Here We Go Again

Chapter 32: A September Day

POV: Third Person

Movement.

People were rushing in and out; from the outside halls, through the Floos, and past the entrance doors. Healers, patients, relatives, friends all added footprints that meshed with one another as they all walked the same floor tiles.

Noise.

They talked, they whispered, they breathed, they snored, they yelled, they laughed, and they cried.

Everyone moved and everyone made noise—all except for her.

She was sitting on a metallic chair with barely any life and energy. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her brown eyes were red and dry, stinging, and puffy all around as they blankly focused on the tiles beneath her feet. Her face, her beautiful features, were always twisted into a grand smirk, a kind smile, or in a scowl, but now there was nothing but devastation etched on every line.

She was no longer the same person from before. Long gone was the teenage girl from her past who was filled with courage, undefinable love, and immense strength. No, the years had gone by and taken everything that she once used to be. Now she was just the shell of her younger self...

She remembered fire burning in her eyes, flames living in her veins that boiled blood with passion and a heart that pounded away with evidence of a fervent life. She was the epitome of fight, of will, of bravery, and of justice. Her bones were made of pure emotions and her skin was made out of steel. Her soft brown orbs had the capacity of casting one look that could send anyone to the depths of hell to burn in the flames that matched the color of her hair.

She once was burning hope.

She once was Ginny Weasley, but not anymore.

Fate dealt its hand early on in regards to the youngest Weasley child. The first crucial move to set her on her destined path was to make her fall in love. And it came quickly, easily, and out of blue. It came and knocked her off balance, demanding all her attention when before she never thought about the matter.

Ginny was not the type of little girl to sit around her room playing with dolls and having tea parties in walls drenched with pink, nor was she the type of little girl that dreamt about finding Prince Charming and her happily ever after. No, Ginny hadn't the time for petty, fragile things. She'd been surrounded by boys since birth and all she wanted to do involving them was to prove to them how strong and determined she was. She forgoed dresses and explored the open fields surrounded the Burrow, letting her uncontrolled magic decide her adventures. She wrestled with her brothers, played Quidditch with them, captured dangerous animals, handled fire, and pulled off pranks with Fred and George.

Her thoughts on boys were far off from romantic, but Fate clearly had different plans for Ginny Weasley. A destined morning in Platform 9¾ came when she and her family stumbled upon a messy-haired, muggle-raised, lost, antisocial, bespectacled boy that would change absolutely everything.

After consistent attempts to stay alive and fight for what Fate had given her that September day, Ginny Weasley left with the dead at the end of the second war and morphed into Ginny Potter. And right at that moment, once she had said 'I do' and accepted everything that came and that would come being with the Chosen One is what transformed her into someone new, what made her say goodbye to the young girl with fire in her eyes.

Ginny Potter was a wife, a lover, a best friend, a sister, a daughter, an aunt, a godmother, and a mother. If she was going to survive juggling all those titles, she had to depart from the dangerous memories of the D.A. and the Order of the Phoenix and make new ones. Which is why she finally, after years of arguing and teenage tantrums, that she understood why her own mother was the worrisome woman that she was. Ginny had finally understood why with the years her mother had lost and hidden the flames that charged her heart. There was just no room to be a badass who was off fighting crime—she had to protect the ones she loved the most. She had to put her foot down and encourage responsibility and security. She had to keep everyone united, keep her family as one. Willingly, with just a tad of grief, she said goodbye to the memory of her youth because she couldn't raise a family, keep a husband, with defiance in her blood that demanded she stopped the evil in the world. She cared about people, but she needed to protect hers. And that's when she lost her strength.

She was mental, yes, that was absolutely true and would always remain so, but Ginny trusted the comfort of the new world. She allowed herself to believe that there was no fear; she relied on the harmony people preached about and took their word that there were no longer any catastrophic dangers out there that she and her family weren't capable of overcoming. Everyone had already lost so much, suffered so much, and cried so much—she believed that the world would never get any crueler than when Voldemort reigned.

But it did. The world was still plagued with evils and Ginny allowed them in.

Now she was sat on that chair waiting for her soul to return to her body. She was technically alive, her heart was beating and she was breathing, but somewhere outside St. Mungo's waiting room her entire life was fighting to stay.

Her heart broke at the thought. She waited for the moment that a Healer strode into the waiting room to inform her that the stars in her sky diminished; that everything in her world that was made out of light had gone dark and destruction was coming. She dreaded every time those doors opened for a Healer to march in to tell her that her home, her heart, her soul had gone up in flames and there was nothing but ashes on the floor.

A knot formed in her throat when she heard her name called hysterically. Ginny summoned the last bit of energy her body had to look up and spot her loved ones racing towards her in a stampede of worried, frightened, tear-stained faces.

With that same dying energy, Ginny managed to pull herself up from her chair. Through the group of familiars collecting all around her, Ginny searched for a comforting brown eyes.

"M-Mum," she whimpered, falling onto her knees when her mother wrapped her into a tight embrace.

"Ginevra, stop it right now," the woman told her daughter even through her own blinding tears. Mrs. Weasley took her hands and pushed away the curtain of hair that was hiding her daughter's face from her. "You don't give up, sweetheart. It's going to be all right. You'll see."

Ginny wanted to believe that. With all her might, Ginny wanted to believe that all of this would go away in a blink of an eye, that by tomorrow morning they all would be laughing about this like an old story, but a part of her, a part that was dark and too strong, believed otherwise. So many times this came close to becoming true, so many times she almost lost Harry, that a part of her wondered when it would finally happen so that she'd stop going mad.

"Listen, darling," Ginny heard her father's careful and tender voice, "bad news travels fast. Harry will be okay, you've got to believe that. He's pulled through so much more, this time will be just the same."

Mrs. Potter turned her face from all the surrounding eyes and sobbed into her mother's shoulder.

"Ginny," Bill called slowly from his stance next to his wife. He had an arm around Fleur's shoulder for comfort as his wife shed tears for their brother-in-law. "Ginny, what exactly—?"

"Mum! Mum!" The doors of the waiting room banged opened and the noise cut off Bill's question. The sound of galloping horses echoed around the white walls of the room and Lily Potter ran to her mother with frantic grief all over her features.

The Potters youngest stopped in front of her mother and grandmother, her brothers not far behind her to stand alongside her. James and Lily's brown eyes, that were inherited from Ginny, and Al's famous green stared at their mother and their visions begged for comfort, answers, and her warmth.

Mrs. Weasley patted her daughter's back. "Go to your children," she whispered as her aging hands once again cupped Ginny's face and gave her a look that could only be described as a transfusion of faith and strength.

With effort, Ginny got onto her feet. She couldn't look at the faces of her children, so instead she stretched her arms out and invited them in. Immediately, her three children went to embrace any part of her they could get.

"My daddy, M-Mum," Lily cried as she clutched on with vigorous need.

In that moment, Ginny felt what'd been kept from her, what she thought she lost all those years ago.

Strength. Faith. Hope.

She never lost it, did she? She had it all along. She was the strength that kept her kids together, that kept them believing in the world, and that showed them that although days could be blinded by darkness there was always a light not far behind to show them the way home. Ginny lived for her family—that was enough reason to be a fighter.

"I'm so s-sorry, Mum."

At the broken words vibrating around the huddled group of loved ones, Ginny looked up to see a blue-haired man standing far from the family as possible; alienating himself. His robes were haggard, burned, and his skin almost matched it. He was bruised and dry blood and dirt marked his face.

"I d-didn't mean to," Teddy offered with muffled sobs. "I thought Dad was protected that's why...that's why I a-abandoned my post, Mum. Dad got cursed and I-I...I-I'm sorry, Mum. I'm so sorry!"

From the throng, Emily moved forward and took her boyfriend James and Lily from their mother's side. Her fragile arms wrapped around them in a strong embrace, holding them tight and together as she murmured words of comfort to them. The two continued to cry on her. Mrs. Weasley reached for her grandson Albus and embraced him with all her might.

Once she was free, Ginny stared directly at the grey eyes of her adoptive son and unwavering determination glittered in it. "Come here," she commanded, "now."

With a movement that took days, Teddy arrived in front of Mrs. Potter with tears still falling down his cheeks. "I'm sorry," he repeated, but the sound of it died when his adoptive mother pulled him into her arms. He felt her kiss his face, his head, and squeeze him with a strength he always knew she possessed.

Wiping her tears from her own face, Hermione looked up at Ron and asked, "what happened to Draco? He was there when all of this happened, wasn't he?"

Ron put an arm around his wife's shoulder in order to (bitterly) ease her from the worry she had over their ex-enemy. "Malfoy's in the Ministry. After Harry...fell...he and I managed to bring down the rest of the revolters. Malfoy was set on making sure they went straight to Azkaban, but he has to wait for the approval of transfer from the Minister first."

Listening to what his younger brother was saying, Bill turned to him and quipped, "that's not how that usually works. Why in the hell is the Minister waiting to send them to Azkaban? You've been tracking these gits for ages now."

Ron looked terrified at Bill's statement. He glanced over to his sister and her children and felt his heart break. "According to Malfoy," he began slowly, whispering to his side of the group so Ginny and her kids couldn't hear, "Emilio De la Cruz wants to wait for proper conviction."

"What is proper conviction?" snapped Bill.

"Thirty years in Azkaban for their crimes or...or...death penalty if Harry doesn't make it," uttered Ron, turning away from Hermione's eyes as they refilled with tears. He couldn't bare to see her face and speak about the tragic end of their thirty-two year-old friendship with the Chosen One.

"Oi! Angie!" In the midst of all the whispering and crying, George was the first one to react when he spotted his wife coming in through the doors of her hospital's waiting room.

Once the others spotted her too, questions were thrown right and left at Healer Weasley that she hadn't any idea who was speaking.

Ginny looked at her sister-in-law with heavy anticipation as Fleur pried a sobbing Teddy from her arms. "Well?" she called, her palms sweaty and shaking. "Did they let you see Harry?"

"Obviously they let her! She's a bloody Healer, isn't she?" Ron hissed, now eager and nervous himself as he desperately gaped at his sister-in-law. "Spill it, Angelina."

George glared at his brother from where he stood now, next to his wife. "Don't speak to her that way," he growled, "or I'll blow your head off. Angelina didn't get to Harry first so someone else took him, you know that. She just can't go interrupting another Healer's work and expect to be allowed in with a bloody grin, can she?! She had to persuade the Head Healer for permission!"

"He's her family!" Ron retorted back loudly. "I don't give a damn if she had to jump over someone's gran!"

"Both of you shut it!" roared Bill, instantly silencing his younger brothers to cut off their petty bickering. He turned to his sister-in-law and asked her, in his best calm voice, to elaborate if she had found out anything for them.

Despite George's anger, Angelina herself was not upset over Ron's attitude. She was accustomed to deal with the fits of rage relatives of a patient went into. It came with the job. But Ron was also right: Harry Potter was her brother-in-law, he was her family, and she would find a way to get to him even if she had to trespass or hex someone.

"He was heavily cursed," Healer Weasley spoke in monotone, too afraid to let out her own emotions. "His Healer can't pin-point exactly what all the curses were. At least two of them had to be new curses, recently created by one of the revolters in that raid, because they are rather unstable. And..."

"And?" questioned Ginny, stepping closer to the Healer. "And what? What is it?"

Angelina had to put her hands inside the pockets of her robes to hide their shaking. "His Healer doesn't know if Harry's immune system is weakening as the desired effect of one of those curses or if he just—" She paused for a moment to collect herself. Never in her life did Angelina imagine that she had to be the one to tell Ginny something like this.

"Harry's been around so much dark magic, Ginny," Angelina continued, "and that has repercussions. He's overcome all of it, yes, but it leaves behind internal wounds that never properly heal. The consequences of all that exposure has weakened him. Simply put, Harry's body is exhausted to fight off any more dark magic. His heart is immensely vulnerable right now and his Healer is worried that...that the recent exposure to dark magic will eventually stop it."

Ginny frowned as she took a step back away from Angelina's direction. She refused to allow that sick sensation threatening to infest her insides and rid them of hope. "Harry will never stop fighting," she angrily informed, not to anyone in particular, but to the world itself. "He has me to live for. He still needs to watch his children grow into the adults we are raising them to be. Harry is not done. We have the rest of our lives together, do you hear me? He's not done."

George left his wife's side and went directly to his sister. He gripped her by her shoulders and pulled her in. "Harry will be fine," he assured her, "we all know that. The git still owes me for Canary Cream Pies he nicked from me to prank Malfoy. We have a Quidditch match that he's not getting out of, either. Harry and Charlie are competing for a new Seeker record, and I've got a hundred galleons on my brother-in-law."

George then turned to look at his wife. "Tell her, Ange. Tell her Harry is going to be okay."

There was always a downside to being in the medical field. Saving lives was the motivation that made Healers get out of bed in the mornings, that motivated them to get through the years of schooling and training, of working long hours and sleeping short ones, but the notion of saving lives, in time, wasn't enough. Saving lives didn't smooth over the pain of the lives that could not be saved. It didn't make a Healer forget about the days they had to crush worlds, that they had to see hearts break, see children become orphans, to see a parents lose a child, a wife become a widow, a sister lose a brother, a friend lose their best friend...Saving one heart never eased the pain when another one stopped under their care...

And now that pain was doubled. Now Angelina had to deal with facing a family with bad news and it was her own family. It wasn't a random person she saw on a hospital bed slowly fading, it was her brother-in-law. She wasn't just looking at the faces of children who were waiting for news about their father, it was her own nephews and niece.

"Nothing is working," Angelina muttered, attempting to keep herself as professional as possible. "Not the potions, incantations, or herbal remedies...If nothing makes effect in two days there's...Harry's time is running out."

The world exploded all around. The stars dropped from the sky and lost themselves in the sea, the moon shattered and fell, and the sky lost its atmosphere and all oxygen was sucked away by the massive dead of space.

Ginny's knees wobbled, but it was Lily, her precious little girl, that fell to the floor. Her cries hauntingly echoed around them, sending shivers down their spine and activating their own sobs. James cried harder into his girlfriend's neck; Teddy clutched onto his mother-in-law and muffled a scream; Hermione hid her crying behind her palms; Ron gaped; Albus released himself from his grandmother and gathered Lily into his arms and sobbed with her.

Ginny just stood there. She could sense the movement around her, she could hear the cries, the voices begging, she could see the blur of pained faces, but nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

If Harry's time was running out then hers was too. How could there be life if he was gone? There was nothing, absolutely nothing, without him.