(Book 7 FanFiction) Harry Potter: The Last Horcrux

Chapter 12: Repercussions

           

Ginny opened her eyes, steadied herself and stared at the gloomy outline of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. She had just Apparated onto a small grassy patch of land shadowed by a large tree a short way from the house, and hoped she wouldn't get a reprimand from the Ministry about underage magic since she was in the company of several of-age wizards.

The sun had set long ago, and the street was quiet and dark, not even a Muggle vehicle disturbing the stillness. She could see dim candlelight burning in several of the windows of headquarters and was relieved that it was still occupied. Harry slumped against her, finally losing his long battle to stay conscious. She struggled to let him down gently and ended up pinned beneath him. Merlin, for a thin bloke he was heavy. She shuddered at the stark purple bruises covering his pale face.

Ron sat on the ground next to Harry, cradling Hermione in his lap. He was listless and barely had the strength to speak.

"Sorry, Ginny," he said, gasping. "I tried to fire sparks at the door, but I missed."

"It's okay. Everything's going to be fine, Ron. How's Hermione?" Ginny asked. The older girl was frighteningly still, and Ginny couldn't bear to look at the awful wounds on her head.

"She won't wake up, Ginny," Ron said, sounding like the frightened little boy that Fred and George used to tease with spiders.

"She will," Ginny said with a confidence she didn't have. She suddenly didn't feel very grown up, at all. "This isn't finished yet, and Hermione is way too tenacious to give up in the middle of a project.

Stay with them a minute; I'll be right back."

She gently untangled herself from Harry's limbs, wincing at the raw slashes across his chest. Her hands were slick with blood from gripping him so tightly when they Apparated.

He'd been magnificent against the dragon. Ginny had been awed watching him, despite her terror. After the dragon had first whipped him with its tail, she'd begun trying to conjure a broom to help him. Conjuring items was a sixth-year spell, and she'd never attempted it. All she had to go on was the memory of Harry conjuring his own broom. It had taken her several attempts to get it right, and she knew her own panic and frustration hadn't helped. Once she'd finally had the broom, something in the magic of the place wouldn't allow her to leave the stands to help him.

Still, despite knowing all he'd done and how much he'd been through in that arena, she couldn't help the slight twinge of annoyance over being the only one conscious and unhurt and able to deal with the wrath that awaited her on the other side of the door. She knew she was in for a barrage of questions, and she wished she didn't have to face it alone.

It might be childish, but that's how she felt. She'd let the others recover, but once they were well again, she had every intention of pointing out that despite all their protests about her being underage, she was the last one standing. Steeling her resolve with a grim smile, Ginny climbed the steps of number twelve.

She tested the handle of the door and found it unlocked. Her heart gave a slight twinge knowing that her mum would have left it that way in case they returned. Biting her lip, she pushed open the door and stepped inside.

I have to be strong.

Directly inside the entrance hall, Bill, Remus Lupin and Alastor Moody were arguing heatedly, but Ginny was too tired to pay attention to their words. None of them noticed her straightaway. Remus looked up first and caught her standing uncertainly in the doorway.

"Ginny," he said, startled.

Bill and Moody's heads whipped around, but otherwise they were all frozen.