A cold wind blew through the streets of England, past the group of muggle boys who were staring with wide eyes at the fiery redhead who had walked past them moments ago. Her hair which had grown long, well past her trim waist - pin straight and thick - billowed behind her as if a beautiful red cape. She slipped into a bathroom and stepped into the first stall, climbing into the toilet and flushing herself down the drain. She arrived in the Ministry of Magic’s Atrium by Floo and greeted her dearest friend Hermione Granger, who was waiting for the next elevator, with a hug.
“I haven’t seen you in almost a week, how are you doing, Mione.”
“I’ve had better weeks, but we both agreed this was what was best, we’ve known for years, just didn’t want to admit it.”
“I think you’ll be just fine, we’re all still family, you haven’t really lost anything.” Ginny squeezed her friend’s hand as they climbed into the elevator. A few other Ministry workers climbed in after them, hitting different levels for their desired departments. Ginny clicked the Level 9 button and Hermione clicked the Level 4 button.
Ginny stepped off the elevator and into a dark corridor. One would think a young girl like herself wouldn’t be likely to work in such a dark and dreary place, but Ginny wasn’t afraid of anything anymore. She was only 11 when Tom Riddle had taken control of her body and made her do dreadful things, 13 when she saw her first death, 16 when she helped fight in the war alongside her friends and family; Ginny was likely the toughest Weasley alive today. That was because her brother Fred threw himself in front of the Killing Curse to save his twin, he was the toughest Weasley who ever lived.
She hadn’t seen George in a few years. It broke her heart that he was hurting so badly, subsequently drowning his frustration and depression in copious amounts of fire whiskey. She routinely wished she could have her brother back, the unbroken, quirky, prankster. Hell, she wished for a lot of things, none of which would ever happen. She wished for Harry, the only man she ever really loved, to find a way to overcome the darkness of the war and make peace with it all. He had become a very spiteful and angry Auror, one who acted as if the mere presence of others bothered him. He was basically a shut-in, he went to work and went home to The House of Black. He had cut out everyone from his life including his friends and family; the Weasleys.
She sat down at her desk to find a letter from Professor Trelawney who was now an expert seer for the Ministry. She had sent Ginny a list of the Prophecy orbs that would come to her desk that day, which arrived the moment she finished reading the letter.
Wearing very specially crafted gloves, Ginny removed the orbs from their crate, marked their seer, person whom the prophecy entailed and dates upon special disappearing parchment, and used a charm to lift them high onto the shelving above for organizational purposes. She was curious why the Ministry hadn’t developed a better location or system to keep the prophecies after they were all destroyed shortly before the war began.
She was about ten orbs in when she found herself writing her brother’s name, George Weasley. She stopped and looked at the orb and the parchment on which she was writing. She then cast a spell to project the prophecy in front of her so she might see what it was. As the prophecy began, Hermione appeared in her office and saw the prophecy and all its horror play out before them.
“War has ended but evil remains. The end is near. One has the power to right the wrongs that have come to be and stop the dark power from rising again. He Who Shall Not Be Named is dead but unless the new chosen one answers fate; his offspring is here to stay….”
Ginny dropped her wand and stumbled back into the desk behind her, fear and shock painted her face. She looked at Hermione who had tears in her eyes, she was obviously just as scared as Ginny.
“Who…” Hermione’s voice broke. She couldn’t finish her words, but Ginny knew the question she couldn’t ask.
“It’s George...we’re going to need the gang back together, Hermione.”
“Let’s go get Harry.”
Ginny and Hermione walked cautiously through the hall that leads to Harry’s office. They weren’t quite sure what to expect going to Harry like this,. The last they had seen him he was quite horrible to lay eyes on. He refused to shave, looked as if he hardly slept and needed a shower. The ghosts of all he’d lost haunted his once wide, innocent green eyes.
“GET OUT!!!” They heard his voice screaming from the next doorway, and a young intern was seen running from the room in tears.
Ginny and Hermione looked at each other with cautious, worried expressions. This wouldn’t be an easy feat. But if anyone could get through to Harry it was the two women who loved him most. They heard glass breaking and a growl of anger. They turned into the room to see him with his back to the door, nursing his fist which had just smashed a hole into the hanging mirror, now in small and large shards littering the floor dangerously.
“Harry! That’s no way to treat a young girl.” Hermione scolded him.
He turned a deadly glare on to Hermione and then Ginny, their presence unwanted and opinions unnecessary for he cared not what they thought of him. Ginny flinched taken aback from the state of him. He was physically a mess, hair and beard overgrown, a long scar on his cheek, no doubt from hunting down a wanted witch or wizard. Though his appearance made him look unruly and scary it was his eyes Ginny was most aware of, and how emotionally broken he appeared to her.
She remembers the months that turned into a year after the war; of her trying to get Harry to talk to her, trying to help him. She remembered the breakdown he had when he attacked Ron who had simply been trying to get through to him asking him to get help for his depression, and when she found Harry at a local pub with another woman hanging off him. He had been inebriated, completely off his rocker and she was prepared to forgive him but he pulled away after that, shutting himself away in The House of Black and absorbing himself in work. That had been seven years ago. Anytime any of them had tried to reach out to him since, try to help him or just try to be his friend he had refused them, and changed all the passwords locking them out of his house and his life for the unseeable future.
“Harry, we need your help,” Ginny said, but before she could go on, Harry interrupted her.
“I’m of no use to you lot these days. I suggest you go to Ron or Neville. Anyone else.”
“No...we need you… Harry do you know where Ginny works these days?” Hermione decided to take it slowly, doing her utmost not to scare him off.
“Not that I care, but somewhere in the building I’m sure,” Harry was busying himself with the paperwork which was flung carelessly across his desk.
“Department of Prophecies, actually and she’s really doing a great job at it!”
“What’s your damn point?”
Ginny narrowed her eyes in anger and walked right up to his desk, “You listen here you short fool!” She pointed her long fingernail at his face almost touching his nose “you are not the only person hurting, not the only person who was changed by the war. We all gave you your damn space, let you wallow in self-pity but enough is enough!”
“You couldn’t understand,”
“We lost friends, we lost family, and we all lost you. How could we not understand.” Tears filled Ginny’s eyes for the first time in years. She blinked them away and her expression lightened. “You’re not supposed to be here alone, you weren’t supposed to hide from us, we all needed you just as much as you needed us. Let us help you. Stop pushing us away, then you can help us, because, Harry, we need your help.”
Harry looked into Ginny’s eyes searching for her hatred of him, but there was none there. “Everyone in my life leaves me, they all die, I can’t lose anyone else.”
Hermione circled the desk and began working on his bloodied hand; shards of glass were still embedded in it, blood dripping on the floor.
“What about us, Hermione, Ron, my parents, me? We all had to lose you. We can forgive you for that, just come back to us.”
“Gin…” Harry glanced hastily towards a bookcase in the corner where a piece of paper, a decanter half emptied of whiskey and a muggle weapon sat. Ginny went to the objects and read the letter, looking up at Harry in shock.
“You...Harry, please tell me you wouldn’t have actually done this?”
Ginny showed the letter to Hermione, who had finished tightening a cloth over Harry’s wound. They all sat in shocked silence while the two women processed this information and then threw their arms around Harry. Hermione muttered words like idiot and daft fool, while Ginny had no clue what she could say except knew she had to hold on to him so he would realize he had things in his life worth holding on for. She saw tears flowing down his cheeks as his hand reached for the girls entwined fingers, and knew that they had finally gotten through to him and apparently just in time.