The Lewis House 49 страница

“What?” he demanded.

“I'm walking you home,” Ginny said breathlessly. She Banished her cauldron up to her room, forcing Ron to flatten himself against one side of the doorway as it sailed past. “I've finished with Remus,” Ginny continued, “and there's something I want to tell you. I've got -” she paused, and grinned. “I've got some news.”

Remus caught her eye and smiled. He could practically feel her enthusiasm, and though he was worried for her safety, he couldn't bear to hold her back any longer. He wondered briefly about his teacher's ethics, then decided not to think about it.

Ron eyed Ginny warily. “News?” he asked, looking a bit frightened. “What kind of news? It's… it's nothing to do with Harry, is it?”

“Oh, for the love of Merlin.” Ginny glanced over her shoulder, and rolled her eyes at Remus. “News about me, Ron,” she shot back. “Not some sensational story about my love child, or something.”

“Stop!” Ron protested, putting his hands over his ears. “Sick.”

Ginny nearly ran to him, and grabbed his arm. “Come on, let's go,” she said eagerly.

“Be very, very careful,” Remus called after her, as she and Ron disappeared down the corridor. “Tell Ron to contact Sirius right away if there are any problems. I won't be able to help tonight, but he'll know what to do.”

“All right,” Ginny called back. Remus heard the front door swing open.

“What problems?” Ron demanded. The door slammed.

Quiet filled the house for two luxurious seconds and Remus reveled in it. The light in the study was orange, and the moon was well on its way. It was nice to sit still in his own body and know that there would be no real problems when the other body came to claim him. It was wonderful to be - if not at peace, then as close to it as Remus imagined he could come.

There was a sudden noise of claws on hard wood floorboards, and a short, happy bark signaled to Remus that he was about to be assailed. Sure enough, a massive dog bounded into the study and jumped halfway onto Remus's desk, putting his messy paws on all of the papers, and knocking the goblet to the floor.

“Do you think you could possibly control that drooling?” Remus asked, looking from the dog's feral grin to the twin puddles that were gathering on his desktop. “Truly unattractive,” he murmured.

Sirius appeared before him at once, tall and offended. “I can't help it,” he protested, sounding hurt. “I have trouble with loose gums.”

“A sign of old age,” Remus observed dryly.

“Padfoot's getting old,” Sirius growled. “Dog years.” He pulled his wand, and cleared all evidence of Padfoot's oral incontinence from Remus's desk. “Better?” he asked, in an obnoxious voice that meant he didn't care whether or not it was better.

“Much,” replied Remus, holding in a smile. “And amazingly, I still have an appetite. I think I'd like a steak, as a matter of fact. Helps to control the cravings.”

Sirius's joking expression faded. “You took the last dose?”

“Yes.”

“And it's fine?”

“Yes.”

“And you're fine?”

“I will be, when I've had a steak.”

Sirius's pale eyes glinted. “I happen to make a damn good steak,” he said, peering out the window. “And there's just enough time for it.”

Remus left his desk. He spent the final hour before moonrise in the kitchen, eating and talking with Sirius, and feeling that his life could hardly be improved.

~*~

Thrilling with anticipation, Ginny shut the door and looked up at Ron. She had never had anything so important to reveal. Ron had; she remembered how he had come home from his first year at Hogwarts, bursting with pride and excitement over all he'd done. The only time she had told her family a secret, it had been dark and awful, and it had disappointed everyone.

Not this time.

“What problems?” Ron repeated, sounding torn between annoyance and anxiety. “He made it sound like you're going to raise the spirits of the dead. Contact Sirius if there are any problems and he'll know what to do? What's going on?”

“Well if you'd stop talking,” Ginny said, hurrying to keep up with Ron's long strides as they walked away from Lupin Lodge and down towards the Notch. “And slow down.”

Ron slowed his pace. Late afternoon shadows fell around them and a cold wind cut down the street, giving all the leaves in sight a furious ruffle and making Ginny shiver. She had forgot her cloak.

“Well?” Ron prompted, when she didn't begin.

Ginny hesitated. She had imagined, many times, telling everyone about her gift. She hadn't been able to tell anyone for herself yet - Remus had informed her that she was a Healer, and he must have spoken with Sirius. Harry had found out in the worst possible way. She wanted someone to be happy for her.

“It's about what I'm studying with Remus,” she began. “I've been… taking an extra class.”

Ron laughed. “Did Hermione trick you into it?”

“Hermione doesn't know about it. No one knows except for Remus and Sirius - and Harry.” Ginny glanced sideways at her brother to gauge his reaction. Ron looked intrigued.

“What's the mystery class?” he asked.

Ginny searched herself for a dramatic, important way to say it, but it came out very simply: “Healing.”

Ron's eyebrows shot up. “Oh - really? I didn't know you wanted to be a mediwitch, Ginny. That's cool. You could take over for Madam Pomfrey, or work at St. Mungo's - no! I know what you should do - work with Quidditch players and -”

“No, wait!” Ginny laughed. “Not medicinal magic.” She took a breath and slowed down to watch Ron's face. “Empathic magic. I'm a Healer.”

Ron's face was blank for a long moment, and then his eyes widened, his mouth gaped, and he tripped over a stone in the road. “You're joking,” he whispered, when he had regained his balance. “Not a real Healer, like - like Gunhilda of Gorsemoor?”

“Oooh, someone passed his History of Magic exams,” Ginny teased, tingling all over. Ron was impressed with her. She couldn't remember his ever having looked at her with such respect, not even during the war.

“No, be serious,” Ron demanded, coming to a full stop and turning to face her. “A Healer? But that's almost - they're so rare.” He stared at her. “The Ministry could use one now, couldn't they? There used to be some that worked for… I think the Department of Mysteries? But no one knows for sure, of course - and then -”

“And then they were killed. And now there's me.” Ginny felt, for the first time, a strange weight on her shoulders. She had rarely thought of herself as a professional Healer, active in the world. She had never imagined herself at the Ministry. The only goal in her mind, for quite some time, had been making herself strong enough for Harry.

“How do you know you are one?” Ron crossed his arms and peered into her face. “Don't you need to be - I don't know - tested?”

“No.” Another cold, brisk wind skittered down the road, scattering dead leaves and gravel, and Ginny hugged herself. “Let's keep walking,” she said, through chattering teeth.

She and Ron hurried forward. They turned onto the little path that crossed the garden of the Notch, and Ginny nearly ran to the door. Once inside, she wasted no time in lighting a fire, and then continued to explain to Ron, who stood like a statue by the mantelpiece, frowning at her.

“Remus worked it out,” she said, “after I made the Wolfsbane Potion. I'd showed other signs - I knew things I couldn’t have known. So he searched for a book on the subject, and I read it, and I just… knew.” She sat in the corner of the sofa and cuddled into the cushions, basking in the warmth of the fire. “The more I practice, the better I get.”

Ron was quiet. A clock ticked, in the little kitchen, and Hedwig hooted softly from Harry's room. Ginny made a clicking noise with her tongue, and the snowy owl flew out to perch on the arm of the sofa. She rubbed her smooth head on Ginny's shoulder.

“Good girl,” Ginny murmured, and gave Hedwig an affectionate buss on the feathers. “You miss Harry when he's gone all day, don't you.”

Hedwig hooted.

“So you're saying you're a Healer,” Ron said flatly. He was still frowning. “Then… what can you do?”

Ginny shrugged. “Loads of things. Weird things. For example -” She turned to Hedwig and smiled. “Sit still, please.” Ginny raised her hands and held them over the owl's warm, feathery body. Her eyes unfocused and she searched, with her extra sense, for any sign of distress.

But Hedwig was perfectly healthy, and Ginny had no work to do. Ron cocked his head to one side.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Nothing. Hedwig's fine, so I'll have to work on you. Come sit by me.”

Ron started. “What - me?”

“Yes, you.” She patted the cushion next to hers. “Please, Ron. I want to show you, and I could really use the practice. I never get to practice on people.”

“Oh, great. You're not going to damage me, are you?” Ron grumbled, but he had stopped frowning. He looked interested, and oddly shy. “I should just come sit over there?”

“Yes.”

He came to the sofa and sat gingerly beside Ginny. Then, seeming to remember something, he sprang up and backed away from her, wide eyed.

“What?” Ginny asked, hurt. “I'm not going to hurt you. I promise.”

“No it's not that - it's -” Ron was red. “I've read about Healers. Can't you… feel feelings? Other people's feelings?”

“Oh, that.” Ginny laughed. “Yes. Come sit down.”

“No way.” Ron walked around the sofa, still red in the face. “No offense, Gin, but I don't really need you knowing all my - personal business.”

Ginny pursed her lips. If he wasn't going to let her practice, then she was never going to get a chance to build up her strength. “Ron, I already know how you feel about Hermione,” she said slowly.

But Ron had disappeared into the kitchen. “You know, I'll bet you can practice on Hermione, when she comes home. I had a letter from her this morning - she'll be home at the Winter Solstice -”

“Ron, don't change the subject,” Ginny begged, turning around and kneeling up on the sofa, to plead into the kitchen. “There's nothing you can't tell me - I'm your sister.”

Ron kept his back to her, and dug in the cabinets. “I know, and look, I'm massively proud of you and everything, don't get me wrong -”

“Please.”

He turned around, pumpkin pasties in his hands, and met her eyes. “Ginny…”

“I'll just do a physical sweep,” Ginny promised quickly. “I won't have to touch you at all, and I won't interfere with your emotions if you don't want me to. But you have to let me practice. You don't understand what it's been like.” She took a deep breath, and decided to be truthful. “You remember the other week, when Harry and I weren't speaking, and you thought we were fighting - we weren't. Not really. It's just that when I get too near him, his presence overwhelms me and I - I pass out.”

“You pass out?” Ron repeated doubtfully.

“Yes - once, I did. We had just started kissing -” Ginny stopped. She had to smile at the slightly nauseated look on Ron's face. “All right, sorry. Let's just say that I opened up to him too much, and I wasn't strong enough to handle it. He's been through a lot.”

“Then won't you pass out when you… open up to me?” Ron asked, sounding very uncomfortable. “I mean, it's not like I haven't had my share of -”

“It's not the same,” Ginny assured him. “It's not. Harry had a horrible childhood, on top of the rest of it. Also, I feel things for Harry that I don't - well.” She giggled nervously.

Ron pulled a face. “Yeah, let's hope not.”

“So can't I just try?” Ginny pleaded. “Won't you sit by me? I have to build up my strength, and I'd so much rather have you help me than anyone else. You're my favorite brother, you know.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Flatterer,” he muttered. But he looked pleased, in spite of himself.

“No, really, you are,” Ginny pressed, sensing how close he was to giving in. “And if you won't help me, then I'll have to ask the twins.” She put out her bottom lip. “Don't make go to Fred and George. Have a little pity.”

Sighing, Ron tossed the pasties onto the counter and came back around the sofa. “You owe me,” he warned, and dropped onto the cushion beside her.

Ginny grinned, and threw her arms around him. “Oh, thank you,” she said, squeezing him tight.

“All right, all right.” Ron pulled out of her grasp. “Just - do whatever it is.”

“Okay. You just sit still and stay quiet…” Ginny breathed deeply and shut her eyes. She held up her hands.

The first thing she felt was heat. Stronger than Harry's, stronger than Remus's - on par with Sirius's, perhaps. She moved her hands slowly from side to side, dragging her palms and fingers through the air around her brother. “Your energy's huge,” she murmured, pulling her hands away to measure how far the heat radiated from him. “Wow.”

“What does that mean?” Ron demanded. “Is it bad?”

“No - it's just you.” Ginny smiled at the tension that had crept into his energy. “Relax,” she said. “I'm just going to see if you're injured anywhere.”

“Well, I think I twisted my -”

“Shh! Don't tell me. Let me work it out.”

Ron went quiet and his tension abated; Ginny opened her eyes a little and moved to sit on the little table in front of the sofa, where she could face him. She held her hands over the center of his chest, passed them across his shoulders, and felt her way down both arms, through an unbroken shield of warm, magnetizing energy. When she came to his left wrist, there was a bump in the air - hot and tightly knotted - and she shut her eyes to feel it more fully.

“You twisted your wrist,” she said, gently pushing her thumb against the knot.

“Right…” Ron sounded dazed. “Can you really tell?”

“Yes.” Happiness flooded Ginny, and she had to wait and calm down before she could continue to work on him. She brought her fingertips to either side of the knot at his wrist, and began to knead it, taking care not to rush herself. She wasn't sure of what to do, but her reading had told her to trust her instincts, and her instincts told her to massage the pain and dissolve it into air.

Several minutes later, the knot was gone. Ron's energy was once again unbroken.

“Move your wrist,” Ginny said, opening her eyes.

Ron bent his wrist back and forth, then stared at her. “It's better,” he said, sounding as though he couldn't quite believe it. “That's amazing.”

She grinned and blushed, not sure what to do with the compliment. It wasn't the way that she and Ron usually talked to each other. “Thanks. Oh - and there's a bit of a bruised patch here -” she let her hand hover just above his leg, and pointed to his knee. “But it's not in pain anymore. It's an old injury, isn't it?”

“That's exactly where Sirius broke it, third year,” Ron said, still staring at her. “Ginny… do you have any idea what this means? Do you know how - how valuable you are?”

She shrugged, delighted. “I can't do much yet,” she said, as modestly as she could.

“Do Mum and Dad know?”

“No -”

Ron's eyes flew wide. “No?” he nearly yelled. “Don't you want them to know? Dad should know!”

“Oh, don't tell them,” Ginny pleaded. “I want to tell them myself, when I'm ready.”

“Well, when's that going to be?”

“When I've practiced a bit more,” Ginny said, biting her lip. “Can I practice a bit more?” she asked, and held up her hands. Ron nodded, and Ginny happily shut her eyes and brought her palms closer to his shoulders. She swept them up the sides of his neck, and brought them to hover in front of his face.

Ron began to laugh. “What the hell are you doing?” he said, and Ginny felt the vibration of his voice against her hands.

“Checking your face,” she protested.

“My face is perfect, if you couldn't tell,” Ron joked. “Get your hands out of it.”

But Ginny's fingers were sensitive, and Ron's forehead was blistering with knots. They weren't hot - they were old and faded - but they were there. “Oh, you got hurt…” she breathed, and brought her hands higher up. The crown of his head was also riddled with knots - dark, bruised - no longer in pain - indicative of something that had happened. Recently. His temple positively throbbed.

“Well, Malfoy punched me there,” Ron said matter-of-factly. “That's probably it.”

“Yes… partly.” Worried, Ginny worked her fingertips through the throbbing energy at his temple, and brought them back through the minefield of little knots that covered his forehead and skull. “But that's not all of it. You hurt your head. Repeatedly. Someone must've hit you, or -”

Ron's energy went cold all over, and Ginny felt it against her skin. Something frightening touched her heart.

“Probably a Bludger or something,” he said tightly. “You're really good at this. That's about enough practice, don't you think?”

He was lying. His aura thrilled with fear - he was hiding something - the great warmth around him contracted, making the space around him feel empty and dead. Ginny opened her eyes and searched his. “What happened to you?” she whispered. “That's not normal -”

“Oh, come on, I've tripped and hit my head loads of times,” Ron said, and gave a false laugh. “Get your hands down.”

Ginny did not lower her hands; she felt around the sides of his head, and reached over his shoulders to test his back.

“I said, get your hands down.” Ron was not joking. His voice was hard and flat. “Now.”

“They hurt you,” Ginny heard herself say, not knowing what she was talking about at first. “When they took you. Tell me what happened.”

“Shut up.”

But she couldn't. Something dark and ugly had happened to her brother, and he had kept it tight within himself for nearly a year. “Tell me,” she repeated, bringing her hands to hover just above his heart. “I need to know.”

“You don't want to know,” Ron said quietly. “And I don’t want to talk about it.”

It was more than he had ever said to her, about his abduction, and Ginny's eyes filled with tears. Just hearing him acknowledge that it had happened made it feel real again, and immediate, and she had a strong urge to sob. Her head began to hurt. His energy, which had been simple and straightforward just a moment ago, was now deep and draining. She felt dizzy.

“You look sick,” Ron said, after a moment.

“I'm fine,” Ginny said automatically, shaking herself. If she could hear him out - if he would tell her what had happened - and if she could stay close to him while he did it… Remus would never allow her to try this, but she wasn't going to ask his permission. She needed more than practice, now. She needed to know what had happened to Ron. “Why haven't you ever told any of us about what they did?” she asked, meeting his eyes. “You didn't even tell Hermione or Harry, did you? Or Mum and Dad?”

Ron gave a quiet, bitter laugh, so unlike his usual one that Ginny felt a stab of nausea. “Tell Hermione?” he said softly. “What, after what they did to her parents? So she could imagine it in detail? I don't think so. And if you think I'd tell Mum what it's like to -” Ron stopped himself. “She'd go crazy thinking about how it was for Percy,” he finished.

“But Harry?” Ginny pressed.

“Harry thought it was his fault.” Ron sat back against the sofa cushions and leveled Ginny with his gaze. “He thought everything was always his fault. He still does. I'm not going to add to that.”

Ginny's tears spilled over, and she bent double, burying her face in her knees. She didn't want to cry - she wanted to stay strong, and to build her endurance - but it was too much. Ron had never inflicted the details of his experience on anyone; they were all buried close to his chest, and now that she had opened up to him, she could feel all of it. It pressed on her, and she ached.

Ron patted her head. “It's all right,” he muttered. “It’s over. I'm fine.”

“No, you're not,” Ginny sobbed. “I can feel it.”

“You said you weren't going to do that!” Ron protested, but he kept patting her head.

“I - can't - help it,” she managed. “I want you to - tell me - what happened.”

She felt a very soft, brotherly kiss on the top of her head, and Ron sighed. “No. It's no good to bring it all up.”

Ginny lifted her head and swiped at her eyes. “But you - have to,” she choked, trying to regulate her breathing again. “Or it'll just - stay in you. Forever.”

“There's no way around that,” Ron said, with a wry smile.

“I know,” Ginny said, squaring her shoulders and sniffling back the last of her tears. “But you can make it less horrible to remember. I can help.”

Ron put his hands on his knees and looked at the floor. For a long time, he didn't answer. And then: “Can you?” he said abruptly.

“Yes.”

“Do you know what you're doing?”

Ginny hesitated. “I'll know,” she finally said.

Ron nodded. “What do I have to do?”

“Just talk.”

He nodded again, and set his jaw. “It was Lestrange,” he said distinctly, though his voice was very far away and he kept his eyes on the floor. “She bashed me over the head. Bone Crushing Curse. Not enough to knock me out, though. They needed me awake.”

Ginny stayed very still. “They?” she asked quietly.

“Her. Her husband. Crabbe, Goyle - their dads, not Vincent and whatever.”

“Gregory,” Ginny supplied. “Where were you?”

“You know that,” Ron said sharply.

“Just tell me everything again. Start from school. How did they - take you?”

“You know that,” Ron repeated, turning angry eyes on her. “Can't I just -”

“No.” Ginny touched his shoulder, and to her surprise, his posture relaxed. “From the beginning,” she said, as gently and professionally as she could manage. Ron gave her a weary look, and returned his gaze to his feet. He propped his elbows on his knees and ran his hands through his hair, making it stick up nearly as badly as Harry's.

“Right,” he began. “Well, for starters, I was knackered. Hadn't slept in two days, what with Head Boy business, studying for the N.E.W.T.s, looking after Harry, and trying to catch time with Hermione -” he laughed “ - not like that ever happened. Anyway, it was two days before Christmas holidays, at lunch, when this little third year comes up and whispers to me that she's scared to go outside for Care of Magical Creatures, because she heard that there were creatures coming out of the trees.” Ron rubbed his eyes. “I said, creatures? What do you mean? And she said that a Hufflepuff boy in her Herbology class had told her that he'd seen hooded creatures coming out of the Whomping Willow and going back in again. Of course she didn't know about the passageway, so I told her that it was a load of rubbish, and she had nothing to fear as long as she kept her eyes open and her wand ready.” Ron sighed. “Then I took Hermione aside and told her that, at the first opportunity, we had to go out there and check that passageway all the way down to the Shrieking Shack, to make sure no one had found a way into Hogwarts again.”

“And you didn't go to Professor McGonagall,” Ginny mused.

Ron shrugged. “We never went to Dumbledore when he was alive. Why would we go to McGonagall?”

“All right. Go on.”

“I wanted to tell Harry, but Hermione wouldn't hear about it. Hermione practically had kittens when I said we should go and get him to come with us. She said we'd wait till after classes, get you to stand in for us, and duck out of school before dinner to check the tree. So we lied to you. Hermione told you we really wanted to have a walk together, and you felt sorry for us and agreed to keep an eye on things, and we left the common room.” Ron narrowed his eyes at his feet. “In the corridor, right outside the portrait hole, I said I had a bad feeling that someone was around. Hermione got out her wand and did a Tracking Charm, and you know that's just impossible in school. Too many footsteps everywhere, and we had no way of narrowing it down, so we just kept going.

“We got down about three flights of stairs when we heard shouting from right outside the Charms classroom. A Ravenclaw seventh year had a Slytherin sixth year up against the wall - it looked like they'd been dueling, although now that I look back, it seemed… staged. Hermione froze them both in about two seconds, and gave them a furious lecture, and then hauled them off to McGonagall.” Ron shook his head. “But first, she told me I wasn't to do anything without her. She told me to go upstairs and wait for her to come back.”

“But you went.” He was getting to the part of the story that no one had ever heard before. Ginny straightened her spine and tried to clear her mind of everything.

“I was worried about what that girl had said at lunch. It was dark, and it had been hours since I'd heard the rumor, and no one had made an attempt on Harry in months. It was all too dodgy. I went outside and jogged towards the tree. I heard Fang barking his head off, which only made me run faster. I got to the Willow and didn't see anyone around- I did Revealing Charms and stuff to be sure that no one was standing right beside me in an Invisibility Cloak, and then I did the stupidest thing I've ever done.” He smiled slightly. “And that's saying something. I picked up a stick, prodded the knot, and got into the tunnel. I felt so sure that I could handle…” He stopped, shook his head, and stood up.

“Where are you going?” Ginny demanded.

“To get something to drink.”

“No- sit down.” Ginny pulled her wand, concentrated hard, and circled it above the table. Instantly there appeared a glass of water.

“Hey.” Ron raised an eyebrow. “Materialization.”

“Well, I am studying for the N.E.W.T's,” Ginny reminded him, and because it had worked before, she touched his shoulder. “Please - keep going.”

Ron gave her an apprehensive glance, then sat back against the sofa cushions and turned his face away. “I don't remember what happened in the tunnel,” he said stiffly.

“None of it?”

“Someone shouting Stupefy, and when I woke up, I couldn't move. Or see.”

Ginny braced herself. “Why not?”

“Blindfolded. Strapped to a - not a chair, really. More of a throne. They'd rolled up my sleeves and it was cold on my arms, I think it was made of pewter or something. I saw it later.”

If Ron's voice had been distant before, now it was so far away that it was no longer his own voice at all. He spoke slowly and softly, as if in a dream. Ginny reached out her hands to feel the air around him. It was no longer dead and empty; the natural heat of his energy radiated around him again, but patches of it were cold and hard Ginny found one with her hands and let her intuition guide her. Carefully, she began to massage the tension only she could feel. “Who was it that Stunned you?” she prompted, trying to keep the fury out of her voice.

Дата добавления: 2015-11-04