Ginny Weasley: Maid in Malfoy Manor

Ginny Weasley: Maid in Malfoy Manor

Chapter Ten:

Destruction in Despair

The Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold,

And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;

And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea

When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.

Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green,

That host with their banners at sunset were seen;

Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown,

The host on the morrow lay withered and strown!

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,

And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed;

And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,

And their hearts but once heaved, and forever grew still!

And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,

But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride;

And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,

And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.

And there lay the rider, distorted and pale,

With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail;

And the tents where all silent, the banners alone,

The lances unlifted, the trumpets unblown.

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,

And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;

And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,

Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!

-- George Gordon, Lord Byron (The Destruction of Sennacherib)

A scream of denial, torn from a heart that stopped beating in that fatal instant, echoed across the grand hall of Hogwarts. From beneath upturned tables and charred house banners, the pitifully small number of students who remained alive watched in varying degrees of dulled horror as again, one of their own schoolmate and friend stumbled, then toppled backwards, knowing that they could be next, suffering that inevitable and horrible fate. Dean Thomas, one of Gryffindor's own, fell hard and landed on the cold stone floor, his eyes still open wide as if he didn't know and could not believe what was really happening to him.

Ron Weasley's eyes filled with tears as the wasted young lives of his fellow schoolmates lay before him. Cut down at the very start of their lives, a whole generation of Britain's best and brightest wizards gone forever. So many of them had been his friends, his enemies and companions. And in that crucial moment, when Voldemort had stormed into the room with a number of Death Eaters, everybody had frozen. Even Ron's fear, terror and uncertainty overcame him, causing him to lose all presence of mind.

Dozens and dozens of Death Eaters filled the grand hall surrounding the whole student body and blocking all the doors in and out of the room so that nobody could even try to escape. They took up position about the hall, forming a chain of death around the walls. They moved as one, as if they already rehearsed their placement at Voldemort's hideaway. This all happened very sudden that some of the students didn't even have the time to react to what was happening in front of their very eyes.

Voldemort himself was standing at the front of the hall, watching the chaos and destruction took place, a smile threatening to show on his thin, pale lips. He observed the devastation and the damage made by his minions with pleasure, as if he was watching a very amusing scene.

Dumbledore had risen, and his sheer command that all the students remain seated and not panic was instantly obeyed. Nobody moved in fear that they could be next to feel the pain and the sting of a Killing Curse that the Death Eaters were flinging everywhere. Ron could see how hideously outnumbered the teachers were. Apart from Voldemort himself, there are about more than fifty Death Eaters striding down the aisles.

"You dare to disturb the halls of Hogwarts? How dare you to pollute this place with your foulness?" the stern and measured voice of the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore did not hide the depth of his anger or the strength of his determination, but strangely enough, his face bore no more other than complete calmness. "How dare you face us all, Voldemort?"

"This is my school and I will do as I please, my dear Dumbledore," Voldemort's voice was as cold as ice and as slick as oil. It was a voice that could have been very pleasant to hear, if it was not from the lips and face of the most feared evil wizard in the wizarding world.

He swept a contemptuous look at the row of teachers at the front of the hall, who were looking tough and valiant, or at least trying to, even though Ron knew that they were quivering underneath that facade. What will become of the remaining number of alive students in the great hall was anyone's guess. This may be the end of them all, as one might say concerning the hopelessness of the situation, or this may be just the beginning of more horrifying events that could take place.

Voldemort raised an eyebrow and looked towards his Death Eaters. He was preparing to make some pithy and arrogant comment, Ron thought savagely, when suddenly, Dumbledore raised his wand and directed a minor spell, hurling it at Voldemort's face, just to throw him off guard.

As it if was an unspoken signal, the Professors attacked as one, disarming death eaters, wreaking havoc amongst them. They stormed through the hall as Voldemort staggered sideways away from them. Ron joined them, pulling students towards the center of the hall as quickly as possible, pushing the youngest furthermost under the tables, and placing the seventh years as an honorary shield about them. Every single person had their wand in their hand, ready for battle.

The screams of the dead and dying mixed with the battle cries, weeping and pain. Countless students were injured, their blood being spilled in all directions, the sound of their cries overcoming the rage of the opposing party. The Death Eaters were not disarming, they were killing.

Suddenly the room was illuminated by a sullen green light, a sickly corrupt color that turned the stately hall into a creepy and cavernous waste. Voldemort had risen from his hiding place like a gracious king rising from his throne. He seemed to be calling all his Death Eaters' attention to him and for an instant there, everybody just watched in awe as Voldemort did magic, more complicated and powerful than any of them ever expected.

He raised his scaly hand with his long, pale and articulated fingers up in the air and said an incantation over and over again, his voice becoming more and more intense. Ron saw Dumbledore, standing just a little behind the Dark Lord, reciting some strange language that he could not hear nor understand. He supposed that the dear headmaster knew what kind of spell Voldemort was casting and he was saying a counter spell to it. It was obvious to all that the hex was powerful and very deadly, whatever it was.

As the tension rose the incantations on both parties became more intense, the ground of the great hall started shaking and small debris from the ceiling of it began to roll down to the wrecked floor of the room. A few seconds after, every one of them felt this stinging sensation at the base of their stomachs, making them wither in pain and agony. It was like being hit by the Cruciatus Curse and in this circumstance, it might have been the said curse. Just all at once. The anguish was indescribable that screams of pain and denial tore through the walls of the great hall.

Ron Weasley staggered backwards, his hands tightly pressed against his stomach. He, and like all of the other students in the great hall, was withering in pain. The impact of Voldemort's mighty hex was immediate and powerful.

Even up until now, he still could not believe what had happened to him and his schoolmates over the past few minutes. But peculiarly, the only thing that he could think of was where the hell was the great Harry Potter? Ron wondered if it would make any difference if Harry were here, fighting at their side, disarming more Death Eaters than any of the other students were doing. Would it be any different if he were with them, protecting their backs and saving them from near fatal strikes of various Death Eaters? Maybe, fewer students would be harmed and more would be saved with the illustrious and legendary Harry Potter fighting with them against the evil Dark Lord. He was, after all, Voldemort's actual mortal enemy and the reason for all this. Ron knew how Harry would react to what was happening once he finds out about it. He would blame himself for being so stupid and he would think that the attack was his own fault even though nobody is really blaming him for anything that he hadn't done.

Such pity that Ron felt his life slowly giving away into the pain and his vision dimming. He silently sent a prayer for all of them as his last breath escaped him, before everything turned into black and everything he knew disappeared into nothingness...

Finally, he would be free from the pain and be with Hermione once again...somewhere in heaven... there would be peace...

Later, Ron would wonder why he was still alive, still in pain and chaos and destruction still present in everything he laid his eyes on. Later they would again fight the armies of death and he would regret surviving the hellish pandemonium that almost everybody that he loved and made life worth living perished on.

Later he would want to die again... than to face the torture that fate had bestowed on him...

[][][]

It was a barren wasteland. The wood was rotting and ductile, and smelled of decaying insects. Beads of water were dripping from the light damage in the ceiling, an unaffectionate gift from the splattering rain above the roof. The room was particularly small, unfurnished with only small beams of faint light illuminating the desolate surroundings. It was a room in the hostile surroundings at the downtown area of a rundown community.

Pests and various small filthy animals were often seen scurrying round the area. And that wet, gloomy afternoon was not an exception.

Ron Weasley was crouched at his usual position his unseeing eyes staring blankly into space. Flashes of the war playing uncontrollably over and over again in his mind, making him witness again all the moments in his life that he would rather bury forever, never to be reminisced again.

It was painful and the worst thing about it was that he couldn't get away from all of it. No matter how hard he tried to forget all those agonizing memories he still could not let go of it all because he knew, somewhere deep inside, that it still hurt to release those memories because the truth was, it was all that he had. The memories were all that he had.

He would give everything just to turn back time and change the present. But the problem was, there was not much to give.

He had nothing.

No fortune, no wealth, no friends, no love, no brothers...even his own eyesight was not an exception. It was pathetic.

He was pathetic.

Living only in his own little world, sharing his thoughts with no one but himself. He might not be deaf nor mute but if he was, it would make no difference. No difference indeed with Ron having abandoned his power to speak out and do something with his broken life so long ago. He had long forsaken his ability to hear his mother and sister's numerous but futile speeches full of hope and optimism about their broken existence.

What was the use anyway?

Did they think that by repeating those bright and cheerful things to themselves that everything will be fine and everyone will be finally happy someday somehow that one day those hopes would happen and dreams will come true?

It was stupid to believe those things.

Ron had learned that a long time ago.

There was no use hoping, there was no use believing that the greater good will win and justice will prevail.

There was no use in having faith. There was no one to save them anyway.

They were on their own.

And nothing to be proud of.

[][][]

Molly Weasley was attempting to make lunch.

And she was failing miserably.

It was not that she suddenly lost her cooking prowess, but it was because she was crying.

Again.

Molly was pissed and angry at the world. Why was she wasting her time and effort anyway? Why was she currently there, in the kitchen trying to mix up something that will be worth eating, when Ron would just stare at whatever she would serve, say nothing and ignore her hard labored creation and when Arthur was not even in the condition to actually eat something solid.

She had tried, so hard, to be very optimistic with their current situation but it was useless. Every day, every minute, every second was getting harder and harder to bear and was getting more and more difficult to keep a positive mind.

She was starting to doubt her strength to keep going and to face each painful day head on.

"Mom?"

Molly turned around, snapping out of her depressing trance.

She saw her dear daughter, Ginny, standing at the middle of the kitchen looking quite apprehensive. "Mom, are you okay?"

Molly quickly wiped her tearing eyes with the back of her hands, trying real hard to look as if she had not been wasting a good twenty minutes crying over things that she had no power to control.

"Fine, fine," she said, pasting a sad smile on her face. "How are you?"

Her daughter looked exhausted. Her once energetic aura now gone replaced by an air of outmost perseverance and fatigue. Molly felt a wave of guilt for letting her beloved daughter get into such a world full of hardships and hatred. She thought that maybe, there had been something that the Order had forgotten to do and maybe there was something in the past that she could had done to prevent all of this from happening. And even though she knew that they had done their best to do whatever they can, obviously it wasn't enough.

"I'm okay," Ginny answered. "Just... tired."

"Well, come here, sit down," Molly ushered Ginny to their worn down dining table and let her take a seat. "I didn't hear you come in."

"Yeah, well, I didn't want to bother anyone by knocking on the front door." Ginny said. "I mean, I'm hardly here and I want to... you know... have some piece of normality with the place."

There was a moment of silence as the two generations of the Weasley dynasty contemplated things in their own mind.

"Well, I'm guessing that you would like to talk to Ron," Molly mentioned, taking a sip of her already cold coffee that she had prepared almost an hour before.

"Yeah," Ginny answered. "I would like that."

"Uh... I just want to remind you that he still doesn't know about you working in...the manor," Molly reminded her, making Ginny look up in shame. "And I'm sure that he would not take it well."

"How did you manage to keep it to him?" Ginny asked. "I mean, I've been gone for two months now and... he was bound to notice my absence even if he's..."

Ginny trailed off. Even though Ginny did not finish her sentence, Molly knew what she meant and what she did not want to say. She was sure that Ginny was about to mention Ron's handicap.

"Well, I don't really know, to tell you the truth," Molly admitted, looking guiltily. "He doesn't talk much and I just... guessed that he still know nothing about this since there's no way that he could find out about it, unless... you want to tell him right now..."

"I...I...I think that it's not fair for him to be left in the dark," Ginny admitted.

And even though how much Molly wanted her son to not be burdened with such a disturbing fact, she knew that he had to know. It was not fair and he was bound to find out about it anyway.

"Go on, I think he's in his usual spot."

Molly watched as Ginny hesitated, then stood up and headed towards the other room where Ron was presumably moping in his own little world. She hoped that all went well.

She couldn't handle another problem to add on her already long list.

[][][]

Ron felt her even before he heard her footsteps coming toward him.

"Ron," he heard and felt her little sister crouch in front of her so she and him were face to face. "How're you?"

Ron didn't answer. Instead, he turned his face sideways away from where he heard the voice was coming from. He did not want to talk now. He didn't want to talk to anyone ever. He was fine living in his own, with no human contact except his mother when she brought him food, thank you very much.

It was too painful to talk to people when he knew that there was no point in doing so.

"Ron?"

Ron ignored her.

"Ron, come on... don't do this to me," Ginny was starting to plead. It was not pleasant listening to the sound of her voice. It hurt too much to hear a voice that once had been so full of joy and inspiration that now was filled with depths of misery and torture.

"Can you please talk to me?" she begged. "Look at me, Ron! Don't -"

Ron recoiled as if some painful thing had struck him.

Ginny fell silent shrinking guiltily away, in full knowledge of what she had done.

Ron almost laughed at the irony of things. How different people react to him now as if he would shatter at the sound of something concerning his handicap.

"Gin, how can I look at you when I can't even see," Ron said slowly, his voice hoarse like he had not used it in so many months.

"I'm...I'm...sorry..." Ginny stammered. "I...I...just want to..."

"So tell me Ginny, how's Malfoy?"

"He's--"

Ron could feel Ginny's eyes staring at him incredulously. He felt rather satisfied at her reaction. He knew that what he had said would be a surprise.

"How...how did you know?"

"I hear things," Ron replied, not bothering to explain further.

"Are you mad?"

"How I hate this. Let me count the ways."

There was silence and Ron could feel that Ginny's brain was reeling madly from thinking of something appropriate to say.

"I...I don't know what to say," Ginny said, giving up.

"How could you do it?" Ron asked, his voice quivering slightly from the effort that he was giving to it. It had been so long since he had used his voice and it was not easy to use it to say things he did not want to say in the first place. "How could you... how could you do this to yourself?!"

"Ron, I don't want to do this right now," Ginny answered, sounding like it pained her to see her brother releasing such strong feeling for the first time in how many years. It was heartbreaking that the first sign of emotion that her brother emitted was hatred.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Ron fumed. "Did you actually believe I would not notice that you're gone? How thick do you think I am?! I'm goddamn blind Ginny, not stupid, so stop treating me like one."

"We just didn't want you to be hurt!" Ginny sobbed. "I'm sorry if you felt left out or betrayed in some way but we just want the best for you and dad."

"Of course dad wouldn't notice anything with him being too sick and all that," Ron said angrily, still looking sideways. It was much easier to look at a place where he knew that there was no one there than attempting to guess where Ginny's eyes were located. "But I'm not that weak nor disabled that I could not handle it."

"Ron, just drop it okay?" Ginny said. "Yes, I lied, I'm a bad person, let's move on. There's no point in talking about it anyway! It's done it's over, and it's too late to back out now. There's nothing morally wrong with what I'm doing!"

"Nothing wrong?!" Ron asked disbelievingly, his voice getting more hoarse by the second. "Nothing wrong?! Ginny, you're bowing down to Malfoy. To Malfoy! Can't you see? He must've been laughing his head off when he found out about you! How can you do this to yourself? How can you do this to us?"

"How can you ask me that?" Ginny replied angrily. "Ron, I am doing this for you! Do you actually think that I like being tossed around and treated like a house-elf. I work my ass for all of you! And what do I get in return? You screaming at me, humiliation at the manor and people accusing me for things that I did not do and not even planning to do! Why am I surprised at how helpful you're not?"

"Oh, don't even tell me that you expected me to be all happy and thankful about this!"

"Fine!" Ginny snapped heatedly. "I never expected you to understand anyway. I just want you to know that I am doing this for you and our family. You may not agree with me but I need this job. We need this Ron."

"Fine," Ron said grudgingly. "Fine, fine, fine... Just promise me Ginny...don't get too close."

"What? Don't get too close to who?" Ginny exclaimed. "What are you talking about?"

"Just promise me okay?"

Ron felt Ginny standing up and walking slowly away from him. He had not intended for their conversation to go this way but it was too late to do anything about it now. In his opinion, he did not do anything wrong, in fact, he had provided Ginny what she had been missing for the past two months. Her senses. Ron sensed that there was something fishy going on at Malfoy Manor. He could not explain how he knew because he did not even know where the strange feeling came from but there was this peculiar assurance that he felt.

But then, there, he said it already. That would give Ginny some sort of insight.

Ron should feel happy or even remotely satisfied with what he had just done. But then, he remembered one thing.

Ginny never answered his last comment.

She never promised him anything.