Faith in the Hands of a Child

Everything spiraled down into a black dot that had been her heart. And everything hurt.

The sun shone too brightly; it was as if the harsh beams would scour away her skin and expose her sins to the world.

The wind blew too quickly; her happiness seemed to be drawn out as every gust blew.

There was only deadness, and pain. She scurried to the dungeons, to a forgotten room in the deep recesses of the gloomy halls. Away from prying eyes, she could feel a little life trickle into her, even as she roughly sawed through her thin white skin, her freckles lost in the streams of blood that wound down her arm. Above her head, people bustled with the frantic energy of life; they went about their business, eagerly awaiting the new day, and the adventures they would bring.

Ginny didn't want any more adventures. She just wanted it to stop.

She hated the people who moved above her, untouched by the darkness that had shredded her skin and sunk deeply into her heart. She hated them, because she envied them. They could move past the pain, and suffering, and tomorrow, they would wake with smiles on their faces. Ginny had no such delusions about her life. She was done, defeated, and broken, lying at the feet of a God that would never see her.

Slice. She was nothing more than the baby Weasley, helpless to protect herself.

Slice. She had trusted a sentient diary when her mother had taught her better.

Slice. She had to be rescued by none other than her brother's best friend.

Slice. She had gone and broken her ankle at the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, rendering herself not only useless in the fight, but a burden to everyone else.

Slice. She hadn't made Prefect.

Slice. She was so small, and ugly, and every time she wanted to look into a mirror, she wanted to scream at her own horridness.

Slice. She wasn't cool, like Bill.

Slice. She wasn't strong, like Charlie.

Slice. She wasn't smart, or ambitious, like Percy.

Slice. She wasn't clever, or funny, like George and Fred.

Slice. She wasn't loyal, or as caring, as Ron.

Slice. She wasn't smart, Hermione.

Slice. She wasn't wise, like Luna.

Slice. She wasn't brave, like Harry.

Continuously, almost mechanically, Ginny slashed at her arms, her legs, anything she could reach. It hurt, so bad, but there was a strange relief that came with it, as though the filth that was ingrained into her flesh and bones was slowly leaking out. The more she bled, the more it hurt, but pain made her remember that she was alive.

She hated herself for doing this. She hated that she was so weak, that she couldn't just stop coming down to this hole in the ground, and bleeding. Every single day, sometimes two or three times a day, she'd dash down to his stone hell, and punish herself for not being good enough. Because in her heart, she knew that she'd never live up to anyone's expectations. She just wasn't strong enough.

Blood pooled at her feet. She lay down, not caring that her blood was matting her hair together, or that she was getting dirt into her open wounds. Her arms and legs were completely covered in gashes; her face was tinged pink from a mixture of blood and tears. She was glad for the tears; it meant that she hadn't completely lost herself. Not yet.

The self-loathing came back, rising like bile in her throat. She was a pathetic little girl, wasting away on the floor. People were fighting, and dying, and trying to make the world a better place, and she could only lie helpless as her life trickled out of her. Harry should have left her in the Chamber for dead. They should have let one of the Death Eaters Crucio her into insanity; it would take her out of this world, out of this waste of flesh she called a body.

She hated herself. She deserved to wither away in a pool of her own blood. If she did die, then the world would be better off without her. And if she didn't, well, that was one more thing she had totally failed out. She wasn't good for a thing.

Ginny felt very cold; her fingers weren't moving like she wanted them to. Her eyes fluttered. Muted noises seemed to spring from the ground, and Ginny gasped when a pair of large, silvery eyes came into her line of sight, blinking every so often as they examined her.

"She's over here!" shouted Luna, and Ginny hazily noticed that her voice seemed almost... frightened. More footsteps sprang up, and Ginny saw the bleary form of her brother, Ron. The voices talking surrounded her, and she bit back a sob. They had seen her for what she truly was, a sniveling mess. And they didn't care at all. And why should they? she thought bitterly. I'm nothing.

A pair of thin arms encircled her waist. Luna was hauling Ginny to her feet, and dragging her over to a table Hermione had cleared off. Ginny lay in a daze as everyone - Luna, Hermione, Neville, Harry, and Ron - hurriedly began to wash her arms and legs with freezing cold water. Dimly, she heard Hermione tell Ron that cold water was the fastest way to stop bleeding; something about coagulation. Harry put a warm washrag on her head, then gently sponged off the blood that had dried around her ears and neck.

Tears began to fall as Ginny drifted closer to consciousness. She hadn't been trying to kill herself, only punish herself, but she, of all people, deserved death. She didn't deserve to have these wonderful people trying to help her.

"Come back to us, Ginny," came Ron's soft, deep voice. "Come on, little queen, come back." Ginny bit back a sob; little queen was Ron's nickname for her growing up. She was little queen and he was little king.

"It's okay, Ginny," said Hermione, smoothing Ginny's long red hair out. "It's going to be okay."

"No it's not!" screamed Ginny, her weak voice echoing off the walls. Neville hastily cast a silencing charm on the walls, then turned around and picked her hand up, patting it softly and making comforting noises. "It'll never be okay," she sobbed. Ron hugged her around the middle, stroking her hair as she began to cry noisily.

"I hate this," she screamed, not caring if the silencing charm didn't work and the entire world heard her. "I want everything to stop."

"Stop what, Ginny?" asked Luna softly, sitting next to her.

"Everything," she choked out. "Everything's so dark... everything hurts. I can't make it go away, Ron," she moaned, her voice becoming panicky. "It's like something's eating away at me, making me dirty and...and..." she began to cry again, more quietly this time.

"I feel so lost," she whispered. "As if the sun will never shine again, and that I'll never be clean again. I'm so horrible, so dirty." She sniffled, wiping her nose with her sleeve.

"It's like being buried alive," she murmured, picking the scabs on her arm. "And bleeding is the only way you can stay alive, because you have to stay awake or you'll never get out. Only it doesn't matter, because you know you'll never get out, but yet you still have to try, a little. You have to let yourself know that you're still alive."

"Why didn't you tell anyone, little queen?" asked Ron quietly. He cradled her cheek in his palm. "You know we would have listened to you."

"I didn't want to bother you," she said, angrily wiping her face. She couldn't even keep her secret. She had failed in that.

"You don't bother us, Ginny," said Neville, putting her hand down. "We like having you around."

"I'm nothing but an annoying, weak little girl," she insisted stubbornly. She flinched when Harry put his hand on her shoulder.

"You're not annoying, Ginny," he said in reassuring tones. "And you're definitely not weak. You're one of the bravest people I know."

"I'm not," she shouted, flailing her arms and legs with what little strength she could muster. "I'm not like you! I'm not brave, or smart, or clever, or wise, or...or... I'm not anything! I'm useless!"

"That's not true," said Luna quietly. "You were my first friend."

Ginny stopped short, staring at Luna. Luna merely smiled gently and covered one of Ginny's rough, bloodstained hands with a small, silvery one of her own.

"You were the first people to ever take a chance on me," Luna smiled. "You always talked to me, made me feel better because I knew someone thought I was a good enough person to be around."
Ginny gaped at Luna, who brushed her long silver hair away, still smiling her secretive smile. "You don't know how happy I was, when we got off the train for the first time. I was afraid no one would like me, but you stuck with me, even when I got sorted it Ravenclaw and you into Gryffindor. We weren't the best of friends, but you always stuck up for me, and I can never thank you enough for that." Luna smiled more widely, and gripped Ginny's hand. "Thank you for being my friend."

Ron gently tapped Ginny's nose. She was shocked to see tears forming in his eyes. "You were always there for me, little queen," he said softly. "Remember the time you told mum that you had broken her favourite dish, because you didn't want me to get into trouble?"

"You told mum that you were the one who let all the garden gnomes back into the garden," Ginny retorted weakly. "You couldn't sit for a week afterwards."

"But you still did that for me, little queen. And that means the world."

One by one, everyone told Ginny how blessed they were to have her as a friend, as a sister, as an ally. Finally, she could take no more.

"It's not true," she hissed, pulling into herself. She forced her heart back into the black dot. "You're just trying to make me feel better."

"We're telling you the truth, Ginny," said Neville steadfastly. "We've no reason to lie, or exaggerate."

Ginny looked around, in almost wonder, at the five faces that stared at her with love shining in their faces and tears creeping from their eyes. Ginny felt... defeated.

"I can't get out of this," she croaked. "I can't make myself stop. I shouldn't stop. I deserve... I deserve the pain. I haven't done anything right. And I don't know how to get out of it."

"That's because you've been trying to get out of it alone," said Luna gently. "We're going to help you beat this, Ginny. You're stronger than this. You're brave, and strong, and wonderful. We need Ginny around."

"I don't think I would have made it through all those years at the Burrow without you," added Ron, his voice rumbling. "We were best friends, remember? We're still best friends. We want Ginny around."

"Who else would I complain about Ron's utter pratness with?" murmured Hermione, patting Ginny's knees. "And who would I have to sit up late at night with, talking about stupid girl things?"

"And who would I take to balls?" asked Neville to no one in particular. "And who would I be able to sit around the Three Broomsticks with, making fun of Malfoy? Who could cheer me up, like you do, when Malfoy tries to knock me down?"

"And who would knock my arse into place when I'm being stupid?" asked Harry dryly, eliciting a small, dry cough from Ginny.

"The point is," broke in Ron, "that we want you here, Ginny. And I'm not going to promise that it's going to be easy, or painless, or fun, but you will learn to see you as we do."

"And how do you see me?" asked Ginny, afraid.

Ron smiled and brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. "We see Ginny," he whispered, "and Ginny's pretty. And kind. And strong. And a beautiful person."

And that broke the dam.

Ginny sagged against Ron, all her bitter defiance drained out of her.

"But how?" she asked. "Every time I think things are getting better, something goes wrong, and I just... I just... break." She turned to Luna, who stood, a small figure in silver and gold.

"What do you do, when everything's black and grey, and you can't breathe, can't see, can't feel? How do you make it better?"

"You fight," said Luna simply.

"And if you don't have the strength? If it's just you? What does someone who's been so lost do?"

"Regardless of what God, or Gods, they worship, or even if they don't," whispered Luna dreamily, "everyone prays."

"There's always something to give you strength, Ginny," said Hermione. "And this time, we'll be the something. You're going to win this, Ginny, and you're going to win so hard, everything else will be dust beneath your feet. We have faith in you, Ginny. We love you."

Harry and Luna stood side by side. Ron, Neville, and Hermione joined them, and they stood before the door. Luna held out her hands beseechingly, towards Ginny.

"Come back with us, Ginny," she said quietly.

Ginny stood, almost against her will, and shuffled towards the group, putting her hands in Luna's. Harry covered her in his cloak, to hide the cuts, and they walked her out the door.

She bawled every step of the way, part of her still insisting that she didn't deserve any of this. But her friends pushed her out of the dungeons, and into the sunlight that flooded Hogwarts. And standing there, crushed in their arms as they all hugged, Ginny realised that the sun didn't seem to burn so much today.

That night, the moon shone down into the Gryffindor dorms, illuminating Ginny as she knelt by her bed. The soft light seemed to smooth out the scars, old, new, and still healing, as she folded her hands together and began to pray. She no longer lay broken at the feet of an unfeeling God. She looked up into the moon, to see whatever God there was, to see his face. She looked up, and saw.

And he was smiling down.