The Three Brothers: The Cure

Fizzled Out

27th December 1992

Ginny rinsed the plate in her hand before putting it up on the rack to dry. Picking up the next one, she began to scrub it mechanically.

Of all the chores, she always preferred to do the dishes above anything else. In an odd way, it was almost soothing—the repetitive nature of the task kept her mind occupied, yet leaving it free enough to wander off wildly.

Ever since her parents had learned about the diary, Ginny had found herself suffocating in her mother's concerns. Their weekly meetings in Headmaster Dumbledore's office were usually filled with stern interrogations about her activities during the week. Ginny was glad that her dad was also present during these meetings; She wasn't sure whether her mother believed that she was a victim or thought of her as the culprit. To be honest, Ginny wasn't sure either.

Either way, Ginny found herself resenting her first year at Hogwarts. Bill and Charlie and all her brothers had always droned on about the magical experience that was their first year at Hogwarts, and thus she had boarded the Hogwarts Express with the same expectations. And nearly three months later, she had been dreading the Christmas break and her return to the Burrow.

But now, almost a week in, Ginny found her break to be much more cheerful than she had expected it to be the day she arrived from the Express. Of course, staying back at Hogwarts would've been better—maybe she would even have had some opportunities to make some friends. Amongst all his machinations, Tom had managed to ensure that she made no new connections at Hogwarts—he must have been threatened by her friendship with Mark on the Express. Well, he was right to be threatened in the end, wasn't he? It was what had helped Ginny escape his clutches.

As she picked up the next dish, Ginny's mind wandered to the wonderful Christmas they had had last year when they visited Charlie in Romania. The snow-covered countryside had been something straight out of a fairy tale. And the dragons—they were just so beautiful. Something had awakened inside Ginny that day, on seeing the majestic dragons full of fierce strength and fiery warmth. It spoke to her, deep inside her heart—spoke to her by letting out a huge burst of flames into the air and spreading its gigantic wings far wide.

As she watched the water now slide off the plate in her hand, Ginny realised that Tom had managed to snuff out some of that flame in her. Not all—Ginny wouldn't give him the satisfaction of that. But some? Yes. He had shaken her confidence away. She—who always believed herself to be much more mature than her age—had been reminded of the fact that she was nothing more than a kid. A stupid kid who put her trust in the wrong person.

She wished she could talk to Bill. As much as Ginny loved her dad, there were some things you couldn't tell a parent—especially if there was a remote chance of her mother finding out. Ginny considered writing it down on a letter to Bill, but she couldn't. The moment her quill touched the parchment, it was like Tom all over again. There was no way she could pen her thoughts on paper or parchment again. At least not for a while.

-----------------------------------------

30th December 1992

Sitting cross-legged on the cold bathroom floor, Harry silently observed as Hermione leaned over the bubbling cauldron with a stirring spoon in her hand. So far, everything was going according to plan. Harry watched as Ron drummed his fingers on the tiled floor.

"What's next?" he asked, his impatience spilling over.

"Fluxweed," answered Hermione, not bothering to look up from the cauldron. "Is it chopped?"

"Yes," replied Harry, passing her the board on which he had prepared the ingredients. She took it absently before her eyes flickered over the cut-up magical herb. Harry panicked a little as a shocked expression came onto her face. He hadn't messed up, had he?