CH 53

Ginny paced in her usual spot in the orchard. The air was stuffy and oppressive. The shade of the trees offered the only nearby respite. She glanced towards the Burrow and wrung her hands. It was long past lunchtime, but she wasn't hungry.

She couldn't find her broomstick. She'd looked all morning, checked all the pockets of her clothes, and underneath her bed. She'd even tried summoning it, walking around the Burrow, waving her hands when she was sure no one was looking — but nothing.

What would Harry say? Would he be angry? She knew those broomsticks weren't cheap; that they cost more than her parents made in a couple of months. Here she was trying to prove she could handle herself and she couldn't even keep track of her things. She'd handled John well enough. She'd known the boy didn't have the guts to try anything. But that little victory was overshadowed by her newest problem.

Ginny ran a hand through her flame-red hair and bunched it into a fist. Sweat beaded on her brow in the summer heat. She was going to get a headache at this rate.

"Ginny." Her father's voice called though the fruit trees.

She briefly raised her eyes to the sky. "Yes, Dad?"

Her father came into view. "Could you come into the kitchen? Your mother and I need to discuss something with you." He looked unusually serious.

She groaned. She knew she shouldn't have missed lunch. "Yes, Dad."

Ginny walked with her father into the compact kitchen and dinning room. Her eyebrows raised slightly when she was met, not only by her mother, but also by a tall witch with long, wavy black hair. The witch sat at the table end. Her mother stood by the sink sipping a mug of tea. Neither were smiling.

"Sit down, Ginny."

She sat and felt a shiver go up her spine. She couldn't ever remember seeing her mother look so serious before. Molly Weasley didn't usually look serious — she usually blew-up long before then.

"This is Andromeda Tonks," her father said, motioning towards the black-haired witch. "She's Sirius's cousin and a healer working at St. Mungo's." He sat down adjacent to Mrs. Tonks, opposite her.

Ginny frowned. A healer? Why was she seeing a healer? She felt fine.

"Now, Ginny." Her father re-directed her attention back to him. "Have you made any new friends recently?"

She stared blankly at him. "No."

"No one?" he pressed. "No new people you keep in contact with by owl? No one who approached you while out shopping maybe? Perhaps a friend of one your friends that you met while at their house?"

"Dad, I hardly ever go anywhere. When would I have time to meet any one? And I don't have an owl."

Mrs. Tonks raised an eyebrow.

Her father sighed. "Ginny, I really need you to be honest with us here. It's very important."

Her jaw clenched. "I am being honest. I haven't met anyone I'd call a friend for ages."

Her mother stood behind her father and Mrs. Tonks. She looked like she was visibly restraining herself.

"Okay then," her father continued, sounding out each syllable like a death knell. "Could you tell us why you spend so much time alone now, rather than with your brothers?"

Ah, her occlumency study time. She and Harry had long ago figured a cover story for that.

"Well, I like to read don't I?" She held up a slim volume she'd taken to the orchard with her. "And all my brothers are at Hogwarts most of the time aren't they? Except Bill and Ron. But Ron's become such a jerk recently."

Her mother took a sharp breath. "Ginny!"

"It's true. Ron thinks just because I don't worship the floor John walks on anymore, that means I'm evil."

Mrs. Tonks tapped her fingers on the tabletop. "Yes… why don't you tell us a bit more about that? Why do you hate John Potter?"

"Why do I need a reason to hate that tosser?"

"Ginny! Language!"

"No, Mum, I'll call him what I want." She folded her arms.

"Now see here—" her mother began.

"—Molly, please," healer Tonks interrupted.

Her mother shut her mouth, grabbed her mug and held it like a lifeline.

"Ginny," Mrs. Tonks said, "You said you did used to like John. What was the specific thing that made you change your mind? I've seen some memories of how you used to behave around him, and it must have been something pretty big."

Ginny squirmed in her seat. She couldn't tell the whole truth, but she did need to give at least a plausible reason. "Maybe I learned some things about him that made me see him in a different light."

"What did you learn?"

"That's my business."

"Ginny!"

Andromeda held up a hand. "Please, Molly." The healer continued. "Ginny, your parents are concerned by your sudden change in behaviour. It's very unusual for people to swing from such an extreme to another."

Ginny frowned. "Well, like I said, that's my business, isn't it. And it's not sudden — it happened ages ago."

"It was sudden at the time."

"It's still my business."

Andromeda gave a slow nod, and made a note on a piece of parchment in front of her. She turned to her father and made a hand signal that looked pre-arranged.

Her father took a deep breath, reached below the table, and brought out something very familiar.

Ginny's breath hitched.

He placed it on the table. It was her shrunken broomstick.

Her eyes darted between each of the adults in front of her. Her mother had crossed her arms, foot tapping, clearly agitated; her face was reddening. Mount Molly looked set to blow.

A bead of sweat rolled down Ginny's face. She put on her best confused voice. "My hairpin?"

"YOU know full well that is not a hair pin!" her mother screamed.

Ginny flinched.

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