A/N: Can you believe it? We've updated! It's taken us about a month but this was one of the hardest chapters to write. Add in a bout of writers block and AS Levels and it took much longer than expected to write.
Unfortunately there is no Draco or Blaise in this chapter. But they are coming up and both get their own parts.
This has not been beta-read because we were taking too long. So any mistakes are all mine and mayachild's fault.
"
The sound of the quill snapping reverberated around the now silent lobby as everyone who hadn't fled to their destinations when confronted with the receptionist's wrath turned stunned eyes onto Ginny, who responded by trying to look as small as humanly possible.
The receptionist, meanwhile, appeared to freeze, her smile caught in a rictus of what looked like a desperate attempt to maintain composure.
She opened her mouth and shut it again, finally managing to speak.
"Well, that's …. I mean…. Hold on."
She turned away and hurried into a small windowed office behind her that Ginny couldn't quite recall being there before. The last Ginny saw of the secretary was her picking up a large green telephone before she closed the grey blinds as she dialled.
Almost immediately the covertly whispered conversations started up around her. Ginny swallowed nervously and quickly pretended to fix her gaze on the strange things swimming in the tank. What were they again? Sea Monkeys or something, though goodness knew what they were. The one floating closest to her grinned manically, showing a set of razor sharp teeth that glinted in the neon light. Strange things really. But then again this whole day had been far from the usual.
And yet she wondered if she'd ever experienced the usual, or anything like it. From the few memories she had of her family - or what she'd thought to be her family - there was very little to suggest it. Much of it was pretty randomly scattered in her subconscious; vague snapshots of rooms and faces she didn't recognise, a long hall of banners, a warm smile that crinkled at the edges, the hysterical chuckles of boys and men she didn't know, a yellow alarm clock that yelled greetings in the morning, all mixed up and melted together with no connections or associations. All snapshots without words or sounds without images, like watching TV without sound.
Unless you counted that one memory that still lingered, more than an image, more than a sound. Connected and clear. A sallow faced boy who wandered in the dark, his red eyes burning dully, and the rasping swishing of a serpent on its belly...
A hand fell on her shoulder.
She swivelled to face the woman standing behind her. Tall and slender, she was dressed in an immaculately cut suit, with dark auburn hair in a severely short style. Behind her stood a sombre young man in his late twenties, his face pale and impassive. When she spoke, it was in a voice as cool as an iceberg.
"Good morning, Miss Weasley. We had not been expecting you so soon."
"
"Oh for heaven's sake!" exclaimed Amos Furrows as he tripped over the waste paper basket for the second time that morning.
"Can you chuck that file over here or something?"
He appealed to his secretary, ignoring the ridiculousness of his situation. A paunchy balding man chasing a squawking Dictaphone around the small office that represented the entire department of the Improper Use of Magic. Accounts would no doubt piss themselves laughing. Amos couldn't care less.
Alice, the secretary in question, (a curly-headed blond with a penchant for amulets) looked up from her desk with a teasing grin. "The green one?"
"What does the colour matter?" he replied breathlessly, ducking his head beneath a cabinet under which the tiny Scragglebeak, bane of the office worker, had just hidden.
"Just try and bring it down with something. I've got to send a report to human resources by twelve and then I'm going to see Claire at Muggle Relations."
"Not again," sighed Alice, exasperated, ignoring his plight. "I thought we'd already been through this: you get six months community service for improper use of domestic objects but only if in the presence of muggles. Why can't they get that into their heads?"
"Well this is Muggle Relations we're talking about," commented the other woman in the office. "Heads spinning counter clockwise and all that."
"Look, I know how fascinating interdepartmental politics is but would you mind helping me for a minute?"
The two transferred their attention back to him.
"Why didn't you say so?" said Alice, who promptly brained the Scragglebeak with a paperweight and a neat flick of her wand.
"Ah. Thank you." He picked up the small purple bird with satisfaction and placed it back on its perch where it wobbled uncertainly from side to side. "Do you think you could send my report while I go down?"
"I was just going to finish - " protested Alice.
"Thank you!" he replied without listening, marching through the door and down the corridor towards the lifts.
He sighed as he saw the light blinking dully at ground level. He waited patiently as the lift began to move upwards, a gentle hum emanating upwards from the bottom of the shaft. Finally the light moved to level two and he moved forward expecting the doors to open. But nothing did happen and it was only for a fraction of a second that he got a glimpse of the occupants through the grating as the lift bypassed the second floor and sped upwards. Two Aurors, high ranking by the look of them and a girl of about seventeen. A girl he recognised.
He stood there for a few moments, not quite comprehending what he had just seen. Surely he must have imagined it? He had never been one to make decisions on the spur of the moment but for once it looked as if he was going to prove himself wrong. He turned left down the corridor and began to walk, quickening his pace as every second passed. The Department of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office was in the west wing and he had to get there.
"
Ginny had long stopped wondering what vow of silence the two beings next to her had taken. She had been following them for twenty minutes now, up stairs, along corridors around the building, which appeared to be almost limitless in size. They stood now in the lift, all three of them, still astonishingly silent.
Fed up with her questions being ignored or brushed away, she looked around her, wondering where in hell a place like this got funding. The lift was exquisitely crafted with dark red carpets and a large ceiling that reflected the occupants. The doors were of a fine slightly tinted glass and she could see everything as the lift began to ascend upwards.
Just as the lift was about to leave the second floor a man caught her attention. She didn't have much time to see what he looked like but even if she had, all she would have seen was his look. He had been hurrying towards the lift, halting in surprise as it went up, and he suddenly stopped short as he caught sight of her. She'd never seen someone go so white as he did when he stared at her and opened his mouth wordlessly. She stared back at him in fascination wondering what there was about her that could be so frightening.
This place holds the answers, came the voice in her mind. And maybe that man knew you. She concentrated on her breathing, holding herself together like an eggshell. It was best to take things one-step at a time. If she started wondering about the man who'd seemed to recognise her she'd bring up too many questions, like why everyone there were purple interdepartmental memos rustling on the ceiling of the lift, occasionally leaving for particular departments. How she had been spirited away from the police station in less then five seconds. How the lift appeared to operate without the help of a pulley system. Or why everyone in this place looked as if they'd just walked out of a storybook with wands and creatures and cloaks and... Ginny stopped herself. This was no time to panic.
Concentrate, she told herself ruthlessly.
"It's this floor," said the woman shortly as the doors opened. "If you would please follow us." She motioned for Ginny to follow her out of the lift and down another long corridor to a room with a blue door. She ushered her in and sat her down in a large steel frame chair behind a glass-topped table, sitting herself opposite her.
The door shut with a soft click.
"The wards, James?"
"Done." The man positioned himself in front of the door.
Ginny felt apprehensive. "What's going on?"
"Please don't alarm yourself," the woman replied in the same sub-zero tone. "We just want to ask you a few questions."
"Why can't you tell me the things I want to know?"
"There will be time for that later. How much have you been told?"
"Why should I tell you anything?" replied Ginny angrily. "I don't even know who you are."
The woman sighed patiently. "My name is Caroline Corrigan. Auror class two, special branch. My colleague is slightly more junior but I don't think James will mind if I tell you that."
"Aurors?"
"High ranking officers in magical law enforcement. We're employed by the Ministry."
"What do you mean, magical law? Which Ministry do you work for?"
Miss Corrigan resisted putting her head in her hands. "Christ... You don't know the half of it do you?"
"Look, I know only what Spencer told me at the station. I know about the kidnapping, I know about my family."
"Give her a chance, Caroline," said the young man, James, speaking for the first time. "It's the first time she's heard all this. She's bound to be confused."
She turned to him, annoyed. "We can't be certain of that yet. Couldn't you check the files on Spencer?"
"If you say so." James shrugged and left the room.
"We're making sure the police officer who told you who you were had clearance and that he was one of us."
Ginny leant forward demandingly. "Oh yes? And who exactly is us? It's all secrets to you. I wish that everyone would stop treating the whole thing like a big bloody conspiracy. Can't I get a straight answer once and for all?"
She frowned. "I don't see why you should be so disparaging about a community that brought you up, particularly when it's the only reason that we're bothering to bring you here. The answer to your question is simple enough. You and I belong to an exceptionally gifted community. We have the ability that others have lost forever. What you might call magic. Us, as you put it, is the Wizarding world, Us is the Ministry of Magic. It includes your family and yourself."
"Oh come on, don't try to fool me with that crap..."
"I assure you that it's true."
Ginny shook her head disbelievingly. "This is fairytale stuff. I can't believe I'm hearing this." It didn't make sense. How could everything she'd seen here be true...
"It's obvious if you think about it. You're an intelligent girl; you can't dismiss the evidence of your own eyes. How else do you think the lift works? How else do you explain the unexplainable? If we had time I'd show you more, but I'm afraid we have much more important things to discuss with you."
"Like what?"
The door opened again and James entered the room, rather more hurriedly than before. He had a preoccupied frown on his face and held out a sheet of paper to Caroline.
"I'm sorry, I didn't have time to check out Spencer's record but Jean just handed me this and I thought you'd want to see it."
She took the paper from him and glanced at the text briefly. Ginny could see her eyes narrowing on the page as she read further. Caroline Corrigan frowned faintly and put down the sheet. After a few moments of silence she fixed Ginny with the same cool stare.
"You must realise that I have no doubts that you are Ginny Weasley. There are no signs of polyjuice or transfiguration according to the security wards and I doubt that the people who kidnapped you would bother to send a copy of a girl we'd assumed was dead for four years. Ten minutes ago, our department received an owl from the officer who picked you up, maintaining that you have amnesia predating the car accident that killed you and the couple claiming to be your parents. Is this claim true?"
Ginny, who was still trying to ignore the facts that there were at least three words in what she had heard that made no sense at all, looked up at her and nodded. "I think that's right. The hospital said it was something to do with the head injuries I got in the accident."
"Indeed. Then you couldn't tell me who you believe kidnapped you from Diagon Alley in October four years ago?"
"No, I don't remember that far back."
"Do you remember seeing anyone suspicious around? Or a signal of some sort? Perhaps you could describe the couple who looked after you."
"What are you getting at? I told you, I don't remember any of this."
"Nothing?" Caroline's voice became terse. "Perhaps I should explain something you, Miss Weasley. This Ministry has lived through two wars with the worst enemies of the Wizarding world. The Death Eaters was their most widely known name, although we're still not sure how many members the group had and that's the way it's always been. The enemy has often been invisible to us, hidden within our own ranks, in people others and I had thought we could trust with our lives. I've seen good wizards die, aurors betrayed by their friends and we're not foolish anymore. We've seen the consequences of trusting and we're no longer prepared to do it. Do you understand me when I say that the Ministry cannot possibly take for granted the word of a person who has spent the last four years associating with these people!"
Ginny stared at her for a few moments, almost unable to speak for the anger that was building up within her.
"You don't trust me," she replied quietly.
"We can't trust the word of a juvenile in the care of terrorists. It's totally unsound evidence. And if you want me to be honest with you things are rather convenient for you aren't they Ginny? You disappear when things are bad for your family, at the time when our greatest enemy is again rising to power and then you turn up years later with no memory, to a police unit that miraculously has a former auror for a Police Chief, and then claim to be looking for an aunt who doesn't exist? Not to mention the evidence of your previous associations with the dark side. What do you expect me to say? `Get on with your life, take no notice of us, it's all the same as before?' It doesn't work like that."
Ginny felt the unfairness weighing down on her. "Then what the hell am I supposed do? What I am I supposed to say to this?"
Caroline remained unmoved and calmly began filling in a form that she pulled out of a drawer, as if she had not heard what Ginny said.
"You're not even going to listen to me, are you? That's all you're interested in. You don't care about whether I see my family again, you don't even care..."
"Look, hold on. Don't get upset," began James. The table began to quiver.
Ginny ignored him; incensed beyond anything she'd felt before. Standing up on shaky legs she hissed, "If I knew half of what you do about this... If this was all some elaborate plot then I would have gone home to my family instead of wasting your precious time! And you sit there and try to feed me lies about wizards and magic and owls! I'm not going to sit here and listen to you insult me!"
Glass shattered under her fingers. An ear-splitting crack filled the room as the glass tabletop split right down the middle. Small splinters of glass began to fall to the carpet like raindrops. Caroline immediately moved back, her eyes wide in surprise and anger.
"What the hell was that?"
"I... I don't know," replied Ginny, staring at her hands that were covered with scratches from the glass she hadn't touched. Her face had turned starkly white. James was staring at Ginny with recognition in his eyes, the same expression that John Spencer had worn earlier that morning when he opened his door.
"Well, I think we have our answer, Caroline," he said, almost inaudibly.
"Her? You think she did this?" Caroline looked pale. "But that would mean it's really her; it's really Ginny Weasley..."
"Not even Death Eaters perform wandless magic. It's a trait of the young; those who haven't been allowed to develop their skills."
Ginny stared at him, her mouth open wordlessly.
He studied her look. "I suppose the question is," he began, "Do you believe in magic now?"
There was a hollow hammering at the door and the sounds of men's voices from outside in the corridor.
"Mason!" came the voice from behind the door, "James Mason? We know you're in there." The knocking began again. "Mason!"
"Don't let them in, James. We can't be disturbed."
"Who is it?" James asked, putting his ear to the door. "I can't let you in without clearance."
A sudden acrid smell diffused throughout the room that Ginny would later recognise as the smell of shattered wards. The door swung open
He was cut off when the door swung open to reveal a red haired man of about fifty followed by the same man she'd seen staring at her through the lift door.
The red head strode up to James. When he spoke his voice was breathless.
"I didn't mean to break the wards - you didn't let us in so I thought that... Amos here said that he'd seen a girl. A girl that looked like my Ginny with you. We rushed up; I couldn't wait to find out if - "
"Dad."
Ginny had straightened up. Her hands were bleeding now and her face was paler than ever but her voice, quiet as it was would cut through ice. Arthur Weasley froze. As he turned his face to hers, she could see him shaking, and Amos hurried forward to steady him. Arthur paid him no attention, standing there motionless. It was as if he didn't dare disrupt the illusion that looked like his daughter, unless she should disappear like a ghost.
In the end, it was she who took the first step. "Dad," she said again, putting her arms round him. It was like she had broken something inside her father. Tears of both joy and sorrow began to run down his face and he shared the hug, holding her close to him.
"My Ginny," he whispered croakily. "My Ginny..."
"
And what now? What further could be said? An ending? Perhaps other stories would have ended that way. Caroline Corrigan's words held more truth than she knew when she said that it was impossible to continue a life like Ginny's in the same way as before. Ginny knew it too, deep down. She knew that a lot would have to be learned again, that familiar faces would have to be met again as strangers. More than anything she knew that her short life was about turned inside out and upside down. So no; this couldn't be an ending. Call it a prologue if you will. And why?
Because like all things, stories don't end and people will change. Because when Ginny returned to Hogwarts that summer, life and everything else existence could throw at her, was waiting...
Now off you go and review!!!
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