onto the end of his bed, looking eagerly at Ginny.
“Well?” he demanded, gazing at her intently. “Go on, how come you were there at Privet Drive, eh?” Ginny scowled at his persistent manner, then rather reluctantly opened her mouth,
“Look, I don’t know!” she grumbled, “One minute I was here and the next I was just -” Hermione’s eyes narrowed slightly as she surveyed Ginny, it was as though she was x-raying her.
“Ginny,” she whispered sternly, “you and I both know that there’s more to this than you’re letting on, we need to know, then we can attempt to make some sense of this.”
Ginny faltered slightly under Hermione’s penetrating stare, but shook her head feverishly,
“No, it’s just, I can’t… I don’t know, I, oh, okay, okay I’ll tell!” She leaned heavily against the head board, sighing deeply. Harry gazed at her intently, quite apart from desperately wanting to know why she had been with them back at Privet Drive, he was seriously considering whether his decision about there break up at Dumbledore’s funeral, had been the correct one. No he told himself firmly, it was definitely the right thing to do. He did not take his eyes off her, though he edged away slightly noticing how very close they were; this caused Ginny to frown deeply. Even now, as he sat there telling himself persistently that he was definitely going the right way about this, a large part of him was squirming uncomfortably.
“Well,” Ginny started, breaking away from his gaze, looking hurt and bewildered. “I was in my room, when it happened. Obviously in bed -” she gestured to her pyjamas, “and I don’t know how but, well, I suddenly sat up and just knew that you three were in some sort of trouble -”
“Was it a dream?” Hermione interrupted, “did you see us and all the Death Eaters?”
“Well, no I -”
“Or was it a vision or -”
“No! Give me chance to answer Hermione!” Ginny grumbled, “Anyway, like I was saying, I don’t think it was a dream. I wasn’t asleep; I didn’t see any of you lot either, and that rules out the possibility of a vision too; I would have seen you and I didn’t,” she shot Hermione, who showed every intention of interrupting, a warning look. “I don’t know what it was really, gut feeling I suppose. So I just came downstairs and I don’t know why, my feet just, sort of carried me and I looked at the clock and Ron’s hand was pointing to ‘Mortal Peril’. That’s when I knew I had to come, and that’s when I went out side and, well, I think I Apparated,” She shrugged unconcernedly, but Hermione’s mouth was hanging open.
“Ginny, do you realise how dangerous that could have been? You could have majorly splinched yourself or something! And quite apart from that, you don’t even know how too Apparate!” Ginny shrugged again,
“Look Hermione, there’s no point in having a go at me; I’m as much in the dark about this one as you are. Anyway that’s not really what’s bothering me; it’s how I knew you were in trouble in the first place.” She sank further onto the mattress, twirling a stray hair around her finger.
“Yes, that is odd,” Hermione pondered, yawning slightly. “You know, I think I’m going to bed, maybe things will be clearer after a good, long rest, or even better, it will all have been a dream.” She stood up to leave rather suddenly, gesturing Ginny to follow her as they were supposed to be sleeping in Ginny’s room. Harry had a shrewd idea that there was something they were not telling.
Ginny, who looked worn out and weakened from the nights events, nodded wearily and leant over to give Harry a quick kiss on the cheek, Harry realised what was happening slightly too late and he pulled away only just quick enough, so that Ginny merely bumped him on the cheek; she stopped dead. “We can’t,” he mouthed, awkwardly avoiding her eyes, which were full of hurt and bewilderment and were slowly welling up with tears. She retreated and hiccoughed hysterically. Luckily, neither Ron nor Hermione seemed to notice this. Ginny hoisted herself off of the bed and brushed past Harry, rather harder than necessary, causing him to collide painfully with the headboard. Hermione bade them good night; Ginny scooped up her potion, shot Harry a cold look and followed her out of the room.
Harry sank dolefully into the lumpy mattress, staring at Ginny’s retreating back. He desperately wanted to be told what to do, what to think. In fact, he would rather not think or feel at all. The situation was spiralling out of control and he was so desperately unsure now, that the deadness of his whole attitude was like a great black, rain cloud, preventing him from seeing any kind of light at the end of the tunnel.
Ron was staring at the door, just as confused as Harry about Hermione’s abrupt and rather pointed departure. After several silent minutes he unglued his eyes from the open door with a frustrated whisper of ‘Girls’ and moving to the top end of his bed. He pulled the covers up to his chin and motioned Harry to move.
He slid silently onto his own camp bed and buried himself within the tangle of covers, thinking, love must be worth it if you have to go through all this heart ache beforehand.