Raging and Storming - by Kirkis
Harry Potter books, and all characters therein belong to J. K. Rowling, © 2001/2002 Warner bros. In short, they aren't mine, so please don't sue.
Raging and Storming
"Fine!" shouted Ginny's mum. "Fine! Ginny - BED!"
Ginny waited for someone would speak up. Harry, she thought. Surely Harry would tell her mum that she wasn't too young. She glanced at Harry, he caught her eye then quickly focused on the table. Okay, then, Hermione, she thought. Hermione would chime in and tell them she'd spill it all to Ginny anyway. Hermione gave her a fleeting look of sympathy before she too shifted her eyes downward. Fred and George, she thought hopefully. Fred and George had let her in on everything since last summer. She turned her head toward them, but hope faded instantly. They weren't even looking at her. They were both watching Sirius expectantly, clearly eager to hear what they'd been missing. Cold anger solidified in Ginny's stomach.
"OH MUM, NO!" she heard herself roar. She could feel heat rising in her cheeks as she prepared to argue. She was just as much a part of what was going on as anyone else, and she wasn't going to miss it. Her mind raced to find as many logical reasons why she should be allowed to stay.
"No arguments!" her mother said hotly. "You're too young-"
"I am NOT too young, Mum!" Ginny snapped fiercely, suddenly finding herself on her feet. Her mother strode over to her and took her arm quite firmly. This was the last straw. All logical arguments abandoned, Ginny pulled sharply away from her mother, attempting to free herself. "LET GO!" she barked. "I'm - staying - right - here!" Ginny said through gritted teeth, still trying to rip her arm out of her mother's grip. Against her will, Ginny was being pulled like a child out of the kitchen. Why do I have to be so small! Ginny thought. This was beyond unfair. Out of all the Weasleys, she would be the only one left in the dark, all because she was the youngest.
"You always do this to me! Just because I'm the youngest!" she howled as they crossed the threshold of the kitchen door. Ginny's mother started the laborious process of dragging Ginny up the stairs away from the kitchen.
"I told you, you're too young!" her mother said as they reached the top of the stairs. "Now be quiet or you'll wake-"
"Let that old wench wake up! AARRGGHH!!" Ginny screamed so loud she felt a sharp pain in her throat. The portrait of Mrs. Black awoke with cries of "Filth, blood traitors half-breeds and Mudbloods befouling the house of my Fathers!"
"Ron's not of age either! And Hermione will tell me everything anyway!" she shouted, grasping at straws as her mother continued to drag her away from the kitchen. "You can't keep me out of this! You can't! Everyone else gets to hear and I'm the only one-"
"You don't need to know what the Order is up to, and if I had my way, none of you children would hear a word of it!" Ginny's mother shouted back. She pulled Ginny roughly down the hall toward the stairs. Ginny yanked her arm free of her mother's grasp and rounded on her at the foot of the stairs. Lupin came hurrying up the stairs to quiet Mrs. Black. He tugged on the curtains without a glance toward either Ginny or her mother.
"I'm not a child! If Ron gets to hear, I should too, I'm only-"
"If you're not a child, you certainly are acting like one. You're throwing a childish tantrum. Now, NO more ARGUMENTS!" snapped Ginny's mother, marching her daughter up the stairs. Ginny, half turned toward her mother and shouting a constant stream of protests, took the steps blindly, too busy shouting to watch where her feet were falling. She missed every few steps, brutally banging her shins against them.
"Harry was only eleven when he-" Ginny snapped.
"And he was far too young to have been doing-"
"But he did it! He did it and-"
"I said, no more arguments, Ginny! You're going to bed and that's-"
"I'm as old as Harry when he faced V-Voldemort!" Ginny shouted, forcing herself to say the name. Her mother flinched, but her resolution to keep Ginny in diapers didn't seem fazed at all.
"You-Know-Who is for older witches and wizards to deal with!" Ginny's mother retorted, opening the door to the girls' bedroom. "Go on!"
"Like I haven't ever dealt with him before!" Ginny snapped. It was her last resort. The last ditch effort to change her mother's mind. She hoped by reminding her mother what she, Ginny, had gone through in her first year, when she was eleven, that she could convince her mother that she was old enough to hear the Order's plans. Though her mother's face grew much softer, when she spoke, it was with the same stiff resolution.
"That doesn't make you invincible. Now, I want you asleep when I-" Ginny, having had enough of being treated like a child, slammed the door straight in her mother's face. She turned away from the door, feeling her eyes fill up with tears of frustration. This was too much. Hermione would come back upstairs and would have promised not to tell Ginny a whit. Fred and George would think it's all too funny, and Harry and Ron would mime her mother and say "You're too young". She turned sharply, hearing the floorboards outside the landing creak as her mother turned to leave.
"You always treat me like a BABY! ALWAYS!!" Ginny shrieked, feeling more stinging pains in her throat. "It isn't any wonder I latched on to that diary like I did! EVERYONE TREATS ME LIKE I'M FIVE!" she screamed hoarsely. She took a moment to listen, straining to hear if her mother would reply at all. It was hard to hear anything beyond her own ragged breathing. She was about to shout again when she heard her mother's footsteps moving briskly away from the door. Ginny picked up the nearest thing to her, and chucked it with all her might at the door. It shattered against the door and black ink sprayed out in every direction. Far from caring that she'd made a tremendous mess, she looked around on the vanity for something else to throw.
Several things littered the vanity: Hermione's quill, Hermione's transfiguration book, Hermione's potion kit, Hermione's copy of One Thousand and One Magical Herbs and Fungi, and few sheaves of Hermione's parchment. It suddenly occurred to Ginny as she looked back at the huge ink splat on the door that the ink well had probably been Hermione's as well.
Good! she thought, serves her right, not sticking up for me! Ginny walked swiftly toward her bed and plopped down on it. The dim light of the gas lamp that lit their room flickered across the walls and Ginny lay there watching it, all the while winding herself down. She had thrown a childish tantrum. A tantrum that climaxed with her breaking something that didn't belong to her. Not to mention making a mess on the door. Hermione was probably going to get ink all over her hands when she shut the door behind her. In the dim flickering light of the gas lamp, Ginny felt guilt replace some of the anger she'd been feeling.
Ten minutes later when she heard footsteps heading toward the door, she tried to prepare herself for the fact that her mother would have made Hermione promise not to tell Ginny anything. The door opened.
"Mind the door, there's wet ink on the inside," said Ginny. She was taken aback by how hoarse her voice was from shouting. There was no reply but after a few seconds the door closed softly. "I chucked your ink well at it, so, you can have one of my new ones." Ginny's voice didn't sound any better that time. Hermione took a moment before she answered.
"Oh, no. It was almost empty." Ginny knew this was a flat lie, there was an ink splatter larger than a Quaffle on the back of the door.
"No, I broke it, so I'll replace it," Ginny croaked. Now or never, she thought, sitting up on the bed and turning to face Hermione. "So, are you going to tell me or not?" she asked plainly. Hermione seemed reluctant to answer right away. "It's all right, I've yelled enough tonight," said Ginny. She realized that Hermione wasn't going to tell her anything. She waited another second and then said "Thanks" rather bluntly and flopped back over on the bed.
"Oh, Ginny, I'm sorry. Your mum made me promise," said Hermione. Ginny didn't answer. She knew her mother well enough to know she would've made Hermione promise, and she knew Hermione well enough by now to know that if she promised not to tell, then not even a Cruciatus Curse could pry her lips apart. "Please don't be angry with me," said Hermione.
"I'm not angry anymore, but I'm not too happy with you right now. You could've stuck up for me down there. You could've told Mum that you'd just tell me everything anyway."
"I'm sorry, I just…" Hermione paused here and Ginny thought she could get the gist of what Hermione was thinking. So, I'm too young by your standards too! Ginny thought indignantly.
"You think Mum's right, don't you?" Ginny asked. But whatever the answer was, Hermione didn't get to make it. Two loud crack sounds interrupted her and the next thing Ginny heard almost made her shout with delight.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, Gin," said Fred from the foot of her bed. Ginny immediately sat up, feeling happiness pouring within her. "We knew Mum wouldn't let you stay down there, so we didn't bother trying to argue."
"We just figured we'd have a little chat with you later," said George. "Better get this light, or Mum will come to check on you two." He headed for the small gas lamp, stopping short to stare at the door. "Nice paint job," he added, reaching up and twisting the knob on the gas lamp. It flickered and then went out.
"Okay, so what did I miss?" said Ginny eagerly into the darkness.
"Fred, George, your mum didn't want-"
"Oh hush, Hermione! They didn't promise not to tell me!" Ginny hissed excitedly at Hermione. She heard Hermione make a sniff of disapproval, but had apparently gotten the message.
"Actually, Ginny, you didn't miss much," said George sitting down on the edge of her bed. "Most of what they talked about we'd already heard by using Extendable ears." Ginny's elation was suddenly dented.
"But we did learn something new, before Mum came in and made us all clear out," said Fred from between Hermione's and Ginny's beds. Ginny was just opening her mouth to ask what was the new thing they'd talked about when George seemed to read her mind.
"Sirius says You-Know-Who is trying to get his hands on a weapon," said George. "We tried to discuss it a little with Harry and Ron, but Mum started sniffing around the door."
"A weapon? What kind-"
"Don't know," said Fred. "Mum broke us up before we got to that part, but Sirius reckons You-Know-Who can only get it by stealth."
"And it's something he didn't have last time," said George, picking up right where Fred stopped.
"But what could that be?" asked Ginny, crossing her legs.
"Don't know that either, Ginny," said Fred. "If only Mum hadn't come barging in."
"Speaking of Mum," said George, falling silent. A floorboard outside creaked and Fred hissed, "Oh not again!" before there were two loud cracks and the room was left in ringing silence. Ginny laid back down onto her pillow thinking about what it could mean. A weapon, she thought. Some new and horrible kind of curse? Or something else? Ginny went over it a few times in her head. She wished she could've heard what Sirius had said, word for word. Maybe Fred and George had missed something when they told her. At least they told me, she reflected, feeling a lot better than she had fifteen minutes ago. Fred and George knew she wasn't too young. She drifted off to sleep trying to decide what wonderful gift she'd save up and get them for Christmas.
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