The War We Fight

Chapter One

Momma please stop cryin, I can't stand the sound
Your pain is painful and its tearin' me down
I hear glasses breakin as I sit up in my bed
I told dad you didn't mean those nasty things you
said

Ginny sat on the edge of her bed, a pair of socks in her hand, trying to convince herself that she wanted to go home. Trying to tell herself that this would be just like any other normal Christmas, that she was going home to a kind, loving family, a family that would welcome her home with open arms.

Ginny figured as long as she was dreaming she’d like a million galleons as well.

There was a knock at the door.

“Ginny?” a voice tentatively called.

Ginny, startled, jumped several inches in the air before realizing it was only her brother, Ron.

Ron smirked as he opened the door. “Don’t worry, I’m not about to steal your precious socks,” he teased.

Ginny threw the socks at him, hitting his nose with deadly accuracy.

“Well, aren’t we grumpy today,” Ron quipped.

“Ron, if you’ve merely come here to ridicule me, now isn’t the best time,” Ginny sighed resignedly.

“Much as it appeals to me, no, I didn’t come here to merely make a mockery of your life,” Ron faked disappointment. Ginny rolled her eyes.

“I actually have a proposition to make to you,” he began, this time with nothing but earnestness in his voice. He sat down on Ginny’s bed beside her.

“What?” Ginny had no earthly idea what would make Ron actually have a decent conversation with her at school.

“You know we’re going home for Christmas, everyone will be there, and, well, you know how it gets sometimes.......” he trailed off, avoiding meeting her eyes.

“Well, anyway, I had an idea, see....” but Ginny cut him short. “You? You had an idea?”

Ron glared at her. “I’m not that thick,” he replied shortly. Ginny giggled, but stopped when Ron threatened to curse her.

“So, like I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, was, that, well...” Ron paused as he thought things through. “I’m trying hard as I can!” he snapped when Ginny looked as though she was about to start giggling again.

“Okay, here, I got it,” he said resolutely. “Anyway, you know how mum and dad never fight when we have guests?” Ginny nodded, and Ron continued, saying “Well, what I figure is this: If we have a guest with us all through Christmas holiday, they’ll never once say anything even slightly less than perfect to one another. Am I correct?”

Ginny thought for a moment. “I guess so,” she answered slowly, then added, “and just who will this guest be?”

She had her suspicions, but nothing was definite until a “God, Ginny, isn’t it obvious?” from Ron.

Ginny’s worst fears were confirmed.

“Oh, no, we are not having Harry or Hermione over for Christmas. Uh uh. No way. It’s as plain and simple as that.”

“C’mon, Ginny,” Ron wheedled, adding, “please?”

“No. You know how things get at Christmas.”

“What, you don’t want them to see your annual eggnog stupor?”
“Ron.....” Ginny warned. Ron grinned. Ginny frowned.

“Please?” Ron adopted a hurt expression. Ginny snorted in derision.

“The more you plead the more I’m going to reject it. I’m not saying yes and that’s final.”

***************************

Ginny stared out of the window glumly, her friends chattering beside her in the compartment, watching the bleak winter countryside pass by. Ginny heard Ron and Harry talking loudly one compartment down, laughing at a joke unknown to her. She didn’t hear Hermione as much as the others; most likely because Hermione had her head buried in a book.

Ginny didn’t know how Ron had managed to convince her to let Harry accompany them to the annual Weasley Christmas festivities. But, then again, Ginny didn’t know why she had rejected Ron’s proposal in the first place. She liked Harry well enough; he was a fun person to be with, and he actually listened to her opinions and regarded them with sincerity, unlike most people.

Ginny had always been the quiet sort. That didn’t mean she hadn't a lot of friends, oh, quite the opposite, in fact, but instead it meant that she was thinker. A dreamer. It seemed she was always dreaming up some impossible fantasy. Her friends joked about her wild imagination. She was the innocent one, the kind, compassionate one among them. It seemed as if nothing dark was in her, that she was as pure and selfless as a saint. (well, not quite, but even saints have the occasional urge to plan a dung bomb attack with their brothers.)

It seemed as if her life was perfect.

Oh, Ginny thought to herself, if only they knew the truth.

A voice on the intercom announced they were pulling into Platform 9 and 3/4, startling Ginny from her thoughts. She straightened up out of her seat, yawned, and grabbed her trunk. Outside the window she could see the platform covered in parents and siblings waiting.

It seemed such a happy scene, so peaceful, so contented. Ginny wished she could feel the same.

She caught sight of her own parents, waving a smiling like they always did in public.

That made Ginny angry. How dare they act as if nothing was wrong. How dare they lie to the world, putting on a party face for the sake of social grace. How dare they do this to her!

Ginny watched with fury as relatives embraced one another. She could hear ecstatic greetings and tearful goodbyes. She could see the children, most likely siblings of Hogwarts students, running around on the platform, racing one another and playing their silly games, all the while anger building up inside of her, an anger so intense it frightened her.

It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair. Why should she have to suffer like this? She had never wronged a person. She had always been gentle and sympathetic. Why then did she feel pain?

By now the rage was pounding in her ears. Red swam in her vision. Ginny felt herself being pulled down into a vortex of hate and wrath, down, down, down into blackness.

A deafening explosion rocked the train.